Damned - White Wolf Part 19

'Lie down. Come on, just lie down for a while.' He swung to Rabalyn. 'Get some water.'

Rabalyn ran off and borrowed a small bucket from a family. He filled it at the stream, then made his way back to the twins. Jared dipped a cloth in the water and began to bathe his brother's head. Then he opened a pouch at his side, took a pinch of pale grey powder, and sprinkled it into Nian's mouth. Drenching the cloth, he squeezed drops of water onto Nian's lips. After a while the groaning ceased and the man slept.

'What's wrong with him?' asked Rabalyn.

'He's dying,' said Jared. 'Go tell Skilgannon we'll have to wait here at least another hour.'

People had begun to gather around the unconscious Nian. Some women from the column enquired what was wrong, but Jared waved them away. Garianne came over and sat beside Nian, gently stroking his cheek. Rabalyn hesitated for a moment, watching her, but then he stood and walked away, up the hillside to where Skilgannon and Druss were talking.

The older warrior looked round as Rabalyn approached, and smiled at him. 'Is it Nian?

Don't look so downcast, boy. He'll come round.'

'Jared says he's dying.'

'Aye, but not today.'

'What is wrong with him?'

'There is a sickness in his head,' said Druss. 'A surgeon told Jared there's a cancer growing there. It is destroying Nian's mind.'

'Couldn't they give him medicine, or something?'

'That's why they're heading for Mellicane. There's said to be a healer there.'

Rabalyn turned to Skilgannon. 'Jared says we have to wait until Nian wakes up.'

'Aye. He'll sleep for an hour - maybe two,' added Druss.

'It will be dusk by then,' said Skilgannon. 'I have no idea how far the beasts have moved, or whether they'll come back after nightfall.'

'I was thinking that myself. We're no more than two hours from Mellicane now. Give him an hour. If he hasn't woken I'll carry him. The boy can take my axe and walk beside me.'

Skilgannon offered no objection. 'I'm going to make a sweep to the north and see how the land lies,' he said. 'If I am not back in an hour then lead them on towards the city. I'll meet you on the way.'

With that he loped off down the hillside. Rabalyn watched him go. 'What if there are any beasts out there?' he asked Druss.

'Well, Rabalyn, he'll either kill them or die.'

As he approached the trees around a half-mile from the base of the hill Skilgannon slowed.

The short run had warmed and loosened his muscles, but he had no wish to race headlong into a pack of the beasts. His eyes felt gritty, his body weary. It was more than twenty-four hours since he had last slept, and the previous night had been long and b.l.o.o.d.y.

The attacks by the beasts had been sustained and cunning. The creatures had darted in from different directions, as if operating to a plan. Several times during the night he had seen the colossal grey one he had first spotted emerging from the reeds the previous afternoon. It seemed to Skilgannon that this one beast was directing the others. After a while he had watched for it. If he glimpsed it to the south of the circle, then it would be from that direction the next attack would come.

Looking back on the night of terror Skilgannon realized that the beasts had not set out to kill all of the refugees. They had been hunting food, and once they had gathered enough bodies they had withdrawn. Like a wolf pack.

He pushed on into the trees, and climbed towards a hilltop, scanning the ground as he moved. There were many deep paw prints, but all were heading away from the city. At the top of the hill were several tall oaks. He climbed one of them and scanned the land. To the far north he could just make out the spires of Mellicane, and the tents of the besieging armies of Datia and Dospilis. Out towards the east he saw riders. There was no sign of Joinings. A great weariness settled over him, and he wedged himself against two thick branches, rested his head against the tree trunk and closed his eyes.

He was walking through a moonlit forest. The White Wolf was near. He could hear its stealthy movements in the undergrowth. Skilgannon's heart was beating fast. He clenched his fists to avoid reaching for his swords. A low snarl came from behind him. Spinning on his heel he swung to face the threat.

There was nothing there. Then he saw that - once again - he had unconsciously drawn the Swords of Night and Day, the blades glittering in the moonlight. Casting them from him he cried out: 'Where are you?'

Then he awoke.

The sun had scarcely moved in the sky. He had not slept for more than a few minutes.

Even so he felt refreshed, and considered rejoining the refugees. But it was peaceful here, high in the tree, and he realized how much he had missed his own company. There was a time he had enjoyed having people close by; the days when Greavas, Sperian, and Molaire had cared for him, when Malanek had taught him the dance of blades. Long painful years had flowed by since then. The days of Bokram and the terror. The days of Jianna.

The horror had been ahead of him on the morning he set off to find Greavas. The sun had shone bright in a clear, cloudless sky, and the strength and arrogance of youth had filled him with confidence.

Skilgannon, at sixteen, had begun the day by walking to the Royal Park. During the stroll through the lanes and shops of the city centre he had taken time to pause at the stalls and - while appearing to study merchandise - had identified the men following him. There were two, one tall, lean and sandy-haired, the other shorter, with a long, dark moustache that overran his chin. Skilgannon, upon reaching the park, had stretched his muscles and begun to run. The paths through the park were beautifully paved with white stone, angling through flower beds, and past artificial lakes and statue gardens. Many people were strolling, or sitting on the stone benches. Some had even spread blankets and were picnicking. Skilgannon continued on at an even lope. As the path bent he had glanced back to see the two men toiling after him. There was no sense of danger. It was like an adventure for the young man. He took them through four miles of slow jogging, and then steadily increased the pace. At the last he came almost full circle, back to the marble gymnasium and bathhouse set beside the western gates of the park. Here he slowed and finally sat upon a wide bench. The two followers, sweat-drenched and weary, stumbled to where he sat.

'Good morning,' said Skilgannon.

The man with the drooping moustache nodded at him. The taller man forced a smile.

'A hot day for a run,' said the youth. 'Are you in training?'

'Always,' said the sandy-haired man.

'I am Olek Skilgannon.' Rising, he offered his hand.

'Morcha. This is Casensis.' Both men seemed uneasy. Skilgannon guessed they had been told to follow at a distance and not be seen.

'I am about to enjoy a bath and a ma.s.sage,' Skilgannon told them. 'Nothing like it after a warming run.'

'We're not members,' said the burly Casensis, his eyes narrowing. 'These places are for the rich.'

'And for the sons of soldiers who have served the nation,' said Skilgannon smoothly. 'My father was given honorary membership, which has pa.s.sed to me. I am also allowed to bring guests. Will you join me?'

He led the surprised men inside. The marble hallway was cool and scented. Skilgannon signed the register and the three men were led through to a cedar-panelled changing room, where they were given soft white robes and towels. Then, having stripped off their clothing and donned their robes, they made their way through two archways and into a huge area with a vaulted ceiling. Enormous windows had been set into the walls, many with stained gla.s.s. Trees were growing here, and hot water gushed over rocks to fill a series of artificial pools that had been created on different levels. Rose petals floated on the water, and the air was rich with scent. Only two of the pools were being used. Skilgannon laid his robe and towels on a stone bench and walked down the marble steps, wading into the upper pool, close to the gushing water. Stretching out, he floated on the surface, closing his eyes. The two spies followed him.

Skilgannon swam across the centre of the pool, away from the waterfall, and sat back with his arms on the stone lip. The sandy-haired Morcha swam to join him, while Casensis waded across. Two serving women, bare-breasted but wearing long, clinging skirts, moved from the shadows bearing goblets of cold spring water. Both women had the traditional dyed yellow hair, streaked with red at the temples, that marked them as pleasure servants.

They also sported gold torques upon their necks, signifying they were several ranks above the cheaper wh.o.r.es who worked the streets and the marketplaces.

Casensis stared up at them, unable to tear his gaze from their naked b.r.e.a.s.t.s. One of them smiled at him. Then they moved away.

'Are they free also?' asked Casensis.

'For ma.s.sage, yes,' said Skilgannon. 'All other services are negotiable.'

'What do they charge?'

'Ten silver pieces.'

That's three months' wages!' said Casensis, outraged.

'And for what do you earn these wages?' Skilgannon asked.

'We are soldiers of the King,' said Morcha swiftly.

'Ah, I see why you were running today. It is important to stay strong and able. I too am hoping to join the King's army soon.'

They sat in silence for a while, enjoying the cool drinks and the warm water. Morcha turned towards Skilgannon. 'This has been good of you, sir. It will be something to remember.'

'My pleasure, my friend. But you must enjoy a ma.s.sage before you go. The girls here are highly skilled. They will soothe away all aches and pains, and you will doze and dream beautiful dreams. It is my favourite part of the day. Then perhaps you will join me for a meal in the dining area.'

'That is most kind of you,' said Morcha.

With the bath finished the three men climbed out. Immediately blonde women moved forward, leading each of them into a separate candlelit room.

Once Skilgannon was clear of the men he thanked the girl and declined a ma.s.sage. 'I shall leave a handsome tip for you,' he told the surprised ma.s.seuse. 'When my friends have been suitably relaxed tell them I was called away, but that I have arranged for them to dine at my expense.'

'Yes, sir,' she said.

He dressed swiftly in the changing room and then left the building. Leaving the park, he moved quickly through the streets, pausing once more at shops and stalls, just in case there were other followers. Satisfied at last that he was alone, Skilgannon followed the directions Sperian had given and headed into the north of the city.

The house he was seeking was new, built on the outskirts, and close to an army barracks. It was a small three-roomed property, with a roof of roughcast red tiles. There were some twenty similar buildings constructed for the wives and children of workers at the barracks: cooks, carpenters and blacksmiths. Sperian had described the house, saying that a bougainvillaea bush was growing on the western wall alongside the front door. There was something about the location that spoke of Greavas. Only a man with his keen sense of irony would hide the most wanted pair in the capital within a stone's throw of one of the largest barracks. And yet even as the thought occurred Skilgannon realized there was also great intelligence in the decision. All the buildings in the city's richest quarter had been searched, as well as outlying estates. No-one would dream of seeking the Empress and her daughter in a hastily built dwelling so close to a centre for the new King's loyal troops.

Skilgannon tapped at the door, but there was no reply. Moving around to the back of the house he tried the small gate leading to the tiny patch of garden. This was locked. Glancing round to see if he was observed from any of the other houses, Skilgannon scaled the wall and leapt down into the garden.

As he landed he caught a glimpse of movement to his left. Something flashed for his head.

Ducking, he hurled himself to his right, landed on his shoulder and rolled to his feet. Even as he came upright a sandal-shod foot thudded against his temple. He rolled with the blow, throwing up his arm to prevent a second high kick exploding against his head. His a.s.sailant was blonde and female, her dyed hair streaked red at the temples. She launched another attack, her left hand slashing towards his face. Grabbing her wrist he twisted it savagely, trying to turn her. Instead of resisting she threw herself forward, aiming a head b.u.t.t at his face. It thudded painfully against his collar bone. Angry now, he threw her to the ground. She rolled expertly to her feet and advanced on him again, her pretty face masked by fury, her eyes narrowed.

'Enough! Enough!' yelled Greavas, running from the doorway, and grabbing the girl by the waist. 'This is a friend - though a stupid one. What are you doing here?' he demanded of Skilgannon.

'Not a subject I think we should discuss in the presence of a wh.o.r.e,' he snapped.

'A wh.o.r.e you cannot afford,' she responded. 'And if you could you still wouldn't be man enough.'

The venom in her voice stunned him. Never had a pleasure girl spoken so to him. Always they were deferential, never making eye contact. Added to which this girl had used moves that Malanek had taught him. Unheard of for a woman. Skilgannon looked more closely at her, then back at Greavas. A middle-aged woman appeared in the rear doorway, her eyes fearful. 'Is everything all right?' she asked.

'Everything is fine,' said Greavas. 'Unless of course you were followed here,' he added, swinging to Skilgannon. 'Then we are all dead.'

'I was not followed - though two men were a.s.signed to the task. I left them at the bathhouse.'

'Let us hope there were no others.'

'There were no others,' said Skilgannon, his temper flaring. 'I came to warn you not to return to the house. Boranius is seeking you.'

'No more than I expected. I had not intended to return. If that is all you have to tell me, Olek, then you had best leave now.'

'I thought you would need help.'

'Aye, I do need help,' said Greavas. 'But this is not a boy's game. This is not some schoolboy adventure. The stakes here are high. Torture and death await failure.'

Skilgannon said nothing for a moment, calming himself. He looked again at the yellow- haired girl he had taken for a prost.i.tute, then back at the fearful woman in the doorway.

'The disguise is a good one,' he said. 'It still leaves you with the problem of smuggling a mother and her daughter from the city, when soldiers have been given your description.'

'I intend to cut my hair and dye it black,' said Greavas, 'but you are right. They are searching for a woman and her young daughter. Nothing I can do about that.'

'Of course there is. You can separate them. As a wh.o.r.e the princess can travel anywhere without suspicion. Without her daughter the Empress can travel as your wife.'

'All the gates are guarded,' replied Greavas, 'and there are faithless former retainers stationed at all of them, ready to betray the royal family for gold. There is no escape, Olek.

Not yet.'

'They should still separate,' said Skilgannon. 'And I do have a plan.'

'This I would love to hear,' said the princess.

Ignoring the contempt in her voice he pressed on. 'If I get back to the bathhouse swiftly the men who followed me will still be there. I shall do as I proposed and buy them a meal. If the princess is outside the bathhouse in three hours, and approaches me as a wh.o.r.e, they will see her. They will also see me engage her services and take her home. They will make their report. Olek Skilgannon is not linked with traitors. He is more interested in playing with wh.o.r.es. She will be invisible to them - well, invisible as a princess, anyway.'

Greavas sat down at a small wooden table and rubbed his chin. 'I don't know,' he said.

'It is a good plan,' said the princess. 'I like it.'

'It has dangers,' Greavas told her. 'First you must get to the bathhouse. The road there is packed with men. You will be accosted all the way. Secondly there are already wh.o.r.es at the bathhouse. They will defend their territory - harshly. They will want no strangers coming in and stealing their trade. Thirdly you do not sound like a wh.o.r.e. Your voice is refined. And lastly you might still be recognized, despite the disguise, and that will lead to your capture and death, and the death of Olek.'

'The alternative is to sit in this appalling closet of a house until we are discovered, or we die of boredom,' said the princess. 'And do not concern yourself about my refined speech. I spent enough time with my father's soldiers to know how to speak roughly. And Malanek trained me well enough. I can deal with angry wh.o.r.es. I a.s.sure you of that.'

Greavas looked uncertain, but he nodded. 'Very well. Olek, you get back as swiftly as you can. And may the Source watch over you both. I will get a message to you when it is safe to move. Go now.'

Skilgannon sped back to the bathhouse. Less than an hour had pa.s.sed, but he was still worried that Morcha and Casensis might have left. He located the girl he had spoken to and asked her if she had pa.s.sed on his message. She said she had not, for they were still in the booths with the body maidens. Relieved, Skilgannon thanked her and settled down to wait. Morcha emerged first, arm in arm with a buxom blonde girl. Leaning down he kissed her cheek. She smiled at him and walked away.

'By the Source,' said Morcha, 'this is a day I shall remember fondly.' He sat down and leaned back against the wall, fingering the thick, soft cloth of his robe. 'How the rich live,'

he said.

'I am ashamed to say I had not considered it,' said Skilgannon, with sincerity.

'Not your fault you are rich, lad. G.o.ds, I don't blame you for it.'

Casensis emerged from another booth. The girl curtsied to him, but did not smile as she left. He wandered out, looking sour and unhappy, and asked Morcha if he had bedded his girl. 'Indeed I did,' said Morcha happily. 'And she did not charge me.'

Casensis swore. 'Knew I should have chosen her,' he said.

'Some men have no luck,' said Morcha, with a wink at Skilgannon.

'Join me for a meal,' Skilgannon offered. Both men accepted and, once they had donned their clothes, he led them up the stairs to the dining hall. An hour later, having devoured several roast pheasants in a berry sauce, plus consuming a tankard of fine wine, the two soldiers were in good spirits. Even Casensis had a smile on his surly features.

As they left the building by the main entrance Skilgannon felt tense, and, for the first time that day, uncertain. The plan had seemed so good when he had thought of it. But Greavas was right. This was no schoolboy game. What if the princess was recognized by Morcha or Casensis? What if she could not play the role? Added to which he himself had now become a traitor to the new order. What future would there be for him as a result? Be calm, he told himself, remembering his father's advice. 'A man should stand by his friends - unless they do evil - and hold always to what he believes in.' Could Greavas's actions in protecting two women from death be considered evil? Skilgannon doubted it. Therefore there was only one course of action.

There were around a dozen wh.o.r.es in the marble square. One of them was sitting down, nursing a cut lip and a swollen eye. Others were cl.u.s.tered together, staring malevolently at a slim, beautiful newcomer. As the three men emerged several of the wh.o.r.es moved towards them, smiling provocatively. Casensis stopped to chat to them, while Morcha stood back.