The Faithful and the Fallen: Ruin Part 9

'No fire,' Maquin said as Fidele pa.s.sed the knife back to him and started gathering forest litter. Fidele frowned. Walking through the forest she had been sweating, but soon after they stopped she felt cold, shivering despite the cloak Maquin had stolen for her. The thought of a fire had lifted her spirits for a moment. She forgave Maquin when he opened the cloak that he was using as a makeshift sack, revealing a round of cheese and a leg of cold mutton. Fidele's stomach growled at the sight of it. Maquin cut her a slice of each and she set to devouring them.

'Any spare?' the Vin Thalun asked them. Maquin gave him a flat stare but said nothing.

Starve, you animal, Fidele thought. Just the sight of the Vin Thalun, his dark beard bound with iron rings, his sun-weathered skin, even the way he looked at her, all reminded her of Lykos. A tremor ran through her at the thought of the Vin Thalun King, part fear, part hatred.

Shame and anger followed quickly. I am a coward, pathetic. But why do I still fear him? I stabbed him, maybe killed him. But when she thought of Lykos, she didn't see him collapsed and bleeding in the arena. No, she smelt him, his sour breath in her face, felt his hands gripping her, his will controlling her.

No! An inner scream. I will not be ruled by him still. And even if he does still live, he no longer has the effigy. He has no power over me. She clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms. If I believed that, I would have walked back to Jerolin, not be sitting here, shivering and starving with a pirate and a trained killer.

Her gaze shifted to Maquin; his face was all hard lines and shifting shadows in the moonlight, his eyes dark wells. She had seen him kill in the arena, both in single combat and against many. She was no stranger to death, had witnessed combat first-hand, seen life-blood spilt, heard death cries, had seen warriors in battle, straddling that line between life and death. None had seemed as ruthless, as devoid of emotion as the man before her. She had watched him with a mixture of revulsion and fascination, in all her years never having seen someone deal out death so efficiently. Old Wolf, they called him in the arena. The name fits him. Lean, explosively violent, patient in combat, unrelenting.

Maybe he sensed her watching him, for his head turned. She could not tell if he returned her gaze, his eyes in shadow. Nevertheless she looked away.

'I know you,' the Vin Thalun said to Fidele, breaking into her thoughts. 'Aren't you supposed to be enjoying your wedding night round about now?'

'Shut up,' Fidele snapped, instantly annoyed with herself at the emotion in her voice.

'Got a long walk on the morrow,' the Vin Thalun said. 'Starve me and I'll be too weak to show you the way to Lykos' pets.'

'Huh,' snorted Maquin.

Fidele regarded the Vin Thalun silently. He is younger than he looks twenty summers, maybe, not much more. And he is someone's son. At that thought an image of Nathair filled her mind. My son. Where is he? Halfway across the Banished Lands? Alive or dead? Someone's prisoner? If he is, I hope that he will at least be fed, given water. She focused back on the Vin Thalun before her and felt a flush of shame at her earlier willingness to starve him. I will not become that which I hate. 'Here,' Fidele said, cutting a slice of cheese for the warrior.

'Don't know how long that has to last us,' Maquin commented, looking at the cheese.

'We are human beings, not animals,' Fidele said, the words aimed at herself as much as anyone else.

'Don't think you'd get the same treatment if things were the other way around.'

'I know I wouldn't. I have a very good idea how I would have been treated. But I will not make myself . . . less.'

Maquin said no more, just watched as Fidele offered the cheese to the Vin Thalun.

Their prisoner glanced at his bound arms, then opened his mouth. Fidele hesitated.

'I won't bite. Think your hound might have his knife out quick if I did. I've seen him in the pit and arena. Seen what he can do.'

Maquin's gaze snapped onto him at that, something predatory in the movement, threatening.

'No offence meant by that,' the Vin Thalun continued, 'made a lot of money out of you, Old Wolf. Seen you come through some pretty thin odds.'

'They were lives. Other men's lives. Not odds,' Fidele said.

Maquin's eyes shifted to Fidele.

'Aye. Well, he carved them up real good, whatever you want to call them.'

Fidele broke a piece off the cheese and put it in the man's mouth, glad that it shut him up for a few moments.

Sounds rang out abruptly, branches snapping, footfalls thudding. Voices called to one another, sounding close. Fidele's heart was instantly pounding, the fear of capture filling her mind. Maquin went from sitting to standing in one fluid movement. Fidele didn't see him draw his knife, but it was suddenly in his hand. He stood poised, listening.

There was the sound of iron clashing. Screams. Further away? Closer? I cannot tell. Fidele felt a moment of panic, took a deep breath to calm herself.

'Don't make a sound,' Maquin whispered, 'and do not come after me. I won't be long.' Then he slipped amongst the trees, merging with the darkness.

That's what you said last time, at the woodcutters' cabin.

Fidele counted time in heartbeats, the forest now eerily silent except for the sigh of the wind through trees, the creak of branches. Sporadically she'd hear a shout, a battle-cry, a scream, then nothing again.

'I'm still hungry,' the Vin Thalun said. She looked at him, knew that he must be weighing up whether to call out or not. She had been tempted by the same thought. But who would come if either of them cried out? Friend or foe? Not worth the risk, Fidele had concluded, and, judging by his silence, the pirate agreed.

'My name is Senios,' the pirate said. 'Just a man, like you said. And I'm still hungry.' Fidele gave him some more. As the cheese touched his lips he burst into movement, jerking against the tree trunk, his legs whipping round to coil about her, dragging her close. She sucked in a lungful of air to cry out, then his head was snapping forward, crunching into her cheek. Her vision contracted, an explosion of light and darkness inside her head, and she felt her body slumping. No! she yelled at herself, feeling her awareness flutter. Not, a victim never again . . . She reached a hand down the pirate's body, between his legs, grabbing and twisting. She heard a scream, wasn't sure for a moment if it was her or the Vin Thalun, then the grip in his legs about her was gone and she was pushing away, crawling across the ground, the pirate gagging behind her, gasping for air.

A figure loomed out of the shadows, Maquin. He paused a moment, taking the scene in, then exploded into motion, a boot crunching into the Vin Thalun's head. He sagged against his bonds, unconscious, blood and saliva dribbling from his slack jaw.

Maquin was beside Fidele. 'Has he hurt you?'

'I, no, it's nothing,' Fidele said, one hand to her face.

Maquin gently lifted her, fingers touching her cheek. It throbbed.

'You'll have a bruise the size of my fist, but you'll live.' He looked at the unconscious Vin Thalun, took a step towards him.

'Don't,' Fidele said. Maquin frowned at her.

'It's not compa.s.sion. I'd happily kill him myself. But I want to see these giants.'

'It could just be a lie, to prolong his life, give him a chance to escape.'

Fidele shrugged. 'Perhaps. Give him one day if we haven't seen these giants by dusk on the morrow . . .'

'We'll kill him. You sure you can deal with that?'

'Yes. It will be an execution, not a murder he is an enemy of my realm.'

'Good.'

'What was out there,' Fidele nodded at the darkness.

'Death,' Maquin muttered. 'Vin Thalun chasing men of Tenebral I glimpsed a few, running. They wore Tenebral's eagle. They were a way off, running east, away from us. You should get some sleep.'

'I don't know if I can,' she said.

'You're going to need your strength.' He paused, his face softening for an instant. 'You'll be safe.' He didn't say more, didn't need to. It sounded foolish they were fleeing, cold, hungry, in a forest surrounded by enemies yet, looking at Maquin, she did feel safe. She also felt suddenly exhausted.

'You'll need to sleep, too. Wake me later.'

'I will,' Maquin grunted and Fidele curled up on the ground, pulling her cloak about her. Forest litter crunched beneath her as she shifted, lumps in the ground digging into her back. Eventually she found a position that was vaguely comfortable and she tried to remain still. An owl hooted nearby, making her jump. I may as well sit watch with Maquin, I'll never sleep out here.

Something shook her and she opened her eyes to weak sunlight. A shadow hovered nearby, features pulling into focus.

For a moment she thought it was Lykos, his face dark and tanned, eyes boring into her. She gasped and jerked away.

'Sorry,' Maquin mumbled, 'didn't mean to startle you.' He stepped back.

'It's all right,' she said, her voice a croak. 'I thought you were . . .' She trailed off as a score of pains made themselves known, reminding her she'd slept on the forest floor. She groaned and hesitantly stretched, testing the pains. When she'd established that she was not completely crippled she tentatively stood, leaning on a nearby tree.

'First night in the wild,' Maquin said. A flicker of a smile creased his face.

'It's daylight,' she said, her cheek aching as she spoke, a memento of the Vin Thalun's blow.

'Aye.'

'You were supposed to wake me.'

He just shrugged and pa.s.sed her a water skin. She drank thirstily, then glanced at the Vin Thalun, who sat with his back against the tree, arms still bound about it. His jaw was swollen, bruised almost black. He returned her gaze with open malevolence.

'Senios, how far to this place?' Fidele asked him. Maquin raised an eyebrow at the use of the Vin Thalun's name.

He mumbled something, grimaced, a line of spittle dribbling from the corner of his mouth. Fidele made out what sounded like 'Half-day.'

'His jaw is broken,' Maquin said. 'Don't expect too much conversation from him today.'

Senios led them on into the forest, Maquin a pace behind him. Sunlight slanted through the trees; birdsong drifted down from above.

Time pa.s.sed, the sun sliding across the canopy above. Fidele heard the sound of running water, faint at first. Soon they reached the banks of a river, its waters dark, wide and sluggish. Alder and willow lined the bank, willow branches draped across their path, dangling into the river. The sun was straight above when Senios stopped.

'Bend,' he said, pointing ahead.

'What are we going to see?' Maquin growled.

'A ship. Vin Thalun. The giants.' His words were slurred.

'How many Vin Thalun?'

Senios held both hands up.

'Ten?' Maquin asked. Senios shrugged.

'We'll go together. Any noise, any movement that I don't tell you to do, you'll feel my blade.' He drew his knife, emphasizing his point.

Slowly they crept forwards. They turned the bend; reeds grew thick and tall along the bank, then Fidele heard voices.

Maquin crouched low, dragging Senios down with him, and motioned for Fidele to do the same. They moved into the bank of reeds, inched their way closer to the river's edge. Sweat stung Fidele's eyes. With every movement the reeds rustled and she expected warning cries to ring out. She could see the river through gaps in the reeds, saw the outline of a long and sleek ship resembling a Vin Thalun war-galley, only smaller. It had no mast, but a row of oars raised out of the water ten, she counted. So that's twenty oars twenty men, double what Senios told us. And there could be more. At the rear of the ship was a large cabin. Figures moved on the deck, others were on the far bank, where a wide fire-pit had been dug. Near them, a great moss-covered stone slab rose from the ground. Lines dissected it, too straight to be natural. Giant runes? Something about it was strange, unnatural. An iron ring dangled from it.

Her attention was drawn back to the ship as the cabin door creaked open and a warrior emerged. He was holding a chain, which he tugged. A female giant walked out onto the deck, tall and muscular, an iron collar about her throat. Another giant followed behind her, bound to a connecting chain at the waist. This one was male, shorter and slighter, with wisps of a scraggly moustache. A giant bairn. I did not even know that such a thing existed.

More Vin Thalun warriors followed behind, spears levelled at their prisoners. The giants were led from the galley onto the far bank; the chain linking them was attached to the iron ring in the great stone. One of the Vin Thalun prodded the small male with a spear, making him twist away with a pitiful whine. The female snarled, stepped in front of the smaller one and lunged as the Vin Thalun laughed and jabbed at her with their spears. They soon grew bored of their baiting and left the two giants. The giantess cupped the young male's face in her hands, the two exchanging a look both bleak and tender. Fidele felt the breath catch in her chest something about the gesture was shockingly moving. Fidele remembered doing the same to Nathair as Aquilus was laid in his cairn, remembered the grief they'd shared in a look, intimate and unique only to them at the loss of Aquilus, husband, father.

She is his mother.

She felt Maquin's hand on her arm, saw him gesture that it was time to leave. She didn't want to go, a wave of empathy for the giant mother and child almost overwhelming her. She had been a Vin Thalun slave, just with different shackles. She wanted to help them.

There was a burst of sound close by, the reeds shuddering about them as Senios tore himself from Maquin's grip and threw himself forward. Maquin lunged after him, his knife stabbing into Senios' leg. The two men tumbled down the riverbank, splashing into the water, disappearing in a ma.s.s of white foam.

Panic exploded in Fidele. The two men rose to the surface of the river, grappling, spluttering. Senios broke free of Maquin's grasp and swam away, heading for the far bank. Maquin followed, seemingly oblivious or uncaring that the Vin Thalun warriors from the ship had noticed the commotion and were aiming their spears at the river.

'No!' Fidele yelled at Maquin. And he must have heard her, for he glanced up at her, then back across the river to where Senios was being hauled up on the ship by his comrades. Maquin scrambled back to Fidele, grasping at her hand to pull himself ash.o.r.e. There was a whistling sound as a spear sank into the ground close by, another followed shortly behind.

'Quickly,' Maquin snarled, vanishing into the reeds. Fidele paused and looked back, saw the two giants staring at her. For a moment Fidele's eyes locked with the mother. I am sorry, she thought.

CHAPTER TEN.

UTHAS.

'Lift,' Uthas cried, and a dozen Benothi giants grunted as they took the weight of the cauldron on two long iron poles. For a few moments the cauldron hung suspended over the dais, its resting place for two thousand years, then they shuffled forwards, transferring it onto a huge wain that stood nearby. Its timber frame was reinforced with iron, but it still creaked as the cauldron's weight settled. Leather straps were tightened and secured to iron rings, fixing the cauldron in place. Then a leather sheet was unfurled and tied tight, hiding the cauldron from sight. The wain had taken nearly two full days and nights to construct, the forges of the Benothi belching smoke as great wheels and axles had been fashioned, using iron and weathered and hardened timber gathered from the huge doors that had hung within the fortress of Murias.

It still stinks in here. Uthas wrinkled his nose. The cauldron's chamber was still littered with the dead. The Benothi giants had tended to their own fallen, carrying their dead kin from the hall to lay them in a great cairn beyond the gates of Murias, but the stinking tangle of Jehar and wyrm corpses had been left to rot. He looked with disgust at the bodies strewn about him. Some of them appear to have been . . . chewed upon. Uthas looked up, his eyes meeting with Calidus, who stood beside the wain directing his Kadoshim brethren. He let out a long breath and looked away. I don't want to know.

Eight of the Jehar warhorses were harnessed to the wain. At his signal it moved forwards slowly, the wheels crushing flesh, crunching bone as they rolled across the cavern floor. The Benothi followed, an honour guard.

'You have done well,' Calidus said to him as they left the chamber. 'The cauldron is not of this earth, the fabric it is made from is dense and heavy. But that wain is st.u.r.dy enough to carry it a thousand leagues.'

'The Benothi are skilled craftsmen,' Uthas said with a hint of pride.

They pa.s.sed through the wide corridors of Murias, Uthas feeling a blend of melancholy and antic.i.p.ation growing in his belly. He was leaving Murias, home of the Benothi for two thousand years, possibly leaving it behind forever. I will not look back. It is the destination that is important: the end, not the beginning.

Eventually they reached the entrance hall. A line of wains stood waiting, all loaded most with huge barrels of brot, enough to provide sustenance for them for a year or more. Though it appears the Kadoshim are acquiring other tastes.

The Kadoshim were spread about the hall, thickest around the wains. Once the wounded Kadoshim, Bune, had been brought back to Murias and the others had heard the disastrous fate of those that had rushed after Meical and his companions, Calidus had managed to introduce a level of order to the Kadoshim. And they were adapting to their new bodies well, suppressing the spirits of their unwilling hosts and learning the way of flesh, as Calidus had taken to calling it. Nathair stood to one side of the open gates, the bulk of his draig making him easy to find. The giant Alcyon stood with him.

'Come,' Calidus said to Uthas, 'it is time to hear Nathair's answer to my offer.'

'What will be his choice, I wonder,' Uthas said as they strode across the wide chamber.