Part 48 (1/2)

When at last they reached the village the world was swathed in a purplish dusk. Like Vont Marbury before them they found old bleached bones, empty ruined cottages, cracked and weed-wrecked cobbled streets, and dry wells. If the mountains had often been silent, this place felt like a tomb. Was cold like a tomb. Smelled like one, dry and musty and drear. And like a tomb it held nothing of life.

They stood in what had likely been the public square, where naked, yellowed skeletons dangled from sagging, half-rotted gibbets. The rust on their chains spoke of infrequent rain.

Theyre not here, said Rafel, and rasped a gloved hand down his face. I dont understand. Where could they be?

He shrugged. Anywhere. This cant be the only village.

Maybe not, but its the first one, said Rafel. He sounded dismayed. Theyd have stopped here. Why isnt there some sign?

Stopped here for what? he said, impatient. Irritated by the mans distress. The place is barren.

I can see its b.l.o.o.d.y barren, Arlin. I aint blind.

He stared at Rafel, silent, until the Olken dropped his gaze. We should make camp. Come dawn we can inspect the place more thoroughly.

Aye, Rafel muttered. Aye, we might as well.

Rafel.

I said all right! Dont you start with me, Arlin. I aint in the b.l.o.o.d.y mood.

That was better. A dispirited Rafel was more likely to limp than leap between him and a grisly death.

Ill find some firewood, he said. You pick somewhere for us to sleep. Not inside. If there are creatures in this blighted place, we must be able to see them coming.

Leaving Rafel to his task, he went foraging for something, anything, he could get to burn. Fuel was scarce. By the time hed gathered enough half-rotted, splintered woodcottage shutters, doors, window-framesto keep them warm for an hour or two, the Olken had settled on the remains of a tumbledown hovel one street behind the square. The shelter it offered was meagre, at best. The roof was long gone, which meant there was no inside. Two of its stone walls remained upright; the other two had half-collapsed. But at least if it rained, or if a wind came up, theyd be a little protected.

Provided the other walls dont collapse, and crush us in our sleep.

Im glad you find this amusing, Arlin, said Rafel, scowling. The glimfire hed conjured lit the paltry hovel with a fitful, reluctant glow. How much food and water have you got left?

Enough, he said, and busied himself getting the fire started. Once it was burning, the only cheerful thing in the whole wretched village, he spread his groundsheet and sat. Ate and drank sparingly, trying to ignore the queasy churn in his guts. Morgs leftover magics had smeared these lands like old, rancid oil, leaving nothing untouched. He could almost imagine himself breathing in the foul incants. Could almost feel them coating his bones.

Under cover of throwing more wood on the fire, he looked at Rafel, leaning against a bit of wall, hunched and miserable. Feeling their surroundings, yes, but moping for his missing friend as well. Sentimental fool. And then the Olken felt himself being watched, and looked up.

I didnt bring all Durms spells with me, you know, Rafel said, defensive. Just a few. And not a single one my da used against Morg. Those spells dont exist anymore.

Carefully, he sat down again. So your father claimed. But we know now your father was a liar.

Rafels face darkened. Is a liar, Arlin. He aint dead. And he aint a liar, either. He danced around the truth a bit, to protect Lur. It aint the same thing.

Danced around the truth? he said, incredulous. He said there was nothing out of the ordinary about you. Lie. He told Jaffee he never once felt unrest in the earth. Lie. He said the Council had seen all that was left of Old Doranen magic. Lie.

Like I said, Rafel muttered. He was protecting Lur.

What else has he lied about? And dont tell me nowt, because I know thats not true. He leaned forward, the fires heat caressing. Tell me, Rafel. What can it matter now? Lurs far, far behind us.

Maybe, Arlin, but once weve found Lost Dorana well be going back there, wont we? Rafel retorted. Dyou think Im going to tell you anything asll hurt him?

Do you think h.e.l.l be alive to care?

Rafel shook his head. His shadow-smeared eyes were wide, and shocked. You are a sinkin, poxy b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

And you murdered my father. Dont think Ill forget.

Fine, he said, shrugging. Keep your little secrets, Rafel. I dont care. He held out his hand. Just give me those spells.

In the morning, said Rafel. Im tired now. I want to sleep.

Youre tired? He had to wait a moment. Had to subdue the urge to strike. I see. So that was a lie too? A s.h.i.+ning example of like father, like son?

Rafel didnt quite manage to hide his flinch. Those spells are dangerous, Arlin. Theyre weapons. And like I said, Im tired. Ill show them to you when Im feeling more rested.

You think Ill attack you?

Rafel smiled. I think you think I murdered your father. He snapped his fingers, and the glimfire went out, plunging his hollowed face into shadow. Get some sleep, Lord Garrick. Morningll be here soon enough.

Long after Arlin had surrendered to his furious exhaustion Rafel sat awake, too tired to sleep, listening to the nights relentless silence. Feeling its emptiness. The deadness of this land sc.r.a.ped his nerves raw. Even Lurs discordant music was better thanthan this nothing.

And underneath the deadness, a dreadful, rank disease. The blight hed felt in Dragonteeth Reef, in the Weather map, unchallenged here and left to flourish. Sour and knotted, twisting everything it touched.

Will it twist me too, if I stay here long enough? Will it twist Arlin?

Although in Arlins case, it might not be possible to tell the difference.

The fire was dying, their supply of wood run out. But he didnt want to risk hunting for more. Arlin might wake. And if he woke alone, hed go after Durms spells. And that wasnt You hear that? Arlin whispered, in the dark. Theres someone out there. In the street.

Yes. There was.

He heard it again, that peculiar, snuffling grunt. Almost like an animal, but the shape of it felt wrong. The sense, the presence. It was a man. Or almost a man. Heart thudding, raw nerves thrumming, he cautiously unsheathed the sword hed hoped never to use and stood in one smooth motion, tension obliterating his loud aches and pains. Arlin was on his feet already, easing close to what pa.s.sed for the tumbled cottages door.

Joining him, Rafel touched his arm lightly. Wait. Wait.

A stealthy, shuffling sound. Another snuffling grunt. Whoeverwhateverwas coming, it was close to them now. Close closer Now! he shouted, and pushed Arlin into the street. Leapt right after him, and as he leapt conjured enough glimfire to wash night bright as day. The mansthe creaturessnuffling grunt slid into a panicked scream. Half-blinded himself, Rafel raised the sword ready to maim or to kill.

And then he caught sight of their attackers terrified face.

Goose?

Flinging the sword away to clatter on the cobbles, he rounded on Arlin. Shoved him hard, both hands to the chest, as the Doranen prepared to strike with magic.

Dont! Dont! Cant you see, Arlin? Its Goose!

Arlin stepped back, for once surprised out of his customary self-contained arrogance. Leaving him to fend for himself Rafel turned again, to his friend.

Blinking in the glimlight, Goose shuddered like a shambled ox. Clothes near to rags. His filthy hair wild and unkempt, his face scabbed, his spa.r.s.e beard straggled. Thin, so b.l.o.o.d.y thin. Worst of all, the dumb terror in his eyes.

Sickened, Rafel took a step towards him. Goose? Its all right. Its me. Its Rafel. He took another step, reached out his handand stopped as Goose raised an arm, whimpering.

Hes lost his mind, said Arlin, his contempt like a knife. His wits have wandered.