The Night of the Swarm

‘Agreed,’ said the swordsman. While the others looked on, uncomprehending, he moved carefully to the raft’s edge, as far from the Nilstone as possible. There he knelt and lay Ildraquin across his knees.

‘What is this?’ said Vispek. ‘More enchantment in the sword?’

‘The same, Cayer,’ said Hercol. ‘You know that Ildraquin can guide its wielder to any soul whose blood it has drawn.’

‘You proved as much with Fulbreech,’ said Lunja. ‘What of it?’

‘The morning we left the Chathrand, I drew the blood of Captain Rose.’

‘Pitfire, now you tell us!’ cried Thasha. ‘Why were you keeping that a secret?’

‘You’re talking about that scratch on his wrist, aren’t you?’ said Neeps.

‘Of course,’ said Hercol, ‘and I assure you it was done with his cooperation. As for my silence, the fact is that I hardly dared to think of Rose myself. The sword can follow but one blood-trail at a time, and if ever you turn aside, the trail goes cold, and cannot be found again. I dared not take that risk with Fulbreech: he was our only link to the Stone. But now-’

He slid the blade a few inches free of the scabbard, and sat with his hand upon the pommel, closing his eyes. The party fell silent, watching, and Thasha saw the frown begin at the corner of his eyes. Then he opened them and looked gravely at Ramachni.

‘They are gone,’ he said. ‘Far from Masalym, and sailing further by the day. Since yesterday they have sailed northwards almost two hundred miles.’

‘Damn the lying dogs!’ exploded Mandric. ‘They promised to return for us! All that about laying low in them islands outside the whatsit, the Northern Sandwall, sending lamp signals, waiting for that hag Macadra to clear out!’

‘Perhaps she is in Masalym yet, or her ministers,’ said Ramachni. ‘Either way, Prince Olik will have been deposed. Do you see how foolish we would be to return, Cayer Vispek? Only death awaits us there.’

‘Northwards,’ said Dastu, clearly shaken. ‘So they mean to cross the Nelluroq, and abandon us for good. We’ll never see home again.’

Hercol looked at Dastu with compassion. ‘When did you last see home, lad? When you walked the streets of Etherhorde as a spy? When you sat at your mother’s table, concealing the fact that her son was learning to slit throats, hide bodies, brew tasteless poisons? Even if you do return to Etherhorde, you will remain a creature of the shadows, pretending to a life more than living it, unless you break with Sandor Ott. Your home was lost the day you joined the Secret Fist.’

‘Go drown yourself,’ snapped Dastu, ‘although drowning’s a lot kinder than what’s in store for the rest of us. We’re going to live and die in this Rinforsaken country, surrounded by their sort-’ he waved at Bolutu and Lunja ‘- and treated like animals, like apes. That is, if we don’t become apes, the way your tarboy pet-’

Thasha’s fist closed; she saw herself breaking Dastu’s teeth, saw the same rage in Pazel’s eyes. But before she could move, something whirled at the youth. Ensyl had leaped with that matchless ixchel speed onto Dastu’s shoulder. One hand gripped his ragged shirt. The other held her sword against the soft flesh beneath his eye.

‘If you dare say another word-’

Dastu held his breath, motionless but for his darting eyes.

‘Ensyl,’ said Ramachni, ‘come away from the youth.’

Silence. The raft bobbed and spun. Then, quick as a grasshopper, Ensyl sprang away from Dastu and landed by Hercol’s foot. She kept her eyes fixed on Dastu as she sheathed her blade.

‘This is a new life, with new requirements,’ said Ramachni, ‘and first among them is that we stand together. Let the old hates languish: you will find they vanish like dreams, if you permit them to.’

‘Don’t imagine that I mock your past allegiances,’ said Hercol, ‘for were they not mine as well? We need your skills, Dastu of Etherhorde. Stand with us, I say.’

Dark emotions played over the youth’s face. He touched his cheek near the eye. ‘Those crawlies nearly sank our ship,’ he said. ‘I don’t know why you brought a pair of them along. But one’s dead. Get rid of the other, and then talk about standing as a team.’

‘Some are more wedded to hate than others, Ramachni,’ said Ensyl.

‘My mother’s table,’ sneered Dastu. ‘Maybe that’s how it was for you, Stanapeth, with your farms and manor houses. But as for me, I found my home when I joined Master Ott. The first in my mucking life. I’m not about to toss it off and go seeking another, though that’s clearly the fashion in this company.’

The fog lowered. The canyon walls faded in and out of sight. It was disconcerting, but safer, Thasha knew: if the maukslar returned they would be hidden almost as well as before. The river ran swift, and looking down into its depths Thasha still imagined she could see veins of darkness, and feel the vertigo of endless space.

At some point in the afternoon, Lunja suddenly called for silence. A faint, deep noise was echoing down the canyon.

‘Hrathmog drums,’ said Lunja. ‘The creatures send messages in this way. I have heard them often on the road to Vasparhaven.’

Thasha tensed. She had seen a single hrathmog, dead in the jaws of one of the great catlike steeds called sicunas. Even dead it had been menacing, an axe-wielding, fur-covered humanoid with enormous arms and a mouthful of knifelike teeth. ‘Do you think they’ve spotted us, Lunja?’ she asked.

Lunja shook her head. ‘When hrathmogs spot an enemy their drums fall silent, unless they fear a rout. The silence itself alerts other bands of the creatures. We guardians of Masalym have learned this through many ambushes, many deaths.’

The drums sounded again, even more faintly — but this time the echo came from downriver.

‘They’re just saying hello, I shouldn’t wonder,’ said Big Skip. ‘Eight bells, and howdy-do-sir.’

‘Well,’ said Hercol, ‘better to learn of them while they are still at a distance.’ He squinted at the canyon walls, and Thasha could almost hear his thoughts: Hard climbing. For some of us, impossible.

They floated on, and heard no more of the drums. Soon Neeps was beside her again, uncomfortably close. Thasha tried to draw Pazel into their chatter, but he was keeping far from them both, which maddened her. She was terrified for Neeps. He was Pazel’s best friend; this behaviour had to be a side-effect of the plague. He reached for her hand, and she let him hold it. She couldn’t bear the thought of hurting him, in what might be his last days of human life.

Sometimes he grew flushed with excitement. ‘I didn’t expect this,’ he said. ‘What I’m feeling. It’s so good.’ Thasha turned away, wiped her eyes. Would they have to tie him like an animal? Would he have lucid moments, aware of what he’d become?

Late afternoon, a sandy beach loomed out of the fog: it was an island, crowned with oaks and cedars, splitting the river in two.

‘Left or right?’ asked Bolutu.

‘Neither,’ said Hercol. ‘Twenty minutes ashore, to wash and stretch our limbs.’

They beached the raft. Neeps bounded up and helped Thasha to her feet. She saw Pazel glance in their direction and turn quickly away.

‘Some of the vines have broken,’ said Hercol. ‘Come here, Neda, and help me lift the frame. You too, Undrabust.’

Thasha felt like running. She marched up the foggy beach and stepped into the trees. After a dozen yards she stepped behind an oak, then leaned out to look back at the shore. The others had stayed close to the raft. Pazel bent and tried to help with the repairs, but Hercol waved him firmly away — in her direction, as if by chance. She could have hugged him. Nothing escaped her mentor.

When Pazel drew near, she whistled softly, then beckoned him near and hid again. Eventually she heard his footsteps approaching. When she could stand it no longer she stepped out and dragged him behind the tree.

‘You blary imbecile,’ she said. ‘Why didn’t you help me with him?’

Pazel made no reply. He shrugged off her hand and walked deeper into the mist-shrouded trees. Furious, she plunged after him. The land rose, and they scrambled up the brief incline. When the ground levelled off the mist was brighter, and a pale green moss covered the feet of the oaks.