‘He’ll kill us all!’ she said. Slowly the Karzełek let the club fall to his side. Then he turned, his great shield drawn over her. In the distance she head the roar of the Lord Bethrayal, and with it came the echo of the firmament. She could feel it rage about him, the darkness waiting to claim him.
Somehow she had to rebuild the bridge, if only she knew how. Miskyia, where was she? For all she knew the sorceress could be dead by now. She tried to trace the pattern of the craft that swelled around her, the spells dancing wildly without reason or rhyme. She had to tame them, bend them to her will.
Suddenly a spear clattered against the shield and, with a roar, the Karzełek lashed out at a young woyak. He must have been sleeping before the attack because he hadn’t finished putting on his armour, the straps hanging loose from the leathers as he ducked beneath the Karzełek’s blow. He was young and quick and, as the Karzełek struggled to bring his shield to bear, he struck to catch his opponent in the chest. Caught off balance, it was all the Karzełek could do to swing the butt of his club in an arc so that it rang from the side of the woyak’s shield, but the blow landed hard enough to bring the boy to his knees. With a roar the Karzełek lashed out his club again, hungry for the woyak’s throat. Iwa couldn’t see what happened next but suddenly the Karzełek slid to the ground, the broken end of the woyak’s spear protruding from his gut.
She tried to run but the woyak caught her and slammed her against the side of the ship. ‘What are you doing here?’ he yelled. A line of blood ran across his cheek and his eyes were filled with fear. ‘Didn’t you know to keep to the ships, didn’t you hear Grunmir give the order? Or has all sense left you?’
Without replying, Iwa sank to the ground. ‘I’ve never seen anything like this,’ the young woyak said as he turned his back on Iwa, his shield drawn over her. In all the confusion he hadn’t realised that the Karzełek had been her guard: all he’d seen was a girl who needed protection.
Around them the ground was littered with the flotsam of war. The broken shaft of a spear lay by her feet along with a few scraps of leather and the shattered remnants of armour. Further along, a dagger glinted, the blade hidden under a shard of wood. Keeping her eyes on the woyak, Iwa knelt to reach for it. ‘Be ready to make for the boats,’ he said sharply. She flinched, but he kept his back to her. ‘Wait till I give the word and then you run; be sure to make for the farthest ship, you’ll be safe there – for the moment.’ Still keeping her eyes on him, Iwa snatched the dagger and hid it under the folds of her clothes.
Gripping the hilt, she looked at the base of the woyak’s neck where the leather hung loose around the nape. She’d never killed a man before. What’s wrong with me? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t helped slaughter plenty of animals before: killing this young boy should have been easy.
She tensed as the woyak crouched, the broken end of his spear held useless in his hand. One quick movement, she told herself. Just begin the blow and let the movement guide itself.
‘We’ll wait until the coast is clear,’ the woyak was saying. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll keep with you until you’re at the women’s ship. At least you’ll be well out of the fight there.’
Somewhere in the distance, Lord Bethrayal roared as Iwa closed her eyes and tried to focus on the bridge, but it was no use. All around her she could sense the Lord Bethrayal as he flailed in the dark, his grip on the world falling away as the firmament closed in upon him.
I’ve waited too long, she could feel his desperation as his voice rang within her, centuries of nothingness: condemned never to feel the sun on my face or the wind against my skin.
Somehow she managed to find him: a chink of his presence calling to her across the firmament. Don’t leave me! His voice was thin, lost in the howl of the outer dark. Not after all these years, centuries of sorrow: you cannot let the firmament claim me.
I won’t leave you. Iwa tried to focus in on the voice, her consciousness reaching out for him. Then she found him, just a thin sliver of his spirit lost in the dark, but it was enough. She breathed slowly as the link strengthened, but Wislaw cut her off, those ancient spells of Lord Bethrayal’s enemies bending his magic to their will. She could sense the old priest as he cowered nearby. It was no use; she had to deal with him, now. Who knew how long Lord Bethrayal would be able to hold his form in this world without her? Already she could sense him fade as the amulet burned around her neck. Slowly Iwa drew out the dagger. First she had to get rid of the woyak, then she’d deal with the priest. Cautiously she raised her arm. Beads of sweat trickled along the woyak’s skin as Iwa trained her eyes on the base of his neck.
‘Here,’ she said as she tapped his shoulder with the hilt of the dagger, ‘you’ll need this.’
‘Keep it,’ he said with nothing more than a glance. ‘It might not be much, but it could save your life,’ he added, as
