The Diamond Isle

31

‘Oh.’

‘What is it?’

‘My heart,’ Serrah said, laying a hand on her chest. ‘It jumped.’

‘Take a couple of deep breaths,’ Caldason advised.

She did.

‘All right?’

‘I’m fine.’ Her eyes looked strange.

‘We should put the armour back on.’

‘Nah, fuck it.’

‘I think the ramp’s working, Serrah.’

She massaged her forehead for a few seconds. ‘You could be right.’

‘How do you feel?’

‘I feel…I feel light-headed. I feel like I want to be sick, and dance. Or fight, run, cry, laugh…I don’t know.’

‘Yes, it’s working.’

‘What happens now?’

‘Soon you’ll start to feel a surge of energy, and well-being. Your reflexes are going to get faster. A lot faster. And you’ll probably feel reckless. That’s something you have to be careful about, Serrah. This isn’t a situation where either of us can afford to be careless.’

‘Uh? Sorry, my attention drifted. What were you saying?’

He spoke deliberately. ‘Ramp changes the way you think. It can affect your judgement. Do you understand?’

‘Gods, but I’m spoiling for a fight.’

‘I think you just answered my question.’ He took her firmly by the shoulders. ‘The ramp gives you stamina, and it’ll make you fight savagely if it comes to a brawl. But given the odds, it’s better using that extra energy trying to run for it.’

‘You’re no fun.’

‘We’ve got to act soon, Serrah. We need a plan.’

‘To run? How much of a plan do we need for that? We should-Oow!’ Her face clenched.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I think it just kicked in harder.’

‘It’s going to get more intense before you reach a peak.’ He looked to the breaking dawn. ‘We need to move soon, before it gets much lighter. How are you with that?’

‘All right. What do we do?’

‘We keep it simple. What we want is a diversion to give us the chance to get clear, and ideally grab a couple of their horses.’

‘What kind of diversion?’

‘I thought we could use this.’ He was rummaging in a pocket again.

‘You’re a cornucopia. Is it something else Darrok gave you?’

Reeth brought out a small cloth-wrapped bundle. ‘No. This is thanks to you, actually.’ He opened the package and showed her.

‘Dragon’s blood? It needs salt water to set off. Got any?’

‘No. But does it have to be sea water?’

‘I don’t know, we’ve never tried it with anything else.’

‘Maybe it’d work with any liquid, and we’ve got the brandy.’

‘What about salt? Do you happen to have a ration of that on you?’

‘No, but you have.’

‘I don’t.’

‘You do in a way. The ramp raises your body temperature quite a bit. Unless you’re different to everybody else who’s ever taken it, you’re going to start perspiring soon.’

She smiled, just a little manically. ‘Sweat and brandy. Cute. It might just work.’

‘You still all right?’ He was studying her closely.

‘Gods help me, Reeth, but this stuff is nice. So hurry up. I’m finding it hard keeping a grip.’

‘The drug’s making you restless. Do some more deep breathing while I sort out the dragon’s blood.’

He tapped a little heap of the powder onto two thin strips of cloth, then added a couple of masonry chips for weight. Finally he wrapped and tied them.

‘So we lob those out to keep them busy below, then…what?’ Serrah asked. ‘I mean, we’ve got a bloody great bell blocking the only entrance. How do we get out of this place?’

‘Down the outside.’ He nodded at the bell frame. ‘There’s plenty of rope.’ He began unwinding it. ‘You might use up some of that energy by giving me a hand.’

When they had two sufficiently long lengths secured, she said, ‘So what are we waiting for?’

‘Hold still.’ He touched one of the packages to her forehead. It came away stained with damp. He did the same with the other, and handed it to her. ‘Ready?’

She nodded.

He took the flask of brandy and doused the packages. ‘You throw from this side, I’ll throw from the other. We go over the wall there.’ He pointed. ‘All right?’

Her expression had grown severe, her eyes hard. ‘Let’s just do this, shall we?’

Their bundles started to smoulder.

‘Damn,’ he said. ‘We forgot to put the breastplates back on. Too late now.’

‘They’d only slow us down,’ she stated matter-of-factly.

He kissed her. ‘Right? Go!’

They tossed their combustible packages over the low wall, then immediately grabbed the ropes. A loud report rang out, accompanied by a dazzling flash. Instantly, it happened again.

‘Now!’ he yelled.

They rushed to the wall and looked over. As they’d hoped, most of the invaders had dashed to the other side of the tower to investigate the explosions. There were only a handful of men below, and not too far beyond them, a string of horses. Time was in short supply. Reeth and Serrah vaulted over the wall and began to abseil down.

Caldason thought they were going to get down unspotted, almost to the point where their feet touched ground, but then things got messy.

Somebody shouted. Another voice joined in, and another. As they were releasing the knots on their ropes, a dozen men or more swept in to face them, and any idea of slipping away under cover of chaos was shattered. Rapidly drawing their blades, they moved forward to meet the enemy.

It was no time for finesse. Caldason met his first opponent with direct brutality, felling the man with a single, massive blow to his head. Without pause he ploughed into the next two, dealing them wounds that were grievous if not fatal. He worked like some kind of automaton, designed for no other function than butchery. Foes were cut down ruthlessly, pumping blood, shedding severed limbs.

Serrah fought just as mercilessly. To those trying to stop her, it seemed she moved at almost eye-blurring speed. She countered blows with ease, apparently anticipating attacks before they were made, and simply engaging her blade was too thorny a task for most of the men trying to block her way.

From her ramp-stoked point of view, it was like strolling through a waxworks. The manikins she weaved around and slashed at were sluggish, dull-witted creatures, too inept in their responses and too slow to fall. It seemed to her that hacking at scarecrows would have provided more of a challenge.

Curiously, one part of her mind remained disengaged from the task at hand. A morsel of her consciousness was like a bird in a gilded cage, looking out at events with the detachment of a spectator, and whatever unpleasantness might be occurring all around, much of it prompted by her crimson blade, the world had a certain fetching quality. She was particularly taken by the lovely green and purple shimmer around the edges of her vision.

A face appeared in the centre of her dream. She would have swatted at it with her steel scourge, and made it go away like all the rest, except there was something familiar about the image.

‘Serrah! Serrah!’ Reeth was shaking her roughly. ‘Come on, Serrah!’

She focused and looked around. They were surrounded by corpses and groaning wounded.

‘The others are coming,’ he told her. ‘We have to move!’

He grabbed her arm and all but dragged her away from the tower’s base. There was an outcry behind them, and the sounds of pursuit. Caldason pulled her towards the line of tethered horses they’d seen from above. Somebody loomed in their path, an axe raised. A bout of hacking cleared the obstruction and added another wash of red to the trampled snow.

A mob was at their heels. Caldason’s intention had been for them to take a horse each, but he wasn’t sure if Serrah could handle one in her state, so he untied a single mount, bundled her on and swung into the saddle himself. Arrows were flying again. Ducking to avoid a hit, he spurred the horse meanly.

They galloped out into a grey, cold new day.

A group of riders, around a score, chased them towards the redoubt. But at the halfway point they fell away, reasoning perhaps that expending such resources on two people was hardly cost effective. And doubtless taking comfort from the fact that their quarry would soon share an inescapable fate.

On their sprint back to the redoubt they saw great black columns of smoke rising from various points along the coast. The islanders, it seemed, were putting up a spirited defence. On the plain facing the redoubt itself, enemy forces were massing. Not the full strength of the empires’ armies, which must surely be on their way, but advance troops, though still numbering many hundreds.

The demilitarised zone surrounding the redoubt was ample enough to allow Reeth and Serrah to get in. They were lucky; from now on it would be impossible.

Inside, all was abuzz. People were dashing in every direction, and men and women bolstered weak points in the defences with sandbags. Teams of sorcerers sealed entrances with charms and prepared their magical munitions.

There were no non-combatants anymore. Weapons were being distributed to the old and lame, and children took up positions on the battlements, clutching spears twice their height.

Pallidea rushed from the crowd. She embraced Serrah and Reeth, and delivered the thanks there had been no time for earlier.

‘Any sign of Darrok?’ Caldason wondered.

‘Yes, he got back too, thank the gods. Actually, I was just trying to find him.’

‘There’s Karr,’ Serrah said.

They excused themselves and pushed their way to him. The ageing patrician was with Goyter. They were accompanied by Disgleirio and a quartet of Righteous Blade swordsmen. When he saw Caldason and Serrah, Karr’s relief was palpable, even given all the other concerns weighing on him. He looked drawn and unwell. ‘To think that we were once talking about currency and roads,’ he mused sadly. ‘Now we can only think of how to achieve a quick, dignified death.’

‘That’s enough of that,’ Goyter informed him sternly. ‘It’s not like you to give in to pessimism, Dulian, so don’t start now.’

He smiled, grateful for her strength. And despite her austere manner, Goyter was clutching his hand.

‘You look a little wild, my dear,’ she told Serrah, not unkindly. ‘I hope everything’s well with you.’

‘Couldn’t be better.’ Serrah noticed that the older woman was wearing a sword. ‘Looks good on you, Goyter. What’s the news on Tanalvah?’

Goyter’s expression darkened. ‘The girl’s still troubling us all. Something’s not right there. I wish we could afford to spare more people to be with her and take the pressure off Kinsel. Not that he’d agree to such a thing.’

‘I’ll go and check on them.’

‘Try to get them to move deeper into the redoubt. With what’s going to be happening here they could be safer.’

Reeth took Serrah aside. ‘Don’t be long,’ he said.

‘No. I’ll just see how things are. Somebody’s got to make sure they’re all right.’

‘How are you feeling?’

‘I could still kill a lion with my bare teeth.’

‘That’ll pass soon. You won’t feel like it, but try to eat something. It’ll help mop up the ramp.’

Serrah nodded. ‘I’ll be back,’ she promised.

No sooner had she left than Kutch and Wendah appeared.

‘You two shouldn’t be here,’ Caldason told them. ‘Get yourselves to a bolthole.’

‘We have magic,’ Wendah said.

‘We can help,’ Kutch added. ‘Phoenix has assigned us to one of the defence covens.’

‘It’s dangerous,’ Caldason stressed.

Wendah pointed. ‘There are kids much younger than us on the walls over there.’

He couldn’t argue with that. ‘All right, but be careful you don’t-’

A roar went up from the ramparts, then alarm bells were pounded.

‘To your positions!’ Karr ordered, his voice magnified by a booster glamour.

Disgleirio and his men were making their way past Caldason. ‘Where are you stationed?’ the Qalochian asked.

‘We’re roving. Filling holes where needed.’

‘I’ll be doing the same. Good luck.’

The redoubt had catapults, admittedly few in number, and they began a bombardment of the advancing forces. Uncertainty spells and terror hexes were unleashed from the battlements, and archers fired off streams of bolts in deadly arcs. When the first besiegers reached the walls, scalding oil and blisteringly hot sand was poured through the fortress’s murder holes.

Caldason was never still. He attended every breach, helped beat back many incursions. Like all the defenders, he fought tirelessly, and watched as comrades fell with arrow wounds or from searing sorcery.

None of it made any difference. The enemy were at the gates in shockingly little time. Their numbers and force of arms, and superior magic, paid off, and now they were breaking through.

Disgleirio had Karr and Goyter pulled back to safer reaches, the pair of them protesting bitterly. As the gates and walls succumbed to a human wave, the rebels began a pre-planned retreat. Some made for reinforced outbuildings, while others fell back to the main house, with its labyrinth of corridors, hideouts, keeps and subterranean tunnels. They could at least make it a costly prize.

When he saw that no more could be done to defend the walls, Caldason joined the withdrawal. Even as he made his way down, the gates were yielding. There was organised chaos in the courtyard below. The first of the enemy were trickling in, fortifications were being scaled.

Kutch and Wendah hadn’t got very far.

‘Come with me,’ Caldason said.

‘We’re supposed to be with the defence coven,’ Wendah protested.

‘Forget that. We have to fall back. Come on.’ He led them to one of the redoubt’s stables as the invaders began to flood in. His thought was that a horse might give him an advantage fighting off the invaders, or that he could direct a stampede their way. He also hoped to find somewhere for the two young people to hide, but all he could really think about was Serrah, and the possibility of them dying apart.

There were no horses that he could see. They must have been used in the battles being fought on various parts of the island, or more likely there was a shortage, just as there was of everything else.

Caldason was about to tell Kutch and Wendah to find another hiding place when the sound of a door slamming came from their rear. He turned, hand on sword.

Devlor Bastorran swaggered into the stable. The freakish looking meld accompanied him, and another, younger man, in uniform.

‘How very gratifying to see you again, Caldason,’ Bastorran announced. ‘I do hope you’ll be able to find the time for a little chat.’

Kutch was transfixed, but not by the paladin. His astonished gaze was set on the young officer with him; and the officer stared back in apparent amazement.

Caldason hid his own shock. ‘Always happy to accommodate someone who’s travelled so far to see me,’ he replied casually. ‘Let’s hope your visit’s not going to be too much of a disappointment.’

Bastorran grinned as he reached for his blade. ‘I doubt that.’

Hurrying along one of the redoubt’s many corridors, Serrah passed an open door and noticed that someone had left a tray of food on a table inside. She had no appetite, but remembering what Reeth had said, went in. The tray must have been there for a couple of days, and the meat and fruit looked suspicious. She contented herself with a hunk of stale bread, washed down with water. The effects of the ramp were starting to wear off, and she was feeling weaker, but this was no time to give in to energy loss. She forced down a couple more mouthfuls.

There were noises outside. Dimmed by distance and thick walls, but unmistakable all the same: the onslaught had started in earnest. Serrah discarded the powder-dry crust and continued her journey at a faster pace.

Everybody she passed seemed to be going about their own urgent business, understandably, and largely they ignored her. When she got to her destination, she found Kinsel outside the door.

‘Serrah, I’m so glad you’ve come.’ He was obviously relieved to see her.

‘What’s up?’

‘We were promised a healer, but nobody’s come.’

‘I wouldn’t hold your breath, Kinsel, given the state of things out there.’

‘I know, and I feel selfish when everyone’s so stretched. But I’m worried about Tan.’

‘Is she in desperate need?’

‘I don’t know,’ he sighed. ‘That’s what I was hoping a doctor would tell us.’ He moved closer and his voice dropped. ‘Though I’m starting to think she might need a priest, not a healer.’

‘Is she that bad?’ Serrah replied, alarmed.

‘No, no, you misunderstand me. It’s just that what ails her seems more…spiritual than physical.’ He added in a whisper, ‘I suppose I mean her mental state.’

‘I’ve not seen that much of her since she got here, but she does seem…well, almost a different person. What happened, Kinsel, do you have any idea?’

‘She had a hard time in Bhealfa before getting away, of course. I’ve never been able to find out exactly what she went through, though we can be sure it was difficult. But I’m no less in the dark than you, really.’

‘Perhaps it’s the baby. It’s her first, remember, and sometimes that can be a trial. Maybe once it’s born-’

‘Yes, of course.’ He looked at her, as though he’d pulled away from his own concerns and was seeing her properly for the first time. ‘I’m sorry, Serrah; you must think me terribly self-obsessed. I haven’t even asked how you are.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Are you sure? You do look a little wasted, if you don’t mind me saying. What have you been up to?’

‘It’s an involved story, and it’ll keep. Look, things outside are turning critical. That’s what I came about.’

‘We know we’re hardly in a good position here, but-’

‘It’s going to get a lot worse. I want you to think about letting me arrange a move for you all, seriously this time.’

His worried look deepened. ‘I thought you said we were safe here.’

‘I did. You are. But you’d be safer nearer the redoubt’s core. You’re too close to the outside of the building.’

‘What’s the point? The situation’s hopeless, isn’t it?’

‘That attitude’s not very helpful to Tan, is it? Or the kids. And what’s your alternative, giving up and cutting your throats? There’s always hope. Hang on to it.’

‘You sound like the way I was once.’

‘Good. Be that way again, it suits you.’ She squeezed his arm affectionately, noting how much bonier it was. ‘Something will turn up.’

‘The Source?’

‘Our secret weapon?’ She had to bite back her cynicism, lest she negate her last little speech. ‘It’s not proving fantastically helpful at the moment. But it has come up with some interesting facts.’ There was no need to burden him with horror stories about the Founders. ‘Again, I’ll tell you later.’ Assuming there would be a later.

‘Something else worries me.’

‘Haven’t you got enough to be going on with?’

‘Seriously. I wonder what I’d do if it came to me being all that stood between Tan and the kids and those invaders. What price my pacifism then? How would I be able to protect them? Then I think about how I’m leaving the fighting to others, and feel perhaps I’m just a coward after all.’ He bowed his head.

She stretched a hand to his chin and gently lifted his head again. ‘That’s between you and your conscience, Kinsel. I know what I’d do in that situation, but you and I have a slightly different way of looking at the world. And you’re no coward. I couldn’t do what you do. That turning the other cheek stuff takes a lot more self-discipline than I’ve got. Does that make either of us a coward?’

He gave a mild smile in gratitude. ‘We’ll have to hope that the enemy behave honourably and are merciful towards women and children.’

‘I’m sure they will be, if it comes to that.’ She thought it would be nice to believe that herself. ‘Kinsel, time’s pressing. Can I see Tan?’

‘Yes, of course you can.’ He stood aside to let her in.

As before, Tanalvah was in her bed. Her appearance wasn’t greatly improved from the last time Serrah had seen her. She still had a pasty, unhealthy pallor, and her breathing was shallow to the point of improbability. Her eyes were closed. In the room’s meagre light, she could have passed for a corpse.

There was no sign of the children. Serrah assumed they were behind the closed door of the adjoining room, hopefully sleeping.

Sensing Kinsel and Serrah’s presence before they made a sound, Tanalvah opened her eyes. There were unmistakable embers of pain in them, but she smiled at Kinsel.

‘I seem to spend my life asking this,’ Serrah said, ‘but how are you, Tan?’

‘I’m going to be better,’ she replied. It came out with a decisiveness she hadn’t shown for a long time.

‘That’s the spirit, my love,’ Kinsel approved.

‘I’m going to be better once I’ve made a clean breast and begged forgiveness.’

‘Iparrater doesn’t need you to beg,’ Serrah replied, taking it as a reference to Tanalvah’s faith. ‘You’ve often said yourself she’s a benign god.’

‘I’ve made my peace with her. I’m content with whatever punishment she sees fit to inflict on me. No, I’m thinking of more worldly forgiveness.’

‘You’ve done nothing to be forgiven for. If you’re referring to your old profession, well, you hardly had a choice about that, did you? Come on, Tan. A child’s birth should be a joyous time, whatever else is going on in this crazy world.’

‘It will be joyful to me if my child isn’t born in my sin. Which is why I must make my confession and-’

‘Tan? Tan.’

Tanalvah’s face twisted, her body writhing in agony.

Kinsel peered at her, anxious. ‘My love?’

‘It’s…time.’ Tanalvah said it through clenched teeth. Another shudder wracked her.

‘She’s right,’ Serrah reckoned. ‘Those are contractions.’

‘We need a healer.’ He looked distraught.

‘They’re all busy.’

‘Then we have to do it. Serrah, you-’

‘Because I’m a woman I have to be an expert midwife, is that it?’

‘Who else does she have but us?’

‘Oh, shit.’ Serrah felt a little ashamed, as well as fearful. She really wanted to get back to Reeth. And if she was being totally honest, given the ramp still coursing through her veins, the action. ‘Bring hot water and towels,’ she said. As he moved off, she called, ‘And keep the kids out of here!’

‘Good odds,’ Caldason said, his gaze flicking from the paladin to the meld and the young officer.

‘They’re under orders to leave this to me,’ Bastorran told him.

‘Ah. I meant only the three of you. Good odds.’

‘I’m going to enjoy shutting that mouth of yours so much.’

‘Then perhaps it’s time you stopped flapping yours and got on with it.’

Kutch was still gawping at the uniformed stranger, and Wendah was staring perplexedly at him.

Bastorran took the lure and came at Reeth, sword swinging. Their blades collided, giving off a peal that echoed through the empty stable.

The opening rash of strokes and counterstrokes should have determined top dog. Instead it showed there was little between them in terms of prowess. But that initial few seconds reminded Reeth of something he had observed the last time they met. Their skills might be more or less equally matched, but their fighting styles differed. Like all paladins, Bastorran had been trained in the classical tradition. Caldason was more of a street fighter. He put a greater emphasis on instinct, and less on standard combinations and textbook passes.

Not that classical meant fair. Fencing as the paladin employed it was no less ruthless in intent than the actions of the lowliest back alley vagabond. Bastorran may have wielded his blade with grace, even a certain elegance, but still the object was to drive steel into his opponent’s gut.

‘Not so easy this time, is it, Caldason?’ he mocked. ‘No speeding wagons to hurl your victim from. No gangs of traitors to spirit you away.’

‘Whereas you’ve only brought a pair of back-ups. Or should that be three, counting the grotesque?’ Caldason nodded at Kordenza. The meld, acting as a lookout at the door, glared back.

Bastorran went on the attack again. They slashed at each other, probing defences, seeking a breach. But the intensity of their blows was rising in direct inverse ratio to the speed at which they moved. Most duels were short, intense affairs, settled quickly in passion. When two swordsmen of like stature met, stamina was often the deciding factor.

Wanting to avoid the descent into a messy slog, Caldason put on a spurt in hope of finishing things. Bastorran tried to match him, and for the first time looked to be faltering.

As they battled, Caldason shot a glance at the unnamed officer, who remained to one side, motionless, as though a mere bystander. His function was presumably to prevent Kutch or Wendah joining the fight, though he had no blade drawn. In fact, Caldason thought he saw him wink at Kutch, but realised that was absurd.

Now a fresh burst of energy infused their clash and it turned frantic again. Thrusts and parries, blows delivered and offset. The pace was feverish. Neither man would relent, but there was no disguising Bastorran’s growing uncertainty. He seemed to struggle just that little bit more to drive home his strikes. Blocking Caldason’s passes seemed just as much of an effort.

Despite his boast that he would take Caldason alone, the reality was proving too taxing for the Clan High Chief. His eyes conveyed as much, and the signals were directed at his aide and Kordenza.

The gestures were subtle, but Kutch picked them up. The young officer remained immobile, giving no hint that he’d comprehended his master’s tacit summons. In any event, Kutch no longer seemed interested in him. His covert attention was on Aphri Kordenza. The meld had understood Bastorran’s command, and was readying herself for a move.

Kutch was nearest to her. When she transferred her weight from foot to foot, presumably limbering before action, he noticed something strange. As one foot lifted slightly from the floor, there was a glow from under her heel. It was a distinct purplish light, and it appeared, bizarrely, to have the characteristics of a gummy substance. Strands of incandescence linked foot and ground for a second, like miniscule lightning bolts.

Kutch knew magic when he saw it. And now, with his spotter talent kicking in, he saw into the heart of it. Wendah surreptitiously followed his gaze, and she saw, too.

Slipping a hand into his coat, Kutch fingered the handle of the knife Serrah had given him just before they escaped Bhealfa. She seemed to have forgotten about it, but he’d kept it close ever since. It frightened him, as most weapons did, but what he saw in the meld frightened him more.

Caldason and Bastorran continued to fight. The paladin battled with an air almost of desperation, his swipes becoming wilder and his aim less sure. But there were still flashes of brilliance. He put together a mix of passes and feints that wrong-footed Caldason. For a second, everything was in flux.

Kordenza took her chance and moved. Too fast for Kutch to react, but not Wendah. The girl scooped a handful of tiny green pellets from her pocket and tossed them into the meld’s path. Hex cracklers were at the milder end of the barrage glamour spectrum, more or less toys, but they detonated with an impressive report.

Caldason and Bastorran were probably as startled as everybody else, but too seasoned to be put off their stroke. Their battling didn’t waiver. On the other hand, Kordenza recoiled and hastily drew back, a stunned expression on her face.

Wendah had acted instinctively. Her deed had prevented Kordenza from aiding Bastorran, but it also triggered the meld’s anger. Enraged, Kordenza went for the girl and swiped her savagely across the face, hard enough to knock Wendah to the ground. The meld reached for her sword.

Kutch was there, pointing his dagger at her, hand trembling. ‘Leave her alone,’ he said.

The meld sneered. ‘Think you can stand up to me, little boy? Let’s see, shall we?’ She swept up her blade.

Another barred its arc. It belonged to the silent young officer.

‘How dare you stay my hand?’ Kordenza flared. ‘Whose side are you on anyway?’

‘Certainly not yours,’ he said, speaking for the first time. ‘You want Kutch, you go through me.’

‘I’ll enjoy it.’

Their swords came together and another fight broke out.

‘What the hell are you doing, Meakin?’ Bastorran yelled.

‘Looks like you don’t inspire quite as much loyalty as you thought,’ Caldason chided.

They fenced on.

Still clutching the knife, Kutch backed away from the violence and helped Wendah up. Her lip was bleeding and she looked shaken, but not seriously hurt. He embraced her protectively.

In Kordenza, Meakin had chosen an opponent far more skilled than himself. But he acquitted himself well, bravely even, knowing that he faced a professional killer. The meld chose to increase her advantage yet further. She retreated a few steps and began the repugnant process of disgorging her twin.

‘Don’t let her do that!’ Kutch cried, for he’d seen what she was, and what she could become.

Meakin dashed forward, evaded the meld’s sword and encircled her in a bear hug. Their struggle took them to the ground, limbs thrashing.

That particular distraction was poorly timed for Caldason. He deflected a blow imprecisely, then took a second hit at an awkward angle. The upshot was that his sword, the only one he wore this day, was knocked clean out of his hand. It landed tip down, quivering, in the impacted earth of the stable floor. He dived for it, sprawling full-length, a finger’s length short.

Bastorran was nearer. He contemptuously kicked the blade away. It bounced beyond reach.

Caldason was at his mercy. The paladin loomed over him, lifting his sword for the killing blow. ‘You don’t know how much I’ve longed for this,’ he announced sardonically, relishing the moment.

The blood pounded in Reeth’s ears. Kutch yelled something that sounded like, ‘The sword, Reeth!’ He looked to the weapon. It was tantalisingly near but past hope of recovering.

Bastorran’s blade was raised high.

Wendah gave a shrill little scream of horror.

Caldason’s gaze returned to his sword. An indescribably powerful surge of wanting rose in him.

The sword moved. It shifted jerkily at first, as though tugged by an invisible hand. Then it flew, smooth and dart-like, hilt first to fill his waiting hand.

Bastorran watched all this in frozen astonishment, his own sword poised.

Reeth took his chance. He delivered an upward thrust. The steel sliced into Bastorran’s abdomen, and Caldason felt it go in deep. He wrenched it free, ready to strike again. The wound erupted crimson.

The paladin wore an expression of bewildered disbelief. A look that spoke ill of a Fate that could have him snatch defeat from the jaws of sweet victory. The sword slipped from his grasp. His blood flowed more freely still. He fell.

Caldason was numb. The blade in his hand could have been a viper from the way he stared at it.

There was a commotion. Kordenza ran for the door, cloak aflutter. Meakin was getting to his feet and looking to chase her.

‘Let it go!’ Caldason shouted. He thought the young man lucky to have survived one encounter with her. A second could well prove fatal.

The young officer obeyed. In fact, his attention was now on Kutch, and the two of them came together. They hugged.

It seemed to Caldason that the world had just got crazier. Standing, he said, ‘Kutch, who is this?’

The boy turned his head Caldason’s way. His eyes were glistening. ‘This is Varee, Reeth. My brother.’

‘Your what?’

‘It’s true,’ Varee told him. ‘Kutch and I are siblings, and we haven’t seen each other in a long time. In fact, until recently I felt sure he was dead.’

‘And I thought you must be,’ Kutch said, his voice near breaking.

‘Varee Pirathon?’ Reeth queried. ‘Bastorran called you something else.’

‘Meakin. Lahon Meakin. Under that name I’ve been his aide for the last six months.’

‘You better be able to explain this.’ There were sounds of fighting from outside the stables, a reminder of the greater conflict. ‘Only not right now. Later, if we’re still alive.’

‘He’s all right, Reeth,’ Kutch insisted. ‘He’s my brother. Look how he took on the meld.’

‘You do deserve thanks for that, Varee,’ Caldason conceded. He turned his attention to Wendah and Kutch. ‘And so do you two.’

‘Forget that,’ Kutch replied excitedly. ‘What about that magic you pulled off? That was awesome, Reeth!’

‘No. No, I didn’t do that. It was a fluke…a…It was really you, wasn’t it, Kutch? Or you, Wendah?’

They shook their heads in unison.

‘Neither of us could do that,’ Wendah informed him.

‘It was you, Reeth,’ Kutch added. ‘You’re a natural. That Founder blood.’

Caldason was horrified. He resumed studying his sword.

Varee looked thoroughly confused.

In brotherly empathy, Kutch said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll explain. Though there’s a lot to tell.’

‘I know some of it. I’ve been trying to help your cause, in a small way. And I want to help now.’

‘Then get rid of that uniform,’ Caldason advised, pulling himself together. ‘There are several hundred rebels out there waiting to riddle it with arrows.’

‘Gladly.’ The elder Pirathon started peeling off his tunic, revealing a plain shirt.

Kutch looked on in something approaching adoration. And Wendah looked happy for him.

‘The fighting’s nowhere near over,’ Caldason reminded them soberly. ‘Not to mention that meld’s still on the loose. Let’s get out of here in good order, and keep your weapons handy. Kutch, Wendah, you stick close.’

They trooped past Bastorran’s body and to the door. On the way, Varee picked up a discarded horse blanket and draped it around his shoulders against the cold.

Things were a lot quieter outside. The invaders had been repelled, just, and at a dreadful cost in lives. Islanders were mopping up the last pockets of fighters. Most were being forced into a retreat through the gates, or back over the walls. Kordenza was nowhere to be seen, and was presumably among them.

Caldason couldn’t stop thinking about what had just happened with the sword he carried, and what Kutch had said about it. He walked on, leaving the brothers and Wendah behind in their slow-moving, engrossed huddle.

Darrok swooped in on his flying dish. ‘Good to see you, Reeth.’

Caldason returned the greeting distractedly.

‘Thanks for saving my woman,’ Darrok added gratefully. ‘Look at that,’ he went on before Reeth could respond. He pointed at a corpse half immersed in a horse trough. The man wore pirate clothing. ‘More of Vance’s men siding with the empires.’ It was obviously a running sore for him.

‘Something should be done,’ Caldason replied mordantly.

Darrok was in a mood to take that literally. ‘You bet something should be done. And I’m the one to do it, given the debt I owe the swine.’

Caldason kept walking, leaving Darrok to stare at his back before gliding away. He went to one of the walls, clear of invaders now, and found a little stretch of his own. The soldiers they’d driven out were jogging towards an army massing on the plain. A force bigger than the entire rebel population of the Diamond Isle, and with more arriving. He knew that everything up to now had been a skirmish.

Wendah came and stood beside him. ‘They want to be together,’ she explained. ‘They don’t need me there.’ It was said without rancour. She took in the scene. ‘It’s bad, isn’t it?’

He nodded. ‘Yes.’ He was thinking of Serrah. All he wanted was to be with her, and that was the next thing he was going to do.

‘You have the power,’ Wendah reminded him. ‘Use it to help us.’

He was going to deny it, but heard himself say, ‘I don’t know how.’