Twist was dancing around my leg. The pain spirit vibrated against the many layers of wyrd that now thrummed within me, using them to perform somersaults and gleeful cartwheels. The centre of the Maelstrom gave me more power than I’d ever known, though I was in excruciating pain as a result. It was the only way Twist could communicate, and he made it difficult to stand. Luckily, I was propped up between Loco and Blade Smile, both of whom had glowing arms. In fact, every Eastron I could see in the well-lit caves, pulsed with the pale blue glow of wyrd. Every Eastron except me.
The small company had rushed into a complex of caves beneath the Maelstrom. The tunnels were well used and clean, with carpets and wooden structures. I could sense dozens of spirit-masters, using their collective craft to keep this small area free from the chaos belched forth by the Maelstrom. The Grim Wolf and his people were expending considerable power to protect a few caves, directly under the point of the void storm. There was something here of great value. Something that Marius Cyclone wanted. Something that drove the People of Ice to betray the First Fang, and the Dark Brethren to assault the Dead Horse.
The ninety warriors who had survived the journey north began to fan out into the cave complex, clustering into groups of Pure Ones, Dark Brethren and People of Ice. They didn’t mingle, and relied on Inigo Night Walker, Ten Cuts and the Grim Wolf to coordinate their efforts.
“What’s the matter with you?” asked Loco, frowning down at me. “Where’s your wyrd? Why does it not shine?”
The Grim Wolf and Inigo approached, sheathing their weapons. The man of Ice was chewing on his lips in concern, and the commander of the third void legion had narrow, questioning eyes.
“We’ve seen nothing, father,” said Blade Smile. “The boy didn’t show so much as a trickle of power the whole journey.”
“How flows your wyrd, Master Greenfire?” asked Xavyer Ice, flexing his glowing blue shoulders. He still looked like a bear, but now appeared twice as wide, as if his wyrd gave him a second skin. “Where is your power?”
Everyone was taller than me. Blade Smile was the shortest, and slowly held his small knife to my throat. Inigo and Loco were of similar size, and stood mere inches from my face. The Grim Wolf was far and away the tallest, though he stood back, regarding me warily.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I replied, straining against Twist to stand upright. “My wyrd is untrained, I can’t control it.” It was an easy thing to say, for I’d heard it all my life, but it was no longer completely true. It felt like a lie, for I could feel huge gouts of spiritual power, bubbling just below the surface. But I somehow kept it all internal, as if the impulse to prove myself was softening. “I’m a Sea Wolf,” I stated. “I’m also your prisoner, but I’m not your fucking pet. My wyrd is my own.”
Inigo glared at me. “I saw what you can do, Duncan. Don’t pretend you’re weak. Show us.”
Blade Smile’s knife pressed against my throat. “But don’t get carried away,” said the young man of Ice. “Just show us your wyrd.”
They all stared at me, expecting a show of strength, or perhaps just an acknowledgement that the Maelstrom had affected me the same as it had them. But I didn’t give them anything. I knew I was playing a dangerous game, but I wasn’t going to honour the Severed Hand by being a coward. My wyrd had never shone brightly, and it was easy to hide it from them.
Then Inigo punched me in the face. It was a restrained blow, aimed at my nose, and made my eyes water. I fell backwards, and Twist flared against my leg. I summoned no wyrd, but had to grit my teeth to stop lashing out at the Dark Brethren. I groaned and curled up on the floor, gingerly touching my nose. I muttered under my breath, trying to stay calm.
“Is this a fucking joke?” snapped Inigo, kicking me in the stomach. “You killed a hundred warriors aboard the Dead Horse. And now you whimper? Where is your wyrd, Sea Wolf?”
He kicked me again, and I coughed violently, hugging my knees so as to protect my stomach from further punishment. My pain tolerance was astonishing, but the raging void legionnaire may have caused some internal damage. Added to which was the extreme effort it took to keep Twist from using my wyrd to do something violent. I was gambling that they wouldn’t kill me. If a blade was swung at my head, I’d have no choice but to act, but a few punches and kicks I could endure.
“Stop kicking him,” said the Grim Wolf. “Xymon, help him up.”
Blade Smile sheathed his knife and grabbed my shoulders. With a heave, he pulled me to my feet, though I couldn’t stand fully upright.
The Grim Wolf shoved past Inigo and Loco, to direct his wild, blue eyes down at me. “I warned you,” he rumbled. “If you’re not powerful enough to be of use, we have no reason to let you live. If you have anything to show us, now would be the time.” His words were ominous, and far more threatening than being kicked repeatedly. I was also now aware that dozens of other warriors were looking at me.
Twist scratched at my leg, as if to ask if I was sure of what I was doing. The reasons for my deception were numerous but I wasn’t sure of any of them. I was sick of being ignorant, and wanted some plain answers. I had gained some control for the first time in my life, and was eager to use it. But most of all, these were my captors, and a Sea Wolf would never submit to his captors. If the sea was truly rising, and a pale man was pulling their strings, I would stay defiant until I was told the truth. Until I saw a way to honour Vikon Blood, the Old Bitch of the Sea, and the crew of the Dead Horse.
I straightened, looking up at the Grim Wolf. The pain abated, though I gulped, and my face twitched. “Then you should kill me,” I stated, amazed at my own bravery. “But I’ll die a Sea Wolf.”
The man of Ice scratched at his matted beard. “You wear your fear well,” he observed. “And your pain. But how are you with the pain of others?”
“I’ve got nothing more to say to you,” I replied, gritting my teeth.
He nodded, and put an enormous, hairy hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay, lad. I know you have power in there somewhere. Perhaps threatening your life is not the way to unleash it. Zia, take him to the cells. Watch him closely.”
“Yes, brother,” replied Zia Lahandras.
*
The line of cells was built into the cave wall. Old, dark wood with black iron fastenings. Each door was a slightly different size, dictated by the slanted cave ceiling, and contained a barred window at head height. We were deeper in the cave system, far from the central chambers and the massed warriors. I was closely guarded by Zia and three men of Ice, though no blade was held to my throat. They still believed me to be powerful, but perhaps not an immediate danger.
“Down the end,” said Zia Lahandras, shoving me along the line of cells. “Follow the cursing.”
A few steps along the corridor and I could hear a mumbled voice. Halfway down, and the words coalesced into swear words. As I reached the last two cells, I heard Weathervane Will spitting curses through the hole in his cell door. The Kneeling Wolf was on tiptoes to be seen through the bars.
“… and fuck your mother’s mother, and fuck her stupid fucking face. I kneel, but not to you … Duncan?”
From within the small cell, Snake Charmer stood from a low bed and approached the barred window. “Friend Duncan!” exclaimed the Pure One. “I am glad to see you safe.”
I smiled, feeling genuine happiness at seeing them again. I was not the only survivor of the Dead Horse. They would be as confused as me, and confusion, like misery, was fond of company. “I was certain they’d have killed you.”
“Not me,” said Will, with a vicious grin. “I’m just a rat. The legionnaires aren’t allowed to sully their blades, and Valen Ice made a vow to the Friend a century ago. I’ve been insulting them for days, it appears there is nothing I can say that will make them kill me.”
“I can vouch for that,” offered Snake, looking down at the diminutive Eastron. “As we were hooded and dragged north, he focused his attacks on our captives’ parentage. His language has been most colourful.”
“You didn’t see the Maelstrom?” I asked.
“Felt it,” said Will. “But we’ve had hoods whenever they moved us. The beach to Cold Point, Cold Point to the caves. And you? We haven’t seen you since the beach. Since they executed Lord Vikon.”
“They want my wyrd,” I replied. “I don’t know what for, but … I’ve seen things. The sea rising.” I coughed and shook my head, scratching at my leg. “I can’t really remember it … it’s … like the part of a dream you can’t recall.”
The Pure One and the Kneeling Wolf looked at each other. As Will was about to speak, Zia grabbed my neck and pulled me away from the cell window. “That’s enough,” she commanded.
“Hello, sweetheart,” said Will, winking at the woman of Ice. “Why don’t you come in here and tickle my balls?”
Snake coughed in embarrassment, but Zia barely reacted. “The wolves that kneel will ever be our friends,” she replied, with a respectful bow of the head.
“Oh, fuck off,” said Will, sneering in irritation and backing away from the cell door.
“The Winterlord is in there,” said Zia, ignoring Weathervane Will and pointing to the last cell. “He won’t submit to imprisonment, so requires more substantial restraints than those two.”
I swallowed, and took a few tentative steps along the corridor. The last door was small, barely taller than me, and the cell was tiny, certainly not large enough for David Falcon’s Fang to stand. He was chained and gagged, seated in an awkward crouch against the far wall. His plate armour was nowhere to be seen, and his huge form was clad in nothing but bloody rags, with bandages tied around his thigh, forearm and neck. Though his blue eyes were narrow and focused, and his breathing was slow.
“We don’t want to hurt him,” said Zia. “We have no quarrel with First Port or the Always King.” She bowed her head, and pushed a braid of black hair behind her shoulder. “But we feel you would be more compliant if he was in pain … and you had the power to stop it. We could hurt the Pure One or the rat, but Master Falcon’s Fang … he’s a Winterlord. Perhaps the enormity of his suffering will make you realize what is at stake – the very future of the Eastron from across the sea.”
I locked eyes with David. Looking back at me was rage and defiance. The young Winterlord duellist appeared even bigger when squeezed into a tiny cell, with his muscles tensed against the steel chains and stone walls. It suddenly occurred to me that none of us would be here if I’d not killed Maron Grief and snuck out of my room in the Bloody Halls. But then Prince Oliver Dawn Claw would be dead, and the war would have already begun. I was conflicted, and Twist punctuated my torment with an insistent spasm, travelling up my left leg, and assaulting my capacity to think clearly. The pain spirit didn’t understand why I kept my power shackled, and in that moment, neither did I.
I glared at Zia. “You’re going to hurt David to make me show you my wyrd?”
The three men of Ice who’d accompanied us encircled me, holding heavy-bladed cutlasses. “Is the threat not enough?” asked Zia. “If you agree to use your power to aid us, there is no need to hurt anyone.”
I sneered at her, fed up with being kept in the dark. “You’ve not even told me what you want. Inigo and your brother are apparently now best friends, and have only said that someone has a use for me, and that you attacked the Dead Horse to keep Nowhere safe. But my wyrd belongs to no-one else, and I’ll use it when and where I choose.”
Honour us, Duncan.
I looked at David’s unmoving, defiant eyes. Then at the small cell window where Weathervane Will craned his neck to see us. Finally, I stared down at the stone floor. “Okay, Twist,” I muttered. “I think I’ve been a prisoner long enough.”
Zia was frowning, wondering who I was talking to, and the three armed men kept their blades close to my neck, but I didn’t care. With a deep breath, I unleashed my wyrd. It was like every inch of my body surged into a new skin of dark blue light. I roared, as the surge reached my head, flowing from my eyes and mouth, and becoming a violently crackling mantle of energy. The Maelstrom removed my shackles like the breaking of a dam, allowing me to shatter three cutlasses with a thought, and fling their wielders into the walls. I broke their necks, backs, and limbs. I crushed Zia’s head into mush with a wave of my shimmering arms, sending a spray of blood across the cell doors. I killed them and it was all so effortless. Zia’s headless body fell, much as Maron Grief’s had on the stone of Duellist’s Yard, but this time there was no-one here to reprimand me.
Then I couldn’t catch my breath. My wyrd was surging beyond the limits of my body, and I screamed in pain, trying to pull it back. I could feel the void, pulsing through me, as if the glass was malleable or transparent. I feared I’d kill myself, until Twist began stabbing me in the leg, forcing my wyrd to retreat. I slumped to the floor, panting heavily and fighting to stay conscious. There was blood everywhere, with broken bodies, posed like depraved statues, against the cell doors.
“Duncan!” snapped Will. “The key-chain. On her belt.”
I shivered and curled up into a ball, wanting the world to leave me alone. The Kneeling Wolf had seen me use my wyrd twice, enabling him to focus on his freedom, rather than the four people I’d killed.
“Duncan, you just made a lot of noise. They’ll be coming. The key-chain!”
I had no strength. My whole body was tensed and my bones weren’t moving properly. All I could do was slump at Zia’s body, trying not to look at her, as I rolled her towards Will’s outstretched hand. The Kneeling Wolf reached through the barred cell window, pulling the key-chain from Zia’s belt and fumbling with the keys. Snake was standing behind him, though his face showed no anxiety or shock. At the end of the corridor, shouts of alarm told me that other warriors were arriving.
Will tried two keys in the lock of his cell door, swearing loudly as each did nothing. The third made a heavy click as it turned, and he shoved the door outwards, pushing Zia’s body away from the cell.
“Snake, get to David,” snapped the Kneeling Wolf, lobbing the key-chain to the Pure One.
Snake grabbed a cutlass from Zia’s belt, and disappeared quickly inside David’s cell, whilst Will raised his arms and moved to greet the three approaching warriors of Ice. “Wait, wait,” he shouted, bowing his head in supplication. “I kneel to you, noble Sea Wolves. It’s all a mistake.” He looked down at me, and realized I wasn’t going to be any further help. Not until I’d had time to recover. I was barely awake, and was unable to move without extreme effort. Even Twist was exhausted, and curled up within the thorn clinch, like an animal falling asleep after the exertion of a successful hunt.
The three warriors recovered quickly, but Will had bought just enough time for Snake Charmer to unchain David Falcon’s Fang. The huge Winterlord emerged from his cell with Zia’s cutlass in his bloody hand. His feet were bare and his grey rags hung from his body. He spared a moment to survey the people I’d killed, before summoning wyrd into his arms and charging at the warriors of Ice.
Will dove to the side as the first man died. David was a skilled duellist, despite his youth, and skewered his target through the throat, before pulling back and holding a low stance. “You will die here,” he said, addressing the two men who remained. “Fast or slow, it will come.”
They attacked as one, going for his head and legs at the same time. David parried the high blow, and kicked away the other. He was clearly not accustomed to fighting with so slender a blade, but his superior strength and skill compensated for any of his shortcomings with a Sea Wolf cutlass. The next man of Ice was killed with a backhand slice across the forehead, and the last had his head smashed against the wall.
When it was done, after no more than ten seconds of violence, David leant against the wall and caught his breath. “Snake, check the corridor. You, rat, arm yourself.” He then looked down at me, and the broken bodies either side. “How flows your wyrd, friend Duncan?”
I managed to sit upright, breathing heavily, against the stone wall. I spluttered a few times, but couldn’t form any actual words. I just looked up at him, like a wounded child who’d made a huge mistake. I couldn’t look at the four people I’d killed, but I knew they were there, twitching either side of me. I’d killed many more aboard the Dead Horse, but I’d not seen their faces. This was different. This was worse. My control was an illusion. I could keep my wyrd caged or I could unleash it, there was nothing in between. And I couldn’t stop it from killing people.
“You need to stand, Duncan,” said the Winterlord. “We have to move. Now!” He grabbed me and I was pulled to my feet. My legs were wobbly, but David let me lean on him, and we stumbled away from the cells.
Weathervane Will acquired a cutlass from a dead body, and Snake Charmer darted forwards, to check the T-junction at the end of the prison corridor. The Kneeling Wolf stared at me, while the Pure One remained calm and precise.
“To you I kneel, noble Sea Wolf,” said Will, with a reassuring smirk. “I think we should go home now.” David handed me off to the Kneeling Wolf, who wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “I got ya. Just take it slow.”
“The way is clear,” said David, striding ahead to join Snake Charmer.
With the Winterlord in the lead, we skulked along the stone corridor, away from the dead bodies and towards the main caves. Will kept me moving at an even pace, but said nothing. The thorn clinch was burning, and I felt like I was walking through water, with no strength and heavy limbs. Had I honoured anyone? Or had I just killed more people? I’d helped the other survivors from their cells, but we were far from free.
At the end of the stone corridor, the walls flowed back into craggy rock, as the caves expanded away from us. Voices and movement echoed through the chambers, though direction was impossible to discern.
“Duncan, which way?” whispered David.
Will helped me limp past Snake, to peer into the caves. Other hewn corridors went left and right, with the central passage an irregular cave. “We came from there,” I replied, pointing to the large cave. “That’s where all the warriors are.”
David frowned, glancing around the passages. He kept his own counsel, not thinking to ask for advice. His wyrd was flickering along the length of his arms as he pondered his situation, as if he was reminding himself that it was still there. The glass of Nowhere made it difficult to trust your wyrd, even under the Maelstrom, though the young duellist would likely never confess to any doubts.
Before he could decide what to do, two Pure Ones emerged from one of the side corridors. Will and I hugged the wall, but David just looked at them, refusing to hide from lesser men. They looked back at him, gradually registering his bloody clothes and fierce expression. All at once they started running, and David leapt forwards in pursuit, with Will and Snake close behind. I was left, leaning against the cave wall, struggling to stand. The two fleeing Pure Ones made for the large cave ahead of us, shouting that the prisoners were free. David tackled one from behind, whilst Weathervane Will dragged the other to the ground by his long, black hair.
I hobbled along the wall after them, as the Pure Ones’ echoing shouts filled the caves. “Should we hide?” I suggested, feebly.
Will choked one unconscious, and David knocked the other one out with a single punch, but the damage had been done. The words faded slowly, but had travelled far in the open cave system. I feared that we’d be swarmed by warriors within moments, though David showed no signs of hiding. The Winterlord moved from the two unconscious Mirralite and stood in the centre of the cave entrance, as if to greet anyone who came to investigate.
“Duncan’s right, milord,” offered Will. “We can’t fight a whole army down here.”
“We can and we will,” replied David, hefting Zia’s cutlass. “Though we will likely fall, honour will have been sated. The Dawn Claw will mourn our passing.” He shared a respectful nod with Snake Charmer and took a deep breath, pulling prodigious wyrd into his arms.
“Honour?” I blurted out. “What has honour got to do with anything? I thought we were going to escape. How can we honour anyone when we’re dead?”
Will stepped gingerly into the shadows, encouraging Snake and me to do the same. Running footsteps reached all our ears, though it was still impossible to tell where they came from. David Falcon’s Fang didn’t appear to care. He faced the largest cave entrance and scowled.
“Snake, come stand by me,” said the Winterlord. “If we die, let us die side by side, as brothers.”
If I’d been less panicked, I’d have been amazed at the way David spoke to his squire. He appeared to see all other Pure Ones as inferior, whereas Snake Charmer was worthy of being called a brother.
“They’re coming,” observed Will. “Sounds like a lot of them.”
I backed away, hugging the wall next to the Kneeling Wolf. Both of us were scanning the passageways and cold, stone corridors, looking for the easiest place to run away. The way back to the cells was open, but glowing lights and echoing footsteps vibrated down all other corridors.
Will looked at me and smiled. “I think we’re fucked, Master Greenfire.”
He was right. The echoes were replaced by armoured warriors, emerging with confusion from most angles before me. From the largest cave, in front of David, came a mob of Eastron. A few Dark Brethren, amongst People of Ice, coming in response to the shouting. They saw the huge Winterlord and Snake Charmer, but Will and I were lost in shadows.
“Come to your deaths,” announced David.
The warriors stopped moving, puzzled by the blood-soaked duellist before them. From other corridors came dozens of Pure Ones and People of Ice, destroying any hope we had of retreat. I suddenly felt like a fool. I was responsible for Vikon Blood’s death, and now I would be responsible for David’s. My already laden conscience might also have to bear the weight of William Vane’s death, perhaps even Snake Charmer’s.
From behind the press of warriors in the large cave, came insistent commands in a deep voice. David took a stride towards the People of Ice and Dark Brethren, daring them to attack him. Instead, they parted, revealing the lumbering figure of Xavyer Ice, the Grim Wolf. Barely visible over his left shoulder was Ten Cuts. Will and I had now stepped into the cave, seeing no reason to remain hidden.
“Easy, boy,” said the Grim Wolf, holding his arms out and grinning at David. He narrowed his eyes when he saw me, but didn’t stop grinning. “This isn’t your time. This isn’t a glorious last stand. There’s no glory, there’s just death. Return to your cell and live another day, Winterlord.” He paused, his wild, blue eyes narrowing and his mouth closing into a frown. “Where did you get that sword? It’s my sister’s. I gave it to her.”
David glanced at the bloody cutlass, but didn’t turn and acknowledge me. “Your sister kindly freed me,” replied the Winterlord. “If you want me to answer for her death … well, I’m standing right in front of you.”
The Grim Wolf bowed his head and closed his eyes. He rubbed his face, paced back and forth, grumbled under his breath and shook his head. I was again reminded of a distressed bear.
After a moment, the grieving man turned his back on David, and addressed his people. “Zia Lahandras, called Freeze, my sister, is dead. She was killed by this entitled prick.” His voice vibrated with madness, as if the death of his sister overrode all other concerns. “We should kill all four of them.” He spoke coldly, stating our deaths as a matter-of-fact.
Everything slowed down. Swords seemed to appear from every conceivable angle, and Twist howled in the recesses of my mind. The pain spirit wanted to lash out, but our wyrd was nowhere to be found.
The endless line of swords advanced, and the Grim Wolf faced David. The huge man of Ice theatrically drew the two cutlasses in his belt and dropped them to the stone floor. Now unarmed, he crouched, as if preparing to charge, and summoned a thick layer of wyrd across each shoulder. The line between man and bear was hard to see, as the Grim Wolf pounced at the Winterlord.
Xavyer Ice was wider, but David was taller, and the two massive men clashed with a surge of rippling, blue wyrd. The sword proved ineffectual, skittering away as soon as it struck the Grim Wolf’s body, and the Winterlord was forced to grapple the ravening man of Ice. David was pinned to the floor, his legs locked together in a powerful mount, and his neck restrained with a forearm. The Grim Wolf hefted his full weight into David’s neck, slowly crushing his windpipe.
Warriors now advanced on Will and me. The Dark Brethren weren’t involved, but that made little difference. I backed away, but every direction was covered with swords. I saw Snake Charmer, standing impassively, with his gaze focused on David, but his reluctance to fight didn’t matter to the approaching warriors. All four of us were about to die.
“Do not kill them!” commanded Ten Cuts.
Everything stopped.