Anna Stephens - Bloodchild

Ash jerked his head up at that and Crys put his hand out.

‘Lies and falsehoods and secrets and fear,’ Dom mumbled, gazing into some inner vista that haunted him. ‘Lies, all lies. Only dreams are true here and they forget their dreams.’

The muttering this time was angry, hostile.

‘See?’ Tanik demanded. ‘They know nothing of us and our way of life to speak so. The Fox God would never allow anyone to speak of the soul-dreaming with so little respect. They are moon-mad; it can be nothing else. This one has been born with the sign of the god in his eyes and uses the blessing to cheat and corrupt the weak of mind.’

Ash scowled at the implication. ‘Fuck’s sake, I’m not listening to any more of this shit. Crys, help me get him up; he needs to rest. With luck we can be gone in the morning.’

Dom’s legs would barely support him and he hung between them like wet washing as they started towards the gate. Warriors shuffled and looked at each other, at the Warlord and the Seer-Mother, at Cutta Frog-dream and her two-hundred-strong war band.

‘Let them through. House them in the travellers’ quarter and put a dozen guards on watch.’ The Warlord’s voice was clear and he radiated puzzlement more than hostility, as though something didn’t quite make sense.

‘They will be questioned one at a time,’ Tanik said. ‘That one’s insane claims will be investigated in the sight of the gods. When his heresy is laid bare, he will be dealt with accordingly.’

The honour guard formed up around the three of them before Crys could respond and marched them through the gates and into the town, laid out like spokes on a wheel with roads lined with vegetable plots all leading in towards the centre – the tor. Crys felt it pull at him as they walked, felt a sudden sharp-eyed attention from within.

The tor. It will happen at the tor.

What will?

All of it.

Crys wasn’t reassured. He was pretty sure the Fox God had said something similar shortly before he was almost tortured to death.

Eighth moon, first year of the reign of King Corvus

Throne room, the palace, Rilporin, Wheat Lands

‘The first of the Evendoom women turned up,’ Corvus said as he lounged on the throne, one leg flung over the arm. ‘Three of them.’

‘How’d they look?’ Valan asked.

Corvus screwed up his face. ‘Even when they weren’t wailing and tearing their hair and so forth, mostly like the bastard offspring of a dog and a horse’s arse. I got rid of them.’ He studied Silais, who’d decided kneeling was by far the lesser evil compared with having body parts cut off. ‘But Slave Silais tells me some of the others have reputations for being quite pretty. In fact, he’s staked his other ear on it.’

The man twitched and Corvus sniggered. ‘As for the male heirs, two currently reside in Pine Lock. Brothers. I don’t trust the East Rank to handle it; sort it out for me, Valan. Silais will give you names and descriptions.’

‘Your will, Sire. With your permission, I’ll leave at dawn.’ Corvus nodded. ‘Regarding your safety in my absence, Tett’s a good man, steady and loyal and a bastard with a knife. He’ll make you a decent bodyguard.’

‘Hails from Crow Crag, not Eagle Height?’ Valan nodded. ‘Good. Always easier to trust one of our own. Brief him tonight and send him to me before you leave. Now, how’s the mood?’

Valan drummed his fingers on his knee and stared out of the window for a while. ‘Worried, Sire,’ he said eventually. ‘Now that things are settling down, now that we’re consolidating, well … some of the men are wondering if our victory was actually a victory? Our enemy is still out there, skulking through Listre or holed up in the South Forts – and we’ll have news on that any day now. In the meantime, our allies are spread thin across the rest of Rilpor. The Dark Lady is gone, and while the Blessed One’s plan will see Her restored to us,’ he added hastily as Corvus’s nostrils flared, ‘that plan made no mention of whether or not She will return as an infant. The men worry that there are more battles to come and our goddess will be helpless to aid us while in that form. And the food …’

Corvus licked his lips and strove for calm. Nothing Valan had said differed from the thoughts that chased around his own brain each night. Not that he would – could – ever admit that. And if the Blessed One wasn’t being so fucking secretive, so godsdamned stubborn, we could put all their minds at rest. Mine included. Because the truth was he had no idea if the Dark Lady would somehow transform the infant into a grown woman – a grown goddess – at the moment of Her return. Deep in his heart, he suspected Lanta didn’t know either.

‘Listre is being dealt with. I’ve sent correspondence to their government stating we have no quarrel with them – which they’re probably stupid enough to believe – and Tresh won’t be a problem soon enough. Skerris has scouts on the border just in case. They’ll take ship on the Tears as soon as anything untoward is spotted. And I’ve received confirmation from our friends in Krike that they won’t aid any rebel Rilporians.’

Valan looked at him steadily. ‘I know it, Sire, but the men don’t. I think that’s what has them worried. They know threats are out there and they don’t know what’s being done about them. The Godblind and the mortal Fox God are still missing, as is your sister. We are … forgive me, Sire, we are sitting still. We are shoring up our walls and then hiding behind them. And the longer we wait, the stronger our enemies get. Patrolling the Western Plain is one thing, but why not besiege the South Rank forts? Break the threat on our flank ready to face the Listrans if they come?’

Corvus stood and strode to the window and then back again. ‘You tell me nothing I haven’t thought already myself,’ he said eventually, and Valan’s shoulders relaxed a little. ‘And while our warriors are fit again, if we leave Rilporin now, we lose it to our own fucking slaves. Make no mistake, if we abandon this place, we’ll have to fight to retake it. If we pull the East Rank back to secure Rilporin, we lose the rest of the country. I’ve been waiting for Fost. Our women are well used to dealing with rebellious slaves, and with them in place to rule our households for us, aided by a few hundred of the men, we can leave Rilporin in safe hands.’

Valan sat back with a soft whoosh of air. ‘I had not considered that,’ he admitted.

They were interrupted by a pounding on the door, which was thrown open before Corvus could give leave to enter. He leapt on to the dais, banging his knee into the small table before the throne. ‘Fuck! Fost? Gods, we were just talking about …’ Fost’s face was grey beneath the sweat and stubble. He looked like a man with a hidden wound. ‘Tell me.’

Fost bowed jerkily, gaze flickering from Corvus to Valan and back. He stopped well out of reach of either of them and weight settled in Corvus’s gut, black and heavy. ‘You don’t … didn’t my messenger reach you?’

‘ Tell me. ’

Fost swallowed hard. ‘Dead, Sire. They’re all dead.’

Valan grabbed his shoulder and threw him into the chair opposite Corvus. Corvus didn’t sit; he leant on his knuckles on the table. ‘Explain.’ His voice was quiet, deadly.

Fost’s throat clicked as he swallowed and hurried to clarify. ‘Well, not all. I bring you one hundred and six children and seventy-two women, Sire. The only survivors of all our towns along the Sky Path. The rest are corpses, or missing in the storms in the mountains. A few weeks after we destroyed Watchtown, hundreds of Wolves took the Sky Path and slaughtered every woman, child and priest they could find. Our women and boys fought hard, but they were overwhelmed. The Wolves freed the slaves, who fled with the livestock, and we found a few children who’d survived the attack only to starve to death, it looked like. Those I have with me were clever or lucky enough to be overlooked, and although a few swear they saw the Wolves stealing children—’ Corvus’s breath hitched. He’d been a stolen child, stolen by the Mireces and brought into the Red Gods’ embrace. Saved. ‘—everyone else – everyone – is dead.’