Where are you, Keld?
In truth Sig was worried about her huntsman. It had been four nights now since the assault on the Kadoshim coven, four nights since he’d gone in pursuit of the shaven-haired acolyte who had fled on the Kadoshim’s orders.
Four nights since she’d asked Keld to pursue the Kadoshim’s servant.
Keld can look after himself, she reassured herself, burying the worry that stirred within her. And Elgin has sent his own huntsmen out in search of him.
And I want to see what the Kadoshim gave to that messenger.
There was more to her worry than Keld’s delay. The whole mission was unsettling. Never before had she seen a Kadoshim surrounded by so many fanatics, and they were clearly more than a collection of feeble-minded zealots. They were organized, knew their weapons and were stealthy. They’d built a defensible maze within a dozen leagues of Uthandun.
Why? What is behind it?
A dread had filled her, a chill in her blood and bones ever since she’d heard the chanting in the tunnels of that hill, set eyes upon the Kadoshim as it sacrificed its prisoner. And saw the runes inscribed in a circle around the human offering.
This is some new strategy, and I do not like not knowing what it is.
Movement drew Sig’s eye: a pinprick in the sky above the Darkwood. A bird, standing out as different from those others in the air about it because of its flight. Where the others wheeled and soared, riding currents, this one flew straight and unerring towards Uthandun.
Cullen saw it, too, stared with head cocked.
‘Is that who I think it is?’ he said as the bird drew closer.
‘Aye,’ Sig rumbled. ‘It’s Rab.’
A white bird flew to the walls of Uthandun, saw Sig and Cullen and circled above them, squawking raucously as it descended in a flapping of wings, alighting on the timber wall. It was a white crow, its pink beak long and thick, feathers ruffled and poking in odd directions.
‘Finally,’ the crow croaked. ‘Rab been searching everywhere for you.’
A warrior standing guard upon the battlements shuffled away, muttering under his breath.
‘Well, you’ve found us now,’ Cullen said to the crow.
‘You bring a message from Byrne,’ Sig said. It wasn’t a question.
‘Rab does,’ the bird answered, hopping along the wall, flexing its wings wide. ‘Rab sore,’ it muttered. Cullen reached out his good hand and stroked the bird’s wings, Rab leaning into the caress.
‘It’s a long way to fly from Dun Seren,’ Cullen said with a shrug.
‘The message,’ Sig prompted the white crow.
Yes,’ Rab squawked with a clack of his beak. ‘First, check that Sig and her crew are safe, Byrne said.’ Rab paused and pointedly looked them over with a beady, red-tinged eye, lingering on Cullen’s arm in a sling and the cuts and gashes all over Sig.
‘Hammer. Keld. Hounds?’ Rab squawked.
‘Hammer has a knife-wound in her paw, but is healing fine,’ Sig said. ‘Keld and his hounds are missing; chasing after a man who escaped our raid.’
‘Raid?’ Rab cawed. ‘No. First Rab finish message. Byrne wants you back, Dun Seren, Dun Seren. Things happening.’
‘Does she? What things?’ Sig frowned.
‘Byrne not tell Rab,’ the crow squawked sadly, shaking his head. ‘Rab just messenger.’
‘I know, I know,’ Sig said, holding a hand up, having listened many times to the crow’s opinions on keeping information from him.
‘Sig go back to Dun Seren, soon as Sig can,’ Rab finished.
‘I’m just waiting for Keld,’ Sig rumbled, not for the first time thinking of going in search of him herself. But Keld knew Uthandun was the rendezvous point, and Sig was no tracker. Then a thought struck her.
‘You could look for Keld, Rab. The sooner we find him, the sooner we can all go back to Dun Seren. We last saw him there,’ Sig said, pointing north-east towards a line of hills.
The white crow puffed his chest up, white feathers bristling.
‘It would be very helpful,’ Cullen said, scratching Rab’s neck. ‘We’re worried for Keld. And we’d be grateful.’
Rab is helpful,’ the crow squawked, his head bobbing up and down. ‘And Rab like Keld.’ The crow looked up at Sig. ‘Rab look for Keld,’ he said, as if the idea were Rab’s own.
‘Thank you,’ Cullen said, nudging Sig with his elbow.
‘My thanks,’ Sig said with a grunt.
‘Welcome,’ Rab said and hopped off the rampart, wings spreading, catching an updraught, and then the crow was climbing higher, circling over their heads.
‘Rab back soon,’ the crow squawked, and then it was winging away.
‘Ah, he’s a good bird,’ Cullen said with a smile.
Sig raised an eyebrow.
‘He is,’ Cullen said. ‘Always eager to help, that one. And I feel sorry for him. The other crows in the tower are not always kind to him.’
‘Are they not?’ Sig frowned.
‘No. I think it’s because of his feathers.’ Cullen shrugged. ‘To my mind it’s wrong to fault a bird for the colour feathers it’s born with, don’t you think?’
‘Huh,’ Sig grunted. She did agree, but she was wondering more about why Cullen knew so much about the behaviour of crows in their tower at Dun Seren. Rab was not the only talking crow that resided at the fortress.
‘Well, I’m glad Rab has you to look out for him,’ Sig said. She sighed, long and thoughtful. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘I’m hungry, let’s find us some hot food. And after that, I need to talk to Queen Nara, and you’d best come with me. She is your distant kin, after all.’
Nara, Queen of Ardain, was sitting in the high chair of Uthandun’s great keep, tall, for a human, dark-haired with a pale face. She was wrapped in a thick bear pelt, silver wire wound through her hair, a long knife sheathed at her belt, which Sig approved of. The feast-hall was mostly empty, one man poking at the central fire-pit, stirring embers up and adding logs. As Sig and Cullen arrived, Queen Nara was deep in conversation with Elgin, her battlechief. He had a bandage wound around his head, souvenir of the battle with the Kadoshim’s acolytes. Another man stood at Nara’s shoulder: Madoc, the Queen’s first-sword.
Sig stopped a respectful distance away, Cullen at her side, but Nara gestured them forwards with an impatient flick of her wrist.
‘Well met, Queen Nara,’ Sig said, giving her best try at a bow. It was more a stiff lean from her hips, for Sig was not used to bowing. Cullen made a better job of it, though his arm in a sling didn’t help.
‘Enough of that,’ Nara said, looking up at Sig. ‘There’s no need for ceremony between us, Sig. I have long hoped to meet you, who knew my great-grandparents and founders of the realm of Ardain. To think that you spoke with Queen Edana and King Conall,’ she said wistfully. ‘And you, Cullen, my cousin.’ Nara looked Cullen up and down a long moment, serious eyes fixing on his face, her lips pursed. ‘There is a statue of King Conall in Dun Taras, and I can see his likeness in you.’