Another small room. Another locked door. No shutters, this time, just a window too small and high up to climb out of. Water, and bread, and cheese. A tiny candle in a clay dish. Not the dark again. He was grateful for that, at least. Not having to see her light. He didn’t want to see her light. It would burn him, now. His eyes could no longer bear it.
‘Marith?’ Thalia sat on the bed and looked at him. Pity, and anger, and something else. She placed her hands on his forehead. Cool hands. Soft. Carin used to do that, too. It helped, sometimes. Take things away. Things he didn’t want. Things he couldn’t stop. Good things, that hurt him.
‘I could try …’ She looked so weary. ‘I could try to put the fear on them. When they come next with water, or to check. If you … If you killed them. We could maybe run …’
‘Run where? There’s nowhere to go. I can’t kill everyone in the place.’
Maybe I could, he thought. Maybe it would be fun to try … Kill them all and burn the inn down around them, feeding the flames with human fat. His mouth still tasted of dust. His head hurt like he was dying. He was so tired. Not tonight. Tonight he would sleep. He put his arms around Thalia and kissed her. She shuddered and then embraced him back. Their shadows danced on the wall behind them. Moonlight came in at the window, silver and clean. Even when the candle died, there was a little light.
The next day the same, riding slumped in the saddle, jerking uncomfortably on the broken-down horse. They didn’t give him alcohol again, just warmish water and dry bread. He ate and drank mechanically, rode mechanically, hoped against hope every time they gave him water that it was something else. In the night, locked together in a bedroom, he drew Thalia into his arms and felt briefly that there might be some kindness in the world. She made the light, once or twice, but it burnt him so that he cried out and hid his eyes from her. They did not speak.
Only ten days, it was, he realized later. Only ten days, from Reneneth to Skerneheh. It felt like an eternity. And like no time at all. No rhythm, no sense, no awareness of anything. Just light, too bright to bear, and dark again, and Thalia’s hands on his face.
They had come to a stretch of forest, ash and elm and holm oak, the land rising into hills that met the sea coast in a jumble of black cliffs. A few hours outside Skerneheh, but wild country, the woods dank and untouched. Too steep for habitation, hard rock jutting up through the soil. Few birds but crows.
The horses drew close together, nickering edgily. Mandle called out to the men to keep wary, told Landra and the other women to keep close. Hands rested on sword hilts. Going slowly, uphill. Hanging silence.
A scream of animal pain. A horse reared up, treading the air, its eyes wild. An arrow in the curved lines of its throat. White feathers crawling with lice. The horse staggered and fell sideways with a crash, bringing its rider down with it.
Another arrow grazed Mandle’s shoulder. Another, from the other side of the road, struck one of the servants in the neck. He fell forwards slowly, clawing at Landra’s horse as he died.
‘Bandits!’ Mandle shouted. One of the women screamed, her mount rearing as she let go of its reins. Marith’s horse shrieked and collided with the one next to it, almost knocking both riders to the ground.
Ten armed men burst out of the trees on either side of them.
The guardsmen moved forward. Trying to surround the women. Landra pulled her horse around. She drew out a long knife. Mandle’s gaze flicked from Marith to Landra and back again. Thalia was seated on Jaerl’s horse, in front of Jaerl’s body like a shield, getting in the way of his sword arm. Marith looked back at Mandle for a moment, their eyes meeting.
Keep her alive. Please.
Then the killing began.
Everything was hacking and stabbing, the packhorses frantic in the middle of it, one of the women still screaming on and on. Marith kicked wildly at one of the bandits coming towards him, missing entirely, wrestling to get his horse to move. They should have such an advantage, mounted men defending against foot, but the road here was narrow, rough, pot-holed, sloping steeply up. Everything a confusion, nowhere to move, no space, men ducking under the horses’ heads, the injured horse kicking and dying, two servants dead and underfoot, attackers, defenders, defended all caught up together. And he was unarmed, against a heavy broadsword that lashed out at his horse’s flanks.
Mandle skewered one, twisted round to block another coming up on Landra. Landra’s knife was bloody: a large dark-bearded man grabbed at her bridle and she stabbed his hand, hard and vicious, pulled her horse back round to crash into him as he leapt back. Two closed in on Jaerl. Jaerl’s horse reared, he brought it forward a few paces, swinging with his sword, missing one. The other jumped out of the way of kicking hooves, came in again on Jaerl’s left where Thalia was between him and Jaerl’s blade. Oh gods and demons, Thalia! Thalia! Jaerl wheeled the horse, kicked at his attacker, then pushed Thalia from the saddle. She screamed as she fell, the horse’s hooves stamping around her. Jaerl’s sword coming down at the bandit almost on top of her.
Marith charged towards them, riding down another bandit who turned too late to avoid the horse crashing into him. His horse pulled up at the impact, putting its left foreleg into a hole and jerking so hard Marith was nearly thrown off. He half fell, half slid from the saddle, shoving his way through the chaos of bodies, stumbling towards her. Everything was roaring in his ears and his eyes.
Thalia was already pulling herself to her feet when he reached her. ‘Get behind me,’ he shouted to her, though there was no in front or behind, just men and horses turning and turning at each other. Jaerl’s horse almost struck them. Thalia had to pull him backwards as a sword stroke came down at him. The sword came again and he tried to strike it away with his hand. Mandle plunged towards them, smashing into the man’s arm with his own sword. The bandit reeled backwards, his arm hanging limp and useless, stumbled and crashed down into Marith. The feel of the blood on his skin, beautiful as water. Like the rain in the desert. Like the sea on a hot summer day. Another bandit came at them, Landra seemed to be shouting something, Thalia dragged at his arm.
Then suddenly the road was empty. Five bandits dead in the fallen leaves and dirt. Marith sank down exhaustedly. His head rang like fire.
‘Gods and demons.’ Mandle was staring around at the ruins. Two dead horses. Two dead servants. One dead guardsman. ‘Were they bloody demented?’
‘Starving,’ said Jaerl. ‘They were bloody starving. Poor country, round here.’ He gestured at the dark trees. ‘Can’t really grow much.’
‘Could have just waited a while longer and died of hunger, then.’
‘Really?’ Jaerl spat at one of corpses. ‘That what you’d do, is it? You’ll see Skerneheh later, you’ll understand.’