Grimenna Page 15

  “Mother found me a husband,” Kess continued. “Mother knew the farm needed a man to run it. I refused this man, but mother insisted and tormented me over it until I decided I really had no other choice. I could not forever spend my years alone on a farm talking to a wolf. People had already begun to think me a little odd. I reconciled myself, and I went up into the pastures and found him. I told this wolf I was going to become a wife. He looked at me with his golden eyes, so deep and sad I felt my heart fall from my chest. I thanked him for watching over me, and told him I was growing old and soon no one would want me.

  “But then one evening in the twilight a man appeared from the woods. His face was handsome and young, his eyes as golden as my wolf’s had been.” Tears spilt down her mother’s face and she looked to Paiva with her sad smile. “He said he had never grown old before, but he wanted to grow old with me… You know the rest of the story after that.”

  She reached out her hand and touched Paiva’s face. “He loves you more than anything in the world. You are his child, and you were born from his love, as you were born from mine.”

  “Why have neither of you told me anything of this?”

  “How could I tell you? How could you believe it? It is hard enough for me to believe. Viviel never speaks of his life before he became a man. What he was before lost its purpose. That is why he collected the stories — searching and wanting to find a reason for his existence. But he became committed to being a man, just a simple man, and a father and husband — things he had never known before and which he earnestly tried to be.”

  “I think he is going to Morinvere,” said Paiva. “He sang that song after he was branded. I think he was trying to tell us.”

  “Yes,” her mother said. “Yes, that is where he says the other spirits are kept hidden. That is why he prays so hard, trying to provoke them to return to the world. He will go to summon them, but I do not know if he will ever return. For the Vale is guarded by Varloga and his conjuring’s of nightmares, the Folka. Even your father is afraid of Varloga.”

  No sooner had she uttered those words then they heard the door to the floor above them open. They froze as they listened to padded footsteps descend the stone stairs. A moment later the form of a ranger appeared before their cell door and peered in.

  “Mrs. Ibbie?” he asked. Then there was the shout of voices, the clatter of boots and the clang of metal. The ranger looked up hurriedly as lantern light flickered from above. He fumbled for a ring of keys. Angry voices shouted out and rushed towards them. The ranger threw the keys into the cell and then his shape vanished before them.

  Red cloaks swarmed passed the cell door. A man carrying a lantern set it in a rung on the wall as they peered about into the shadows. Kess sprang for the keys while commotion sounded out. Suddenly bodies slammed into each other, swords scraped, men grunted and cursed. Hurriedly Kess sought to thrust each key into the lock, her hands shaking with excitement as she tried to force it open. Paiva peered through the bars of the cell to try and discern the shadowy shapes battling before them.

  The lock sprung open and Kess threw the door wide, slamming it into the shape of a man lunging towards her. He howled as his teeth broke against the iron and he staggered back, then was felled to his knees by a blow to his head from behind. Kess grabbed Paiva and they bolted out into the corridor. A body hurtled through the air and crashed into their empty cell, then the door was slammed behind it with a vibrating clang of metal.

  Kess and Paiva halted halfway up the stairs as a voice called out to them. They blinked into the dim light, their eyes focusing on the tall shadow of the ranger that had tossed them the keys. He was resting his hands on his knees, back hunched as he sucked in pained breaths. With a curse he straightened and flexed a sore arm. At his feet were several bodies in red cloaks, none seeming to move or breathe. He stepped over them neatly into the lantern light.

  “Renn!” Paiva exclaimed in a hoarse whisper.

  “I told you not to go to Quarrytown,” he snapped. His mouth trickled with blood, his eyes gleaming coldly. He nodded respectively to Kess, then spat out a bloody tooth chip.

  “By my soul,” her mother breathed. “The Wilderman.”

  “At your service,” he said and wiped his mouth. “Come along, we haven’t much time before the alarm is sounded. The last thing I want is the dogs on us.” He brushed passed them and up the stairwell. They followed him swiftly, not daring to question where they were headed.

  Paiva heard him muttering to himself under his breath as they headed up into the Warden’s Quarters. They entered a storeroom and fled swiftly through, then out into the Ranger’s Mess where reed lamps spilled their light over an unsettling scene. There were four red-robed men, their bodies slumped over with their drinks spilling across the table.

  “Come along,” Renn muttered to them, for they had both stopped short and stared in horror at the limp men.

  “Did you kill them?” Kess whispered. Renn gave her an exasperated look.

  “No,” he whispered angrily. “I slipped some Winkweed into their store of ale.”

  “Winkweed,” her mother nodded. One man lifted his head from the table gingerly and blinked at her. He smiled pleasantly at the sight of a woman, was about to lower his head to go back to sleep, when a sudden thought jarred him back awake. His mouth flapped open in shock as he blinked at Kess again.

  “By my soul,” he breathed. “You’re supposed to be downstairs.” He then staggered to his feet with a teetering sway.

  “Master Warden!” the man shouted at the top of his lungs and fumbled sleepily for his sword. “Get the dogs!” He sat down again seeming to have forgotten what he was doing, then fell forwards across the table in a faint. In half a second he was snoring.

  Renn seized Kess by the throat of her dress and hauled her along. They fled through the Mess and then out into a corridor where Renn heaved his shoulder into a heavy wooden door. It burst open, spilling them out into the darkened, rainy streets. They ran hard through the mud, Renn ahead swinging his head back to check on them. From behind them rose a chorus of hounds and angry shouts. The noise terrified Paiva and made her run faster, though she could hardly keep pace with Renn.

  When they rounded a street corner and dove into an alley, Paiva found her mother had lagged behind. She stopped and leaned against the corner of a brick house while her mother caught up. Renn barked for them to hurry on, but Kess sagged against the house in exhaustion. She was battered and weak, her body not as young or swift as either of theirs and lame from the lashing Master Rojik had given her. She placed trembling arms around Paiva and kissed her cheeks, then fumbled for the cords of Paiva’s cloak and stripped it from her. She placed it over herself, then drew up the hood to hide her face.

  “What are you doing?” Paiva gasped as the soft rain chilled her.

  “You won’t be able to outrun them,” her mother said. “The hounds will run you down. I’ll lead them away.”

  “No, Mother. You come with us.”

  “No!” Kess shook her head. “You cannot let that evil woman have you. I love you. There is nothing worse that can be done to me than to lose you, anything else I can bear. Find your father, help him.” Then she turned her face to Renn and pointed a stern finger at him. “You, Wilderman,” she said heatedly. “Promise me you will keep her safe.”

  Renn tensed.

  “Promise me, Wilderman!”

  He gave a slow nod, then his eyes flickered up at the sound of howling dogs. Kess kissed Paiva again, then without a word darted back out into the street.

  “No!” Paiva yelled and lunged after her, but Renn caught her and drew her back into the shadows of the alley. Paiva’s cry was muffled by Renn’s firm hand clamping over her mouth as she saw her mother’s shape disappear down the street. Moments later a staggering ranger leading a pair of hounds on leashes appeared. The hounds swept their noses over the wet ground and
Renn drew Paiva further into the crevices of the alley. The dogs moved closer to them, circling and pawing at the ground in confusion. But then her mother let go a low whistle from the other end of the street and the dogs pricked their ears up and threw their weight against their leashes, jerking the ranger forward and away from the alley. They howled and snapped their frothy jaws into the air as the ranger shouted out for others to join him.

  Paiva struggled to free herself from Renn’s grasp as she saw the ranger stagger forwards after the hounds. Renn dragged her down the alley out of earshot. “She might get away,” he murmured, but Paiva found that did not ease her in the slightest.

  “We can’t leave her,” she said as she tore his hand from her mouth.

  “We already have,” he replied coldly, then he was dragging her down the alley again, forcing her to shimmy in between houses and skip through yards. Her mind went numb, unable to understand why her body was still running forwards when it should have been running back to help her mother. Renn berated her, pushed her, shoved her and pulled her along until they were on the outskirts of the town, running through the trees along the riverbank.

  She faltered behind, and when she found the conviction to stop and turn around he caught her swiftly by the hand and hauled her back. He found his horse hidden in a copse and swung up onto it, taking her with him.

  “Where are we going now?” she asked uneasily as he trotted the horse down to the water.

  “We’ll lose them in the river.”

  The thought didn’t even register. She was still absorbed in worrying over her mother. He urged the horse down to the bank of the river and scanned the current, then spurred the horse forward and they plummeted in with great plumes of water. She clung to his waist as the horse jolted and slipped, up to its flanks in the surging current. To her surprise they reached the other side safely.

  “That wasn’t so bad,” she said, thinking she would be able to cross back herself if given the chance.

  “You really are a simple girl from Birchloam,” Renn remarked.

  “I’m not simple.”

  “You are if you think that was the Panderbank.”

  She looked back at the wide divide behind them. “That is a river, is it not?”

  “It’s an outlet from the lime kilns. It joins with the Panderbank a little lower. The real river is through here.”

  He led the horse onwards into the dark trees and a short while later they came to an expanse of water that was triple the divide they had just crossed. Paiva muttered a bitter curse. It looked like a narrow lake: the water looked still out in the middle, but she noticed a log float by at an alarming speed.

  “Can you swim?” he asked, noting the sound of hounds baying behind them.

  “Not across that.”

  “Berg horses are powerful swimmers. They know how to cut the current. I don’t know how well Yulin’s mount will like this, so hold fast to my cloak. Do not let go or you will be swept away.”

  He forced the horse into the water and soon they were floating out into the freezing current. She felt her lungs collapse with cold shock and she struggled to hold onto him. Renn clung to the horse’s mane and stripped the saddle from its back, letting it sink to the bottom of the river. Paiva felt the powerful thrust of the horse’s legs, heard its deep breaths. The falling rain splashed into the water and created a fog before them.

  When they eddied out towards the middle of the river, the current swept them downstream. The horse began to panic as it saw the bank sweep by before its eyes. Renn spoke to it in a calm voice, pulling its reins hard to keep its head pointed to the far side of the river. The horse fought him, its mouth dipped into the river as it twisted its head. For a moment Paiva thought it would rather drown than continue onwards. It snorted a spray of water and lifted its head, its mouth bloodied from fighting the bit. Then, with the whites of its eyes rolling, it straightened its course. The water was black and deep, and she could not fathom what sort of creatures lurked below. There were stories that kept people fearful of the waters, stories of the quarry women who drowned trying to escape the pit, and whose ghosts lived in the water weeds waiting to drown anyone who ventured too far into the shallows. She forced these thoughts away and focused only on staying afloat.

  As they neared the other side, panic rose in Paiva again. They had been swept far downstream. The shoreline looked to be tangled with driftwood and uprooted trees. The horse evaded the dark shape of a clawed mass of roots rising from the water, but as it drew closer to land its legs suddenly struck something below and became tangled. It began to thrash and sink.

  Renn pushed Paiva free as the horse panicked and Paiva cried out as the current swept her away. The horse’s head sank underwater as its tail end rose. Renn found a submerged log to stand on and he levered the horse’s head up with the reins. Snorting and choking, the horse grappled with whatever it was tangled in, broke away from it and dragged Renn to shore.

  Paiva’s skirt caught on a spiky, bone-like piece of driftwood and her swift flight downriver was jolted to a halt. She clambered for grip on slimy underwater branches, choking on mouthfuls of freezing water. She pulled herself towards shore, shrieking when water weeds wrapped around her legs and sluiced against her skin. When her feet touched bottom she sunk to her knees in a soft, silty muck.

  The horse had sunk almost up to its neck in the loose sediment. The water boiled with rotten leaves and silt that its hooves churned up from the river bottom. A foul smell bubbled up, escaped from the layers of rot. She thought her first impression on stepping foot on the far side of the Panderbank was likened to stepping foot into the gateway of hell itself. The wet air around her was thick with the sulphurous smell of rot, the horse’s black body appearing nightmarish and grotesque in the muck.

  The horse soon tired and looked resigned to die in the mud, its flanks heaving and its nostrils and mouth bleeding. Renn found a branch and slapped it across its hindquarters. The horse panicked again and then wrestled itself out of the mud with its last effort, finding mossy respite further up.

  Renn patted it over as tremors ran down its legs and, finding it was still in good conformation, left it to recuperate while he went to fish Paiva out of the muddy shallows. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he scooped her up and dragged her to firmer ground.

  She had never imagined in all her life to step foot on the other side of the Panderbank. When she felt its dirt beneath her feet she could not help to let loose a low sob. She clung to Renn, unable to find the strength to stand on her own. Gently he pried her arms from about his neck, then set his hands on her shoulders and gripped her firmly.

  “You’re alright,” he said, giving her a small shake. “Your mother will be alright.”

  She nodded and wiped tears and muck from her face. She shivered violently in the cold. He turned away, back to the horse while she looked up to the dark, rain-soaked trees looming above her.

  “Welcome to the Wilderlands,” he muttered. It sent a chilling rush through her and she had to stop herself from cowering back into the waters of the river. There was no sound but for the rain and the horse’s labored breathing. She was filled with ominous uncertainty, but she reminded herself that her father was out there, even more alone than she was.

  At least she had Renn. She dropped her eyes to him and perceived him in the shadows by the horse, waiting for her to gather herself. He seemed to be looking out over the river and she followed his gaze, drawing in a sharp breath when she spotted distant lights moving along the far shore, disappearing and then reappearing as they swung through trees. They had been swept farther down then she had expected.

  “Are we safe here?” she whispered as panic surged inside her.

  “Yes,” he sighed with relief. “No one would think us mad enough to cross the river in the dark.” With that he stepped into the trees, pulling the unwilling horse behind him. He was almost out of sight
before Paiva sprang after him and she stumbled behind and kept her eyes on the ground, unwilling to look up to the trees she felt were about to swallow her.

  Chapter 10

  Paiva had not the faintest notion in which direction they were headed. The forest was tangled all around them, wet and black and filled with the calls of nightly animals and a deafening chorus of peepers. The lights and the river disappeared behind them as they stepped into the dark, and for all she cared she might as well have been blindfolded. She could make out Renn’s shape ahead of her and struggled to keep up with him, but her feet were bare and got soon slashed and worn raw from the tangled undergrowth. She fell countless times and went most of the way with her arms outstretched before her to shield her face from raking branches. Despite her struggling she remained cold, and as the rain continued to fall she became much more so.

  Renn was distant and quiet, trespassing through the woods without the sound of a single footfall. She began to grow nervous, for she remembered when she had followed Ramsi into the woods so trustingly only to be tricked. Her fear began to mount the deeper they went, and she thought that surely wherever Varloga was now he was relishing every moment of it.