The Scarred God Read online

  ‘To be expected, I am afraid,’ she replied. ‘I will be along shortly, once I have seen our emissary off. Go to the wall and give Golan fair warning. If he causes trouble, I will have him arrested.’

  They took the ancient secret passage known as the hidden road from her quarters.

  The network of corridors and paths had been lain down centuries ago to allow the thain to move from one part of the city to the other without being seen or being put at risk. She did not want Jeb’s departure noted by her opposition on the council or the panic of the flightier, realising she was invoking the gods. They might realise how dire their situation was. How had she let it come to this? She coughed against the thought and tried to ignore the coppery aftertaste.

  ‘You should not be out this late,’ observed Jeb. ‘I can saddle my own horse.’

  They were at the gate. A chestnut gelding was waiting, saddled and provisioned, and held at the reins by one of the thain’s shadows.

  ‘You would not have provisioned enough food,’ said the shadow, ‘and would have starved before you got there.’

  Jeb stopped.

  ‘You said you were sending me alone,’ he said, voice creaking. ‘Why have you sent her to see me off?’

  Here it comes, thought the thain. ‘She is to go with you, old friend. I wish you to arrive alive and return in the same state. Indulge an old warrior.’

  ‘I promise not to pick a fight,’ said the shadow, her voice sad.

  ‘Sister,’ said Jeb. ‘Our fight has gone on for thirty years. I do not see that it shall end this night simply because a robin has sat on our path and refused to budge.’

  The thain smiled.

  ‘I am not seeking to interfere,’ she said. ‘I need the two people I trust more than anyone else for this mission. I do not wish to send either of you away.’

  ‘You know exactly what you are doing!’ hissed Jeb.

  ‘You promised,’ she replied, softly. Then, louder, ‘Let us part as friends, Lord Jeb.’

  The thain pulled him into a hard embrace. She was certain that, successful or not, she would not see him again. Her moments of foresight were short and partial, but she had learned not to ignore them.

  ‘She does not know. See my secret is kept,’ she whispered in his ear.

  Jeb did not reply, but the thain saw by his eyes that he had understood. The shadow’s horse, the colour of night, made no noise but shifted on his hooves as Jeb made his way over to his own mount. He slid the stick he used to help him walk between the saddlebags and pulled himself into the saddle with the practised skill of a younger rider. He did not take the hand the shadow offered him.

  ‘I am not completely without skill,’ he said.

  The shadow’s face was unreadable as she went from looking at her brother to looking at her thain.

  ‘Do not feel awkward on my behalf,’ said Jeb. His voice was hoarse. ‘I lost this battle a long time ago.’

  The thain smiled. Yet she could not show how she felt in such an exposed location. Though she had taken every care, the risk was too great. As had been their custom between each other for decades, the thain touched her fingertips to her lips and watched her shadow do the same.

  ‘Until tomorrow,’ she heard the shadow whisper.

  The thain climbed the city wall to watch them ride into the night. Somewhere, Golan was causing trouble again, and she should have gone straight there before he made foolish errors that would cost a great deal to undo. But she did not. She stood there watching them go, wondering about the feeling she had when she hugged Jeb, and trying to take comfort that her shadow had not given her the same thought. The guilt that followed made her feel sicker than she had in weeks.

  ‘You will take this grain back to the stores,’ said Golan. ‘I command it.’

  The battalion chief, in whose face Golan was shouting, did not respond to the councillor’s order, nor did he need to look at the rest of his men, who were all stood at attention. General Bene stood to one side of Golan, red-faced and angry but silent following a very public argument with Golan.

  ‘Do not ignore me!’ yelled the councillor like a petulant toddler. ‘Order your men to return this grain.’

  ‘I am not ignoring you, sir,’ said the commander. ‘I am following the direct orders of the thain.’

  ‘And I am a member of her council.’

  ‘And contradicting her orders.’

  ‘The outer guard obeyed my orders to withdraw from the city road and make good the perimeter.’

  ‘You mean that guard?’ said Bene, pointing out over the wall at the very visibly-not-moving outer guardsmen, who were erecting camp just outside the city. By morning the refugees from the sacked villages would start arriving, a chaotic settlement that would weaken their defence and make spotting infiltrators from the Kurah almost impossible.

  Golan looked out at the men and women moving in defiance of his orders. The man’s cheeks flushed. He clenched his fists. The thain watched all of this from the shadows where she had come to a stop. Her custom was to occasionally use the hidden roads to arrive at sections of the city and listen to her people without them knowing she was there. This small abuse of privacy helped her stay grounded. When she felt her faith in the council dip, as it had currently, she reminded herself of the damage an individual could do with this access to people’s places of work and homes.

  ‘This is a coup d’état,’ said Golan. ‘The council will hear of this. It will be civil war.’

  ‘We are already at war,’ hissed Bene. ‘That’s the reason for the orders.’

  ‘The thain no longer commands by sole decree,’ said Golan, gathering up his robes like a peacock preparing to show its feathers.

  ‘What is going on here?’ asked the thain. She enjoyed the way the fat councillor jumped more than he should. Bene’s relief was palpable, and for one moment, she thought he might embrace her.

  ‘The outer guardsmen have lied to me and ignored my orders,’ said Golan. ‘These men are also refusing my orders but at least have the decency to do it to my face.’

  The thain moved forward. ‘I see. At ease, warriors,’ she said, putting her hand on the commander’s shoulder. The warriors relaxed a little. ‘What are your orders, Lord Golan?’

  ‘That they move the grain back into the city and the outer guardsmen maintain the perimeter. We cannot be defending and feeding a bunch of refugees at times like this – what if they are Kurah in disguise? What if we run out of food?’

  The thain eyed his belly. ‘I’m sure we can sustain ourselves on a little less than normal, if we need to.’

  The councillor flushed as the warriors did little to hide their smirks. The thain thought this might have been an error on her part, but she no longer cared too much about Golan. He would need to be removed. She saw that now.

  ‘My Lord Golan, if we did not help our own subjects, who have lost their homes and their livelihoods to the Kurah, what do you think will happen to the survivors?’

  ‘They will find new places to live and new jobs to do.’

  ‘Do you think they will be well disposed towards us?’

  ‘I, er …’

  ‘Do you think they will come to the aid of the clans when we need to defend ourselves?’

  ‘We don’t have enough …’

  ‘I will tell you what will happen,’ said the thain. ‘They will tell themselves we do not care about their lives, and they will decide they do not care about the clans. At best they will not accept our rule; at worst they will join our enemy. Any ruler, even in a monarchy, can only really govern with the consent of the subjects. Real power just ebbs away otherwise. You see I am explaining this in terms that you will understand. And there is another reason.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘It is the right thing to do,’ she replied, softly.

  ‘Control of the grain stores are the purview of the council and my ministry,’ insisted Golan. ‘These orders are lunacy.’

  The thain stared at him. ‘Are yo
u challenging my authority?’ Her hand drifted to her sword.

  Golan was not armed. She doubted he had fought since his childhood. She almost felt sorry for him off the back of his startled look. He had not meant to go so far.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I merely …’

  ‘A hostile nation’s army has invaded our lands – we are at war,’ said the thain. ‘Decisions pertaining to the defence of the clan lands – not just the city – reside with me. That includes supplies and managing the outer guard.’

  Golan just stood there, his mouth opening and shutting.

  ‘Commander, you are relieved,’ said the thain.

  Golan smiled. The commander looked shocked.

  ‘Commander, please escort Lord Golan back to his house,’ the thain continued. Golan’s smile had gone. The commander was suppressing a laugh. ‘Ensure he stays there until morning, when I can make time to explain things to the council.’

  ‘Yes, milady,’ said the commander. He turned to the merchant. ‘This way, sir.’

  Golan stared at the thain. There was a vein near the surface of the skin on his right temple that was pulsing as if he had run a marathon, and he was sweating despite the cold.

  ‘I suggest you follow him,’ said the thain. ‘I will have you arrested otherwise.’

  ‘You wouldn’t dare,’ said Golan.

  ‘Wouldn’t I?’ said the thain, stepping close to him. ‘These men have sworn to live and die by my orders, Golan. They don’t much like you, anyway. How much consent do you think I need to get from them to do what I want?’

  Golan eyed the warriors. He turned and stormed off, followed by the commander, who could not contain his sarcasm as he called after him.

  ‘No, sir, wait. You might get hurt without an escort.’

  ‘Commander,’ she warned, softly.

  ‘Sorry, milady,’ said the commander. She knew he wasn’t. ‘As you were, warriors.’

  The warriors dispersed back to their posts, leaving the thain with Bene, looking out from the wall into the night.

  ‘How many refugees so far?’ she asked.

  Bene placed his hands on the wall. ‘Around sixty. They’ll still be taking refugees into the city for a day or so, I imagine, but if the force got further than Anaheim, we can expect that to quadruple from the places Falkirk rode through.’

  ‘How long can we last with a siege?’

  ‘A year on rations, assuming there are no illnesses,’ said Bene. ‘Which there will be, because there always are. We must not get trapped in here.’

  The thain nodded. ‘I am already taking steps to ensure this does not happen.’

  ‘What steps?’

  ‘I cannot say yet,’ said the thain. ‘But in the meantime, we must face facts. If we cannot stay and survive, we will need to move, and that means our supplies need to travel with us. Start looking into how we might manage this. Be discreet. I don’t want a panic.’

  Bene nodded. ‘How has he managed it?’

  ‘Who? Golan?’

  Bene shook his head. ‘No, Montu. How has he managed to march on us so soon after Delgasia fell? Surely, his lines would be stretched to breaking point.’

  The thain nodded. ‘The boy is wily. Who can say? But there is a chance in that. He may repeat the mistakes of his ancestors.’

  ‘As satisfying as that was to watch,’ said Bene, ‘you humiliated Golan.’

  The thain shrugged. ‘I may have gone too far. But Lord Golan could do with some humiliation. Perhaps he will reflect on his less helpful qualities between now and dawn.’

  The two of them stood watching the night.

  Time. I need more time. That idea echoed through the thain’s mind as she tried to think of new ways to approach the problem, new ways to see her people safe before she was pulled away from this world to Golgotha. The doctor’s words were always just a little way behind each idea, circling back to remind her that time was short.

  Chapter Twelve

  The wolves were almost on them.

  Daylight had arrived but the storm had returned. Rain battered every exposed part of the forest, and everything was wet and slick. They were covered in mud from numerous falls. Vedic had the only weapon, and to fight would mean defeat at best. Beyond the mountains still visible in the distance, Anya had little idea where in the forest they were or what chance of hiding they had, but she had to follow Vedic or she might as well surrender. The woodsman led them down the slope as if he ran up and down Ragged Top all the time. His feet rarely missed their place. His head hardly turned around to check she was there or look back up at the duel raging behind them on the mountain. Only the scream stopped him.

  It was Pan. They both knew it, and the pain behind the scream made them feel as though they, too, were being hurt, deep down in their bones. Anya gasped: she felt as if her heart had exploded. Vedic turned round, his face a mask as he looked back. He did not move.

  ‘We have to go back,’ Anya said.

  Vedic shook his head. ‘He would not thank us. The battle is over; he has lost. The entire pack will be coming for us.’

  There was a sound like even heavier rain coming down the mountain.

  ‘Here they come,’ said Vedic. He grabbed her hand, and before she could object, he was half dragging and half pulling her down and across the slope towards who knows what.

  They burst through another collection of trees. A wolf glared up at them with yellow eyes and a dripping jaw. The thing would have reached the height of Vedic on its hind legs. The woodsman let go of her hand and hurled his axe before the wolf had time to leap. The weapon cleaved the animal’s skull in two, and the beast collapsed on its belly. He pulled the axe free and was about to speak when Anya saw another wolf leap and tackle him.

  The woodsman swore in what sounded like Kurah, muffled by the fight. He made an untidy defence. He let the creature bite down on his left wrist guard while he knocked at the wolf’s head with the blunt side of the axe until it split open and the creature retreated a few feet away, whimpering. Vedic leapt up and beheaded the wolf in one swift swing.

  Anya rushed down to him. ‘We need to get out of here.’

  Vedic nodded. ‘The gully is there.’ He gestured at a few feet further down, where the hillside seemed to fall away. ‘River. Another jump, I am afraid.’

  Anya nodded. ‘It’ll mask our scent.’

  ‘Yep, as much as we can, and the speed of the current will carry us away from here faster than we can run.’

  ‘What’s the but?’

  Anya never got an answer. There was a growling from all around, and glowing yellow eyes appeared amongst the trees. There were too many wolves to make fighting a suitable plan. Vedic grabbed her again and part carried, part threw her off the gully edge before jumping himself. She hit the water with a force like she had hit solid ground from horseback. The air left her lungs, but she fought down the panic and kicked herself back to the surface. She had no pack to weigh her down, just the clothes and light boots she was wearing. She thought about kicking the boots off – they were pulling at her feet – but she would need them later.

  The first rule is survive … came her mother’s voice in her mind. She kicked off the boots.

  Vedic swam to her. Above she could hear wolves howling in confusion.

  ‘Are you hurt?’

  Anya shook her head.

  ‘Boots off?’

  Anya nodded.

  ‘Good job,’ said Vedic, unusually nice. Anya thought, He’s afraid.

  ‘We have to swim, but we need to avoid being seen. Try to stay under and hold your breath as long as possible. Do you understand?’

  Anya nodded again. She took several progressively deeper breaths, as her grandfather had taught her when she was young. He’d taught her to swim almost as soon as she could walk. Sometimes she thought he had used teaching her as a distraction after her mother left. Eventually, he had run out of things he wanted to teach her, leaving only the knowledge he didn’t want to discuss, and his trips to the taver
n got longer and longer.

  ‘The knack of staying under for long periods of time is to stay relaxed,’ she heard him say. They were at the small lake near Harmony on a summer’s day over a decade ago. ‘You do this by remaining very calm.’

  Anya frowned. ‘What if I don’t feel very calm?’

  Thrace smiled. ‘You focus on seeing your rage from the outside, like it’s a storm. You can imagine the clouds and the lightning and the thunder. If you have ever watched a storm from a distance, they can be very calming, like you’re watching the gods dance from a safe vantage point.’

  Anya pushed all her thoughts of Pan, of Fin, of her grandfather and the Kurah into a storm for the ages and retreated to a safe distance to watch as she dived under the surface. She glimpsed a blurry Vedic swimming away ahead before she closed her eyes and kicked after him.

  They were bone-weary when they pulled themselves from the river.

  Anya could see a faint blue tinge to her fingers. The woodsman looked to have aged around thirty years in the dying embers of the day. They had been swimming and hiding for a long time. She started to gather firewood.

  ‘No,’ said Vedic. ‘It’s not safe to light a fire here.’

  Anya stiffened. ‘We’ll freeze to death.’ She was already shivering.

  Vedic was also shaking. This was a loss of control that she would not have expected from him under any circumstances. ‘We will need to keep moving to avoid getting too cold and to avoid getting caught. This part of the forest is not friendly.’

  Anya raised her eyebrows. ‘Tream?’

  Vedic nodded.

  ‘We have no boots,’ she said, looking at the ground, littered with stones, twigs and sharp pieces of broken bark.

  ‘We’re not going to walk down here,’ said Vedic. ‘Too risky with the wolves. We’re going up there.’ He slapped one of the tree trunks.

  ‘But first,’ he said, ‘some camouflage.’

  Vedic knelt down and started smearing wet mud all over his exposed skin and his clothes. As he did so, he gradually started to blend into the forest. Anya knelt and started to do the same thing. As the mud started to cover more and more of her body, she started to feel less and less cold.