Nilsson ended any further debate. ‘Dessane, take this man to the gate and throw him out,’ he said curtly.
Dessane gave him a brief puzzled look. Such a thing had never happened before. Men left the group only one way: dead. He did not linger, however, but motioned Avak forward.
‘No supplies, Captain? No chance to talk to my mates?’ Avak sneered.
‘You’ve got no mates here now, Avak, and you’ll find everything you need outside,’ Nilsson said. ‘Get out of my sight before I change my mind.’
Avak sneered again and then strode off. Dessane made to follow him, but Nilsson caught his arm and whispered very softly to him. ‘Don’t linger at the gate. Close it immediately. Immediately!’
As the two men left, Bryn remained where he was, his posture unsteady and his hand moving to his head from time to time.
‘Not changing your mind again, are you, Bryn?’ Nilsson said, grimly. ‘Go now, if you are.’
Bryn shook his head carefully. ‘No, Captain,’ he replied. ‘I’m just a little dizzy. I…’
He fell silent.
‘You what?’ Nilsson pressed.
Bryn’s face wrinkled. ‘It’s odd. I feel as if that crea-ture were around somewhere,’ he said. ‘It’s almost as if it were inside me.’
Nilsson waited.
‘Funny thing is,’ Bryn continued, with an awkward, nervous laugh, ‘while I want to run like I ran in that forest, something makes me want to stand still. It’s…’
He shrugged, and fell silent again.
‘Go to your quarters and rest,’ Nilsson said. ‘You’re too addled to think straight.’
As he returned to Rannick’s room, Bryn’s remarks hovered in Nilsson’s mind. What was this creature that hunted with the murderous determination of a human and seemingly paralysed its prey with fear?
He had no answers, but the arrival of the creature had answered his earlier question. It had not wandered off howling into the darkness, it had been drawn mysteriously to its ailing master. What then would its reaction have been had Nilsson followed the prompting to slay Rannick?
He shuddered. He could not understand how he had stood there unable to move as the creature had leapt at him. Irritably, and with some difficulty, he thrust the concern to one side. A far more serious one lay in the condition of his Lord. What could be done to awaken him?
It occurred to him that he might have to send for Gryss, though who knew what reception his messenger might receive in the village when news of the slaughter of Garren and Katrin became known? True, he could ensure Gryss’s assistance by taking hostages from among the villagers, but there was no saying what treacherous tricks the old leech might have up his sleeve.
He sat down and gazed at the apparently sleeping form.
Damn you, Lord, he thought. Damn you to hell. You shouldn’t have done it. You should’ve listened to me. Now we’ve got fifty times the problems we had before.
He let his anger roam freely for a moment, though no sign of it appeared on his face, then he reached out and shook Rannick’s arm gently.
‘Lord,’ he whispered. ‘Lord.’
There was no response. Gryss it would have to be, then, though that posed the further problem of how he was to be reached now, with the creature patrolling the castle walls. He let out a weary breath and sagged back into his chair. Perhaps it would have gone by daylight.
He squeezed his eyes with his fingers. As he had accused Bryn, so he accused himself: he was too tired and addled to think straight. He needed to sleep. But how could he with Rannick, his future, lying thus?
Despite himself however, he closed his eyes. In the flickering darkness he found his mind watching the sinuous shadow gliding silently around the castle. He could feel the edge of the creature’s bubbling hatred.
He could not open his eyes!
Then on the fringes of his consciousness he felt the slight vibration of the wicket door being carefully opened and hastily slammed shut.
Silence…
And was that a drumming of fists he could hear?
Then a faint, shrill scream cut through his half dream. Suddenly released, he found himself bolt upright and wide awake.
Part of his mind was calculating. One man the less. That was a pity, but Avak had been marked for a long time and it would prove to be a salutary lesson for the rest of the men. Self-satisfaction oozed into his thoughts. He did not imagine there would be many more opportunities when he would be able to use Rannick’s creature for his own ends.
But the other part of his mind was listening. Listen-ing to a voice. It spoke one word, very softly, drawing it out and tonguing it with a diabolical relish.
‘Good,’ Rannick said, turning towards him.
Chapter 32
Gryss started awake. About him was the touch of a dark and awful dream, but it vanished on the instant as he became aware of sunlight filling the room. For a moment he was a young child again and the day opened before him, full of warmth and summer scents, soft breezes and everlasting freedom.
He was about to cry out joyously to his parents when he remembered who he was.
And where.
And when.
Briefly his face creased as if he were about to cry. Then it relaxed into a look of half amused resignation.
He had spent what was left of the night in a chair, and his body was protesting the fact loudly. Carefully, he began to ease his limbs into life and, as he did so, one by one, the events of the previous night reformed themselves in his mind.
He looked across at the bed. Jeorg had scarcely moved.
Time, he thought. Time was what was needed. Time for Jeorg’s injuries to heal. Time for Farnor’s bewildered mind to calm. Time for himself and the others to reconcile themselves to the cruel deaths of Katrin and Garren.
And time was what they would have, though it was little consolation as it would have to be lived through, second by painful second. He clenched his hands in a combination of self-reproach and anger. The pain of the passing of his time would be as nothing compared with that of Jeorg’s and Farnor’s and he at least could ease his own pain by seeking to ease theirs.
A noise brought him to the present and dispelled his thoughts. With a final effort he levered himself out of the creaking chair and limped heavily to the door, banging his reluctant leg irritably with his fist.
‘Did I disturb you?’ Marna said, as he scowled into the kitchen. ‘I was making some breakfast for us all.’ She stared disconsolately at the pan sizzling merrily in front of her. ‘But I don’t think I can eat it now. I’m sorry. I took the meat from…’
Gryss waved the apology aside. He looked at her. Her face was drawn and she seemed tired and defeated. She had shed no tears in his presence last night, but her eyes were red with weeping. He turned his face away to hide his distress, then he put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her comfortingly.
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘Serve it up, and have some your-self. It’ll make you feel better.’
A spasm passed over her face. ‘I don’t think I want to feel better,’ she said. ‘It wouldn’t seem right, some-how, carrying on with all the ordinary things, when…’ She could not finish the sentence.
‘When Garren and Katrin are lying dead in one of their own animal stalls?’ he said, finishing it for her starkly but not unkindly.
She nodded and tears filled her eyes.
‘It’s not something we’ve any choice in, Marna,’ he said. ‘You don’t need me to tell you that. Weep for Garren and Katrin as much as you want. Rant and rage if that’s the way it takes you. And it’ll take you many ways, believe me. But in the end, you honour them and everything they were by the way you live your life.’
‘Words,’ Marna said.
‘They’re all we’ve got at the moment, and they’re better than nothing. They help to make the time pass, and occasionally they say something that helps someone.’
He looked at her squarely. ‘There’s no harder thing in life than standing by helpless, and you’re never more helpless, more inadequate, more useless, than when someone’s died.’