‘What kind of a toll?’ asked a lean, hatchet-faced man to the left of Corlan.
‘All that they have.’
‘We could do that without you,’ said Corlan. ‘Where does the Morningstar fit in this?’
‘Be patient, Corlan, and listen. You will take their gold. Half you will hide, the other half will be returned to the people. You will be known as the Men of the Morningstar and you will let it be known in the settlements that you are fighting for the freedom of the land. You will be heroes. When you need food you will pay for it. You will steal nothing from the settlements; there will be no looting or rape. You will walk the forest with heads held high and you will bask in the acclaim of the people.’
‘I still don’t understand,’ snapped Corlan.
‘What is there to understand?’ I answered him. ‘You will have gold and honor. And when the time is right you will know the full plan. And you will be rich, as all of you will be rich, with more gold than a man could spend in twenty lifetimes.’
‘So you say. But you have told us nothing,’ put in another man.
‘You know all you need to know. How can you lose? If I am wrong, or my plan is flawed, you will still have the profit from your raids.’
‘Why the Men of the Morningstar?’ asked Corlan.
‘You have heard the legends growing. You know what the people think of Jarek Mace. He is seen as the banner of rebellion, he is the heart of resistance to the Angostin evil. In his name you will be welcome everywhere. They will hide you and feed you; they will die to protect you; they will beg to join you.’
‘Do you trust him, Mace?’ Corlan swung to stare into Mace’s eyes.
‘He has been proved right so far.’
‘I don’t know. You are a canny man, Mace. I don’t like you, but you fight like a demon and you’ve the mind of a wolf. You believe we’ll be rich as kings?’
‘Why else would I be here?’
Corlan nodded. ‘I would guess that’s true. What of you, Wulf?’
The hunchback shrugged. ‘I follow the Morningstar,’ he said, with a twisted grin.
‘Then we’ll do it,’ said Corlan, making to rise.
‘Wait,’ I said softly. ‘First the Soul Oath.’
‘I need no oaths,’ hissed Corlan.
‘But I do,’ I whispered. Raising my right hand with palm upwards I stared down at the skin, holding myself still, forcing my concentration to deepen. Blue and yellow flames leapt from the palm, bright and hurtful to the eyes.
Corlan fell back, dropping his bow. ‘You are a sorcerer!’ he shouted.
‘Indeed I am,’ I said, my voice deep as rolling thunder. It was a fine performance and I risked a glance at the other men, seeing the fear in their faces. ‘This is the flame that cannot die. This is the light which feeds on souls. Each man will reach into this flame, taking it into himself. It will sear the flesh of oathbreakers, spreading like a cancer through the body. Any man here who betrays another of the company will die horribly, his soul burning in the pit of a thousand flames. His spirit will fly screaming to the realm of the Vampyre Kings. There will be no escape. Once you have touched this flame the Soul Oath will have been made. There will be no turning back from it.’
‘I’ll not touch it!’ roared Corlan.
‘Then you will not be rich,’ I said, smiling.
‘Have you done this, Mace?’ he asked.
‘Of course,’ answered the warrior. ‘Would you like to see me do it again?’
‘Yes! Yes!’Mace leaned forward and his eyes held mine. With my head turned away from Corlan I winked. Mace grinned and thrust his hand into the flame. A small tongue of fire leapt to his palm. It did not burn him, but then it could not for it was but an illusion. The flame danced upon his arm, moving to his chest and vanishing into his clothing above the heart. ‘I am no oathbreaker,’ said Mace softly.
‘Nor am I!’ insisted Corlan, kneeling before me and extending his hand. I could not resist adding a fraction of the Warming spell to the fire, just strong enough to cause a little discomfort. Corlan tensed as the fire touched him, but he did not move as the flame glided along his arm. Silently, almost reverentially, each of the men accepted the flame, until at last a young dark-haired warrior pushed out his arm. I saw that he was sweating heavily. The fire touched him and he screamed, hurling himself back from me and slapping his hand against the grass. The fire slid over him. I increased the size of the flame, and the power of the Warming spell.
‘Take it away!’ he begged.
‘Speak the truth and save yourself,’ I said, though I knew not why.
‘They made me do it! They have my wife!’The flames disappeared and the man rolled to his knees, facing Corlan. ‘I didn’t want to betray you, Corlan. But they told me they’d kill Norm. And it’s not you they want, but the Morningstar!’
‘I understand,’ whispered Corlan. ‘I wondered why you spent so long in Ziraccu. How do you communicate with them?’
‘I mark the trees. And they gave me this!’ He opened his shirt and I saw a black stone suspended from a length of twine. At the centre of the stone was a small white crystal.
‘The man who gave you this,’ I said, ‘was he tall, and slender, dressed in flowing purple robes?’
‘Yes, yes, that was him.’
‘Give it to me!’The man pulled it clear, tossing it across the clearing. Catching it by the string I dashed it against a rock. The crystal shattered, the stone splitting in half.
‘What was it?’ asked Jarek Mace.
‘A simple Find-stone. The sorcerer places a spell upon the crystal and no matter where it is carried he can always locate it,’
‘I am sorry,’said the man,’but they have my…’Corlan moved behind him and his words were cut off by a sharp knife slicing across his throat. Blood gushed from the wound and the dying man’s eyes opened wide. Then he pitched forward to his face and lay twitching upon the grass. Corlan wiped his knife on the dead man’s tunic and rose.
‘We will do as you say, Sorcerer. We will close the roads. We will be the Men of the Morningstar. But if you play us false it will take more than a spell to save you.’
I ignored the threat. Fear had risen too fast in me to risk any speech.
‘When do we meet — and where?’ Corlan asked.
‘When the time is right,’ said Jarek Mace. ‘And we will find you.’
Corlan nodded and strode back into the forest, his men following. Wulf and Piercollo dragged the corpse back into the undergrowth and returned to the dying fire.
‘That was impressive, Owen,’ said Mace, squatting down beside me. I said nothing, for I could not pull my gaze from the blood upon the ground. ‘I don’t know how you knew he was a traitor,’ he continued, patting my shoulder, ‘but you did well.’
I did not know what to say. Yes, I had suspected the man. Something in the eyes, perhaps, the sheen of sweat upon his brow, the trembling of his hand as he accepted the illusion of fire. But the truth was hard. His guilt had betrayed him, and the mere fact that he had felt guilt showed he was at heart a good man. And I had seen him slain, probably dooming his family.
Did I do well?
I still recall his face and, worse, the look of relief that touched him as the knife released his soul.
For several weeks we journeyed through the high country, stopping at lonely hamlets or small villages, passing through more open areas where dry-stone walls dotted the hills like necklaces and crops grew on ploughed fields.
Ilka travelled with us — though none, I think, invited her. She helped Piercollo with the cooking and stayed close to me as we walked. For a while her company disconcerted me, for whenever I looked at her I found her eyes upon me, the gaze frank and open. But without language the meaning was lost and I found myself hating anew the brutal men who had robbed her of both her childhood and her voice.