Piercollo lay back, his good eye closing. ‘Better,’ he whispered. ‘Much better.’ I deepened the spell, my hand trembling with the cold. His breathing slowed and he slept.
I left the women tending him and joined Mace and the others. Brackban thrust out a meaty hand and grinned. ‘My thanks to you, sorcerer.’
I shook my head. ‘Sorcery is, thankfully, not my area of expertise, sir. But I was pleased to assist in your rescue.’
‘Talks prettily, doesn’t he?’ put in Wulf.
‘I don’t judge a man by how he talks,’ said Brackban, ‘but by how he acts. I know you did not enter that keep to rescue me; you were looking for your friend. But even so I am now in your debt — and I always repay.’
‘You have nothing to repay,’ Mace said easily.
‘I disagree, Morningstar. Jairn says you have an army in the south of the forest. I would be honoured to join it. I have some experience with soldiering; I have trained men for battle.’
As clearly as the sun shining through a break in a storm-cloud, I saw then what needed to be done. When I sent Corlan and his men south it had been to eliminate a danger to us, to put distance between us. But now Owen Odell, the son of Aubertain, knew without doubt what action was called for. The reign of Azrek in this land was evil — and evil must be countered wherever it is met. Mace had no understanding of this, but then Mace was no longer in control.
Before he could answer, I spoke up. ‘The army is not yet gathered, Brackban. When the Morningstar spoke of it he meant the men of the Highlands, who even now are tending farms or raising cattle.’
‘I don’t understand,’ he said, tugging at a blond braid of hair that hung from his temple.
I looked into his clear blue eyes. ‘There is no army — not yet. The time is not right. The war between north and south is barely over, the southern Angostins control all the major cities. To begin an uprising now would be futile. But soon the majority of their forces will travel back to the south, leaving garrisons to control the Highlands. Then we will gather the men; then we will cast the Angostins from among us.’
‘What then can I do?’ he asked.
‘You can recruit the iron core. Find men of courage, men with ability. Old soldiers, veterans. Then we can call the men of the Highlands to arms. We can train them, arm them.’
‘What about coin? Arms cost money.’
‘Go south and seek out a man named Corlan. He will supply coin. Tell him you are sent by Jarek Mace. Corlan leads the Men of the Morningstar. You will aid him where you can, but your responsibility will be the gathering of officers. The Heart of the Army.’
‘Is this the same Corlan who has brought murder and savagery to the forest for the last five years?’
‘It is. But he fights now for the Highlands.’
‘And you trust him?’ The question was asked softly, but Brackban’s eyes had hardened and I knew he was sceptical.
Mace leaned forward. ‘He has sworn the Soul Oath,’ he said. ‘As you will — as will every man here. If he betrays us he will die horribly. Is that not so, Owen?’
‘Yes. But it is not necessary for Brackban to swear. I can read his heart and he is a true man.’
‘I will swear it anyway,’ said Brackban.
Once again I conjured the dancing flame and watched as it glided along Brackban’s arm, disappearing into his chest.
‘Do you swear to follow the Morningstar unto the ends of life, and to give your life in order to free the Highlands?’
‘I do.’
‘So be it. The Soul Fire now burns inside you. It will strengthen your resolve and aid your courage. But should you ever betray the cause it will rot your body from within and you will die. You understand?’
‘I understand.’ He reached out his hand to Mace, who took it in the warrior’s grip, wrist to wrist. ‘Until death, Morningstar,’ he said.
‘Until death,’ agreed Jarek Mace.
Banking up the fire I slept, a thin blanket around my shoulders, my head pillowed on my arm. I could feel the warmth of the flames on my back, and my thoughts were mellow. Piercollo, though grievously hurt, was alive and free, due in no small measure to my own talents. I felt relaxed and free from care.
I drifted into sleep — and awoke by another fire, beneath a sky shining with the light of two moons — one a crescent, the other full and huge, its surface scarred and pitted like a silver plate engraved with black ink.
I sat up and stared around me. The landscape was flat, but the small blaze had been set on the brow of the only hill for miles. It was a poor place for a fire, with nothing to reflect the heat. And yet the setting was somehow perfect. I became aware — as dreamers do — that I was not alone; three other men sat close by, hooded and silent. I looked at the first man and his head came up. He was not unhandsome, the face slender, the eyes dark, skin swarthy. He pushed back his hood and I saw that he was wearing a black helm upon his long hair; he was not old, yet his hair was already silver.
‘You wear the ring,’ he said. The other two men had not moved and I switched my gaze to them. They shimmered and faded in the moonlight, and their heads remained shadowed within the hoods. ‘I am Gareth,’ said the first man, lifting his hand. I saw his ring then — the twin of the one I now wore, the white stone shining like a tiny moon.
‘I found it,’ I told him.
‘I know. It was at the Grey Keep.’
‘My ring,’ came a hoarse whisper from my left. The shimmering figure raised its head and the moonlight fell upon a translucent face, the image drifting between flesh and bone. One moment his features were clear and human, the next, as he moved, the skull shone through. ‘My ring,’ he repeated.
‘It was not my intention to steal it,’ I said.
‘Yet you have it,’ said Gareth.
‘It was upon the hand of a dead man. Is that theft?’
‘You took what was not yours.’
I could not argue against such logic and I shrugged. ‘I will return it if you wish.’
‘You read the inscription?’
‘Yes. Guard am I, sword pure, heart strong.’
‘Did you understand it?’
‘No.’
Gareth nodded. ‘I thought not. The sorcerer who attacked you — he would have understood. Not enough to be fearful, but enough to wreak chaos. What do we guard, Owen?’
‘I don’t know. Some hidden treasure? A holy relic?’
‘We guarded the Three, lest the evil should come again. Now two have been found, and the third is sought. Where do you stand in this?’
‘How can I answer? I do not know of what you speak.’
‘The skulls, Owen.’
Once when I was a small child I was playing on a frozen lake when the ice gave way beneath me. The shock of the icy water to my system was terrifying. Such was the feeling of dread that touched me now when Gareth spoke.
The skull at the keep. One of the Three. One of the Vampyre Kings.
‘Why do you guard them?’ I asked at last.
‘On the orders of Rabain and Horga,’ he answered. ‘When the Kings were slain, it was found that the skulls could not be destroyed. Horga took them and kept them apart. She tried to burn them in fierce furnaces. They were struck repeatedly by iron mallets. They were dropped from high cliff-tops, but they did not shatter on the rocks below, nor were they even marked. At last, defeated by them, Horga and Rabain ordered them to be taken to three secret locations, there to be guarded for eternity by the Ringwearers.’
‘You are a thousand years old?’ I asked him.
He smiled then and shook his head. ‘No. Three families were chosen from among Rabain’s knights. From father to son they passed the rings and the secret. It was never to be spoken of, but the head of the family was pledged to guard the resting-place of the skulls, so that they would never again be brought together.’