‘Exactly!’ Gilmour slapped the table, making Alen spill his wine. ‘Granted, not too many people have ever gone that far out on the point. But some of us have – Garec, Versen, Sallax, even I – and we know that there’s nothing enchanted about those trees. We have certainly never found ourselves trapped in our past.’
‘So he uses the two ingredients together, probably burns them into some kind of ash. They might inhale it, or have it rubbed on their skin, who knows?’
‘The ash dream,’ Gilmour said. ‘Well, that clinches it: I have to read that whoring book.’ At Alen’s quizzical look, he explained, ‘Lessek’s spell book – I’m embarrassed to admit that I’ve had it for nearly two Twinmoons and haven’t been able to get past the second folio. I acquired it from Nerak’s cabin on the Prince Marek, the night he followed Steven through the far portal.’
‘I remember that night,’ Alen said, ‘because it was also the night his hunters stopped searching for me, the night much of the mystical energy in Eldarn quietly ground to a stop.’
‘I’ve been putting it off for Twinmoons,’ Gilmour admitted. ‘Now we’ve only got a day or two, and I don’t even know if it will do us any good.’
‘You should try anyway,’ Alen said. ‘Once we’re underway, we can look it over together.’
Someone knocked, and at the captain’s word, Brexan peered around the door, not sure if she should interrupt their discussion.
‘Yes, come in, please.’ Captain Ford stood up, offering his chair. ‘Have a seat.’
‘I’m fine standing, thanks,’ Brexan said. ‘How can I help?’
‘You mentioned once that you were stationed at Welstar Palace.’ He unfolded a river chart and spread it across the table. ‘Can you recall how the encampment was organised?’
Brexan leaned over the table. ‘I was stationed somewhere along the river in that valley; I don’t think I ever came within half an aven’s walk of the palace itself – no one did, except for the Home Guard divisions and the Seron warriors. However, I can tell you that if we’re heading up that way, the navy patrols the river and there’s a whole legion of barges running back and forth delivering goods. The river’s a rutting highway.’
‘That could be good for us,’ Ford said, his finger following the river on the chart. ‘We could try to blend in.’
‘It makes it awfully difficult to change direction,’ Brexan pointed out. ‘If you need to turn tail and run, for example, the shipping is so thick that you’d end up ramming someone before you managed to come about.’
‘And I’m certain the encampment will have changed in the Twinmoons since you’ve been there, my dear,’ Alen added.
‘How do you mean?’ Gilmour said.
‘The whole west bank – from the village, up to and beyond the keep – is covered with divisions of soldiers already under the influence of the ash dream. You couldn’t walk a dog through there without it ending up on someone’s menu. There are probably near to a hundred thousand of those creatures there now, Seron beasts transformed into these vacuous, staring monsters, as if Seron weren’t bad enough on their own. The east bank was given over to soldiers too, normal ones – most of the northern corps, I’d guess. I didn’t see much of them; we fled during the night. But on our trip down from Treven, we noticed that most of the hillsides sloping down to the river were dotted with tents, fires, stables, corrals, muster tents – everything a massive army would need.’
The captain traced the east bank on his chart. Tapping his finger on the site of the encampment, he said, And if Mark Jenkins is still transforming soldiers and Seron with his ash stuff, he might already have given the order to administer it to the divisions on the other side of the river.’
‘He might have,’ Alen said. ‘That’s a good point.’
‘Ash stuff?’ Brexan asked.
Gilmour explained quickly, Alen and Captain Ford chiming in.
Brexan shuddered. ‘That’s horrific! But how would he make them take the ash? I mean, he can’t do it individually, can he? If he had to go person to person it would take all Twinmoon.’
Alen considered this, then said, ‘I was masquerading as an officer for a few days while Hannah and the others were locked up and I roamed as much of the place as I could, but the only thing I could see in the monsters’ encampments were fires, huge braziers, that kept burning all day and all night, looking as if Nerak had called down a constellation from the skies and left it burning on the ground around the palace.’
‘That could be it,’ Gilmour said, ‘but they might have been just fires.’
‘I suppose,’ Alen conceded, ‘but why? If they’re trapped in their own fantasies, if they can’t escape their own minds, then they wouldn’t even notice the cold, would they? They did have the odd campfire here and there, but these braziers were huge – were they for light? I can’t quite see what a creature trapped in an endless nightmare would need fire for – unlikely to be light, warmth or comfort.’
Captain Ford gazed out of the cabin window. The sun glinted off the water, blinding him. ‘So you think they’re inhaling it as ashes or smoke?’ he asked, turning back to the Larion sorcerers.
‘It’s possible,’ Alen said. ‘I know I didn’t see anyone administering anything to them – honestly, it would have been suicide for anyone to set foot in that encampment, never mind try to get Seron warriors to ingest anything they didn’t want to, and that includes anything designed to leave them babbling, ignoring all manner of injuries and diseases and following mindless orders.’
‘That’s it then,’ Gilmour said. ‘The evil force that took Nerak and now Mark is using the ash dream to create a massive army of unnatural killers – Seron and men alike – to become his slaves when the essence of all evil is ushered through the Fold and allowed to suck the life from the very land beneath our feet.’
Brexan blanched. ‘Rutting dogs, but I hope you’re wrong.’
‘I hope so too,’ Captain Ford agreed.
‘Why would Lessek have written such a spell?’ Alen asked. ‘What could he have hoped to gain with such a creation?’
‘We need to read to know why,’ Gilmour said, then asked Brexan, ‘Is Hannah in with Steven?’
As Brexan nodded, Alen asked, ‘Where’s Hoyt?’
‘Hannah’s with Steven and Hoyt’s resting up front in Sera’s berth,’ she said. ‘He doesn’t look like much of a healer – in fact, he needs a healer more than any of us.’
‘He’s the best in the Westlands,’ Alen assured her, ‘and I think Hannah has an idea how to fix him up right away.’
Garec appeared in the companionway, a massive Malakasian flag draped over his shoulder. ‘Will this do?’
Captain Ford laughed. ‘It’s the best news I’ve had all this Moon, Garec. Would you ask Pel to run it up the mainmast and leave the small flag on the halyard, aft? Then Gilmour, Alen and I need to speak with all of you on deck, Hannah included.’ Ford rolled the chart, slipped it inside a wall rack and ushered them into the corridor.
Hannah pulled up a bench and rested her head softly on Steven’s chest. His clothes stank of sickness, fever and sweat, and his skin was the colour of turned cream. He didn’t respond to her touch, but at least he was breathing evenly. She took some comfort in that. Steven’s chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm; he was alive, and that was enough for her – for now, anyway.
‘I found you first,’ she whispered, surprised she wasn’t crying. ‘It’s been a while, huh?’ She needed to fill the silence. ‘I’ve heard some remarkable things about you, things neither of us could ever have imagined, back home. Do you remember home? Do you want to go back, maybe just me and you?’ She closed her eyes, content to feel the rhythmic motion of his chest. ‘We have some catching up to do, don’t we? I can’t wait. I’ve missed you, Steven – even though we barely know each other, I do know that if it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t have made it this far.’
The Morning Star rolled gently: the tide was coming in. Hannah heard Captain Ford and the Larion Senators shuffle along the companionway and then up to the main deck. She touched Steven’s cheek, and ran her fingers through his matted hair. ‘You look good with a beard. Do all sorcerers have them? Is it some kind of regulation? You’ll have to shave it off when we get home so I can decide which version of you I’ll love more.’ His forehead was damp; she wiped it with the cloth Kellin had left ready. ‘Hey, do you remember that Mexican place we went for lunch? When you came back to the shop to pick up that china cabinet for your sister. I had fajitas. You ate whatever you could stomach after that eleven-course breakfast you thought I didn’t know about. I want to go back there, Steven, just us, and start again. What d’you say? Can we get back there if we both try, or are we too far down this road?’