For a moment Jeren felt certain she had failed. How could he not see her disgust, her loathing?
Then his laugh, a twisted and bitter version of the laugh she remembered, crawled across her skin and he pulled her to her feet. “Very well, my sister. I’ll grant you your boon.”
Chapter Ten
Shan hadn’t expected the hallucinations to start so quickly. He thought himself stronger than that. Strength in the body bred strength in spirit, strength to withstand longer than most. That’s what he thought. That’s want he’d been told all his life. Perhaps the Goddess decided to punish him for that pride. It had only taken a few braids, in the end.
It was a shock to realise how pathetic he really was, when you got down to it.
He heard a soft sound, like a whisper, or a dream. Feathers brushed his skin and the owl came to rest on the floor before him.
It didn’t vanish as dreams should.
“I’ve told you before you aren’t my totem,” Shan whispered, when he could finally find both strength and nerve to speak. “Surely you should be haunting Jeren? You could watch over her for me.”
The owl ignored him, preening herself. She stretched out her wings, her grey and white plumage luminous in the darkness of his cell. Where the reflected light came from he didn’t know.
It occurred to him then that maybe she wasn’t a totem, or a hallucination after all. Maybe the Death Maiden had come to usher him into her world. Falinar would be waiting for him. That brief surge of joy lasted only until he pictured the disappointment on her face.
So, you found my murderer, brother. Why didn’t you avenge me?
His voice emerged, shallow and broken. “I’m sorry, Fa.”
At the sound of her name, the owl turned her head so her huge yellow eyes rested on him, and she blinked slowly. Golden light gradually filled the room. His skin prickled in warning but he couldn’t tear his eyes off the owl. The thought was impossible, and somehow inescapable. The owl stared back, defying him to believe otherwise.
“Fa?” he whispered. “Falinar?”
Too late he heard the door and flinched back as it was flung open. Gilliad entered and wrenched the knife from his belt. Shan’s mouth opened in a cry of denial as the River Holter bore down on him like a demon of Andalstrom, his eyes as soulless as those of the Fell. He grabbed a handful of Shan’s hair, jerking the braids out, almost tearing them from his scalp, and lifted the knife.
He didn’t even have a chance to cry out. He didn’t have a chance to draw breath.
With a sickening crack, something struck the back of Gilliad’s head. Shock froze him for an instant, and then he went down, a crumpled heap in the dirt. Behind him stood Jeren, her face white, her eyes ringed with bruise-like shadows. She dropped the heavy door bar which had imprisoned him in this cell and scooped Shan’s sect knife from her brother’s limp hand, holding it like a shard of ice. It shook wildly. Or she did.
But her voice was a miracle.
“Shan? Sweet gods, Shan, what have they done to you?”
She had to be real.
He tried to smile, his features strained with relief. “To me? I heal quickly. What have they done to you?”
She fumbled with the latches securing the chain to the wall. It released with a jarring rattle and Shan crashed to the ground. Before he recovered his meagre strength, she unlocked the manacles and pulled him up.
“We have to get out of here.”
He froze at her touch. Jeren was rescuing him? He almost laughed out loud, but other matters would take precedence before he could indulge himself. As his muscles turned to steel, trying to make himself move through the pain of returning liberty, panic filled her face. She glanced down at her unconscious brother.
Did she think he’d attack her? Did she think he’d harm her? Never.
Her words almost tripped over each other in her haste to explain.
“I should have told you. I’m sorry, I’m such a fool. I should have trusted you. I didn’t mean for any of this… We have to leave…”
The owl flew to Jeren’s shoulder, her talons gripping the fur of her cloak where she perched. Shan’s stomach clenched in a knot and all remaining warmth drained from his body as he realised what she wore. “Is that…?”
“Yes. I—I’m sorry. His idea of revenge…or torture. Shan listen to me, I can get us out, both of us, but only if you come now!”
His eyes narrowed, malice flowing in his veins. Vengeance, not just for Fa. For Anala too. “Give me the knife.”
She stepped through the door into the tunnel beyond, his sect blade still clutched in her hand.
“I said give me the knife,” he repeated.
Shaking her head firmly, she backed away from him.
“He murdered my sister.”
“He told me,” she replied in a voice which trembled, but remained strong in her defiance. “But I can’t let you kill him.”
“He killed my sister!” He sprang forwards, through the doorway, a wolf diving at her, his teeth bared.
Jeren screamed, but fear didn’t freeze her. She twisted out of his way, slamming the door shut behind him. Before Shan knew what was happening, she had locked Gilliad inside and thrown the keys into the shadows. There was no bar to the door now, but without the key to the locks he didn’t have a hope of getting back in.
He hurled himself at the solid oak, as impotent now as if still chained up. Gilliad was in there, the man who had ruined his life. The man who would have tortured him to madness like Haledren. He’d failed. Not just to find the Shistra Phail. He’d failed Anala and Fa too.
Foiled, he slid down to the floor. “He killed my sister and I saved his. It isn’t right, Jeren.”
Her shoulders sagged as he turned to her, on his knees before her. She held out the knife, her eyes glistening in the dim light when he snatched it from her, the hilt still warm from her grip. The owl fluttered to the ground, scratching at the dust impatiently.
Jeren drew up her head, her body as taut as a bowstring. “My brother is insane. I won’t deny it. But I can’t let you kill him. If he dies…” She dropped to her knees then, right in front of him. He couldn’t help himself. He brought up the knife, point towards her, a barrier between them. For a moment they were both froze, staring at each other. She reached across the gap, ignoring the blade and enfolded his hands in hers. “Nothing you could do to me is worse than what he has planned. Nothing! If you need to take a life, take mine. I’ll kneel before you and I won’t fight. But not here, not now. Please, Shan, come with me now. Leave him and come with me.”
“You’re offering your life?”
The sound of footsteps echoed in the corridor behind them, hastening towards the cell. The way ahead remained clear. In the distance Shan could hear the sound of a waterfall, the great Alviron Falls above which River Holt perched.
“It’s all I can offer. It’s all I have. Please, I’m asking you to trust me one more time.” Her eyes compelled him and they rose together. He didn’t understand. But to go back for Gilliad now would mean only death. And hadn’t he himself told her there was no honour in fighting without reason? What was it about this woman that, when he was prepared to die, she could change his mind with just a touch, a few words?
Jeren’s head jerked up, aware of the approaching danger as the sound finally reached her human ears.
The owl took to the wing, ghosting through the narrow tunnel ahead of them. As one, Jeren and Shan followed. Behind them came the sounds of pursuit, shouted orders and commands, the sound of armour and weapons on running men.