Rannick laughed, a sound that was a ghastly mixture of inhuman glee and an all too human relief at being able to speak to end the fraught silence. ‘Nilsson’s men have many talents,’ he said. ‘They were just ordinary men pursuing their ordinary skills before they chose the way that brought them here.’ Again the laugh, but this time it was almost totally inhuman. ‘And what they can’t provide…’ He raised his hand in an airy gesture. ‘… We find elsewhere.’ He turned and looked out at the fading red sky. ‘There are many, many things over the hill, Marna,’ he said. ‘You’ve truly no idea.’
‘I know there are villages and towns,’ Marna re-sponded, a little defensively, in spite of herself. ‘And even cities. Like the capital. Where the king lives.’
Rannick nodded slightly. ‘Yes,’ he said, though seemingly to himself. ‘The king. And his capital. And his great army.’ There was scorn in his voice. ‘But even beyond that,’ he went on. ‘There are lands and peoples. Spread across the whole world.’
‘Oh,’ Marna replied dully.
Rannick turned back towards her. ‘Lands and peo-ples that will be mine, Marna,’ he said softly but with great intensity, his hand coming forward and closing, claw-like, to make a bony, knuckled fist.
His face was in complete shadow, while her own, Marna knew, would be clearly visible even in the fading light. Desperately, she fought to keep her inner alarm from reaching her eyes. She let some of her fear force her face into a puzzled frown. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said, walking to the window adjacent to the one where Rannick was standing. She could see part of the battlements below, but very little of the courtyard. And beyond, she could see far down the valley, familiar shapes and landmarks fading into the shadows of the western mountains. It was, as Rannick had said, an odd feeling looking down from this high yet confined vantage.
Rannick watched her as she gazed out of the win-dow. ‘It needs very little understanding, Marna,’ he said. ‘My imprisonment in this miserable place is ended. I now have the power that was always destined for me, and these mountains, these petty village huts, can confine me no longer.’
Marna wanted to argue. Wanted to defend her vil-lage, her community. Wanted to ask what it was that had held him here against his will thus far in his life. But there was a note in his voice that warned her away from such a debate. Lingering always in her mind were the deaths of Garren and Katrin Yarrance. ‘Power?’ she queried.
Rannick moved towards her. He put his hand on her shoulder and turned her towards him. She tried not to stiffen under his touch. ‘The power given to me by my ancestors, and released by…’ He closed his eyes briefly, and gently tightened his grip, fingers and thumb probing intimately. He left the sentence unfinished, however. ‘Power to draw men such as Nilsson and his band to my side and make them blindly obedient to my will. Power to sweep aside whatever stands in my way, be it forests, rivers, locks and bolts, walls of stone…’ He paused and looked at her intently, his hand still rhythmically caressing her shoulder. ‘People,’ he said, significantly. ‘Anything.’
Marna’s mouth was dry. Her eyes were drawn reluc-tantly to his. She saw there what she heard in his voice. Manic obsession, mingling with an almost pathetic yearning for…
For what?
Praise? Acceptance?
Her?
She felt her hands shaking, and she pressed them tightly against the sides of her legs to still them. Little surprise in that, of course, she reasoned carefully to herself. Reason however, held little comfort for her, for though she had fended off more than a few unwanted embraces in her time, this was very different. Different not only because of the circumstances but because amid the waves of fear that threatened to possess her, the repulsion that she felt was entwined around another, unexpected and contradictory emotion.
Desire.
It held her eyes on his lean, shadowed face and tried to lift her hand to cover his, to tighten further that grip on her shoulder.
‘What’s this to do with me?’ she managed to reply, forcing her hand tighter against her leg.
His hand drew her a little closer, though there was uncertainty in it as well as an almost irresistible strength. ‘Soon, kings and princes will be bending the knee to me,’ he said, a little hoarsely. ‘They will bring their wealth and their power to increase my own, and no ambition will be beyond my achieving.’
Marna felt herself going pale.
‘Share it with me, Marna,’ he said very softly. ‘Share everything with me.’
Memories of their early, awkward and distant friendship, with its sudden conclusion, flooded over Marna as she looked up at him. It did not seem possible to her that his eyes could contain the confusion of emotions that she read there. A confusion that was echoed within herself. But dominant in her confusion now was fear. She must get away from him. But how? A blow? A push? A laugh? A kindly smile? None of these would suffice.
‘I don’t understand,’ she prevaricated, tearing her gaze away from him as casually as she could.
‘You do,’ Rannick said, still softly but emphatically. ‘You know you do. You belong by my side, Marna. You always have.’ He waved his hand across the darkening valley. ‘All this is nothing. All that’s been before has been nothing. Just a waiting time. And now it’s finished, gone, vanished. Now we go to take our true inheritance.’
And what about Garren and Katrin, slaughtered, and their farm burnt? she suddenly wanted to scream. And Farnor, wherever he is? And Jeorg, beaten senseless? And all those people from over the hill brought back in chains?
And then her mind was clear. The confusion and the desire retreated. ‘I’m confused,’ she lied, this time making no attempt to stop her voice from trembling. ‘It’s all so sudden.’ She brought up her hand and laid it over his. Forcing a plaintive bewilderment into her eyes, she looked at him. He returned her gaze uncertainly. Terrifyingly, she could see rage bubbling beneath his doubt. She must be very careful. Fear lay cold inside her, but she held Rannick’s gaze. Then she shrugged her shoulders and at the same time turned away slowly so that his hand naturally slipped from both her shoulder and her grip.
Free of his touch, the desire retreated further. She spoke quickly, before he could take command again. ‘One minute I’m in the cottage helping my father, like I’ve done for years. Then, all of a sudden…’ She clapped her hands together, and moved a little further away from him. ‘… I’m here. High above everything. Just that is making me giddy. And I’m listening to you talking about being a king or something.’ She put her hands to her head.
‘You doubt me?’ Rannick said suddenly, his head craning forward.
‘No!’ Marna said, a little too hastily.
‘See!’
A breeze suddenly caught Marna’s hair, blowing it across her face. She cried out, startled. Rannick held up his hand, both for silence, and as reassurance.
As she swept the hair from her face Marna saw a blurred light floating in the air some way in front of her. Abruptly, it was a flame. Despite Rannick’s assurance, Marna cried out again, and stepped back.
‘Ssh. You’re safe with me,’ Rannick said.
The flame moved from side to side, like a hunting dog impatiently waiting to be unleashed. There was little light coming from the windows now, making the flame virtually the only source of illumination in the tower room. Marna glanced rapidly at Rannick. Now there was no ambivalence in his face. The flame etched dark shadows into it, and glistened in his eyes. Uncertain how she herself would look, Marna fought to compose her features.
But her efforts were unnecessary. Rannick’s total attention was on the flame. It grew, it shrank, it divided and came together again, it danced into a myriad shapes, like trees and bright golden flowers, and scattering stars, and things that had no name, all the time moving hither and thither to its master’s unseen commands.