The Gathering Storm
Page 254

Yet he could not erase the stain of Alain’s suffering from his mind. It seemed he could never exult in his greatest victories.
Out on the fens a score of small boats appeared: Manda and her people paddled toward the holy island they hoped to reclaim.
“It will have to be cleaned up,” he said to Tenth Son. “I wonder if they prefer the corpses burned, buried, or drowned in the water.”
“Burning and drowning may pollute what is here,” said Tenth Son. “If I were them, I would ask that the corpses be conveyed to the mainland and disposed of there.”
Stronghand nodded. A score of his Rikin cousins approached, guarding his new allies, whom they had rescued from the shelter built up by the stone circle.
As he waited, he mused, and spoke at last to his companion.
“I am not the OldMother, to grant you a name. But neither am I Bloodheart or any of the chieftains of old, content with what they could grasp for themselves alone. Nay. Why should I stop here? Why should I hesitate?”
Soldiers moved aside to make way for First Son and their allies. They halted ten paces from him.
“As you commanded, Stronghand,” said First Son. “None of the circle priests were killed.”
He moved aside to allow Brother Severus to walk forward alone, leaving his dozen attendants behind him under the protection, or custody, of First Son’s cohort. It was clear that while some accepted their changing circumstances with a stoic calm, others felt less sanguine and the one known as Father Reginar, certainly, looked ready to vomit as he stared at the feeding dogs.
“Lord Stronghand.” Brother Severus spoke Wendish with a strong accent and an arrogant way of clipping off the ends of his words. If the carnage bothered him, he did not show it, but neither did he once look away from the matter at hand. “We have abided by our part of our agreement. Now we expect that you will abide by yours.” He fished in one long sleeve and drew out a parchment scroll, freshly inked. “We have written up a contract, detailing our agreement. It wants only your mark to seal our bargain.”
Stronghand rose, lifting his standard. With their usual patience, born of stone, the RockChildren waited. “What is to stop me from killing you now that I have you in my power?”
Severus sighed with the weariness of a man who is plagued by the stupid questions of foolish children. “We are sorcerers, my Lord Stronghand. You should fear our power.”
“But I do not.” He gestured toward the field of corpses that surrounded them and made sure to indicate the gruesome trophies dangling from the masts of his fleet. “The magic of the tree sorcerers did not defeat me. Why should yours?”
The corners of Severus’ lips twitched up, but he was not smiling. He lifted a hand casually, and a wind stuttered up from the earth. The awning heaved as though an invisible creature shrugged up beneath it. The cloth of the tents all around them flapped and fluttered. Pennants snapped. The corpse of the youngest queen rolled as a movement within the soil heaved it sideways, revealing maggots where her heart’s blood had pooled on the ground beneath her. Every dog feeding yelped and leaped, as if stung, and like a flock of locusts they bolted into the water and there they stayed, whining but fearful as blood and offal oozed from their muzzles to further muddy the spoiled shoreline.
Stronghand bared his teeth, nothing more. This Severus was not one to be trifled with or underestimated. Unlike most men, he could not be intimidated, and he was no fool.
“We are not so easy to kill,” said Severus as wind rippled the waters and rocked the ships.
Stronghand let the sorcery subside without interfering with it. “Had I wished to kill you, I would have done so already. Be assured that I make no bargain unless I mean to keep it.” He touched the scar on the back of his left hand to his own lips, remembering what had been sealed by blood when Alain had freed him from the cage.
Where was Alain now?
How could he find him, if he had no landmarks to show the way? “I will mark your contract, but you must first read it aloud for my ears.”
“Of course. Reginar?”
The young man had lost the edge of his arrogance, but he had a measure of courage, too, because he took the parchment from Severus and read in a voice that wavered at first but at length became steady and strong.
“This agreement of mutual aid and alliance spoken and sealed between the Holy Mother, Anne, in the person of her counselor, Brother Severus, and the one known as Stronghand, king among the Eika. In return for the help given to him by Brother Severus in defeating the queens of Alba and granting him material aid in claiming the queendom of Alba, Stronghand agrees to guard those who wish to restore the crown at Wyfell Island; they will abide beside the caretakers of the island in peace and will be allowed to study the ancient art of the mathematici within the confines of the stone circle. In addition, in return for our support and blessing, Stronghand will aid us in restoring and protecting the other crowns we seek, including one in the Eikaland and another in the kingdom of Salia. He will allow missionaries to move freely among his people and among the Alban heathens.”