Free Soulvine 03 A Bright and Terrible Sword by Anna Kendall Page A

under the trees turned full face towards me, and I recognized him. He was the hisaf who had stolen the children in Stonegreen, the stranger with black beard and green eyes. I had last found him in the Country of the Dead, moaning and barely able to move, beside the circle of the Dead that disappeared into a vortex. He was the man I could not bring myself to kill and so had left bound hand and foot. Obviously he had wriggled free, or had been rescued.
    He smiled at me, a smile so full of nasty promise that I had to look away. I should have killed him when I had the chance. My compassion, or squeamishness, would cost me now.
    Mother Chilton’s words echoed in my head: ‘ Everything has a cost, Roger Kilbourne – when will you learn that? ’
    Another man, younger than the rest, brought Kelif and me bread, cheese, and a goatskin bag of sour ale. I could not eat; my stomach churned too much. But I drank some ale, lifting the tankard with the hand chained to Kelif.
    ‘Sleep now,’ Straik said, even as Kelif stretched out wordlessly on the pine needles. The iron chain pulled on my wrist. ‘We all need sleep, probably especially you, Roger. No, I will not answer any questions now, so do not bother to ask any.’
    I thought that fear would keep me awake. I was wrong. The ale, my exhaustion, the warm summer sun filtering through pine branches all sent me to sleep before I even knew it was on the way. And I dreamed.
    I stood in Queen Caroline’s privy chamber in the palace, where I had not been for years. A bright fire burned in the hearth, and goblets of wine stood on an ornately carved table. Mother Chilton sat on a small stool, her simple grey gown puddling on the stone floor, her back bent with age. She threw something powdery onto the fire. Beside her stood little Princess Stephanie – no, Queen Stephanie now – her six-year-old eyes wide and solemn. ‘Breathe,’ Mother Chilton said, and the child breathed deeply. Then she turned and her grey eyes seemed to look directly into mine. ‘Say it,’ Mother Chilton urged .
    Stephanie said, ‘Roger! Run! ’
    The dream woke me. It seemed so real – because it was real. Once before, my mad half-sister had used Stephanie’s inherited gift for the soul arts in order to kill. Now Mother Chilton used them to warn me. But Stephanie’s warnings, like Alysse’s, came too late. I could not run.
    Kelif slept on. I sat up, which stretched the iron chain between us to its limit. The setting sun shone redly between the trees. Meat roasted on the fire, where one of the men slept and the others talked and laughed softly. It looked like any hunting camp where jovial moods rose from a successful hunt. The youngest man, scarcely more than a boy, whittled on a willow whistle. He brought it to his lips and blew softly and a high, sweet note sounded on the warm air.
    From somewhere came an answering note.
    The camp changed instantly. Kelif and the other sleeper woke. The three men by the fire jumped to their feet, but not in alarm. If anything, they looked happier than before. I heard the rumble of a wagon in the distance, then shouts.
    ‘By damn – they’re early!’ Straik said. ‘That can only be good!’
    Kelif pulled me to my feet and dragged me forward through the trees, followed by the others. The pine woods thinned and ended very close to the camp, giving way to gentle hills covered with clover and buttercups and scrub bushes. Lurching over the trackless ground were two wagons, each drawn by a broad-backed, hard-working horse and driven by a man in rough brown clothing. More such walked beside the horses. Each wagon carried supplies and riders. In one were a woman and a girl of about ten or eleven, both bound. In the other rode Leo.
    When the wagons reached the edge of the wood, Leo jumped down and came over to me. I stared, my fear momentarily drowned in astonishment. For he was utterly, completely changed.

7
    ‘Good morrow, Roger,’ Leo said mockingly and made me a comic bow.