Читать книгу The Daylight War - Peter Brett V. - Страница 10

They galloped until dawn, then eased the horses into a walk as the sun burned their night strength away. Arlen took them off road, leading Twilight Dancer with confidence down a Messenger way so overgrown and twisted it was almost invisible. The path beneath Renna’s feet never vanished, but it opened up suddenly before her and closed off quickly behind, like she was wandering through a thick fog.

Around midday, the path merged into a wide Messenger road, and they were able to mount again after a break for lunch and necessaries. Like the roads in Riverbridge, the Old Hill Road was made of stone, but most of it was now cracked and eroded into enormous potholes, filled with dirt and thick with stunted patches of scrub and weed. In more than one place, a full tree had broken through, leaving great blocks of broken stone, moss-covered and filthy. In other places, the road ran for long stretches as if untouched by time, miles of grey stone, flat and uniform with nary a crack or seam.

‘How’d they haul stones that big?’ Renna asked in wonder.

‘Din’t,’ Arlen said. ‘They made a muddy porridge called crete, which hardens into solid rock. All roads used to be like this, wide and stone, sometimes hundreds of miles long.’

‘What happened to them?’ Renna asked.

Arlen spat. ‘World got too small for big roads. Now Old Hill Road’s one of the last of her kind. Nature doesn’t take them back quickly, but eventually she does take ’em back.’

‘We’ll make good time here,’ Renna said.

‘Ay, but night will be a race,’ Arlen warned. ‘Field demons are drawn here like pigs to the trough. Come up through the potholes.’

Renna smirked. ‘Who am I to worry? Got the Deliverer with me.’ Arlen scowled, and she laughed.

Renna wasn’t laughing any more. Promise had relented to take a few strips of braided leather as a girth, but it was still all Renna could do to hang on as the giant Angierian mustang galloped flat-out over the ancient highway, leaping obstacles and barely keeping ahead of the reap of field demons at her heels.

Twilight Dancer fared no better, with as many of the corelings on his tail as Promise’s. The demons seemed bred for the road, their long tireless strides eating up the pavement.

Above, the raptor cries of wind demons filled the night sky. Renna glanced up and saw the demons clearly by the glow of their magic, massive wingspans blotting out the stars. Even wind demons weren’t quick enough to dive and take a galloping horse, but if they slowed …

‘Do we fight?’ Renna shouted to Arlen. Both their senses were far more acute in the night, but it was still hard to tell if he heard her over the thunder of hooves and the shriek of demons sensing a kill.

‘Too many!’ Arlen shouted back. ‘We stop to fight, more will catch up! Keep on!’

His face was clear as day to her night eyes, lined with worry. He was in no danger, of course. Nothing could harm Arlen in the night. But Renna had no such security. Her warded cloak would not shield her at a gallop, and while she had painted much of Promise’s splotchy coat, those wards wouldn’t last long in a pitched battle against an ever-increasing number of demons. Even Twilight Dancer’s warded barding had gaps necessary for mobility.

Renna’s hand itched to go to her knife, but she kept her arms tight around Promise’s powerful neck. A coreling nipped at the mare’s heels, and caught a hoof in the face for its efforts. The wards Renna had carved into it flared, and the coreling’s long, razor-sharp teeth shattered as the demon was thrown back.

Renna’s satisfaction at the blow was short-lived. Promise stumbled, momentarily losing her stride, and the other corelings gained quickly, almost upon her. Back down the road, the demon she had kicked rolled to a stop and wobbled to its feet. Already its magic was repairing the damage. It would be back in the chase before long.

Arlen let go of Twilight Dancer’s reins and turned, drawing a ward in the air. Renna felt a rush of air, and the corelings at her heels were thrown back like leaves in the wind.

Renna smiled and looked back at Arlen, but the curve fell from her lips as she saw how his glow had dimmed. He couldn’t keep using that trick, and the field demons at his own back were barely a stride behind. She cursed her own stubborn refusal to practise with the bow he had given her.

A field demon leapt, its long hooked talons digging deep grooves into Twilight Dancer’s hindquarters just beneath the barding as it tried to pull the massive stallion down.

Dancer broke stride to kick back, his warded hooves crushing the demon’s skull, but the pause gave another of the demons time to climb atop an ancient pile of crete and hurl itself at Arlen.

Arlen twisted, catching a swiping paw in one hand and punching the demon hard in the head with the other. ‘Don’t slow!’ he called as Promise ran past.

Magic flared from the wards on his fist as he struck again and again, leaving the demon’s face a ruined mass. He hurled the demon back into the reap, knocking others to the ground in a jumble, then kicked Dancer back into a gallop.

They soon caught up, but Dancer’s flanks were wet with running blood, and his speed began to lessen as the demons renewed their chase.

‘Night!’ Renna looked up the road, seeing another reap of demons charging at them from the opposite direction, spread as wide as the road. To either side the ground fell away in a thicketed ditch. There was no escape there.

Part of Renna longed to fight. The demon in her blood shrieked for the carnage, but the sense left to her knew it was a hopeless battle. If they couldn’t break the ring and outrun the pack, it was likely only Arlen would survive to see the dawn.

The thought gave her some comfort as she leaned in to the charge.

‘Stomp right through,’ she whispered in Promise’s ear.

‘Follow my lead,’ Arlen called. He had leached some power from the demon he’d killed, though it was still less than he’d started with. He drew a quick ward in the air, and the demons directly in front of the horses were knocked aside. He laid about with a long spear, jabbing at any demon that drew too close, but one was not fast enough and was trampled under Twilight Dancer’s hooves, magic flashing in the night. Renna followed right behind, trampling the hapless demon further, leaving it crushed and broken.

Left to itself, the demon might have recovered from even these grievous injuries, but its reapmates sensed its weakness and temporarily gave up the chase, falling upon it viciously, rending its armour with their long talons and tearing away large chunks of flesh in their teeth.

Renna bared her teeth, and for a second, imagined herself joining them, feasting on demon meat and revelling in the power it brought.

‘Eyes in front!’ Arlen snapped, breaking her from the trance. Renna shook her head and turned away from the grisly scene, putting her mind back to the business at hand.

It looked like they might clear the trap, but the clash had slowed them enough for a wind demon to chance a dive at Renna, talons leading to snatch her right from horseback and carry her off.

The blackstem wards on Renna’s arms and shoulders flared, forming a barrier that gave the demon’s talons no purchase, but the force of the rebound threw Renna from Promise’s back. She hit the ground hard, smashing her right shoulder with a pop and tasting dirt and blood in her mouth. The wind demon crashed shrieking down beside her, and she rolled, just barely avoiding the razor-sharp talon at the end of its massive wing.

Her shoulder screamed at her as she shoved herself to her feet, but Renna embraced the pain as wood embraces fire, awkwardly pulling her knife in her left hand. To lie still was to die.

Not that her chances of living were very good. Nearby, Promise reared and bucked, kicking at the field demons snapping and clawing at her from all sides. In a moment they would be upon Renna as well.

‘Renna!’ Arlen wheeled Twilight Dancer about, but even he couldn’t be quick enough.

The wind demon struggled awkwardly to its feet. Wind demons were clumsy on land, and Renna used that to her advantage, kicking a leg out from under it and driving her warded knife deep into its throat as it fell. There was a hot splash of ichor on her hand, and she felt a wave of magic pump into her. Already, her injured shoulder felt stronger.

A field demon leapt upon Promise’s back, and Renna reached into her pouch for a handful of chestnuts. The heat wards she had painted activated when they struck the coreling, and the nuts exploded with a series of bangs and flashes, scorching its coarse armour. The demon wasn’t badly injured, but it was startled and stung, enabling Promise to buck it from its tenuous perch.

Renna didn’t have time to see what happened next, as the corelings took note of her and several raced her way. Renna sidestepped the first and kicked it in the belly, the blackstem impact wards on her shin and instep flashing with power. The demon was launched away like a child’s ball. Another hit her from behind, clawing through her tight-laced vest and scoring deep lines in her back. She fell to her knees as another came at her from the front, biting hard at her shoulder.

This time, her wards were not enough to turn the demon. Blood and filth had weakened them, and Renna screamed as the demon locked down, its four sets of talons raking at her. Some of her wards remained in effect, but others did not. The demon’s claws skittered along the flash of magic until they found openings and dug in hard.

But the pain and the magic both were a drug to Renna. In that moment, she didn’t care if she lived or died, she only knew that she would not die first. Again and again her arm pumped, stabbing her father’s knife into the coreling, bathing in its ichor. Her power intensified even as its weakened. Slowly, she began to force it back, feeling its talons slide back out of her flesh inch by agonizing inch.

It was dead when Twilight Dancer scattered its reapmates to stand over her and Arlen leapt down, his robe cast aside. His wards flared bright as he prised open the snout of the demon and pulled it off her, hurling it into several others, all of them going down in a heap. Another came at him, but he took it down in a sharusahk pivot and stabbed a finger that sizzled like a hot poker through the coreling’s eye.

Renna growled, raising her knife. Her body screamed at her, but the magic that gripped her was stronger. The night was a dizzy haze of blurred figures, but she could make out Promise’s huge form, and the demons surrounding her. One swung wildly from her neck, grasping for purchase. If it found its grip, Promise would be pulled down. Renna gave a mad howl and ran her way.

‘Renna, corespawn it!’ Arlen shouted, but Renna ignored him and waded into the demons’ midst, kicking and shoving corelings aside and laying about with her knife as she struggled to Promise’s side. Every blow sent a shock of magic thrilling through her, making her stronger, faster – invincible. She leapt up and caught one of the scrabbling hind limbs of the demon on Promise’s back, pulling it into position as she stabbed it in the heart.

Arlen ran after her, collapsing into smoke as demons struck at him, only to turn deadly solid a split second later, striking hard with warded fists and feet, knees and elbows, even the top of his shaved head. He was beside her in an instant and gave a shrill whistle, calling Dancer to them.

The great stallion scattered another group of demons on the way, giving Arlen time to draw large field demon wards in the air around them. With her warded eyes, Renna could see the thin trail of magic he left to hold each symbol together. A field demon leapt at them, and two of the wards flared, throwing it back. The wards would only grow stronger the more they were struck. Arlen moved in a steady line, forming a circle around them, but ahead of him, several demons barred his path, continuing to snap and claw at Promise’s flank. She moved for them, knife leading.

Arlen grabbed her arm, yanking her back. ‘You stay put.’

‘I can fight,’ Renna growled. She tried to pull her arm free, but even with her night strength, he held her in place easily. He turned and drew a series of impact wards in the air, knocking the demons away from Promise one by one.

As he did, his grip weakened, and Renna used the opportunity to pull away from him with a snarl. ‘You don’t get to tell me what to do, Arlen Bales!’

‘Don’t make me slap the fool out of you, Ren!’ Arlen snapped. ‘Look at yourself!’

Renna looked down, gasping at the deep wounds gaping in her skin. Blood ran freely in a dozen places, and her back and shoulder were on fire. The mad night strength left her, and her knife dropped, too heavy to lift. Her legs gave way.

Arlen was there in an instant, easing her to the ground, and then moved off to complete the wardnet around and above them. More and more field demons came racing down the road, surrounding them like an endless field of grass, but even that great host could not pierce Arlen’s wards, nor the flight of wind demons circling in the sky.

He was back at her side as soon as the net was complete, cleaning the dirt and blood from her wounds. There was a fallen demon inside the forbidding, and he dipped a finger in its ichor like a quill in an inkwell, writing wards on her skin. She could feel her flesh tightening, pulling as it knit back together. It was incredibly painful, but Renna accepted it as the cost of life and breathed deep, embracing it.

‘Put your cloak on while I tend the horses,’ Arlen said when he had done all he could. Renna nodded, pulling her warded cloak from the pouch at her waist. Lighter and finer than any cloth Renna had ever felt, it was covered in intricate embroidered wards of unsight. When drawn about her, it rendered Renna invisible to corespawn. She had never cared for the cloak, preferring to let the demons see her coming, but she couldn’t deny its usefulness.

Lacking the warded barding of Twilight Dancer, Promise was easily the more wounded of the two horses, but she stamped and snorted at Arlen’s approach, teeth bared and snapping. Arlen ignored the posturing, moving almost too fast to see as he swept in and took a great handful of Promise’s mane. The mare tried to pull away, but Arlen handled her like a mother changing a struggling baby’s nappy. Eventually, Promise relented and let him tend her, perhaps realizing at last that he was trying to help her.

The casual display of power might have surprised her a few days ago, but Renna was used to surprises from Arlen now, and it barely registered. Again and again, she saw her gaping wounds in her mind’s eye, terrified to think she’d been ignoring them as her life’s blood drained away.

‘That what happens to you?’ Renna asked when he returned. ‘Feel so alive you don’t even realize it’s killing you?’

Arlen nodded. ‘Forget to breathe sometimes. Get so drunk on the power it feels like I shouldn’t need to do something so … mundane. Then I suddenly break out gasping for air. Almost got me cored more’n once.’

He looked up, meeting her eyes. ‘The magic will trick you into thinking you’re immortal, Ren, but you ent. No one is, not even the corelings.’ He pointed at the field demon carcass beside her. ‘And the struggle never goes away. It’s a new fight, every time you taste the power.’

Renna shuddered, thinking of the irresistible pull of the magic. ‘How do you keep from losing yourself?’

Arlen chuckled. ‘Started keeping Renna Tanner around to remind me I’m just a dumb Bales from Tibbet’s Brook, and ent too good to breathe.’

Renna smiled. ‘Then you got nothing to fear, Arlen Bales. You’re stuck with me.’

Renna and the horses were well recovered by morning, but Arlen eased the pace, never taking Twilight Dancer above a trot, and stopping to rest twice before midday.

‘Thought we were in a rush,’ Renna said when they dismounted the second time.

‘Day or two don’t matter at this point,’ Arlen said.

‘That’s not how you felt yesterday,’ Renna said.

Arlen looked away, and his shoulders sagged. ‘Had my priorities wrong, Ren. Sorry for that. Ent right to push you and the horses past your limits.’

Renna took a deep breath. She hated the way he turned from her when saying things he didn’t think she’d like. Men were always doing that, thinking it spared feelings.

And maybe it does, Renna thought. But only their own.

‘Don’t mean you got to baby us, either,’ she said.

‘You came an inch from dying last night, Ren,’ Arlen said. ‘Promise and Dancer, too. Ent no harm in stopping now and again to stretch our legs and have our necessaries.’

He was right, but Renna didn’t feel like she’d been close to death. In truth, she felt stronger and more alive than ever in her life. There was new pink flesh where her wounds had been, lighter than her natural tan and needing fresh blackstem, but smooth without even hint of scar. Her body thrummed with power.

Her eyes flicked to Promise, already knowing it was not the same. Arlen had used the same healing wards on the mare’s flank as he had on Renna, drawn in demon ichor thick with magic. Nothing remained of Promise’s wounds but a few strips of hairless flesh on her blotchy coat, but there was still a tenderness to the horse’s movements, and she showed little sign of her usual wilfulness.

Renna looked up at the morning sun, and smiled. Power’s inside me now. And gettin’ stronger, more I eat. Ent gonna slow you down, Arlen Bales. Soon, you’ll need help to keep up with me.

‘Tell me about the Hollow, then,’ she said. ‘Everyone there think you’re the Deliverer, too?’

Arlen sighed. ‘There most of all. Two years ago, Cutter’s Hollow was a town not even as big as Southwatch. But a flux hit last year, laying half of them low. Someone dropped a lamp in the inn, and fire spread quick, with no one to fight it. Wasn’t long before the wards failed.’

Renna saw the disaster in her mind’s eye and ground her teeth. She found herself clutching at the bone handle of her knife, and it took the full force of her will to let go. ‘Trouble makes for trouble, my mam said.’

‘Honest word,’ Arlen said. ‘Came on them the next day, and found more’n a hundred dead, and half the rest on their backs. With night coming, I warded their axes and taught those that could to fight. Put the rest in the Holy House and made our stand out front. Lot of folk died that night, but they gave better than they got, and more than not were on their feet come dawn. Built the town back from scratch, putting the roads and houses in the shape of a forbidding. Ent no demon setting foot in the Hollow now, not even the princes.’

Renna grunted. ‘Sounds like you made quite the Jongleur’s show of it. Figure you must want them thinkin’ you’re the Deliverer, at least a little.’

Arlen’s face darkened. ‘Last thing I want anyone thinking. Waitin’ for the Deliverer’s kept us hiding behind wards for three hundred years.’

‘Ay, but the wait’s over, ent it?’ Renna said. ‘Painted Man’s come to save us all.’

Arlen scowled, but Renna dismissed it with a wave. ‘Oh, you slap the fool out of any that bow to you and call you Deliverer, but you’re just as quick to temper when folk don’t take one look at you and start hopping to your words.’

Arlen pulled back, stung, but Renna matched his stare and didn’t back down. Finally he gave a helpless chuckle and shrugged. ‘Can’t deny it helps get things done, Ren. And there’s a lot to do. Folk ent got any idea of what’s coming with the next new moon, and I ent got time to baby ’em.’

Renna smiled. ‘Ent arguin’, just keepin’ you honest.’ Quick as a rabbit, she darted in and kissed his warded cheek.

They rode for some time before splitting off from the Old Hill Road down a thickly overgrown Messenger way. Late in the day they met up with a new road of hard-packed dirt. There was a large warded campsite at the intersection.

‘Huh.’ Arlen hopped down from Twilight Dancer, moving to inspect the wards. ‘Little clumsy, but thick and strong. Darsy Cutter painted these.’ He grunted. ‘Hollow must be growing like wildfire, they’re this far north already.’

‘Sun’s setting.’ Renna said loosening her knife in its sheath as magic began to seep into the lengthening shadows, opening the paths from the Core. ‘We should get moving.’

Arlen shook his head, again not meeting her eyes. ‘We’re stopping here.’

‘Ent going to hide behind the wards every night over one close shave,’ Renna growled.

‘Ent asking you to,’ Arlen said.

‘Then we’re going,’ Renna said.

‘Going where?’ Arlen asked. ‘Right where we need to be.’ He went to the camp’s wood stores, then began laying kindling in the firepit. He did not meet her eyes, but there was a smugness about him, like this was a game.

Anger flared in her, hot and fast, and out of the corner of her eye Renna saw the magic drifting in gentle whorls and eddies at her ankles suddenly flow into her like smoke from a pipe. As soon as she noticed it, the flow stopped and nothing she could do could will it back.

She looked at Arlen, still laying a fire, proud as a cat with a mouse in its teeth, and grew angrier still. Magic came to him easy as breathing, but not to her? Why?

Ent eaten enough. Still got a way to go.

‘Gonna hunt, then,’ she said.

Arlen shrugged. ‘Won’t kill you to have some supper first.’

Renna wanted to slap the back of his shaved head. Her fists clenched, nails digging into her skin, drawing blood. She wanted to rend …

She caught herself. Magic pulsed through her, primal and powerful, awakening base desires and turning them into raging storms.

Maybe I’ve eaten too much already.

Renna breathed deeply, again and again in rhythm, the Krasian technique Arlen had taught during her sharusahk lessons. Slowly her fists began to unclench, and her heart stopped pounding in her chest, or at least slowed to a steady throb. She forced herself to dismount, brushing down Promise and letting her graze on the thick grass at the side of the road.

They had almost finished eating when Arlen craned his head as if listening to something far away. He smiled. ‘There it is.’

‘What?’ Renna asked, but he stood quickly, scraping the remains from his bowl and stowing it with his cookpot. He drew a ward in the air, and the fire winked out.

‘Come on.’ Arlen leapt into the saddle and kicked Twilight Dancer into a gallop, tearing down the road.

‘Son of the Core,’ Renna muttered, dumping her own bowl and hurrying after. Promise had limbered as the day went on, but it was still several minutes until she caught up to Arlen as he pulled to a stop. Up ahead was a hazy glow and the sounds of battle, but he seemed unconcerned.

‘Seems the Hollow’s expanding again. Reckon the Cutters got it in hand.’ Arlen dismounted and nodded into the woods. ‘Put your cloak on and let’s see if we can get a peek.’

He led them quickly through the trees. A wood demon stepped into their path, ready to strike, but Arlen hissed at it and the wood wards on his body flared, driving the coreling back. They soon came to a thin spot in the trees just outside a huge clearing, still full of stumps and the smell of fresh lumber. Here Arlen stopped, watching from the darkness.

In the centre of the clearing, bonfires burned in a large warded circle, full of tents and tools and draught animals. The fires gave light to the men and women moving about the clearing, fighting a great copse of wood demons and a ten-foot rock demon.

Every instinct in Renna’s body told her to leap into the battle – her blood was on fire with the need to kill demons. She smelled ichor and felt her mouth water, ready to aid in choking down their foul meat.

But Arlen stood calmly, clearly having no intention to interfere. She forced herself to relax, taking her hand off the handle of her knife and letting her warded cloak envelop her fully, hiding her from demon eyes.

The cloak had changed since she began eating coreling flesh. She could feel the wards drawing off her own personal magic, but rather than flare brighter, they, and the cloak itself, seemed to dim and blur. Staring at it too long made her dizzy. She wondered how much demon meat she would need to eat before it faded from sight entirely. More than Arlen, it seemed, for he could still see the cloak, though she noted he never looked her way long when she wore it.

‘What are they doing?’ Renna asked, when silence and inaction began to weigh on her.

‘Clearing a greatward,’ Arlen said. ‘They start by chopping trees to form a centre for the town, then they branch out, clearing land in the shape of a ward of forbidding miles wide. At night, they kill the demons that rise in the area, so they’re culled and not just pushed to the edge of the forbidding when the ward activates.’

‘Why doesn’t everyone do that?’ Renna asked. A ward that big would draw so much magic that no corespawn could penetrate it, and it would be almost impossible to mar.

‘Reckon they used to, back in the demon wars,’ Arlen said. ‘But people forgot, and since the Return, folk have been too busy hiding to use their heads.’

Renna grunted and watched the battle more closely, recognizing the Cutters immediately. Cutter was a common name in the hamlets, the surname of most anyone who felled trees or sold wood. Even in Tibbet’s Brook, hundreds of miles away, there were close to a hundred Cutters, living in a cluster by the goldwood trees. It was shocking how alike they were to the Hollowers.

The men were big and burly, dressed in sleeveless vests of thick leather, with banded bracers and biceps that seemed bigger than Renna’s head. She could almost squint and see Brine Cutter, who had defended Renna in council, those months ago. She hadn’t had the will to move that night, even to speak in her own defence, but she remembered every word as the elders of Tibbet’s Brook condemned her to death. The Cutters had stood by her.

There were women as well, all armed with crank bows or heavy warded blades. At first Renna thought they wore heavy skirts, but when they moved she could see the skirts were divided, giving freedom of moment without sacrificing modesty.

Renna snorted. That was exactly the sort of ridiculous thing the goodwives in Tibbet’s Brook would do, which was likely why they had never taken well to Renna and her sisters. The Tanner girls seldom hid much skin from the sun. Renna herself bared as much as possible, so the blackstem wards on her flesh could embrace the magic-charged night air.

Surrounding the women were a group of men that stood in stark contrast to the Cutters. Clad in thick wooden armour, lacquered with wards and fired hard, they wore heavy helms and carried matching spear and shield. At the centre of the warding circle on their shields was a painted toy soldier.

‘Who’re they?’ Renna asked, pointing.

‘The Wooden Soldiers,’ Arlen said. ‘Royal guard of Angiers. Duke Rhinebeck said he would send ’em here to train with the Cutters.’

‘Looks like they haven’t been at it long,’ Renna noted. Despite their splendid armour, the men stood stiffly, clutching their weapons tight and casting nervous glances at the demons.

‘City guards,’ Arlen said. ‘Used to bullying folk and maybe handing down a beating or two, but I doubt any of them ever so much as thrust a spear outside the practice yard before coming to the Hollow.’ He pointed. ‘And Prince Thamos looks to be the worst of the lot.’

Indeed, the man Arlen pointed to was clad as she imagined a prince might be, his steel armour gilded with golden wards and polished bright. He was tall and lean, powerfully built with a trim black beard lining a strong jaw.

But the prince shifted his feet, stretching his arms and rolling his head, trying vainly to limber muscles gone tense. Renna could smell his fear from across the clearing, and she knew the demons could scent it, too.

It was clear the Cutters had relegated the Wooden Soldiers to the back of the fray, given the specious duty of guarding the women, who seemed neither to want nor to need such protection.

Years ago, Renna’s father had asked Brine Broadshoulders and some of the other Cutters in Tibbet’s Brook to help clear some land for planting. Renna and Beni had watched the men work for hours, systematically felling trees, hauling off the wood, and tearing free the roots. Every movement smooth and practised, letting the weight of the tools power their swings, wasting no energy.

It was much like that to see the Hollow Cutters fight. They still carried the tools of their trade, now warded, and put them to work with brutal efficiency.

Two men wielding great long axes took turns hacking at the legs of a wood demon. It was tall and thin, with tremendous reach, but whenever it went after one man, the other came at it from the opposite side. When the demon’s strikes came in too close, the men would catch them on their warded bracers, deflecting the blows with flares of magic. Finally, one of the axes took the demon in the back of the knee, and the limb buckled.

‘Samm!’ one of the axe-wielders called, and a third Cutter came up behind the demon, putting a giant boot into its back and knocking it facedown, his full weight holding it prone. The man carried a great, two-handed saw, and he bent to the task, sawing through the thick barklike armour of its neck in a shower of magical sparks and spraying ichor. In seconds the head fell free.

‘Night,’ Renna whispered.

Arlen smiled and nodded. ‘That’s Samm Cutter, but everyone calls him Samm Saw. Used to cut the limbs from trees the Cutters felled so they could be hauled off. Hundreds a day. Now he cuts off demon limbs just as quick.’

Another call came, and Samm turned to a Cutter who swung a heavy axe mattock, chopping at a wood demon. Each warded blow knocked the demon back a step, unable to recover its balance, but the demon showed no sign of real damage, healing as fast as the blows could come. Samm came in behind the demon, sawing through one of its trunklike legs while the demon still stood. It collapsed with a shriek, and the Cutter shouted thanks as he raised his mattock to finish it off.

Across the clearing, a dozen Cutters hauled on ropes looped around the rock demon’s arms and shoulders, thrown this way and that as the coreling thrashed. Two women with crank bows fired repeatedly, the heavy bolts sticking from the obsidian carapace like porcupine quills, but they seemed to do little beyond provoke the rock demon’s rage.

Three men and a boy stood by the scene, two younger men with small but heavy mallets, and the third, older, with a heavy sledge. The boy held a thick metal wedge.

‘Tomm Wedge and his sons,’ Arlen pointed. ‘Watch.’

The rock demon set its feet to pull on the ropes, and the younger men darted in, jamming warded spikes into the gap in the armour plates at the demon’s knees. Almost simultaneously, they struck with their mallets, once, twice, sending showers of magical sparks as they drove the spikes in.

The demon shrieked and staggered, teetering as the Cutters threw their full weight onto the ropes to bring it down. Its thrashing tail caught one cluster of men, knocking three of them to the ground, their rope flying free. The sudden release sent the demon staggering in the other direction, and it soon lost balance and fell.

Quick as a rabbit the boy was up on the rock demon’s back, planting the warded metal wedge into a gap where the plates met on the demon’s armoured back. Tomm Wedge went into action, swinging his hammer in a smooth arc to come down on the wedge with a thunderclap of magic. The flare was so bright Renna blinked, and when she opened her eyes the demon collapsed from the blow’s rebound and lay still.

Practised. Efficient. No wasted energy.

‘It’s eerie,’ Renna said. ‘They might as well be felling trees.’

Arlen nodded. ‘Wasn’t time to make weapons or train folk to fight that first night. Had to ward whatever was at hand, and the Cutters gave me the most precious things they owned – their tools. More and more folk join the fight every day now and are handed mass-produced spears, but the best of them can’t keep up with the Cutters. Using their old tools marks them. Sets them apart. Folk step lightly when they’re about, and spin ale stories about them when they’re not.’

‘All because they were fortunate enough to meet Arlen Bales on a bad day,’ Renna said. ‘Like me.’ Arlen looked at her, but she held up a hand to check him. ‘Don’t think you’re the Deliverer any more’n you do, but you can’t deny you’ve a knack for showing folk their spines,’ she touched her knife hilt again, ‘and teeth.’

Arlen grunted. ‘Everyone’s got a knack for something, I guess.’

‘Doesn’t hurt that the Hollowers are so big you’d have to jump to kiss them, as my sister used to say,’ Renna noted.

‘Didn’t all start that way,’ Arlen said. ‘Magic’s played its part. Sun may burn it off come morning, but not before it affects whatever it touches. Warded weapons don’t tend to break or dull, and the Cutters have been soaking magic up nightly for nigh a year. Old ones get younger, and young ones grow into their full before their time.’

He pointed. ‘See that one with the salt-and-pepper hair?’

Renna looked where he was pointing and saw a man with arms and legs bunched with thick-veined muscle, standing toe-to-toe with a seven-foot wood demon. She nodded.

‘Name’s Yon Gray,’ Arlen said, ‘and he’s the oldest man in the Hollow. Hair was stark white a year ago. Needed a stick to even walk crooked, and his hands shook.’

‘Honest word?’ Renna asked.

Arlen nodded, pointing again, this time to a huge man in the prime of his life, charging in behind the demon while Yon kept its attention. ‘Linder Cutter. Ent no more’n fifteen years old.’

One of the wood demons struck one of the huge men a backhand blow that lifted him from the ground and threw him back several feet. He landed with a heavy thump, his axe mattock flying from his grasp. Renna saw no blood, but the prone man had no time to rise as the demon charged.

Her knife was in her hand in an instant, but Arlen took hold of her shoulder as she started to move. She snapped a glare at him, but he only inclined his head back at the scene. Renna looked and saw an enormous wolfhound leap on the demon’s back, bearing it down as the dog’s huge jaws tore loose a chunk of the demon’s rough, knobbed armour, sinking into the soft flesh beneath.

The man had recovered by then, and buried his mattock in the coreling’s skull with a wet thwack. The dog looked up at him with its muzzle wet with black demon ichor, glowing bright with magic to Renna’s warded eyes. It was the biggest dog Renna had ever seen, five hundred pounds at least, with gnarled charcoal fur and claws so great they couldn’t fully retract. It growled at the Cutter, but he only laughed and gave it a scratch behind the ears. He whistled as he ran back into battle, and the dog licked the ichor from its teeth and followed.

‘Creator,’ Renna said. ‘It’s as big as a nightwolf.’

‘Didn’t used to be,’ Arlen said, ‘but it’s been eating demon. Corespawned dog’s bigger every time I see it.’

‘That how nightwolves grew so big in the first place?’ Renna asked.

‘Reckon,’ Arlen said.

An eight-foot-tall wood demon got past the Cutters in the heat of battle and came at the Wooden Soldiers. The men shrieked, forgetting their spears entirely to lock their warded shields together. They were pushed back by the rebound as the wards flared, stumbling into the women they were supposed to be guarding. One soldier lost his feet completely, taking down two women with loaded crank bows in the tumble. Another soldier screamed as one of the bows went off and the bolt took him in the back of the thigh, punching right through his lacquered armour.

The wood demon had barely lost balance when the attack was deflected, and moved for the gap with frightening speed.

Prince Thamos gave a shout, throwing off his fear as he leapt to interpose himself. With one swipe of his arm, he caught the demon’s claws with his shield, sending them skittering off trailing sparks of magic as he followed through with a thrust of his short, stabbing spear into the demon’s belly. Renna could see the magic that pumped up the weapon into the prince’s arm, filling him with power.

It was a masterfully executed attack, but Thamos’ blow had struck no vital area, and after a shocked instant the demon recovered and swung its branchlike arms at him again. Thamos ducked the first blow and caught the next on his shield, never letting go of his spear as he tried vainly to pull it free of the demon’s thick, barklike armour. The piercing wards on the speartip had broken through easily enough, but there was nothing to aid him pulling it back out.

‘Bad warding for such a nice spear,’ Arlen noted. ‘He’s smart, he’ll let go and let the women handle it.’ Indeed, several women held crank bows at the ready, and would have fired had the prince not been in their way.

But Thamos surprised them. He gave a roar and, still holding on to the shaft of the spear, raised his armoured boot and kicked repeatedly at the coreling’s midsection. Impact wards flared on his boot heel, and the demon was bashed and battered as the prince hammered it off his spear and knocked it onto its back. He was on it in an instant, stabbing his newly freed spear right into the coreling’s heart.

The prince put a foot on the demon’s chest for leverage as he tore the weapon free in a spray of ichor, turning with a shout to assist a pair of Cutters in their own battle. He growled as he put his spear into the back of the demon they faced, pressing in so close the wards on his armour flared.

The frightened man Renna had seen was gone, the prince screaming like a madman as he ran about the clearing, fighting with abandon and little regard for his own safety.

There was a shriek, and Renna turned to see a wood demon bury its talons into a Cutter’s chest. The man knocked the demon back a step with a weak blow from his axe, but the weapon fell from his fingers as he collapsed to the ground.

Renna tensed, but Arlen was already off and running. She followed on swift feet, but neither of them would be there in time as the demon moved in for the kill.

She saw a sudden blur and felt a familiar dizziness as a slender girl appeared, throwing back the folds of a warded cloak much like the one Renna wore. The girl was clad in bright motley – loose pantaloons and blouse, with a tight fitted vest. She was half the size of the Cutter who had fallen, and when she stepped in front of the great wood demon, it was like a house cat hissing at a nightwolf. Still, she stood boldly, meeting the demon’s gaze, and when it reached its claws for her, she raised a fiddle and put bow to string, sending out a series of discordant sounds.

The demon shrieked and swiped at her, but the girl leapt away, tumbling across the ground and coming back to her feet, never ceasing her playing. The demon put its clawed hands to its ears and shrieked again, stumbling back.

Another dizzying blur, and a large woman appeared behind the demon, unnoticed until she swung a heavy warded blade, severing one of its thin arms. The wound, coupled with the grating sounds of the fiddle, proved too much for the demon and it fled the scene, coming right at Arlen and Renna. Arlen barely paused, catching the coreling by one of its horns and pulling it close as he drew a heat ward on its chest. He spun the demon aside, and it blazed into a ball of bright shrieking flames as he rushed to the wounded Cutter.

Both women’s eyes flared at the sight of Arlen running their way, recognition mixed with shock and more than a little fear. The one who had severed the demon’s arm shook her surprise away first.

‘’Bout time you got back,’ she said, kneeling at the injured man’s side and pulling implements from a heavy pocketed apron to treat his wounds. The young girl continued to stare openmouthed at Arlen.

Arlen’s mouth twisted. ‘Good to see you again too, Darsy.’ He looked to the girl. ‘Mind on your music, Kendall.’ He pointed his chin at her fiddle before kneeling beside the Herb Gatherer. Kendall straightened, bringing up her fiddle and scanning the area for other threats.

The Cutter gave a racking cough, blood splattering Arlen’s face, and fell still. Arlen paid it no mind, holding the man steady as Darsy examined his wounds.

‘Night,’ she whispered. Three deep gashes ran from his breast to hip, and there was blood everywhere. ‘Ent nothing we can do.’

‘Demonshit,’ Arlen said, grabbing the first gash and pinching it closed with one hand as he drew a series of wards in the air with the other. A soft glow surrounded them as he worked, Darsy and girl staring dumbfounded as the fatal wounds knitted closed.

The man suddenly pulled in a deep gasp of air, followed by a round of coughing as he attempted to rise. Arlen put a hand on his chest and held him back down. He opened his eyes, looking up at Arlen. ‘You come back,’ he croaked.

Arlen smiled. ‘Course I came back, Jow Cutter.’

‘They said you abandoned us,’ Jow whispered, ‘but I never lost faith.’

Arlen’s mouth tightened, but he bent and lifted the man like a child, carrying him to the safety of the warded circle. There was a Tender there, an older man with a beard the grey of a rain cloud. Over his plain brown robes he wore a thick surplice emblazoned with wards of protection surrounding the crooked staff symbol of his order. The man caught sight of Arlen and his eyes widened, but he came in quickly with an acolyte by his side, taking Jow and bringing him to a warded tent, its flaps bearing the Tenders’ staff. His eyes never left Arlen as they went, and he reappeared from the tent moments later carrying a staff of polished goldwood carved with wards, watching from the safety of the circle.

The battle was dying down now, and the prince, who had leapt from fray to fray, suddenly found himself without an opponent. He looked around frantically, panting, but when there was no threat to be found he gave a great shudder, suddenly leaning heavily on his spear. His men were by his side in an instant, crowding around him and blocking him from sight. Renna could make out the sound of his retching from within the ring of armoured backs.

‘Always like this,’ Darsy said. ‘There’s no one fiercer than the count when his blood is up, but it’s slow to rise, and drops like a falling tree.’

‘Ent nothin’ to be ashamed of,’ Arlen said. ‘Felt that way myself plenty of times. Fact he’s out in the night at all says a lot …’ He paused. ‘Count?’

Darsy nodded. ‘Came with a fancy royal decree naming him “Lord of Cutter’s Hollow and All of Its Environs”, along with a train of carts a mile long. Soldiers, too. More than a thousand, with bowmen aplenty, to fortify against the Krasians. They already started building him a fort. Folk were so thankful for the food and blankets they didn’t argue, especially with you and Leesha gone off to Creator knows where.’

‘So you just handed him the Hollow?’ Arlen asked.

‘Din’t have a lot of choice,’ Darsy said. ‘But it ent been so bad. Thamos mostly lets folk who know their business go to, and none can deny the aid he’s brought, or the hope he’s given to folk who ent got naught else.’

The fighting was over, but Renna could still see Arlen’s training as the Cutters went through the clearing methodically, confirming their kills. Demons healed magically fast, and even against warded weapons they could recover in minutes from anything short of death or dismemberment. More than one seeming-dead demon lying in the field shrieked when the Cutters approached, slashing at them or trying to escape. These were quickly pinned, thrashing wildly as the Cutters began cutting at the thick armoured ridges around their necks. Taking the head of even a small wood demon took a few strokes of the axe, and even Samm Saw had to put his back into the task.

Renna came to stand by Arlen and the women, eyeing their dizzying warded cloaks.

‘You warded their cloaks, too?’ she asked Arlen, dreading his answer.

Darsy turned suddenly, noticing Renna for the first time, particularly the state of her dress, or lack thereof. She glanced at Renna’s shoulders, and her nostrils flared. She grabbed the edge of Renna’s cloak and held it up so she could see it better in the light, then turned to Arlen with a look of indignation and put a meaty finger in his face.

‘You gave your Cloak of Unsight away?! Do you know how Mistress Leesha slaved over it? More than her own! You didn’t even thank her, and ent worn it once! Now you just piss it away—’

‘Ay, you stupid cow!’ Renna shouted, snatching the edge of her cloak back and moving to interpose herself between the two of them. ‘Don’t you talk to him like that!’

‘Or what?’ Darsy demanded, looming over Renna and bending so their noses practically touched. ‘This doesn’t concern you, girl, so shut your mouth or you’ll go over my knee.’

Darsy might have been a Herb Gatherer, but Renna knew a fighter when she saw one. She was more than a head taller than Renna and had a heavy frame, packed muscle and not fat. She wore the same floppy pantaloons as the other fighting women, and her heavy warded knife curved inward like a scythe. It would serve equally in hewing thick herb stalks or the limbs of a demon. Its handle was well worn.

But none of that seemed to matter as Renna grabbed her by the throat and began to squeeze. Darsy struggled, her mannishly thick hands pulling at Renna’s arm, but she might as well have been pulling at a bar of steel. She swung a heavy fist, but Renna diverted the blow easily, locking on to Darsy’s wrist and yanking her arm straight, using the limb to increase her leverage. Darsy went red in the face, the veins in her neck distending.

‘That’s enough, Ren!’ Arlen snapped, grabbing her arms. He squeezed hard, and both her grips lost strength. He pulled her aside as easily as a cat that had jumped on the counter to sniff the butchering block.

‘She started the fire,’ Renna growled, struggling against his iron grip much as Darsy had against hers. ‘You saw.’

‘Ay,’ Arlen agreed quietly. ‘She did. But that ent call to kill someone. Or were they right to try and stake you back in the Brook?’

Like he’d dumped a cold bucket on her head, Renna stopped struggling immediately. He was right, of course. Few would deny that Harl Tanner got what was coming to him when Renna stabbed him with his own knife, but this Darsy Cutter was no Harl.

Still, a part of her screamed for the woman’s blood. Renna breathed deeply, embracing the feeling and letting it pass. Arlen felt her relax and let her go immediately.

‘You all right?’ he asked Darsy, who was gasping and rubbing her throat.

‘Fine,’ Darsy croaked.

Arlen nodded, a sharp gesture. ‘Then keep to mind that what I do with my own property ent any of your corespawned business. Don’t think Leesha would care to hear you gossipmongering over her relations, either.’

‘Ay,’ Darsy coughed. ‘Think maybe you’re right at that.’ She turned to Renna. ‘My mum tried to beat some manners into me, but she never managed the task.’

Renna grunted. ‘Guess I wasn’t quite neighbourly, myself.’

The girl cleared her throat, and all eyes turned to her. She was perhaps seventeen summers and pretty, but up close Renna saw thick scars coming up over the neckline of her blouse. She had been near death once. Very near. And she could charm corelings with her music. Renna might have doubted Arlen’s stories about the red-haired Jongleur, but this she had seen with her own eyes.

Arlen smiled and bowed to the girl. ‘Your fiddling’s gotten better, Kendall. Looks like Rojer’s been working you and the other apprentices hard.’

Kendall looked at the ground, and there was a sadness in her eyes.

‘Rojer’s been gone for months,’ Darsy said, her voice still hoarse, but getting stronger. ‘Went to Rizon with Mistress Leesha. And the rest of his apprentices are more interested in playing reels than fighting demons.’ She gave Kendall a gentle punch on the shoulder. ‘But not our little fiddle witch. Worth a dozen men with spears, she is.’ Kendall kept her eyes down, but Renna could see her pale skin flush, and a thin smile crept onto her lips.

‘How long’s Leesha been gone?’ Arlen asked.

‘Left with the Krasians going on two months ago,’ Darsy said.

Arlen grunted. ‘It true, then? Jardir came to the Hollow and stole her away?’

‘After a fashion,’ Darsy said.

Arlen’s brow drew tight. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Darsy took a deep breath and looked at him. ‘He’s asked her to marry him.’

Arlen’s eyes bulged, and his jaw dropped. It was only a split second before the look dropped from his face, but it had been there, clear as day. Even the aura of magic surrounding him changed noticeably, its surface crackling and popping like green wood in a fire.

Renna had never seen anything take Arlen by surprise, and wasn’t sure how to read it. Past Leesha Paper might be, but she still had power over him.

Arlen leaned forward, his face utterly serene, but his eyes intense. ‘You telling me Leesha’s gone to marry Ahmann Jardir? That lyin’, rapin’, murderin’ son of the Core? That what you’re fixing to tell me, Darsy Cutter?’ His low voice grew louder as he spoke. Not loud, but louder. Again, Renna saw the ambient magic in the area rush to him, his wards beginning to glow. Darsy drew back from him as one might from a hissing rattlesnake.

‘She ent said yes!’ Darsy practically shouted. ‘And she ent playing the fool. Said it was an excuse to see what he’s done to the south. To count his troops and learn his ways. Didn’t go alone, either. Took Rojer, Gared, Wonda, and her parents to watch over her.’

‘Don’t matter,’ Arlen said. ‘The fact she went at all, and took her da, tells the Krasians Erny’s put her to market and is just waiting for the right price.’

Darsy scowled. ‘How dare you! Mistress Leesha ent some cow to buy and sell!’

‘To them she is!’ Arlen snapped. ‘Krasians don’t treat women as free folk. Don’t matter if they’re a duchess or a milkmaid, women are just property to those people, bought and sold. And no one outbids Ahmann Corespawned Jardir when he sets his mind on a prize, Darsy Cutter. No. One.’

Darsy deflated, the fight gone out of her, and she nodded. ‘Told her it was stupid to go, but she wouldn’t listen. Stubborn as a coreling.’ A pained look crossed her face, as if admitting fault in her precious mistress hurt her. Renna spat on the ground. Darsy flinched, but made no comment.

‘Don’t think she’s in danger just yet, anyway,’ she said. ‘I’ve gotten regular letters from her, and the codes all say she and the others are well. Say one thing for the Krasians, they make excellent Messengers.’

‘Codes?’ Arlen asked.

‘Said she wasn’t playing the fool,’ Darsy said, daring to meet his eyes at last. ‘Mistress Leesha figured the Krasians would read her letters, but she gave me phrases and words to memorize so she could let me know how things stood even if they were forcing her hand. So far, Jardir seems to be keeping his word, but she says his army is spread out over all Rizon, and their numbers are impossible to count. She specifically asked that we not mention you, but she left a code to signal your return.’

‘Tell her,’ Arlen said, ‘and tell her that she needs to get back to the Hollow right quick. Got news that can’t wait and you ent got codes for it.’

‘You’ll get no argument from me,’ Darsy said. ‘Creator never meant me to be town Gatherer.’

‘It’s hard times, Darsy Cutter, and you got to shoulder what burdens come to you,’ Arlen said. ‘Something bad’s coming with the new moon. Something to make Jardir look like a horsefly buzzing in our ear.’

Darsy’s face grew pale. ‘What is it?’

Arlen ignored the question. ‘Who’s been speaking for the Cutters with Gared gone?’

‘Who else?’ Darsy asked. ‘The Butchers. Even the new count knew better than to mess with those wards. Gave them royal commissions, but he’s yet to ask them to do anything they weren’t already meaning to do themselves.’

There was a great bark, and a heavy shape bright with magic charged at Arlen. Renna drew her knife, but Arlen simply knelt and opened his arms as the massive wolfhound bowled him over. His laughter was infectious as the beast began to lick his face.

‘Still ent taught this mongrel to heel, Evin Cutter?’ Arlen asked its master as he approached.

‘Shadow heels when he wants to, and no time other,’ Evin replied. ‘Good to have you back, sir.’

‘How’re Brianne and the boys?’ Arlen asked, prising the giant dog back.

‘Boys’re shootin’ up like weeds,’ Evin said. ‘Callen will be a Cutter himself soon, and Brianne’s got another one growin’ in her belly. Been prayin’ on a girl this time around.’ He looked at Arlen expectantly.

Arlen sighed. ‘Babe is what it is, Evin. Ent convinced there’s a Creator at all, much less one that takes my messages. Just hope if it’s a girl she gets her looks from her mam.’

Everyone looked at him in shock, as if unable to believe Arlen had made a joke, but then Evin barked a laugh, and the others joined in, the tension broken.

Darsy cleared her throat, catching Arlen’s eye and nodding to the killing field where Renna saw the count heading their way. He was wiping at his mouth with a silk kerchief, but his stride was determined. At his back were two fighters, a man and a woman.

‘Dug and Merrem Butcher,’ Arlen murmured to Renna. ‘Used to be real butchers, till the Battle of Cutter’s Hollow.’

The Butchers were both heavyset, with thick arms crisscrossed with scars and burns on their faces. Dug was bald and sweaty, wearing a thick leather butcher’s apron reinforced with underplating and spattered with demon ichor. Like Darsy, Merrem wore loose pantaloons that gave the appearance of skirts. Her leather corset was armoured like Dug’s apron and equally ichor-splattered. Either one of them looked strong enough to toss a cow. The heavy cleavers on their belts were little different from the one Harl used when he slaughtered a hog, but these were heavily warded, and Renna doubted they’d been used for butchering in some time.

They walked proudly, like Speakers on the way to town council. The rest of the Cutters drifted in their wake, covered in blood, sweat, and demon ichor, glowing fiercely with magic. All of them towered over Renna, giving her the feeling they were standing in a ring of trees. They whispered excitedly among themselves, pointing at Arlen and drawing wards in the air. By way of contrast, the Wooden Soldiers quickly fell into neat lines at the count’s back, backs straight and spears in hand, ready to kill for their prince at a moment’s notice.

Count Thamos was not as tall as the Hollowers, but he more than made up for it in his bright armour, polished and glowing powerfully with magic.

‘No one in the Hollow has forgotten what you’ve done,’ Darsy said quickly, before the count was in earshot. ‘The Cutters will go where the Painted Man tells them and nowhere else.’

Arlen nodded. ‘This “Painted Man” business is the first thing I mean to clear up.’

Thamos stopped a respectful distance from Arlen and stood haughtily while a smaller man Renna had not noticed appeared before him. The man wore armour and kept a short spear strapped to his back, but he did not have the look of a fighter. Both weapon and armour looked more ornamental than functional. His hands were smooth, likely more used to a quill than a spear. His tabard was embroidered with two emblems, a throne overgrown with ivy and a wooden soldier. He bowed.

‘May I present His Highness Count Thamos of Cutter’s Hollow, Marshal of the Wooden Soldiers, brother to Duke Rhinebeck of Angiers, and Lord of all the lands and peoples between the River Angiers and the southern border.’

Thamos looked at Arlen, giving him an almost imperceptible nod. Renna knew nothing of courtly manners, but she knew a rub when she saw one. She smiled, eager to watch Arlen break the man.

But to her surprise, Arlen bowed deeply. ‘Count Thamos,’ he said loudly, so all could hear. ‘Thank you for bringing aid and succour to the refugees suffering on your lands. You honour the Hollow by standing with the Cutters in the night.’

Thamos’ eyes narrowed, as if waiting for the hook, but Arlen only bowed again. ‘We were never properly introduced,’ he said, looking up to take in Darsy, the Butchers, and all the crowd. ‘Ent been introduced to any of you, really. I’m Arlen Bales, out of Tibbet’s Brook.’

Utter silence fell over the crowd at the words. Renna looked around and saw everyone holding their breath, waiting on his next words.

The silence only lasted a few seconds, though it seemed far longer. Then everyone began talking at once, a cacophony too great to make out the words of any one person. Even the Wooden Soldiers began to chatter in the ranks.

Thamos glanced to Dug Butcher, who turned back to look at the crowd. ‘Shut it!’ he barked, cutting through the din. ‘This ent some Jongleur’s show!’ Immediately, the noise died down to a few mutterings, but Renna could see folk biting their tongues. It wouldn’t last long.

Thamos pursed his lips, digesting Arlen’s words. ‘Tibbet’s Brook,’ he grunted. ‘So you’re Milnese, after all. Beholden to Euchor.’ He spat the name as if it were poison.

Arlen shrugged. ‘Lines on a map may say so, but truer is Euchor never gave a rip about Tibbet’s Brook, and the folk there returned the favour. I grew up in the Brook, ay, but I’m my own man.’ He met the count’s eyes. ‘Euchor no more tells me what to do than you.’

Thamos squinted and they locked stares. The count had killed several demons in the battle, and he and his armour glowed fiercely with Core magic. Renna could see the halo around him pulse with his breath, and knew the count would be inhumanly fast. Incredibly strong. And that the magic was screaming at him to attack.

She might have been concerned, but for all his power, the count was facing Arlen Bales. The tattoos on his skin were glowing fiercely now. Renna did not know if it was intentional, but the effect it had on the crowd was clear. Many of the Cutters began murmuring and drawing wards in the air.

The count and Arlen postured like two dogs presenting over a bitch, but Arlen had bigger teeth, and the loyalty of the pack. All around them, Cutters adjusted their grips on their tools, and the Wooden Soldiers shifted nervously.

Arlen ignored the tension, breaking the stare with a disarming smile. He turned to Renna, bowing and sweeping a hand at her in a smooth, practised gesture. He might not wait on proper manners most of the time, but it was clear he knew them.

‘My apologies for not introducing my companion,’ he said. ‘This is Renna Tanner, also from Tibbet’s Brook.’ He stood, looking up over Thamos’ head to the Cutters clustered around them. ‘And my promised.’

Again Renna saw the collective jaw of the crowd drop, but this time she felt her own fall with them. His saying it aloud, in front of these people, made it seem far more real than it had just a moment before. She was promised to Arlen Bales. Again.

This time, Thamos was quicker to recover, moving to Renna and bowing, taking her hand and kissing it smoothly. ‘An honour to meet you, Miss Tanner. Let me be first to offer my congratulations.’

Renna knew from Jongleur’s pantomime that gentlemen kissed ladies’ hands in the Free Cities, but she’d never so much as seen it done. She stiffened, not having the slightest idea how to respond. She felt her face colour, and was thankful for the cover afforded by the night.

‘Th-Thank you,’ she managed at last.

Thamos rose and turned back to Arlen. ‘Now,’ he said in a low voice, ‘if you’re quite finished making the bumpkins gasp, might we have a word or two in private?’

Arlen nodded, and the count’s manservant escorted the leaders to a large pavilion of heavy canvas at the centre of the warded section of clearing. Inside, the tent was richly appointed with warm fur carpets, a four-poster bed, and a great table surrounded by a dozen chairs. At its head was what Renna could only describe as a throne, a heavy thing of polished wood with a high back and great ivy-carved armrests. It was the biggest chair she’d ever seen, and dwarfed every other seat in the room. Haloed in magic and wearing his bright armour, Thamos looked like nothing more than the Creator himself as he took the seat, sitting in judgement over the proceedings.

A moment later, Arther, Thamos’ manservant, cleared his throat and held the canvas open for the Tender Renna had seen looking after Jow Cutter and the other wounded. He carried his warded staff, but though his beard was grey, he was still straight-backed and seemed to have no physical need for the support.

‘Tender Hayes, High Inquisitor under Shepherd Pether of Angiers,’ Arther announced. Arlen’s brow furrowed, and Renna could sense his immediate mistrust of the man.

‘Sent to replace Tender Jona, I recall,’ Arlen said, looking to Thamos as if the count had been the one to make the announcement. ‘Has Jona gone to your inquisition already?’

‘That is the concern of the Tenders of the Creator, and none of yours,’ Tender Hayes cut in acidly.

Arlen snorted, glancing to Darsy.

‘They took him weeks ago,’ Darsy said. ‘Vika is beside herself with worry, but they wouldn’t let her accompany him, and she has had no word since, despite all her pleas.’ She nodded slightly Thamos’ way.

Arlen looked to the count, but Thamos spread his hands helplessly. ‘As Tender Hayes says, this is a matter for the Council of Tenders. It is out of my hands.’

Arlen shook his head. ‘Not good enough. A wife deserves word from her husband and proof that he is well … as he had best be.’

‘How dare you!’ Tender Hayes demanded. ‘You may wear a Tender’s robe, but you are not of our order, and it remains to be seen if you—’

‘If I what?’ Arlen challenged.

‘Enough!’ Count Thamos said. ‘A Messenger will take a letter from Mistress Vika tomorrow, and return with one from her husband in one week. If she wishes to visit her husband, an escort will be arranged.’

Tender Hayes fixed the count with a stern glare. ‘Your Highness—’

‘I’m not your student any more, Tender,’ Thamos cut him off. ‘Spare me the lecture. If the council has a problem with my ruling, they can take it up with my brother and see who truly has his ear.’

They exchanged a look, and Hayes nodded, bowing. ‘As Your Highness commands.’

Thamos grunted. ‘Good.’ He looked to Arlen. ‘May we consider the matter closed, or do you have more veiled threats for me? We have taller trees to fell than some hamlet Tender preaching off Canon.’

Arlen nodded. ‘Taller by far, Highness. The corelings have tired of our resistance. They mean to push back, and push hard.’

‘Let them,’ Merrem snarled. ‘Every demon in the Core ent got half a wit between them. We’ll make a bonfire so big the Creator will see it.’

Dug grunted in agreement, but Thamos said nothing, staring hard at Arlen over steepled fingers.

‘We haven’t seen a fraction of what the Core has to throw at us, Merrem,’ Arlen said. ‘Less than a week ago, me and Renna met a demon a good sight smarter than either of us. A mind demon. It had a bodyguard, a coreling that could change into anything it wished, and when the mind was around, the demons started behaving different.’

‘Different, how?’ Dug asked.

‘Like soldiers with good generals,’ Arlen said. ‘It sent a copse of wood demons after me that attacked with clubs when their talons failed to pierce my wards.’

‘Night,’ Merrem shuddered, and Dug spat on the carpet. Renna looked to Thamos, but the count seemed not to have noticed. He had gone deathly pale, and she could smell his fear. She wondered what had happened to the powerful leader and savage fighter he had been just a moment earlier.

‘My mother must hear of this,’ Thamos mumbled after a moment.

Everyone looked at him curiously. Tender Hayes scowled. ‘Mother, Your Highness?’ he murmured. It was too quiet for the others to hear, but Renna heard the words as clear as day. Her senses were stretching farther every day.

Thamos gave a start, sitting up straight as some of the colour returned to his face. ‘Brother,’ he corrected. ‘My brother, Duke Rhinebeck, must hear of this immediately. Arther, ready a Messenger!’

Arther moved to comply, but Arlen raised a hand to forestall him. ‘I regret to inform Your Highness that there is worse news. Mind demons can reach right into your thoughts and eat them, knowing everything you do. They can even take over and work your body like a puppet.’

‘Creator!’ Merrem exclaimed. ‘How are we supposed to fight against that?’ The count’s face looked so green Renna thought he might slosh up at any moment.

‘The greatwards are proof against them,’ Arlen said. ‘And for the rest, there are mind demon wards.’ He produced a sheaf of parchment and a warding brush from somewhere in his robes. The brush seemed an extension of his arm as he quickly drew a large mind ward, turning it to face the others at the table.

‘This symbol can block their intrusion.’ He pointed to the same symbol tattooed on his forehead, and the one in blackstem that now adorned Renna’s. ‘Mind demons are even more sensitive to light than regular corelings. Even moonlight stings them. They only come to the surface at the cycling of the new moon. Those three nights, anyone outside an active greatward needs to be wearing this ward on their head.’

Darsy traced a finger along the curves of the symbol. ‘It’s simple enough. We can make stamps and put them all over town.’

Arlen nodded. ‘Do it.’ He looked to the Butchers. ‘And you’re going to need to step up recruiting and get the Cutters ready for corelings that know how to fight smart.’

‘Got recruits aplenty,’ Dug said, ‘but that just means there’s a lot of raw wood running around with warded spears and not a clue how to use them.’

‘They’ve got three weeks to learn,’ Arlen said. ‘I’ll help as I can, but this is on you, Dug Butcher. You and Merrem,’ he looked at Thamos, ‘and your count.’

‘Can’t believe you just gave up an army of demon hunters,’ Renna said as they went back to the horses.

‘Never wanted to lead an army, Ren,’ Arlen said. ‘These days, any army I lead is apt to have more red on their spears than black. Folk need to stand together, day and night. I’d only get in the way of that. Let Thamos have his throne.’

He looked at her and smiled. ‘I can always kick him back off it, if need be.’

Renna laughed, and a nearby wood demon glanced about excitedly at the sound, trying to find its source. She was only a dozen feet away, but in her warded cloak she could have walked right up to it unnoticed.

The cloak Leesha had so lovingly made for Arlen.

‘Knew there was a reason I never quite liked this thing,’ Renna said. She reached up, undoing the clasp and letting the cloak fall to the ground. The demon gave a shriek as it caught sight of her, coming in fast.

Renna let it come, standing her ground until the last moment before sliding aside, stabbing her knife into a fold in the demon’s armour as it stumbled past.

The demon clutched the wound, but it was not fatal, and already its magic would be healing the damage. It turned back to her and shrieked again. Renna met its eyes and spread her arms, waiting.

The demon was more cautious when it came back at her, keeping its distance and using the reach of its branchlike arms to full advantage. Renna bided her time, giving ground freely as she wove around its attacks. Occasionally she hacked at a passing limb with her knife, but those shallow cuts did little more than sting the demon.

Still she waited, until the coreling set its feet a certain way. She dodged its next attack and came in hard before the demon could recover, stabbing into the gap between its third and fourth ribs on the right side, as Arlen had taught her. She felt the beating as her knife pierced the demon’s heart, pumping raw magic into her as the light left its eyes.

Flailing, the wood demon clawed at her, but magic sparked along the blackstem wards on her skin, keeping it at bay. Finally, it collapsed.

She looked at Arlen. ‘That demon knows who killed it.’

Arlen looked down his nose at her. ‘It’s dead, Ren. It doesn’t know anything.’

He bent, picking up the cloak and shaking the dirt and leaves from it before folding it carefully. ‘Honest word, I never liked wearing it, myself. Don’t like hiding any more’n you do. Less, I reckon.’

He grunted. ‘Ever get a gift from someone and know they put a lot of thought into it, but you open it and your first thought is “This person don’t know me at all”?’

Renna nodded. ‘Like when Da would buy a keg of Boggin’s Ale to celebrate my born day, then drink it all himself.’ She shrugged. ‘Tanners ent ever been much for gift giving. Leastways not since Mam died.’

‘How’d she go?’ Arlen asked softly. ‘Heard it was demons, but they never told the tale in town.’

‘Couldn’t say,’ Renna admitted. ‘She was cored sure enough, but there wern’t a breach in the wards – she was out in the yard. Remember she and Da were fightin’ something fierce that night. Didn’t give it a lot of thought when I was little, but now I figure she ran out to get away from him. Night, thought about doing it myself a few times.’

‘Glad you didn’t,’ Arlen said. ‘One thing to run when you got something to run to, but if you gotta go out, better to go fightin’ than runnin’.’

‘Honest word,’ Renna said.

‘Cloak’s got its uses, though,’ Arlen said. ‘We might’ve both been cored without it.’

‘Guess I ought to thank Leesha Paper for savin’ us, then.’ Renna spat on the ground.

‘You saved us, Ren,’ Arlen said. ‘Wern’t the cloak or your da’s knife that walked up to that corespawn and put him down. Mind demon came closer to ending me than any, and I’ve had some close calls at night.’

He held the bundle out to her, and Renna nodded, accepting it. She smiled. ‘Can’t say I won’t enjoy when your Leesha sees me in it. Tells folk you put me first.’

Arlen smirked. ‘Some folk. The rest will see it and think you’re one of Leesha’s apprentices.’ Renna scowled, and he laughed.