Читать книгу The Daylight War - Peter Brett V. - Страница 7

Renna kissed Arlen again. A gentle breeze swept across the thin sheen of sweat on their bodies, cooling them as they panted on the hot night.

‘Been wonderin’ if you were tattooed under that cloth nappy,’ she said, nestling in next to him and putting her head on his bare chest, listening to his heart.

Arlen laughed and put his arm around her. ‘It’s called a bido. And even my obsession has limits.’

Renna lifted her head, putting her lips to his ear. ‘Maybe you just need a Warder you trust. It’s a wife’s duty to take good care of what’s in her husband’s bido. I could paint you with blackstem …’

Arlen swallowed, and she could see his skin flush. ‘The wards would distort even as you drew them.’

Renna laughed, wrapping him in her arms and dropping her head back to his chest.

‘Wonder sometimes if I’m cracked,’ she said.

‘How’s that?’ Arlen asked.

‘Like I’m still sitting in Selia Barren’s spinning room, staring off into space. Everything since has been like a dream. Wonder if my mind just took me to a sunny place and left me there.’

‘You’ve a poor imagination if this is your sunny place,’ Arlen said.

‘Why?’ Renna asked. ‘I’m rid of Harl and that corespawned farm, stronger than I ever imagined, and dancing in the naked night.’ She swept a hand around her. ‘Everything’s awash in colour and glow.’ She looked at him. ‘And I’m with Arlen Bales. How could my sunny place be anywhere else?’

Renna bit her lip as the words rushed to them. Words she had thought to herself many times, but never dared say aloud. Part of her hesitation was fear of Arlen’s reaction, but much of it was her own doubt. All the Tanner sisters had been willing to run to the bed of the first decent man they met, but had any of them ever been in love?

Renna had thought she loved Arlen when they were children, but she only knew him from afar, and understood now that much of what she cherished had been her imagination of what he was like in close, rather than the boy himself.

Renna had convinced herself that she loved Cobie Fisher this past spring, but she saw the lie of that now. Cobie hadn’t been a bad sort, but if any other man had come to Harl’s farm, Renna knew she would likely have seduced him, too. Anything to get away, because anywhere was better than that farm, and any man in creation was better than her da.

But Renna was done lying. And done biting her tongue.

‘Love you, Arlen Bales,’ she said.

Her courage fled as the words left her lips and she held her breath, but there was no hesitation as Arlen tightened his arms around her. ‘Love you, Renna Tanner.’

She exhaled, and all the fear and doubt left her.

Charged as she was with magic, Renna found no sleep as they lay, but she would not have wished for any. Warm and safe, she wondered almost idly how she and Arlen could have been fighting a demon prince and its servants on this very spot a few hours before. It seemed a different world. A different life. For a short time, they had escaped.

But as the sweat dried and the glow of passion faded, the real world began to creep back into focus, terrible and frightening. They were surrounded by the bodies of dead corelings, black ichor splattered all over the clearing. One, the shape-shifting demon, still wore her form, its head neatly severed and leaking ichor. Not far off, Twilight Dancer still lay with his legs in splints after nearly being killed by a mimic demon.

‘Going to need to heal Dancer again before he can walk,’ Arlen said. ‘Even then, it might be another night or two before he’s at full strength.’

Renna looked around the clearing. ‘Don’t like the idea of staying here another night.’

‘Me neither,’ Arlen said. ‘Corelings will be drawn here tomorrow like worms to a rain puddle. I have a safehold nearby with a cart big enough to carry Dancer. I can fetch it and be back not long past sunrise.’

‘Still have to wait for nightfall,’ Renna said.

Arlen tilted his head at her. ‘Why?’

‘Horse weighs more’n your da’s house,’ Renna said. ‘How we gonna get him in the cart without night strength? Who’ll pull the thing, for that matter?’

Arlen looked at her, and even through the wards tattooed all over his face, his expression told all. ‘Stop that,’ she snapped.

‘What?’ Arlen asked.

‘Deciding whether or not to lie to me,’ Renna said. ‘We’re promised now, and there oughtn’t be lies ’tween man and wife.’

Arlen looked at her in surprise, then shook his head. ‘Wan’t gonna lie, exactly. Just tryin’ to decide if it’s time to talk about it.’

‘Is if you value your skin,’ Renna said. Arlen squinted at her, but she met his eyes and after a moment he shrugged.

‘Don’t lose all my strength in the day,’ he said. ‘Even under the noon sun I reckon I could pick up a milk cow and throw it farther than you can skip a brook stone.’

‘What makes you so special?’ Renna asked.

Arlen gave her that look again, and she scowled, shaking a fist at him only half mockingly.

Arlen laughed. ‘Tell you all once we get to my safehold. Honest word.’

Renna smirked. ‘Kiss on it, and it’s a deal.’

While she waited, Renna took out the warding kit Arlen had given her, placing a clean cloth on the ground and laying the tools out in a neat row. She took out her brook stone necklace and her knife, and slowly, carefully, lovingly, began to clean them.

The necklace was a promise gift from Cobie Fisher, a stout cord strung through dozens of smooth, polished stones. It was so long Renna needed to loop it twice, and it still fell below her breasts.

The knife had belonged to her father, Harl Tanner. He’d always kept it at his belt, sharp as a razor. He’d used it to murder Cobie when she ran away to be with him, and she in turn had used it to kill him.

If that hadn’t happened, Renna and Cobie would have been man and wife when Arlen came back to Tibbet’s Brook. The necklace was a symbol of her failure to be true to Arlen, a promise gift from another man. The knife was a reminder of a man who had kept her in a private Core her entire life.

But Renna could bring herself to part with neither. For better or worse, they were the only things in the world that were truly hers, the only parts of her day life that had come into the night. She had warded them both, the necklace with defensive wards, and the knife with offensive. The necklace could serve as a ward circle in need, but proved an even more effective garrotte. And the knife …

The knife had punched through the chest of a coreling prince. Even now, its magic shone brightly to her warded eyes. Not just the wards – the entire blade had a dull glow to it. It drew blood on her finger at the barest touch.

She knew the power would burn away with the sun, but at the moment, the weapon seemed invincible. Even in the day, it would be stronger. Magic always left things better than it found them. Likewise, the barest brush of the polishing cloth brought the necklace back to a shine, the cord even tougher than when it was made.

Renna stood guard over Twilight Dancer until dawn. The morning sun struck the scattered bodies of the corelings, setting them ablaze. It was a sight she never tired of, though it came at a heavy price. Even as the demons burned, the blackstem wards on her skin began to tingle as their magic faded. The knife grew hot in its sheath, burning her leg. She had to lean against a tree for support, feeling like a Jongleur’s puppet with the strings cut, weak and half blind.

The disorientation passed quickly, and Renna took a deep breath. With a few hours’ rest, she would feel fitter than the best day of her life, but even that was but a pale shadow of how she felt in the night.

How did Arlen retain his power in the sunlight? Was it that his wards were permanent tattoos rather than blackstem stains? If so, she would take a needle and ink to her skin that very day.

The demon corpses burned hot and fast, in seconds leaving only scorched ground and ash. Renna stamped out the last few scrub fires before they had a chance to grow, and then finally gave in to her exhaustion, curling next to Twilight Dancer and falling asleep.

Renna was still next to Twilight Dancer when she awoke, but rather than the moss bed she had gone to sleep on, she was now lying on a rough blanket in the back of a trundling cart. She popped her head up and saw Arlen out front wearing the yoke. He pulled them along at an impressive pace.

The sight washed the last vestige of sleep from her, and Renna vaulted easily into the driver’s seat, grabbing the reins and giving them a loud crack. Arlen jumped straight up in surprise, and Renna laughed. ‘Giddyap!’

Arlen gave her a sour look, and Renna laughed again. She leapt down from the cart and kept pace with him. The road was poorly kept and overgrown in places, but not so much as to hinder them.

‘Sweetwell’s just up ahead,’ Arlen said.

‘Sweetwell?’ Renna asked.

‘S’what they named the town,’ Arlen said. ‘On account of how good the well water tasted.’

‘Thought we were avoiding towns,’ Renna said.

‘None but ghosts in this one,’ Arlen said, and Renna could hear the pain in the words. ‘Sweetwell was taken by the night a couple years ago.’

‘You knew the place before it was taken?’ she asked.

Arlen nodded. ‘Used to come here sometimes, back when I was a Messenger. Town had ten families. “Sixty-seven hardworkin’ folk”, they loved to say. They had some queer ways about them, but they were always glad to see the Messenger, and they made the harshest poteen you ever drank.’

‘You ent had my da’s,’ Renna grunted. ‘Worked same as drink or lamp oil.’

‘Sweetwell’s was so strong, the Duke of Angiers had it outlawed,’ Arlen said. ‘Struck the town from the maps and ordered the Messengers’ Guild not to visit there any more.’

‘But you still did,’ Renna said.

‘Corespawned right we did,’ Arlen said. ‘Who’s he think he is, cutting a town off like that? Besides, a Messenger could make six months’ pay with one poteen run to Sweetwell. And I liked the Wellers. They had their whole town warded, the place abustle day and night. You could hear them singing a mile away.’

‘What happened?’ Renna asked.

Arlen shrugged. ‘Started working farther south, and stopped visiting for a few years. Wasn’t until after I started warding my flesh that I came back this way. I’d spent months in the wild at that point. Got so lonely I used to talk out loud to Dancer, carrying the conversation for the both of us. I was cracking, and I knew it.’

Renna thought of all the times she’d talked to the animals on her father’s farm the same way. How many heartfelt talks had she had with Mrs Scratch, or Hoofy? Even with Harl around, she knew lonely.

‘Realized I was near Sweetwell one day,’ Arlen said, ‘and decided to wrap my hands and face in cloth and tell ’em some tampweed tale about how I was burned by firespit. Anything to talk to a person and have them talk back. But when I got to the town, it was quiet for the first time.’

They passed a stand of trees, and the village came into view, ten sturdy thatch-roofed houses and a Holy House in a neat circle around a central boardwalk with a great well at its eye. There were wardposts along the outer perimeter, and each house had two storeys, the top for living and the bottom a work space/shopfront. There was a smithy, a tavern, a stable, a baker, a weaver, and others less easily identified.

Renna felt unnerved as they crossed the boardwalk to the stable. Everything was so well preserved. There was no sign that demons had come, and it seemed that at any moment, people would come pouring out of the buildings. She could see their ghosts in her mind’s eye as they went about their lives.

‘Boardwalk was full of bones and blood and demonshit when I got in close,’ Arlen said. ‘Still stank, as if it had only been a few days. Days! If only I’d come sooner, I could have …’

Renna touched his arm, saying nothing.

‘One of the wardposts looked like it cracked and blew over in the wind,’ Arlen went on. ‘Wood demons must’ve found the gap and fell on the folk at evening supper. A few fled into the night, but I tracked them and found only remains.’

Renna could picture it vividly, the Wellers all gathered around the wooden tables on the boardwalk, sharing a communal meal, completely unprepared when the corelings struck. She could hear the screams and see the dying. Dizzied by it all, she dropped to her knees as her stomach churned.

Arlen put his hand on her shoulder a moment later, and Renna realized she’d been weeping. She looked up at him guiltily.

‘Ent nothin’ to be ashamed of,’ he said. ‘Took it a fair bit worse myself.’

‘What did you do?’ Renna asked.

Arlen blew out a breath. ‘Blacked out a few weeks. Spent the days burying bones, drunk on poteen, and the nights killing every corespawn that came within ten miles of Sweetwell.’

‘Saw fresh tracks on the way in,’ Renna noted.

Arlen grunted. ‘They’ll be bonfires come tomorrow morning.’

Renna put her hand on the hilt of her knife, spitting on the boardwalk. ‘Honest word.’

They moved on to the stable, and Arlen eased Twilight Dancer down to the floor. He grunted with the exertion, but managed the task easily enough. Renna shook her head, doubting she could have done the same even when charged with magic in the night.

‘We’ll need some water,’ Arlen said.

‘I’ll fetch it,’ Renna said, turning towards the central well. ‘Want to taste water so sweet they named a town after it.’

Arlen grabbed her arm. ‘Water ent too sweet any more. Found Kennit Sweetwell, the town elder, floating in the well. Rotted for more’n a week before I could climb down and haul what was left of him up. Well’s poison now. Pump behind the tavern still runs clean, but it ent anything to name a town over.’

Renna spat again, fetching a bucket and heading to the tavern. Again, her hand drifted to her knife, caressing the bone handle. Night couldn’t come soon enough.

When Dancer was seen to, they took time to wash and ate a cold meal in the empty tavern. ‘There’s a rent room upstairs,’ Arlen said. ‘We can get a few hours’ sleep before night falls.’

‘Rent room?’ Renna asked. ‘When there are whole houses for the taking?’

Arlen shook his head. ‘Dun’t feel right to take someone else’s bed after they been cored. That room was where I slept when I was a Messenger, and it’s good enough.’

Love you, Arlen Bales, she thought, but there was no need to repeat what had already been said. She nodded and followed him up the stairs.

Even the rent room was bigger than any Renna had ever slept in before, with a large feather bed. Renna sat on it, amazed at its softness. She had never slept on anything softer than a straw mattress. She lay back. This was softer than a cloud.

Her eyes wandered the room as she sank further into the feathery embrace. Arlen had clearly spent some time here. There was his signature clutter on every surface – pots of paint, brushes, etching tools, and books. A small writing desk had been made into a workbench, and there were wood shavings and sawdust all over the floor.

Arlen crossed the room, folding a rug out of the way and finding a loose floorboard beneath. He pulled and an entire section of the floor came up with it, cleverly disguised with sawdust to hide the cracks. Renna sat up, and her eyes widened as she looked within. It was full of weapons – oiled, sharp, and heavily warded. She slid off the bed, moving to him and crouching for a better look, her eyes dancing along Arlen’s warding.

Arlen selected a small goldwood bow and a quiver of arrows, handing it to her. ‘Time you learned to shoot.’

Renna’s lip curled in distaste. He was trying to protect her again. Keep her from fighting in close. Keep her safe. ‘Don’t want it. Don’t want no spears, neither.’

‘Why not?’ Arlen asked.

Renna held up her brook stone necklace in one hand, and drew her knife with the other. ‘Don’t wanna kill corelings from some hiding spot. I kill a demon, I want it to die knowin’ who did it.’

She waited for him to argue, but he only nodded.

‘Know exactly how you feel.’ Arlen continued to hold the weapon out to her. ‘But sometimes you’re outnumbered, or need to kill a demon quick before it cores somebody.’ He smiled. ‘And got to say, it ent a bad feeling, to just point at a coreling and kill it from afar.’

Renna took a deep breath. He was right of course. Yes, he was protecting her, but it was in the way he always had.

By teaching her to protect herself.

Love you, Arlen Bales.

She took the bow, marvelling at its lightness. Arlen handed her a small quiver of warded arrows, then began hauling out the rest of the weapons and rolling them in oilcloth.

‘What do you need all them for?’ she asked.

‘Gonna need these and a lot more,’ Arlen said. ‘Doin’ what I shoulda done a long time ago. Gonna give warded arms to every man, woman, and child strong enough to hold one. Been making these stores all over Thesa, but I kept them all to myself. No more. I don’t need weapons to kill demons. I’m past that, now.’

‘How’s that?’ Renna asked. She waited for his eyes to flick to the side as he decided how to evade the question. Love him or no, she would smack the top of his bald head if they did.

But Arlen looked right at her, his eyes dancing. ‘Gonna show you tonight.’ He reached out, caressing the wards of vision stained in circles around her eyes. ‘Gonna need your night eyes to understand.’

Renna took his hands and rose to her feet. She backed away, pulling him along until her legs struck the bed. They sank into the feathered mattress, and kisses quickly turned to caresses. Blood pounded in her ears, a thrumming that made her feel as alive as she did in the night.

The sun was setting as they came back to the taproom for supper. After they had eaten, Arlen rose and rummaged behind the bar. He reappeared a moment later with a heavy clay jug. ‘Demons like to rise in the fields out back. What say we have a drink while we wait for ’em?’

They walked together in the gloaming, watching the lavender sky darken. The Wellers’ fields were south of the town proper and ran for acres, mostly potato, barley, and sugarcane. The fields hadn’t been tended in years, but a wild patchwork crop still clung tenaciously to the land. There were wardposts at regular intervals throughout the fields. Most were in poor repair – worthless, but here and there she saw fresh ones, their painted wards still crisp and clear. Her eyes ran over the posts, finding the pattern.

‘You made this place a maze,’ she said. ‘Like the one in the desert you told me about.’

Arlen nodded, finding a clear spot and sitting. ‘Good for cutting demons off from the horde, and a moment’s succour is never more than a step away.’ He took the heavy jug and filled two tiny clay cups with clear liquid.

‘They have a spirit in Krasia that the Sharum sometimes drink before going into battle. Call it couzi. Say it gives a warrior courage.’ He held a cup to her. ‘I’ve found poteen to have a similar effect.’

‘Thought you said the Sharum embrace their fear,’ Renna said, sitting down next to him with the jug in between.

‘Most do, and there ent no better way,’ Arlen said. ‘But embracing leaves a body cold. Don’t want to be cold when I’m in a place like Sweetwell. Want to be mad as the Core itself.’

Renna nodded. That was something she could understand. She ignored the tiny cups, sticking her finger through the jug handle. She braced the container on her arm and brought it to her lips with practised smoothness, taking a long pull.

The poteen was as strong as Arlen warned, and she coughed a bit, but it was sweeter than her father’s brew, and the ball of fire that struck her belly soon calmed and spread warmth throughout her limbs.

Arlen dropped the cups, taking the jug and pulling as she had. They passed it back and forth until the light failed completely and the telltale mists began to rise, heralding the corelings. The mists began to coalesce into field demons, sleek and low to the ground, prowling on all fours like lions, faster than anything alive. A few wood demons appeared as well, the larger demons taking longer to form.

Renna got to her feet, swaying unsteadily for a moment before she regained her equilibrium. She moved towards a coalescing wood demon, carrying the much-lightened jug loosely with one finger.

She glared at the demon as she waited for it to materialize, thinking of the night she had spent locked in her farm’s outhouse, screaming as demons rattled at the door. She thought of the empty buildings, and the poisoned well behind her.

She took one last pull of poteen and stoppered the jug. With her free hand, she reached into the pouch at her waist.

At last the demon solidified, opening its mouth to roar at her. The orifice was great enough to swallow her entire head, with row upon row of pointed teeth.

Before it could let out a sound, Renna flicked her hand at it, tossing an acorn into the gaping maw. The heat ward she had painted on the acorn activated when it made contact with the demon’s tongue, exploding the nut with a flash and bang.

At that very moment, Renna spat poteen into the demon’s face.

She stepped out of the way as its head exploded in flames. The demon fell to the ground, thrashing as its barklike armour burned.

There was a laugh, and Renna turned to see Arlen clapping his hands at her. ‘Nice work, but I’ll do you one better.’

Renna smirked, and crossed her arms, stepping over to the safety of a wardpost. ‘Like to see you try, Arlen Bales.’

Arlen bowed. A field demon turned solid a few feet away from him, bigger than a nightwolf. It growled and tamped down, ready to pounce.

Arlen crossed his arms the same as Renna, standing his ground. His hood was down – he almost never put it up any more – but he still wore the rest of his day robes, covering the powerful wards tattooed all over his body. Field demons were fast as the wind, and without the protection of his wards, it seemed the demon would knock him down and savage him. Renna’s hand dropped to her knife, and she gripped it tightly.

But the field demon passed through Arlen as if he had been made of smoke. His body swirled where the creature passed through it, returning after a moment to sharp clarity.

Arlen took a brief bow as the demon recovered. ‘Nothing can touch me in the night now, Ren. Not if I see it coming.’

The field demon hit the ground and turned instantly, leaping back at him. Renna expected it to pass through him again, but this time Arlen flowed around the attack faster than her eye could see, wrapping an arm around the coreling’s neck and sharply arresting its momentum. He quickstepped around the demon’s back to avoid the flailing claws, maintaining the headlock with one arm. He reached his free hand around to draw a heat ward on the demon’s chest with his bare finger.

The line he traced came alive with fire as he completed the symbol, and he let go his hold and backed away as the demon was consumed in flames.

Renna gaped, but Arlen wasn’t finished with the lesson. He strode towards another field demon, provoking an attack. The demon obliged, roaring and coming at him with claws leading.

‘Of course, if I don’t see it coming in time to stop it …’ Arlen was knocked back several steps and grunted as the demon’s claws struck home, tearing into his abdomen.

Renna gasped as blood arced through the air. She pulled her knife and darted forward to interpose herself between Arlen and the demon.

But Arlen straightened and stopped her up short with a raised hand. The demon pounced again, but once more Arlen blew apart like smoke.

When he re-formed, there was no sign of his injury. Even his robe was mended. ‘… given a moment to catch my wits, I can heal just about anything that doesn’t kill me.’

The demon came at him a third time, but this time Arlen drew a quick warding in the air, and the demon was thrown back as if kicked by a mule before it ever got close to him. His new power seemed limitless.

But as the demon struck the ground several yards away, Arlen staggered in his bow. To Renna’s warded eyes, he had been bright with magic a moment before. Now the glow of his wards was noticeably dimmer.

Arlen caught the look she gave him, and nodded. ‘I draw wards on a demon, the coreling powers them itself. I draw them in the air, they draw their magic from me, instead.’

The demon came back at him a fourth time, but this time Arlen seized it by the throat and pinned it to the ground in a sharusahk hold. As he held it down, Renna could see the wards on his hands throbbing with power, and his glow began to return even as the coreling’s dimmed. The demon shrieked and thrashed, but Arlen held it as easily as a man might hold down a small child. The power in his hands built in intensity until the demon’s throat collapsed. With a flex of his muscles, Arlen tore its head clean off.

Renna caught sight of a field demon stalking her and shifted position to look dim and helpless. It wasn’t difficult. All she needed to do was recall the useless cow she had been all her life. The victim.

But that part of her had died with Harl. When the coreling pounced, it struck the forbidding like an invisible wall, and Renna pivoted in an instant, thrusting her knife into its chest. The wards along the blade flared, cutting through the demon’s armour and sending a jolt of magic into her that warmed her limbs even more than the poteen. She bulled forward, stabbing again and again, each blow sending a thrill of power through her.

When the demon hit the ground, dead, she crouched and reached out her hand, tracing a heat ward on the demon’s rough armour.

Nothing happened.

‘How come you can do it and I can’t?’ Renna called as she scanned the field for more demons. There were some still circling, but they were wary of the two humans now, and kept their distance.

‘Didn’t know myself for a long time,’ Arlen said. ‘Didn’t understand any of my powers. But when I fought that demon along the path to the Core, our minds touched, and a lot came clear. I really have become part demon.’

‘Demonshit,’ Renna said. ‘You ent evil like them.’

Arlen shrugged. ‘Most demons ent evil, either. Ent smart enough to be evil – or good, for that matter. Might as well call a wasp evil for stinging. The mind demons, though …’

‘Them bastards are more evil’n Harl,’ Renna said.

Arlen nodded. ‘By a month’s ride.’

Renna furrowed her brow. ‘So you’re saying … what? Corelings are just animals? I ent sold. Wasps don’t burst into flame when the sun comes up. Even if demons ent evil, they ent natural, either.’

‘That’s day folk talking,’ Arlen said. ‘Folk who haven’t warded their eyes. Look around you. Is magic unnatural?’

Renna considered. She looked at the way the power vented up from the Core, drifting across the surface like a glowing fog swirling at their feet. She saw it at the heart of plants and trees, even animals and people. Would life even exist without it?

‘Maybe not,’ she allowed, ‘but that don’t explain why you think you’re part demon, or why you still have powers in daylight when the sun burns magic away.’

Arlen hesitated, and his eyes flicked away, considering. Renna’s eyes narrowed, and Arlen caught the look. ‘Ent gonna lie to you, Ren, or hold back. It’s just something I ent proud of, and I don’t want you … thinking less of me.’

Renna moved in close, putting a hand on his cheek. His skin tingled with magic. ‘Love you, Arlen Bales. Ent nothin’ in the world ever gonna change that.’

Arlen nodded sadly, not meeting her eyes. ‘It’s the meat that gave me the power.’

‘Meat?’

‘Demon meat,’ Arlen clarified. ‘Ate it for months when I was living in the desert. Seemed only fair, the way they’re always eatin’ on us.’

Renna gasped and took a step back. Arlen met her eyes then, and she knew from his expression that the look on her face was horrified.

‘You … ate them? Demons?’

Arlen nodded, and Renna felt sick to her stomach. ‘Didn’t have much choice in the matter. Left in the desert to die, no food, no hope. I was wretched as a man could be.’

‘Think I would have let myself die.’ Renna immediately regretted the words as a look of anguish crossed Arlen’s face.

‘Yeah, well,’ he said. ‘Guess I ent as strong as you, Ren.’

Renna rushed to him, taking his hands and pressing their foreheads together. ‘You’re stronger than I ever was, Arlen Bales,’ she said, feeling tears well in her eyes. ‘You hadn’t slapped the fool out of me, I’d have let myself die to just keep the Tanner shame a secret. Ent no strength there.’

Arlen shook his head, and a tear of his own struck her lip, cold and sweet. ‘Needed the fool slapped out of me more than once over the years.’

Renna kissed him. ‘You sure it’s the demon meat gave you these powers?’

Arlen nodded. ‘Coline Trigg used to say that what you eat becomes a part of you, and I reckon that’s so. I’ve absorbed the corelings’ ability to store magic in their cells, but my skin has retained its proof against the sun. I’ve become like a battery.’

‘Cells? Battery?’ Renna asked.

‘Science of the old world. It doesn’t matter.’ Arlen waved the questions away in that annoying way he had, keeping the knowledge from her simply because he thought it too tedious to explain. As if she wouldn’t listen to him speak all night. As if there were a better sound in all the world. ‘Think of it as a drain barrel after a night’s rain. Full of water even after the sky clears and the ground dries up. Can’t tap the magic in sunlight, but I feel it inside of me, healing my wounds, making me tireless and strong. At night I can let it out like opening a bung, and I’m only just scratching the surface of what can be done.’

Renna paused, considering. Whatever Arlen might say, it was nearly impossible to see corelings as anything but evil abominations of nature, an offence to the Creator. Despite the fact she was often covered in the foul ichor they called blood, the thought of putting it in her mouth was abhorrent.

But the power …

‘Know what you’re thinkin’, Ren,’ Arlen said, snapping her out of her reverie. ‘Don’t go tryin’ this one.’

‘Why?’ Renna asked. ‘Din’t seem to hurt you none.’

‘You don’t know what it was like, Ren. I was crazed. Suicidal. Lived like an animal.’

Renna shook her head. ‘Alone in the middle of nowhere, no one to talk to but Dancer and the corelings. Know what that’s like. Apt to make anyone have a night wish, demon meat or no.’

Arlen looked at her, and nodded. ‘Honest word. But eating demon ent like painting blackstem on your skin. Won’t fade away after a few weeks, and you ent ready for it.’

‘Who’re you to say what I’m ready for?’ Renna demanded.

‘Ent giving you orders, Ren, I’m begging you.’ Arlen knelt in front of her. ‘Don’t eat it, and if anyone asks, you tell ’em it’s poison.’

Renna stared at him a long while, unsure if she should hold him or slap the fool out of him. At last she sighed, letting her swirling emotions drift away. ‘Think on it. And won’t tell anyone else. Honest word.’

Arlen nodded, getting to his feet. ‘Then let’s hunt. Need to be holding as much magic as possible when I heal Dancer.’

Twilight Dancer was lowing in pain when they returned to the stable, tongue hanging from his mouth. His feed was untouched, and the only water he had drunk was what they had poured down his throat. He laboured for breath.

With a single blow, the mimic demon had broken the great stallion’s ribs, puncturing Creator only knew what inside, and launching him through the air. Dancer had struck a tree, breaking his back, and the fall had shattered his legs. Arlen had saved Dancer’s life with his magic, but without further help he would never walk again, much less run.

But Arlen had suffused himself with so much magic his wards glowed of their own accord, lighting the stable bright as day. He seemed like the Creator Himself as he reached for one of Dancer’s legs, pulling the broken bones into proper position and tracing wards on the skin around the fractures.

Dancer whinnied in pain as the bones and sinews knitted back together, a terrible sound Renna could hardly bear. Arlen’s glow lessened a bit with each healing, and there were many. Soon his wards dimmed, and then winked out entirely. Still he worked, his sensitive fingers running over the horse’s body, probing for places to focus his power. Dancer’s chest inflated as the ribs healed, and he began to breathe normally. Renna sighed with relief until Arlen gave a slight groan and collapsed.

He was shivering when she carried him up to bed, his breath coming in short gasps. She could barely hear his heartbeat, and the glow of his magic had faded so much she thought it might wink out at any moment. She stripped and slipped into bed next to him, clutching him tight and willing some of the magic she had absorbed into him, but it seemed to make no difference.

‘Don’t you die on me, Arlen Bales,’ she said. ‘Not after all we been through.’

Arlen did not respond, and Renna stood, brushing back tears as she paced the room, her mind racing.

Needs magic, she thought. Go and get him some.

She had her knife in hand in an instant, grabbing her cloak and running out the door without bothering to pull her clothes back on. With the Cloak of Unsight around her, she was invisible to the corelings, and quickly found a field demon prowling not far from the wards.

She cast the cloak aside, and before it knew she was there, she had leapt on the demon’s back, pulling its chin up with one hand while she cut its throat. She took a bucket from the stables, draining the creature’s foul black ichor, rich with glowing magic.

Her naked skin was soon covered in the stuff, and she could feel her blackstem wards pulling at the power. She felt strong beyond belief, moving like wind back to Arlen’s side. She laid him on the floor and dumped the reeking bucket over him, watching the wards on his skin brighten and absorb the magic, then dim as his internal aura brightened. He began to breathe easier, and Renna fell to her knees.

‘Thank the Creator,’ she whispered, drawing a ward in the air.

The gesture was an instinctive one, but so similar to the way Arlen healed Dancer. If only she had been able to do the same for him.

She looked to the bucket, a slimy piece of demon gut clinging to its lip. She scooped the black thing up in her hand, poking at it like jelly. It stank, and her stomach heaved. She had to breathe deeply to keep her supper down.

He’ll pull away, I let him, she thought. Strong as he is, he can’t do this alone. Got to keep the pace, or I’ll be left behind again next time he’s pulled into the Core.

‘Done thinkin’,’ she muttered.

She held her breath, and put the meat in her mouth.