The sword moved. It shifted jerkily at first, as though tugged by an invisible hand. Then it flew, smooth and dart-like, hilt first to fill his waiting hand.
Bastorran watched all this in frozen astonishment, his own sword poised.
Reeth took his chance. He delivered an upward thrust. The steel sliced into Bastorran’s abdomen, and Caldason felt it go in deep. He wrenched it free, ready to strike again. The wound erupted crimson.
The paladin wore an expression of bewildered disbelief. A look that spoke ill of a Fate that could have him snatch defeat from the jaws of sweet victory. The sword slipped from his grasp. His blood flowed more freely still. He fell.
Caldason was numb. The blade in his hand could have been a viper from the way he stared at it.
There was a commotion. Kordenza ran for the door, cloak aflutter. Meakin was getting to his feet and looking to chase her.
‘Let it go!’ Caldason shouted. He thought the young man lucky to have survived one encounter with her. A second could well prove fatal.
The young officer obeyed. In fact, his attention was now on Kutch, and the two of them came together. They hugged.
It seemed to Caldason that the world had just got crazier. Standing, he said, ‘Kutch, who is this?’
The boy turned his head Caldason’s way. His eyes were glistening. ‘This is Varee, Reeth. My brother.’
‘Your what?’
‘It’s true,’ Varee told him. ‘Kutch and I are siblings, and we haven’t seen each other in a long time. In fact, until recently I felt sure he was dead.’
‘And I thought you must be,’ Kutch said, his voice near breaking.
‘Varee Pirathon?’ Reeth queried. ‘Bastorran called you something else.’
‘Meakin. Lahon Meakin. Under that name I’ve been his aide for the last six months.’
‘You better be able to explain this.’ There were sounds of fighting from outside the stables, a reminder of the greater conflict. ‘Only not right now. Later, if we’re still alive.’
‘He’s all right, Reeth,’ Kutch insisted. ‘He’s my brother. Look how he took on the meld.’
‘You do deserve thanks for that, Varee,’ Caldason conceded. He turned his attention to Wendah and Kutch. ‘And so do you two.’
‘Forget that,’ Kutch replied excitedly. ‘What about that magic you pulled off? That was awesome, Reeth!’
‘No. No, I didn’t do that. It was a fluke…a…It was really you, wasn’t it, Kutch? Or you, Wendah?’
They shook their heads in unison.
‘Neither of us could do that,’ Wendah informed him.
‘It was you, Reeth,’ Kutch added. ‘You’re a natural. That Founder blood.’
Caldason was horrified. He resumed studying his sword.
Varee looked thoroughly confused.
In brotherly empathy, Kutch said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll explain. Though there’s a lot to tell.’
‘I know some of it. I’ve been trying to help your cause, in a small way. And I want to help now.’
‘Then get rid of that uniform,’ Caldason advised, pulling himself together. ‘There are several hundred rebels out there waiting to riddle it with arrows.’
‘Gladly.’ The elder Pirathon started peeling off his tunic, revealing a plain shirt.
Kutch looked on in something approaching adoration. And Wendah looked happy for him.
‘The fighting’s nowhere near over,’ Caldason reminded them soberly. ‘Not to mention that meld’s still on the loose. Let’s get out of here in good order, and keep your weapons handy. Kutch, Wendah, you stick close.’
They trooped past Bastorran’s body and to the door. On the way, Varee picked up a discarded horse blanket and draped it around his shoulders against the cold.
Things were a lot quieter outside. The invaders had been repelled, just, and at a dreadful cost in lives. Islanders were mopping up the last pockets of fighters. Most were being forced into a retreat through the gates, or back over the walls. Kordenza was nowhere to be seen, and was presumably among them.
Caldason couldn’t stop thinking about what had just happened with the sword he carried, and what Kutch had said about it. He walked on, leaving the brothers and Wendah behind in their slow-moving, engrossed huddle.
Darrok swooped in on his flying dish. ‘Good to see you, Reeth.’
Caldason returned the greeting distractedly.
‘Thanks for saving my woman,’ Darrok added gratefully. ‘Look at that,’ he went on before Reeth could respond. He pointed at a corpse half immersed in a horse trough. The man wore pirate clothing. ‘More of Vance’s men siding with the empires.’ It was obviously a running sore for him.
‘Something should be done,’ Caldason replied mordantly.
Darrok was in a mood to take that literally. ‘You bet something should be done. And I’m the one to do it, given the debt I owe the swine.’
Caldason kept walking, leaving Darrok to stare at his back before gliding away. He went to one of the walls, clear of invaders now, and found a little stretch of his own. The soldiers they’d driven out were jogging towards an army massing on the plain. A force bigger than the entire rebel population of the Diamond Isle, and with more arriving. He knew that everything up to now had been a skirmish.
Wendah came and stood beside him. ‘They want to be together,’ she explained. ‘They don’t need me there.’ It was said without rancour. She took in the scene. ‘It’s bad, isn’t it?’
He nodded. ‘Yes.’ He was thinking of Serrah. All he wanted was to be with her, and that was the next thing he was going to do.
‘You have the power,’ Wendah reminded him. ‘Use it to help us.’
He was going to deny it, but heard himself say, ‘I don’t know how.’
32
It had been profound, frightening and awe-inspiring, and it wasn’t over yet.
The ramp was slow leaving Serrah’s system, and it was beginning to outstay its welcome. She certainly could have done without it while trying to assist a birth.
But now Tanalvah’s baby was born. It was a boy, and apparently healthy.
The same couldn’t be said for his mother.
The birth had been long and difficult, with Tanalvah lacking stamina, and seemingly the will to get through it. Only when they reminded her that the child’s well-being was at stake did things improve. But birthing took a terrible toll on her. She endured great discomfort, with no painkiller except a few sips of brandy, and there had been copious blood loss. Serrah and Kinsel did their best without the help of a midwife or healer, and finally they got her settled down, but Tanalvah was far from well.
Fortunately, Teg and Lirrin didn’t have to witness her ordeal. Kinsel had managed to persuade one of the older women to look after them in her quarters nearby.
The whole experience had been made even more fraught by the realisation that the invaders could break through at any time. Sounds of fighting and destruction had been a constant backdrop to Tan’s labour. But now, thank goodness, things had quietened considerably, though everyone knew it was just the calm before the storm.
As soon as the baby was born, Serrah had taken him into a little washroom that comprised part of their quarters, to check that he was hale. She didn’t want any unpleasantness in front of Tanalvah, who was distressed enough. Now she was gently bathing the newborn. It brought back sweet memories of Eithne as a baby, and other recollections, less happy.
Kinsel came through from the room where Tanalvah had given birth. His face showed a mixture of emotions, but the moment he saw the child he was nothing but misty-eyed. ‘Is he well?’
‘He seems to be fine.’
‘I don’t know how we can ever thank you, Serrah. If it hadn’t been for you-’
‘Forget it.’ She nodded at the bundle she cradled. ‘It was worth it.’
‘She wants to see him.’
‘Good. I’d be worried if she didn’t. We’re just about done here. Aren’t we, darling?’ she cooed at the babe. ‘Here, go to daddy.’
‘Oh.’ Kinsel accepted the child gingerly, then beamed at it.
‘Typical man. Don’t worry, it won’t break.’
His smile faded. ‘I’m not sure we can say the same about Tan.’
‘No improvement?’
‘I think she’s a little worse. As far as her state of mind’s concerned, that is.’