Haven 5 Blood Magic BOOK (5 page)

“One moment,” he cried.

No answer came. The knocking ceased, but no one spoke.

Brand paused, instantly alert. His first thought had been of the wedding party. They could not possibly have come so soon, however, not unless they had sailed through the middle of the night. No one did that, not unless it was an emergency. The Berrywine was a friendly river, but was not so forgiving as that.

He paused with his hand on the heavy bars that they kept down over the thick door.  Who would come to Rabing Isle at dawn and thump upon their door? It could not be good news. He mentally insisted that he put in a spyhole of some kind for just such occasions as these. As the Champion of the River Haven, he’d found many an occasion of late where he could have used one.

He threw the door wide, and his axe squirmed in its pack.

There stood, of all people, Myrrdin. He scowled at the wizard, and the wizard glared back at him. Neither spoke or gestured for several long seconds.

Finally, hearing Telyn coming downstairs behind him, Brand nodded and roughly waved the visitor inside. As a host, it was his duty.

Myrrdin passed him and sat on one of the easy chairs.

“Will you take tea, Myrrdin?” asked Telyn.

Myrrdin nodded, but still said not a word.

Brand followed Telyn into the kitchen. A whispered conversation ensued.

“Did you invite him to the wedding?” he hissed at her.

“No,” she said shaking her head empathically. “I doubt he even knows about it.”

“Who will be doing the ceremony, then?”

“The Village Friar, from Hamlet. The one from Riverton was busy repairing damage from the fire.”

“Where’s Jak?”

“He was up before dawn, fixing up the property. I think he’s nervous, Brand.”

“Well… Go join him, please.”

She gave him a dark look, but nodded her head. “Just promise me that you won’t try to take Myrrdin’s head off this time.”

“Fine, fine,” Brand muttered. He took the mugs of tea from her and carried them back to Myrrdin. The last time the two of them had met, matters had come to blows. They had removed the roof of the place they’d been staying in. He sincerely hoped that no such fate was in store for his home. He told himself that no matter how provocative the wizard was, Ambros would be left in his pack.

He handed the tea to the wizard and tried not to be irked by the look on the man’s face. He had the look of a man who smelled something very unpleasant.

“Welcome to Rabing Isle,” Brand said, trying to sound friendly.

“Glad to be here,” said Myrrdin, but it was plain to Brand he was speaking a polite lie.

“I’ve got good news,” said Brand, deciding not to wait around until the wizard got to whatever point he had in coming here. “My brother is to be wed this day, right here. We will be performing the ceremony at noon, if you care to stay.”

Myrrdin seemed surprised at the invitation. His mood rose somewhat. “That’s very kind of you Brand. I doubt I will be able to stay, but I dearly wish that I could.”

Brand sipped his tea and waited.

“Brand, I’m here for a very special reason. I certainly don’t want to interrupt your happiness on this important day. In fact, now that you tell me of your celebration, I would normally leave, or hold my talk for a better time.”

“I take it, then, that you don’t bring happy tidings?”

Myrrdin shook his head. He sipped his tea a final time, then leaned forward, his eyes becoming intense. His gaze locked with Brand’s. “No. No, I do not. I fear things are going badly. I don’t understand all of it, but I’ve heard things, Brand.”

“What things?”

“Muttering. Whispered conversations in dark places. The drums of war are beating Brand, in a dozen places.”

“Why? Why now?”

“The Kindred, Brand. That, and other hurt feelings that have finally boiled to the surface. You see, powers have shifted. When that happens, there are inevitably winners and losers from the new arrangement.”

Brand nodded, undisturbed.

“Yes,” Myrrdin continued. “I know, you account the River Folk as among the winners. But that isn’t how everyone sees it. They see you as an upstart, a trouble-maker. To give evidence to their claims, you have helped shift the delicate balance of power between the races further on several occasions.”

“Such as giving the Blue Jewel to Tomkin.”

“Yes, and slaying Fafnir.”

“How can anyone argue that dragon deserved to keep the Orange?” demanded Brand.

“They don’t, but they would rather not see it being wielded by the Kindred. The Kindred, Brand, are at the core of the entire problem. They are only dangerous when they have a monarch. You have helped give them that monarch, and a Jewel at the same time. Never has the world seen such a combination.”

“So? What terrible thing might they do with it?”

“They have enemies, enemies that sleep, enemies so ancient the Kindred themselves have forgotten them all. And these enemies are fearful of the Kindred, especially when they have gained a great power and are filled with purpose.”

Brand threw up his arms. “I can’t see how I am involved in this. I can’t understand how the Kindred scaring others is a bad thing for the Haven. They are, after all, our allies.”

“Exactly,” said Myrrdin. His face became thoughtful, almost calculating. “You see, the state of the Kindred is being used to create fear among others. They are a threat, and others are preparing to meet that threat. Your alliance with them doubles that threat. As does the third member of the alliance.”

“You mean Tomkin.”

“Yes,” said Myrrdin, as if even the
thought
of Tomkin annoyed him.

“So, what are you asking? Speak plainly, man.”

Myrrdin leaned forward and spoke quietly and intently. “Leave the alliance. Declare neutrality. It isn’t even necessary that the entire River Haven do this, just you, Brand. The rest of the world doesn’t care much about the Riverton Constabulary and their blue fluttering cloaks. It is you and your axe they fear. You don’t need the protection of the Kindred, and they don’t need yours. In fact, you may well keep the peace if you denounce them.”

“Let’s entertain for a second that I would do such a thing,” said Brand, fighting to keep his voice even. His axe was thumping into his knees and he had to admit it had a point on this occasion. The wizard was clearly not on his side. “What possible good could it do? If our enemies fear to strike due to our strength, then appearing weaker will only embolden them.”

Myrrdin shook his head determinedly. “No. No, there you are wrong. It is their fear that is driving them. They fear you, and the Kindred, and even Tomkin. They fear you as an unknown, as an upstart. A group of upstarts, if you will, who have banded together and have managed through an alliance to shift the ownership of Jewels willy-nilly.”

Brand’s fist came down on the armrest of his chair. “Well, I won’t do it. I will not say I am neutral, because I’m not neutral. If any enemy were to strike at Snowdon, I would march to intervene. I believe knowing that helps keep the peace, more than it foments war. Let them worry about what we might do. We are tired of fearing them, of putting our children to bed with terrible stories of stealing hands and of lilting voices that might lure them into the forests.”

“Brand, you must try to see the wider view—”

“No! Again, I tell you Myrrdin,
no
. It is they who must adjust. It is they, the elder races who are set in their ways, who must alter their behavior to accommodate the younger ones.”

Myrrdin stared at him angrily for several seconds before replying.

“You think you have won. You think this is all over, because you have outfought them and cheated them a few times. Brand, you don’t understand what you are dealing with. These beings may just wait out your short, flaring lifetime and then swoop down upon your descendants, when they are weak and Ambros is ready for the plucking.”

“Then I will work hard to make sure our children are well-versed in the ways of our enemies. You should be helping us, Myrrdin. Don’t half your loyalties belong with us?

Myrrdin looked pained. “I’m not choosing sides. I’m trying to prevent another war from erupting. I’m trying to keep a lid on a pot that is boiling over.”

Brand nodded. “I believe you, old friend. I believe you think, in your heart, that you are working to save lives and save the peace. But I will not bend my knee. Nor will any of my people. The River Folk stand with our allies. We are at peace. We do not want war. But any that march against us must know they will face our combined strength.”

“Will you then, at least, condemn any aggressive wars upon which the Kindred may soon embark?”

Brand gave him a troubled look. “I don’t know of any—”

“Will you?” interrupted Myrrdin.

“I don’t know. If I hear of such a war, I will decide then. I’ll not condemn an ally before they have made their case to me.”

Myrrdin stood then, his lips compressed into a tight line. Brand stood with him. The meeting was at an end.

“We have found no common ground this day,” said Myrrdin, sounding formal. “The fact makes me sorrowful for the future.”

Brand let him out, and followed him. He stood in his doorway, his brow knitted in a harsh frown. He felt that he must have resembled his own father then, a stern man long dead.

“Tell them, Myrrdin, not to seek out trouble. For if they do, I shall seek them out.”

Myrrdin gave no hint he had heard the words. He left, carried away swiftly by his long angry strides.

Brand was left to wonder about the way the world had changed around him. He made a mental note to report this conversation to Gudrin. She had to be warned that others were plotting against Snowdon.

Chapter Five

The Kindred Stir

Piskin fretted terribly. As they sailed past Rabing Isle and onward upstream, he was sure at any moment a River Folk war-party would come whooping after him. His eyes never ceased combing the banks and he stared piercingly at every passing sail. If he had had a second hand, he would have tried to wield one of the ridiculously huge poles these stomping big idiots used to work their way upriver at speed. Like all Wee Folk, he was very strong for his size, but not
that
strong.

He eyed the maid, thinking of urging her to pole for them. But he couldn’t think of a good excuse for haste. He’d told her they were on their way to meet Puck, and that lie was the only thing that kept her with him.

He was certain she had become suspicious of him. She prattled on about stopping to meet an aunt who lived along the river, a woman who had been kind to her in her youth.

“Tut, tut, girl,” Piskin told her, shaking his head with sad, exaggerated slowness. “How little you know of the world. It’s a shame, it is, to be the one to tell you.”

“To tell me what?”

“No one is going to help
you
. You see, a
maiden
is the desire of every heart, the joy dancing in every eye. But you are the very opposite of a chaste, girlish maiden. Now, you are heavy—
gross
in fact—with child. Under different circumstances, had you a waiting husband, your condition might be seen as a blessing. But alas, that is not the case. You are an outcast, girl. A disgusting sight. A waddling sow, demonstrating your evil past with every thudding step you take. All your kind shun you. You know this to be true. All have forsaken you save for Piskin, and hopefully, Puck.”

Mari frowned at him distrustfully. She had been doing quite a lot of that lately. It made him want to throttle her all the sooner. But he had changed his mind about killing her now. He had reasoned that he needed her child’s blood
fresh
. A bowl of week-old, dead red soup, sticky and fetid, surely would not coax the hound. He didn’t want to have gone to all his trouble and then fail at the last instant due to such an oversight. He needed the child alive and wriggling, so he could bleed it freshly into a cup for the hound’s pleasure. And by far the easiest way to transport the unborn brat was while it stayed within its mother’s womb.

“Not everyone shuns me,” argued Mari. “The porter at the Inn quite liked the look of me, I’d say. With child or not.”

“Ah, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to sting your pride, milady, for truthfully, you are a beauty. But even the most beautiful of milk cows does have a definite purpose, does it not? Perhaps the porter looked on with pity, not allure, in his eye.”

“Nonsense,” she said, crossing her arms over her swollen midsection.

“And what of your mother? Did she not reject you soundly?”

Mari pouted. She had no retort for that assault, he knew.

“A milk cow indeed,” she muttered.

As he watched her sulk in annoyance and self-pity, Piskin fought the urge to smile. There would be no more talk of visiting aunts now.

* * *

Few could recall a time of greater activity beneath Snowdon. Every forge churned, every back was bent. Thousands of the Kindred toiled upon the single task of repairing the broken vent over Earthlight. Mechnicians, metal smiths and miners swarmed the structure, each of them moving with a fanatical energy and unity of purpose.