Then he saw, and he realized that the flame red was no trick of the sunset. His village was on fire.
Parts of it burned brightly, thatched roofs turned into bonfires by the flames, so that the whole skyline seemed filled with it. More of it was blackened and smoking, soot-colored timbers standing like the skeletons of the lost buildings. One toppled over even as Royce watched, creaking and then falling, tumbling to the ground with a crash.
No, he murmured, dismounting and leading his stolen horse forward. No, I cant be too late.
He was though. The fires that burned were old ones, holding a grip now only on the largest buildings, where there was the most to burn. The rest of his village was a thing of charcoal and acrid smoke, so long from the point where the fire caught that Royce could never have hoped to get there. The man hed passed on the road had said that soldiers were arriving as he left, but Royce had reckoned without the distance, and the time it would take to cover it.
Finally, he couldnt avoid it any longer, and looked down to where the bodies lay. There were so many of them: men and women, young and old, all killed indiscriminately, and clearly no mercy shown. Some of the bodies lay among the ruins, as blackened as the wood around them; others lay in the streets, with gaping wounds that told the story of how they had died. Royce saw some cut down from the front where they had tried to fight, some hacked down from behind when they had tried to run. He saw a cluster of the younger women, killed off to one side. Had they thought that this was just another raid for the nobles to take what they wanted from them all, right up to the moment when someone had cut their throats?
Pain flowed through Royce, and anger, and a hundred other things, all balled up into a knot that felt as though it might tear his heart in two. He staggered through the village, looking at death after death, barely able to believe that even the dukes men would do something like this.
They had, though, and there was no undoing it.
Mother! Royce called out. Father!
He dared to hope, in spite of the horrors around him. Some of the villages inhabitants must have made it to safety. Marauding soldiers were sloppy, and people could escape, couldnt they?
Royce saw another knot of bodies on the ground, and this one looked different, because there were no sword wounds on the bodies. Instead, they looked as though they had simply died, killed with bare hands, perhaps, but even on the Red Isle, that was reckoned a difficult thing. Royce didnt care right then, because although these people were ones he knew, they werent the ones he was trying to find. They werent his parents.
Mother! Royce called out. Father!
He knew that soldiers might hear him if they were still there, but he didnt care. A part of Royce even welcomed the prospect of them coming, because it meant a chance to kill them, and make them pay.
Are you there? Royce called out, and a figure staggered from one of the buildings, soot-caked and haggard looking. For an instant, Royces heart leapt, thinking that maybe his mother had heard him, but then he realized that this wasnt her. Instead, he recognized the form of Old Lori, who had always terrified the children with her stories, and who sometimes claimed that she had the Sight.
Your parents are dead, boy, she said, and in that moment the world seemed to break for Royce. The whole of it froze in place, caught between one heartbeat and the next.
They cant be, Royce said, shaking his head, unwilling to believe it. They cant be.
They are. Lori moved to sit against the remains of a low wall. As dead as Ill be soon.
Even as she said it, Royce saw the blood on her rough-spun gown, the hole where a sword had gone in and out.
Let me help you, he said, starting toward her, in spite of the fresh surge of pain that had come from what shed said about his parents. Focusing on her felt like the only way not to feel it in that moment.
Dont you touch me! she said, pointing a finger at him. You think I dont see the darkness that follows you like a cloak? You think I dont see the death and destruction that seeks out everything you touch?
But youre dying, Royce said, trying to persuade her.
Old Lori shrugged. Everything dies well, nearly, she said. Even you eventually, although youll shake the world before then. How many more will die for your dreams?
I dont want anyone to die, Royce said.
They will anyway, the old woman countered. Your parents did.
Fresh anger flashed through Royce. The soldiers. Ill
Not the soldiers, not for them. It seems theres more who see the dangers that follow you, boy. A man came here, and I smelled the death on him so strong I hid. He killed strong men without trying, and when he went to your home
Royce could guess the rest. He realized something worse in that moment, the full horror of it striking him.
I saw him. I saw him on the road, Royce said. His hand tightened on his sword. I should have stepped out. I should have killed him there.
I saw what he did, Old Lori said. Hed have killed you as surely as you killed all of us just by being born. Ill give you a piece of advice, boy. Run. Run away into the wilds. Let no one see you again. Hide as I once hid, before I was this.
After this? Royce demanded, his anger flaring. He could feel hot tears on his face now, and he couldnt work out if they were grief, or anger, or something else. You think I can walk away after all of this?
The old woman closed her eyes and sighed. No, no, I dont. I see I see this whole land shifting, a king rising, a king falling. I see death, and more death, all because you cant be anyone but who you are.
Let me help you, Royce said again, reaching out to help plug the wound in Loris side. There was a flicker of something that felt like the shock from wool rubbed the wrong way, and Lori gasped.
What have you done now? she demanded. Go, boy. Go! Leave an old woman to her death. Im too tired for this. Theres plenty more death waiting for you, wherever you try to walk.
She fell silent, and for a moment, Royce thought she might be resting, but she seemed too still for that. The village around him was still and silent once again. In that silence, Royce stood silently, not knowing what to do next.
Then he did know, and set off for the remains of his parents home.
CHAPTER FOUR
Raymond groaned with every jolt of the cart that was carrying him and his brothers to the place where they were to be executed. He could feel every bounce and judder of the vehicle clashing against the bruises that covered his body, could hear the clink of the chains that held him as they moved against the wood.
He could feel his fear, although it seemed to be somewhere on the far side of the pain right then; the guards beating had left him feeling as though his body was a broken thing, made of sharp edges. It was hard to concentrate, even on the terror of death, past that.
The fear he could find the way to was mostly for his brothers.
How much further, do you think? Garet asked. Raymonds youngest brother had managed to sit up in the cart, and Raymond could see the bruises that covered his face.
Lofen sat up more slowly, looking emaciated after their time in the dungeon. However far it is, its not far enough.
Where do you think theyre taking us? Garet asked.
Raymond could understand why his little brother wanted to know. The thought of being executed was bad enough, but not knowing what was happening, where it would be, or how it would be done was worse.
Where do you think theyre taking us? Garet asked.
Raymond could understand why his little brother wanted to know. The thought of being executed was bad enough, but not knowing what was happening, where it would be, or how it would be done was worse.
I dont know, Raymond managed, and it even hurt to talk. We have to be brave, Garet.
He saw his brother nod, looking determined in spite of the situation the three of them were in. Around them, he could see countryside passing by, with farms and fields on either side of the road and trees in the distance. A few hills stood there, and a few buildings, but it seemed like they were far from the town now. Their cart was being driven by one guard, while another sat beside him, crossbow at the ready. Two more rode beside the cart, flanking it and looking around as if expecting trouble at any moment.
Quiet back there! the one with the crossbow yelled back at them.
What are you going to do? Lofen demanded. Execute us more?
Its probably those big mouths of yours that have earned you special treatment, the guard said. Most of the ones out of the dungeon, we drag them out and we finish them the way the duke wants, no problems. You, though, youre going where the ones that have really upset him go.
Wheres that? Raymond asked.
The guard smiled nastily in response. Hear that, lads? he said. They want to know where theyre going next.
Theyll see soon enough, the driver said, flicking the reins to move the horses forward a little faster. Dont see why we should tell criminals anything except that theyre going to get everything that they deserve.
Deserve? Garet demanded from the back of the cart. We dont deserve this. We havent done anything wrong!
Raymond heard his brother cry out as one of the riders beside them struck him across the shoulders.
You think anyone cares what you have to say? the man snapped. You think everyone weve taken this way hasnt tried to declare their innocence? The duke has declared you traitors, so youll have a traitors death!
Raymond wanted to go to his brother and make sure he was all right, but the chains that held him prevented it. He thought about insisting that they really hadnt done anything except try to stand up to a regime that had tried to take everything from them, but that was the point. The duke and the nobles did what they liked; they always had. Of course the duke could send them to die, because that was how things worked there.
Raymond strained against his chains at that thought, as if it might be possible to break free through sheer strength. The metal held him easily, wearing away the little that remained of his strength until he collapsed back against the wood.
Look at them, trying to get free, the crossbowman said with a laugh.
Raymond saw the driver shrug. Theyll struggle better than that once it comes time.
Raymond wanted to ask what the man meant by that, but he knew that there was no chance of getting an answer, and every chance of getting beaten just as his brother had been. All he could do was sit quietly while the cart continued on its rickety journey along the dirt road. That, he guessed, was a part of the torment of all of this: the not knowing, and the awareness of his own helplessness, with the complete inability to do anything to even find out where they were going, let alone turn the cart from its course.
It headed up through the fields, past clusters of trees and spaces where villages lay in subdued silence. The ground around them seemed to be rising, heading up to the spot where a fort almost as old as the kingdom itself sat atop one of the hills, the ruined stones standing as a kind of testament to the kingdom that had gone before.
Almost there, boys, the cart driver said, with a smile that said he was enjoying this far too much. Ready to see what Duke Altfor has in mind for you?
Duke Altfor? Raymond asked, barely able to believe it.
That brother of yours managed to kill the old duke, the crossbowman said. Threw a spear through his heart back in the pit, then ran like the coward he is. Now, youre going to pay for his crimes.
The moment he said that, Raymond found both his thoughts and his feelings racing. If Royce had really done that, then it meant that his adopted brother had achieved something huge for the cause of freedom, and had gotten clear; both of those things were things to celebrate. At the same time, Raymond could only imagine the things that the former dukes son would want done in revenge, and without Royce there to take it out on, they were the logical next targets.
He found himself cursing Genevieve then. If his brother had never seen her, none of this would have happened, and it wasnt as if she even cared about Royce, was it?
Ah, the crossbowman said. I think theyre starting to understand.
The horses that drew that cart carried on, moving along with the steady pace of creatures that were far too used to their task, and that knew that they, at least, would be coming back from their destination.
They headed up the hill, and Raymond could feel the tension rising in his brothers. Garet was shifting back and forth, as if he might be able to find a way to break free and jump from the cart. If he could, then Raymond hoped he would take the opportunity, running and not looking back, even as he knew that the riders would probably be able to cut him down before hed gone a dozen steps. Lofen was clenching and unclenching his hands, whispering what sounded like a prayer. Raymond doubted it would do any good.
Finally, they reached the summit of the hill and Raymond saw everything that awaited them there. It was enough to make him slump back in the cart, unable to bring himself to move.
There were gibbets set around the hilltop, creaking in the wind as they dangled from chains in the shadow of the fallen tower. There were bodies in them, some picked clean by scavengers, others intact enough that Raymond could see the horrific wounds and bite marks that covered them, the burns and the places where the skin had been cut away by what looked like long knives. Symbols were cut into some of the flesh, and Raymond found himself recognizing a woman who had been dragged from their cell before, swirls and runes carved into her.
Picti, Lofen whispered in obvious horror, but Raymond could see that even that wasnt the worst of it. The people in the gibbets had wounds that suggested they had been tortured and killed, exposed to the fury of whatever wild folk came by, but what lay on the stone at the center of the hilltop was worse, far worse.
The stone itself was a slab that had been carved both with the symbols of the wild folk, and with signs that might have been magic if such things had been common in these days. The remains of a man lay chained on it, and the worst part, the worst part, was that he moaned with agonized life even though he had no right to. His body was laced with cuts and burns, bite marks and the tearing marks of claws, yet still, impossibly, he lived.
They call it a life stone, the driver said with a smirk that said he knew exactly how much horror Raymond was feeling right then. They say that in the old days, healers would use them to hold men to life while they stitched and worked. We found a better use for this one.
Better? Raymond said. This is He didnt even have the words for what it was. Evil wasnt enough. This wasnt some crime against the laws of men, but something that stood against everything that had ever been there in nature. It was wrong in a way that seemed to count against everything that was life, and sane, and ordered.