Bloodchild. Anna Stephens
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back and took in Dalli’s face: sunburnt, freckled, green eyes rimmed with red and sitting in shadows so deep they look bruised. ‘How the bloody fuck are you still alive? You fell off the ship.’
‘Long boring story,’ Rillirin said, wiping her nose on her sleeve, other hand still clutching Dalli in case the Wolf suddenly vanished. ‘I made it to shore, found Gilda in the Dancer’s Fingers and—’
‘Gilda?’
‘Gods, yes, Dalli, Gilda’s alive! She’s here, wounded … but, but recovering; she’s fine. In the infirmary. I can take you there, you and Lim and Ash and Dom.’ Her voice got quieter on the last name, with a rise at the end that made it almost a question, something of a plea.
Dalli’s face went colder than Rillirin had ever seen it, colder even than the mask she donned for battle. That face would not entertain forgiveness or weakness. That face knew nothing of light. ‘We don’t know where Dom is. Nor Ash. They disappeared when Rilporin fell. Lim is dead.’
Now Rillirin did let go. She stumbled back, hands to her mouth and nausea coiling up her throat. ‘Rilporin fell? You mean we lost?’ Her words were too loud and carried to the nearest South Rankers. They’d have found out soon enough, but still; they needed the official version, not some overheard panicked gossip.
Dalli’s expression closed even further. ‘Yes, we lost, and yes, Lim died. So did thousands of others. Doesn’t mean it’s over though. Come, take me to Gilda. She should hear the fate of her sons – blood, adopted and fostered – from me.’ She licked cracked lips. ‘The Wolves voted me their chief.’
Rillirin blinked away tears and managed a shaky smile. ‘I’m pleased for you, Dalli, truly. You deserve it. I … The infirmary’s that way. I’m sure you can find it.’
‘No,’ Dalli said, flint in her voice. ‘You need to hear it all.’
I don’t want to hear it all. I don’t want to hear any of it! But when Dalli began walking in the direction Rillirin had indicated, she followed, and then slid ahead of her and led her to the priestess.
She was unable to take any pleasure in their reunion, knowing some of what was coming next. Was Lim’s death somehow Dom’s fault, too, as Gilda’s wound was, as Rilporin’s betrayal was? She rubbed her belly, beginning to round outwards now and obvious when she was undressed. When Dalli broke the embrace, Rillirin plucked at her shirt to make sure it wasn’t tight over her stomach. She already knew she didn’t want to tell the other woman about the babe, and who its father was. Not now, not ever, maybe, and if that meant hiding it for however long the Wolves were in the forts, so be it.
Gilda sat stiffly in her chair, back unbending despite her age and the toll the wound had taken on her. Her eyes were dry and her hands folded tightly in her lap; she didn’t invite contact, didn’t want emotion. ‘How many?’
Dalli gave a single nod, as if to say, If this is how you want it, this is how I’ll tell it. ‘Too many. Including Lim.’ Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat; she didn’t look away even though agony crossed the old priestess’s face, there and gone like summer rain. ‘In battle against the Mireces, defending his people, defending the city. It … was Corvus himself, Gilda. But it was quick, and I’m not just saying that.’
Gilda flicked a finger for her to continue, not looking at Rillirin even though her gasp at mention of her brother must have been audible to them both. Dalli’s eyes filled with tears but her voice was steady now. ‘Strike to the neck and then … decapitation. He had the charm he’d made in memory of Sarilla. Kept it with him the whole time. She’ll have welcomed him into the Light.’
‘His father too,’ Gilda murmured and Rillirin flinched. Gilda had lost so many and still she kept going, bearing the weight of pain without complaint. She nodded once, with the air of someone excising a wound. ‘Who else?’
‘Dom was—’
‘Dom is a Darksoul who betrayed his people and his gods. He tried to kill me; he failed. Who else?’
‘He’s your son!’ Rillirin burst out, unable to contain herself any longer. ‘You might all hate him, you might think that what he did was of his own free will, but I don’t. I know he was forced. I know it. And I want to know where he is even if you don’t.’
Dalli rose from her seat, gaze fixed on Rillirin’s hands curled protectively across her belly. Rillirin blushed and let them drop to her sides. ‘He put a child in you?’ She whirled to the priestess. ‘You have to do something, Gilda! Crys is the Fox God – yes, I know how that sounds but it’s true – and Dom betrayed him to Corvus. He tortured him on the Mireces’ orders. Cut him open, beat him, ripped out his fingernails for all to see. Rankers saw it happen; they saw him do it! Whatever abomination he’s put in her can’t be allowed to live. He’s brought all of us to the brink of destruction and I don’t care if he did kill the Dark Lady afterwards, I won’t allow some Blood-infected babe to come into this world and push us over the edge! End the pregnancy or I will.’
None of what she said made sense, none of it. Dom torturing Crys? Torture? Killing the Dark Lady? The new Wolf chief was still shouting but her face, pale with fright and fury, vanished into a sea of buzzing black dots, her words drowned beneath waves of roaring.
Rillirin retched and stumbled, lurched against the table and fell back from Dalli’s seeking hands, unable to take a full breath through the tightness in her throat.
She pointed a shaking finger at Gilda. ‘You said … you said it was innocent; the babe is innocent. I don’t … You stay away from me. Both of you stay away!’ Her head was too light, her limbs heavy and not under her control. She took two steps backwards on legs wobbling worse than a newborn fawn’s, and fainted.
Sixth moon, first year of the reign of King Corvus
South Rank headquarters, Western Plain, Krike border
‘General Hadir, your hospitality is gratefully received,’ Mace said, wincing at the formality of the words when what he wanted to do was hug the wiry old soldier until his ribs creaked. Still might, once his people were settled.
‘Commander Koridam, whatever you need,’ Hadir said. ‘I don’t mind admitting that when you appeared I thought you were the enemy and we were all dead. Can’t tell you my relief when we spotted your uniforms. You’ll have my quarters, of course. How many staff are with you?’
Mace hacked a cough from a dry throat before answering. ‘Me, Chief Dalli of the Wolves and a handful of valiant captains who’ll bed down in the barracks as normal.’
Hadir blinked. ‘That’s it?’
Mace coughed again and the general belatedly handed him a cup from his desk. His office was small and neat, much like its owner, and Mace felt like a ragged beggar in its midst.
‘That’s it. My father is dead, as is Colonel Yarrow. Colonel Edris has gone east to Listre with a small company to tell Tresh he is now our king and to raise an army to take back his throne and country. While he’s only distantly related and I don’t believe he’s ever even visited Rilpor, he’s legitimate at least and the best we’ve got. The rest of my officers and army are captured or presumed dead.’ The water did nothing to prevent his voice hoarsening with the last words.
‘Gods,’ Hadir murmured. ‘My condolences, sir. Do you know the number you bring with you?’
Screams rang in Mace’s ears. So many losses. ‘Almost two thousand Rankers and Wolves who need rest and healing, though the badly wounded were left behind or died on the journey. Nearly four thousand civilians. I know rationing will be a problem, but I wasn’t leaving them to the Mireces.’
Hadir just nodded, a crease between his eyebrows