The Devil's armour

43

Grimhold was more than a mountain keep. It was also a village, tucked happily into a mountain valley, basking safely in the shadow of its ancient namesake. While the Akari had built the first Grimhold, it was the Inhumans who had built the village, escaping from the confines of the dark keep to enjoy the warmth of the desert and its surprising bounty. They had thrived in their village, too, building homes and digging wells and birthing healthy children who did not require the aid of Akari spirits to see or walk. For all Inhumans save one, the sunny village was a welcome oasis. Only White-Eye with her aversion to the sun could not fully appreciate the joys of the place.

Still, White-Eye did venture to the village on occasion, travelling with Minikin under the safety of darkness to avoid the great pains to her blind eyes. Since the devastating battle in Jador, Minikin had kept mostly to herself. It was White-Eye who had finally convinced her to leave behind her lonely chambers and venture to the village. Under the pretence of visiting old friends, White-Eye had gone along with Minikin and together they had stayed for two days in the home of an Inhuman named Longshort. As his name implied, Longshort had one leg longer than the other and a predominant limp that made walking painful for him. He also had a brood of children so lively that visiting with them took Minikin’s troubles away. The medicine had worked as White-Eye had hoped, and although she could not play outside with the children in daylight she could nevertheless hear their happy cries through the windows, which were all shuttered tight to keep her safe from the sun.

White-Eye did not miss her chamber in the keep. For her, coming to the village was a rare treat, and she intended to enjoy every bit of it. Her only grievance was that Gilwyn had not come to join her. She knew, however, that he could not, for the battle had left Jador in worse shape than ever, and he was sorely needed now that Lukien was gone and Minikin’s mindset had soured. Instead of pining for Gilwyn, White-Eye spent her time making sure that Minikin was amused and that she spent little time musing over the murder she had committed. It seemed not to matter to Minikin that Aztar and his raiders had deserved their fate, or that it was they who had started the war. For Minikin, the horror of what she had done rang in her mind, driving her depression. Thankfully, Longshort and his children had done wonders for her. After two days with them, the little mistress had at last rediscovered her infectious smile.

That night, White-Eye slept peacefully. Because the home was modest, Longshort’s wife had made up a bed for her in the main living area near the hearth. It was mostly just the floor covered with pillows, but it was comfortable for White-Eye, who had decided not to go to bed until very late so that she could enjoy the outside. Starlight was blessedly harmless to White-Eye, and the desert night was full of stars. Long after the children had been put to bed and Longshort, his wife, and Minikin retired, White-Eye had remained out in the night. The fresh air exhausted her, though, and when she did finally sleep it was deep and sound. .

Until a terrible vision seized her.

She awoke while it was still night. The fire in the hearth had died to embers. Darkness crowded around her. Silence filled the tiny home, but in her head White-Eye heard the most determined screams, thundering in her mind, threatening to crack her skull. She sat up gasping, trying hard to catch her breath. Through Faralok she could ‘see’ the room, but the screams in her head crowded out his calming, constant voice.

‘Gilwyn. .’

Somehow, the sound was Gilwyn. The screams were his; she knew they were. He was very near, calling for her. Her heart began to pound.

‘Gilwyn, I hear you,’ she said, not really hearing her own voice. The world around her became a dark and hazy hall, not at all the clear vision Faralok provided. Still, only one thought consumed her foggy mind — helping Gilwyn.

She threw the covers off her nightgowned body and jumped to her naked feet. It did not occur to her to call for Minikin or the others. Almost nothing occurred to her. She briefly wondered if she were really awake, but the cold floor beneath her toes told her the truth. Groping through the darkness, she stumbled toward the door and opened it. When she did the screams in her head grew louder. Gilwyn was outside, just outside and calling for her.

‘I’m coming,’ she told him, trying to shout but unable to raise her voice. She was enormously tired, moving as if drunk. Her own sluggishness put a question in her mind, but that too was quashed by the need to help Gilwyn. Panicked, she stepped outside the house and looked around the gloomy night. All the homes nearby were dark. Everyone slept. White-Eye took another cautious step. Where was he? Where was Gilwyn?

‘Gilwyn, I can’t find you!’ she cried. ‘Help me. Tell me where you are!’

Again the cries collided in her mind. Again she tried to fix on Faralok. The Akari was there, but just out of reach. She could almost see him, grasping for her. He looked desperate.

‘Faralok, I have to find Gilwyn! Stay with me — help me find him!’

Did he hear her? Did anyone? White-Eye didn’t know, but Gilwyn was very near and needed her.

So she ran.

She did not feel the stones cut her feet or the wind tear at her gown. She saw only the looming village and the great desert beyond, and driven on by Gilwyn’s calls she ran to the desert, bumbling blindly through the avenue. Within a mile she was out of breath and well into the desert now. She went on, not really feeling her exhaustion or the burning in her lungs. She began to cry, completely confused, wondering how to make the terrible screams stop.

Only finding Gilwyn, she decided, and pressed on.

White-Eye lost her sense of time. Her mind and body moved but were severed from each other. The cries went on, unabated. An hour passed, and then another. By now she was deep within the desert, not really sure where she was or where she was going. She had the notion that the village was only a few yards away, but when she turned around she could not see it at all, not its torchlight or even the slightest outline of a building.

White-Eye stopped and became afraid. The fog that had seized her began to lift. Suddenly the haze was gone. She could almost feel Faralok again. She wondered briefly what had happened, thinking it all a terrible dream. But she was alone, nearly undressed, and all around her was the desert. She turned to see the sky overhead, swallowing her.

‘Gilwyn?’

Her voice was meek and feckless. Gilwyn was nowhere near her. She realised he had never been near, nor had he screamed for her at all.

‘What’s happening? Faralok. .?’

Faralok reached for her. She could feel his comforting embrace starting to wrap around her like a mantle. Finally she could see more clearly. She smiled, greatly relieved, then noticed it was only the sun coming up.

The unforgiving lord of the desert.

‘Great Fate. .’

White-Eye looked about desperately. She wanted to bolt, but there was nowhere to run. She was lost and the village was gone. The mountains in the distance looked wholly unfamiliar. She ran for them, knowing it was impossible to reach them. Slowly, horribly, the sun ascended the horizon, striking her skin and clawing at her sightless eyes. The pain of it made tears run. She closed her eyes, shutting out the worst of it as she scrambled for the mountains, the only shelter she could detect for miles.

‘Help!’ she cried, her eyes shut tight, her naked feet tumbling through the sand. ‘Help me!’

No one heard her. She knew that no one would. She stumbled, falling to her knees, cupping her hands over her eyes. The pain became enormous with every bit of sunlight that filtered through her fingers. The slight redness on her eyelids intensified. Suddenly she could no longer feel Faralok, only the desperate scratching of his spirit-hands as they reached for her across the void. The pain was driving him away. The pain kept her from concentrating.

Concentrating will bring him back! she told herself. Hold on! Hold on!

With her hands over her eyes she rose unsteadily to her feet, but without Faralok she was blind and not even sure where the mountains lay.

Straight ahead, she urged. Walk straight ahead.

Every step was an agony. Exhausted, her body aching, her hands slipped down from her face as she fought to balance herself, stabbing her closed eyes with red beams of sunlight. White-Eye gasped as her head exploded with pain. Again her knees buckled, dragging her down to the sand. All at once the weight of her predicament fell on her, crushing her. She began to sob, crying out for Faralok. The Akari was gone. She was completely alone, a feeling she had forgotten but which now sent her spinning. Mad with fear and pain she collapsed into the sand, burying her face so that the sun could not find her.

The worst darkness she had ever known filled the void left by Faralok.