Stranded: Heart of Black Ice Bay - 11. Return

Leonmarkh stood at the hut's threshold, looking inside and surveying the room one last time, before nodding his approval and pulling the door closed. They would leave the shelter in much the same state as it had been found. Brathay stood by watching, feeling lightheaded, unsure whether he was up to the journey back. But he would not show any weakness in front of Leonmarkh.

"When the weather improves, before I return to Khloradich, I will revisit this place and do a better job of repairing and tidying. Selfless and good-spirited kindness of this nature should be repaid in kind.”

"And if you do, I would like to accompany you. If you will allow me?"

"We shall see."

Even though Brathay had felt a distinct connection between them during their time in the hut, Leonmarkh’s dismissive comment felt as though he might now be pushing away. Leonmarkh hesitated a moment, deep in thought, before twisting around to stare out over the lake.

"For the sake of our credibility, Brathay, I think it would be wise to abridge the retelling of our experience here. Naturally, we will be expected to explain our tardiness, and detailing your accident makes sense. But I recommend we do not mention the presence in the lake and, more importantly, the crystals. What do you say?"

"I agree."

“And are you sure you feel strong enough to bear them?”

As usual, Leonmarkh carried far more baggage than Brathay. Even if he had felt overburdened, he would bear the load and say nothing.

“I am sure I will be fine. If not, I will let you know.”

As they crossed the surface of the lake, Brathay stayed close to Leonmarkh. They took the farthest route Leonmarkh had initially recommended, and, just as he had stated, even though the snow ran deeper there, they walked across an unmoving table of solid ice. Even so, Brathay let out a deep breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding in as he stepped onto the shore. When Leonmarkh continued on, Brathay turned back to the lake and bowed his head to whatever creature had come to his aid. One day, even without Leonmarkh if necessary, he vowed he would return.

They had climbed to the raised forest plateau by late afternoon. Brathay had asked to stop a number of times to catch his breath. Thankfully, Leonmarkh did not insist on taking the exposed lower route around the plateau but led them up to the level of the woodland. Quite sensibly, in Brathay's opinion, he suggested they remain close to the inside edge of the forest to keep an eye on the fading light and any change in the weather. As they walked, Brathay felt vindicated. Moving through the inner sanctum turned out not only to be quicker and easier underfoot, but the thick trees also gave them welcome protection from the chill winds that had begun to whip up. Not long after they had started walking, Leonmarkh stopped and moved over to the edge, to stare at something below.

"What are you seeking?" asked Brathay, standing behind him.

"Has fresh snow fallen?"

"Since we set off this morning? No, I do not think so."

"Neither do I. But then where is the original path we trod?”

Brathay stared hard below before moving forward and finally seeing the narrow track directly below where they stood. The snow had been deep, and the furrow they had left behind was still visible but became shallower as they had moved further onwards.

"Straight down. But be careful. The drop is sheer."

Leonmarkh moved forward, an arm hooked around a thin trunk, the other on his wooden staff planted into the ground as he studied the view below. While he looked to the left and right, Brathay joined him, trying to work out what he sought.

"Maybe your eyesight is better than mine," said Leonmarkh. "How many sets of prints do you see?"

"Two, of course. Yours and mine."

"I see," said Leonmarkh, stepping back into the woods and continuing on his way. Brathay hesitated a moment. By the fading light, he strained his eyes to where the snow had become shallower. Discerning with any accuracy was almost impossible from their vantage point, but there may have been someone else's prints commingled with their own. Brathay raced to catch up. Leonmarkh said nothing more but continued forging ahead through the trees.

“Was there another set of prints? Is that what you saw? A wild animal, perhaps?"

"Perhaps."

"You think someone or something followed us."

The words came out as a statement, not a question. Once again, Leonmarkh said nothing and continued to move forward.

"On the trip here," continued Brathay, "you were constantly looking back the way we had come, insisting on taking the longest routes—the exposed ones—to get to our destination. Is that why you made us remain in the open and climb that hill? So you could see if anyone had followed us? But who would want to do that? And to what end?"

"Hush, Brathay. This also you do not mention upon our return. Come, the light is fading."

Leonmarkh continued to move onward.

"Enough, Leonmarkh. Stop now," said Brathay, standing his ground until he had the lord's attention. "Maybe I did not make myself clear earlier, but I am with you, and I am going to help you. Whether you like it or not. You can either lock yourself away in your chambers when we return, while I blunder around talking to your people and trying to prise information out of them—which is likely to make me even more visible and unpopular than I already am—or you can confide in me so that I act as another pair of eyes. Which is it to be?"

"Brathay. What you don't know makes you—"

"Powerless? Ignorant?"

"Guiltless."

"Too late for that. We already share secrets. But I hope you know me well enough to know that I will never disclose them to anybody. You have my word. So the question remains the same as ever, the question of whether you trust me."

"You already know the answer to that. Of course I do."

"Then let me help you. There is nothing noble about refusing aid freely offered by someone you can trust. But you need to talk to me, give me more than hints and riddles—and footprints."

Leonmarkh stood in the gloom staring back. Brathay quietened his breathing, restraining the urge to say any more and further his case. He had said enough. Whatever Leonmarkh decided now would be final.

"There is much to tell."

Brathay's spirits rose when he heard the stubborn resolve faltering in Leonmarkh's voice, and he hurried to press his advantage. Moving forward to stand before Leonmarkh, he placed a hand on his arm, a simple gesture of solidarity.

"Then we are fortunate to have time on our hands, a time when we have little else to do than walk and talk. Moreover, doing so will help to pass that time."

Only then, in that brief moment of vulnerability, as the lord smiled falteringly and his features relaxed, did Brathay realise the extent of the strain and enormous pressure Lord Leonmarkh had been under. Had he been fighting alone? What about the solid wall of captains surrounding him? Did he trust none of them? As soon as Brathay fell into step beside him, Leonmarkh began talking.

"I believe you have already met the Lady Valisqua before you left Aulderly?"

"Your mother?"

"Not my mother. Officially, her title is the first duchess. My mother was the second."

Leonmarkh told how the first duchess, after giving birth to Charteris and Jacomine, felt she had fulfilled her royal duty as heir provider. For his part, the duke wanted more offspring, citing Jacomine's ailing health. All this happened long before Leonmarkh was born. They came to an arrangement where the duchess would remain an integral part of the household, and the duke would be allowed to remarry a younger woman. Princess Clorrice of Branersh, cousin to the crown prince and future king of Braggadach, became the duke's second wife and the second duchess. Theirs turned out to be a happy marriage until her untimely death, three days before Leonmarkh's twentieth birthday.

"Few appreciate the challenges of being part of a high profile and complex family such as ours, and it would take hours to explain all the nuances. I loved my father dearly, but he had the impossible task of keeping everyone happy; his first family members, the courtiers and counsellors, as well as his people. He had precious little time for us. And by the time I came along, my mother had already become his principal adviser. Everyone across the kingdom respected and listened to her, none more so than her cousin, King Bruckbar. Together with the duke, they worked tirelessly to bring the houses of the kingdom into line. The downside for my sister and I was that Mother spent months away from home. Not that she ever neglected us. Never once did she ignore her duty as our main protector. But when you are not present, when you are not personally watching over someone, and have no choice but to put your faith in others to do the job for you, you do not expect those people to be the very predators from which you are trying to protect your children."

Brathay hiked in a breath. "Are you saying what I think you are saying? That you were—"

"As a young child, I had good looks and innocence. But I was not stupid. He used to call me his little cirroccho, which, where I come from, is the pet name for a wild squirrel. My uncle discovered a truth in me that even I, on the cusp of adolescence, had yet to realise about myself. But it took me too long to interpret the affections of this close uncle as something improper. You see, he never touched me inappropriately himself. He gathered other boys—older boys—to play out his fantasies while he watched on. My pain became his pleasure. When I eventually told him I would no longer go along with his games, as he knew I would, he had been ready for me. And when someone you thought you loved warns you that if you do not comply with them, they have the power at their disposal to destroy your family—well—even a child will listen."

Revulsion twisted in Brathay’s stomach as he sidestepped the silhouetted thin trees, growing darker in the failing light. He followed Leonmarkh's voice, who strode on uncaring, the words appearing to fall from him freely like an absolution.

"He understood my temperament well, knew I would ultimately stand up to him. So he spelt out clearly that if I so much as breathed a word to my father, he and his shadows would not only ensure my mother met with an untimely end and bring treasonous claims about my father before the court of the king, but would also deliver my sister to men who had a taste for underage girls of high breeding. What he did to me physically was nothing compared to the dread he poured into me, something I feel to this day. I did not to accept the invitation to study at the institute because I realised the best way to keep the peace was to remain within his grasp. And while I did, I learnt much from him, about politics, about pulling strings from the shadows, putting people in positions of power where you can manipulate them. I also, by association, learnt about the machinations of those vying for control, those who, for one reason or another, had fallen out of favour with my father. I used the unique talents I had learned from my uncle, used them covertly to stop him and his agents."

"How could you stand being there?"

"Every day was a living agony. But when a person chooses to live among snakes, they must accept the pain of being bitten in order to become immune to the venom. Besides, by staying in the snake pit as long as I did, I got to learn much, as well as when and where the next strike against my father was likely to occur."

"Does anyone else know any of this?"

Brathay noticed they had begun to move diagonally to avoid trees in their way and could no longer see the light of the boundary. Leonmarkh did not seem concerned and carried on talking.

"Not in so much detail. I think my sister suspected but never challenged me. The day she married and moved to Cormaland, a huge weight lifted from me. A few years afterwards, my uncle vanished into the night. Nobody knew a thing. Even his cunning assembly of deceivers could find out nothing. To this day I have no idea how he found out that I had been planning his disappearance with the help of my mother, to have him fettered and banished from the kingdom, put on a ship bound for another shore. At the time, I feared my mother’s personal solution had outranked my own. I wish you had known her. In all things, she was calm and kind, would listen patiently before providing an answer or advice, and was never quick to judge. And her counsel would always carry so much sense. But seeing her face that day when I told her everything about him and seeing those lovely eyes coalesce darkly scared even me. My father once described her as a lioness. I believe my uncle learnt the grim lesson of messing with her cub. What I failed to appreciate, being essentially imprisoned for most of my young life within the confines of the palace in Khloradich and being surrounded by Braggadachi, was that my mother had made powerful friends in other regions. The Brox elite guard, for example, with their midnight skin and feline stealth, are unequalled in their ability to make problems disappear. At night or in the shadows, they are essentially invisible until the moment cold steel touches your throat. My uncle underestimated my mother. Something a person only ever did once. She told me she had no hand in his disappearance. I did not believe her, but we never spoke of the matter again.”

Dusk had begun to take hold, and Brathay felt a tremor of anxiousness as they continued to navigate the thick darkness of the forest. But Leonmarkh strode forward confidently, and Brathay followed.

“I had already calculated that his departure would leave many nobles, including my father, mystified. Popular and informed, his sound advice was sought by many. Which is why carefully placed rumours began to surface about treasonous plots with foreign powers to support his claim to the dukedom. With him gone, even some of his former aides betrayed his name, bolstering the stories against him with tales of their own. My uncle taught me well that some people will do anything for the right coin. Apart from my mother, the only other person unmoved and unshocked by his sudden disappearance was the Lady Valisqua, which, I must confess, surprised even me.”

"How so?"

"Because she is his sister. In the weeks and months that followed, things gradually improved—until that dreadful day when my mother passed. Without warning, her heart simply gave out. And no, before you ask, there was nothing suspicious in her death. But when she left us, we all fell to pieces with the loss of our guiding light, even Charteris and Jacomine, who thought of her as a wise sister. My father carried on ruling, but he too was broken. He died in his sleep three years later. Not long after Charteris became the duke, I heard a rumour that my uncle had resurfaced in Cragginch, in northern Braggadach."

With the failing light, Brathay's hearing had sharpened, his attention heightened, listening out for every tiny sound within the forest, to the soft snap of a twig, to the flutter of wings in the trees above them. He had many questions to ask, but he left them unspoken because he did not want to interrupt Leonmarkh's flow.

“And that caused me concern. You see, when you cut out a canker, there are often fragments left behind. Those people I knew I could not trust had already been dealt with. Others, those who bend with the wind and whose allegiances are given to the highest bidder, were more difficult to single out. With my uncle gone, many of them melted back into the masonry, down with the rats and the snakes. But by simple reasoning, if I had heard rumour of his return, then others would know and would choose to align themselves with him. And if indeed he still had high ambition—especially with my mother and father no longer alive to challenge him—then his first task would be retribution, to repay the humiliation I doled out to him with the help of my mother. Which is why I petitioned the king for the role of Watchman—"

"Stop!"

Brathay grabbed Leonmarkh's arm just in time to stop him from stepping into a trough. Barely visible in the gloom, a broad dark line cut across the forest floor in front of them. Leonmarkh froze and looked down—but appeared unfazed at the danger. He turned to Brathay, breathing heavily, his face shadowed but eyes bright and wide. He clearly needed to finish speaking.

"Even here in the far north I know he will come for me. Or have someone do the work for him. Which is why I am constantly vigilant. Usually. I apologise that I am doing a poor job of being so right now."

Brathay nodded and moved beside him, trying to assess the extent of their danger. But in the obscurity of the glade, there was no way to know how deep the trench ran. Moving to one side, he noticed the silhouette of a sturdy bough that had fallen across the channel, thick enough for them to walk across. Even before Brathay began to point out the trunk, Leonmarkh had started moving. Maybe because of a change in the light across the glade, but something caught Brathay's attention on the other side of the ravine, a bulky shadow on all fours moving their way.

"Leonmarkh. Look across the trench. Do you see what I see?"

Leonmarkh halted mere steps before the tree trunk and removed his sword from the scabbard. Either in response or noticing the pair for the first time, the shadow rose from the ground, morphing into the silhouette of what appeared to be a Ligger-sized human. As they stood there, the creature emitted a soft mumble which turned into a louder bellow. Brathay had never encountered bears in the wild before but had read enough about them to know humans avoided them. Just as he began to suggest they find another way across the void, he noticed Leonmarkh turning to him and levelling the point of his sword at Brathay's chest.

"What is happening to you?" Leonmarkh asked softly but urgently.

"To me? What do you mean?"

"Your chest. Look down at your chest."

When Brathay peered down, he saw a bright glow from beneath his clothing, lighting his chest. He unhooked his overshirt, ignoring the sudden cold air on his skin, and pulled the material down to reveal his mother's trinket hanging from his neck and shining with bright white illumination. As the light filled the space, the bear let out another gargled bellow which almost seemed to contain a command. With that, the beast dropped back on all fours and began to turn, to head away very slowly, before stopping and looking back at them.

"What is happening?" asked Leonmarkh, his astonished face lit by the charm. "Does the light not burn into your chest?"

"I feel nothing. Until you spoke, I had no idea this was happening. And I have abandoned making sense of this day. But I do believe we may have lost our way. Please do not think me crazed, Leonmarkh, but I feel the creature wishes us to follow it.”

For the first time since he had started speaking, Leonmarkh peered slowly around himself, and Brathay could see the realisation dawn. Eventually, his gaze settled on the waiting bear.

"We have wandered from our path. The blame is mine. I should not have spoken so freely and openly. As I said, I was not paying careful attention."

"Forgive me, Leonmarkh, but I had the sense you needed to speak your truth to someone. All of it. And I am glad that person was me. But I feel we should put our trust in the unknown right now. What do you think?"

Leonmarkh took a deep, steadying breath before sheathing his sword.

"I hope I do not regret this."

“As do I.”

Brathay kept his shirt undone to allow light to filter out across the chasm. Leonmarkh led the way, stepping carefully but confidently onto the fallen trunk, bridging the gap. Once Brathay had joined him on the far side, they turned to the direction of the bear, which had already started moving onward.

“Can I ask, your lordship?" Brathay broke the silence needing to know more about Leonmarkh's plight. "Do you have faith in your captains?"

At first, Leonmarkh said nothing but continued trailing the shadow of the bear.

"Faith. An interesting concept. Do I have faith that each of them will do their job to the best of their abilities? Yes, without reservation. Each is hand-picked by me, as are the elite band of fifty soldiers who have accompanied me. You asked me once why I have only fifty. The true answer is because the keep can be run adequately with that number, and also because fifty is an easier number to watch over and control than five hundred. Even so, do I have faith in all of them standing by me if circumstances were to change? That I cannot answer. Loyalties can easily apostatise if people believe the lies they are fed. I have witnessed as much during my short life.”

Leonmarkh stopped speaking, as though thinking over the words he had released. His heavy breathing sounded laboured in the gloom. Brathay thought he had finished talking altogether and was about to speak, but Leonmarkh continued on.

“Only Zhorman has been with me since childhood. He is around the same age as Charteris, more than twice my age. They were best friends growing up, and Charteris had him agree to become my mentor. Zhorman, I believe, would take a sword for me. But you see, I cannot confide in him as I have in you because my brother petitioned him to watch over me as a child when my family could not, something he committed to unreservedly. If I tell you he was another of those devastated when he found out my uncle—a man he trusted and respected—had tried to betray us, then you might understand what I am saying. I fear that finding out the full extent of my uncle's treachery and perversion while I was under his guardianship might undo him."

Brathay felt the full weight of Leonmarkh's words. What kind of childhood had he suffered? What life did he have to be constantly on guard with so few he could trust?

"How have you kept going, Lord Leonmarkh? Where have you found the courage and the will to survive?"

"There are those I need to protect. Even now. While they need me, I will continue to fight."

Illuminated by the trinket, they followed a crisscross path through the forest until Brathay pointed out the thinning of the trees. Before reaching the periphery, the bear turned away to the left, looked at them one time and let out a soft low mumble before moving away into the undergrowth.

"It seems there is much we cannot speak of this day," said Brathay, as he came to a stop beside Leonmarkh and as the glow from the stone faded to dullness. Pausing before their climb down, Brathay pushed his locket back beneath his shirt and retied his clothes to ward him from fresh icy winds.

By the time they had descended the plateau, darkness had fallen. Brathay needed all of his remaining energy and concentration to tackle the steep descent. By a stroke of luck, the winds had blown away many of the clouds, and a full moon intermittently lit their way. Moreover, although he had discerned their original footfalls on the way down, he had spotted no additional sets of prints. Perhaps Leonmarkh had been wrong.

When they rounded a tall bush, Brathay heard Leonmarkh breathe out a sigh of relief as he made out their steeds standing outside the cave, the horses alert at having clearly heard their approach. Brathay almost cried at the comforting thought of being able to ride the rest of the way home.

"Even without daylight," said Leonmarkh, petting his mare, "she could have probably found her own way back to the keep from here unaided. The track is not narrow and there has been no further fall of snow. But we will not chance moving faster than a walk. If clouds begin to fill the sky and block out the moonlight, I have a lantern in my pack. If the need arises, we will stop so that I can provide light to guide us home."

Within minutes they had mounted their steeds, the eager relief of the horses to be heading home as palpable as in each rider. Leonmarkh led the way along paths bathed in moonlight and luminescent snow. By the time they reached the rise in the track leading up to the path around the top of Black Ice Bay, at least two hours had passed. Dark clouds from the northeast had begun to roll in, to snuff out the glitter of stars.

"That does not bode well," said Leonmarkh. "I fear rain or snow is headed our way."

"Then let us hope your soldiers foraged well."

Brathay could not help feeling the sense of relief as they crested the rise and lights from the village twinkled into view, followed by the imposing sight of his new home. Ironic, he mused, considering his trepidation he had felt when he initially approached the keep. A warm orange glow emanated from somewhere high on the keep wall.

"Looks as though someone has lit a fire to welcome us," said Brathay, until he noticed Leonmarkh's silhouette stiffen before bringing his horse to a stop.

"Not a home fire, Brathay," said Leonmarkh.

Brathay drew his steed alongside and noticed the lord staring fearfully ahead, his eyes reflecting the distant blaze, his brow furrowed deeply.

"The beacon has been lit."