THE
ISLE OF BATTLE
Book Two of the Swans’ War
SEAN RUSSELL
This book is dedicated to two fine gentlemen:
Stephen Donaldson, and my agent Howard Morhaim.
Their friendship, support, and wisdom have
been indispensable.
Contents
This book is dedicated to. . .
Torches guttered and flared, haloed in the mist that boiled. . . 6
Alaan went down, too quickly, slipped and slammed his knee. . . 18
The great gate to Castle Renné stood closed, though Lord. . . 33
They found Baore hunched over, staring into the flames of a. . . 38
They carried the man in on a litter, his magistrate’s costume. . . 40
Alaan woke to daylight and found himself not only alone but. . . 54
The ringing persisted above all else, like some aural manifestation. . . 59
Beldor crept clumsily through the bush, scaring any game away. . . 66
The bruised face of the moon gazed down into Llyn’s garden,. . . 72
An early morning mist lay in tatters over the Wynnd, blotting. . . 77
It seemed that Hafydd’s ability to trace Sianon’s movements. . . 94
The two parties of armed, mounted men met at a ford in a. . . 98
Alaan hobbled about his island, chilled now, though he had. . . 103
Hafydd had them riding again the moment dawn was even a. . . 115
The visitor was white-haired and ancient. He wore clothes that. . . 118
“It was a simple funeral,” Lady Beat rice said, “the. . . 123
A man on foot came pounding up the path. Dease watched him. . . 127
Toren found A’brgail in a small grove of trees. Candles on long. . . 143
They had performed rites for Arden Renné the previous day,. . . 149
“They are Renné,” Elise said softly. “They want revenge.”. . . 152
They were wet, bruised, bloody, and foul-tempered when they. . . 158
Hafydd looked out over the cloud-drowned swamp.. . . 163
The island seemed to rise up out of the waters before them,. . . 173
She wondered if it were merely curiosity, this strong desire to see. . . 179
A’brgail crouched near to the ground, a dagger in his hand.. . . 183
Alaan stumbled and fell, but instead of striking flat stone, he. . . 186
“I have never been put off so graciously in my life,” Lord Carral. . . 193
It was a long, musical flight of stairs, each tread creaking a. . . 204
Hafydd was gone. Elise held the blade in the water, her eyes. . . 212
They all stood. That was the first thing that struck Lady. . . 215
The creak of leather and fetor of horses had become oppressive,. . . 223
Currents gripped the barge, pulling it this way and that without. . . 228
Alaan woke to find himself being dragged across the. . . 231
Lord Carral sat in a camp chair beneath a rippling sailcloth spread. . . 233
Above the sound of slaughter Carral could hear the banners. . . 243
The barges and planks of the floating bridge blazed so that thick. . . 262
They did not go quite so quickly that morning, though the track. . . 267
They had passed through a fog so dense the boat’s bow could. . . 279
He felt the rise and fall and the soft lapping of water across his. . . 283
Orlem gazed at himself in the pool, a large man dressed in a. . . 288
Lord Carl saw the keep in the distance, down the long line of. . . 296
Dawn was but a diminishment of darkness. Orlem rousted out. . . 304
Samul Renné appeared, wet to the knees, with a pair of. . . 308
Hafydd loomed out of the mist, a dark and silent presence, and. . . 323
The squealing of Kai’s barr ow wheel had become so aggr avating,. . . 326
Lady Beatrice drifted out onto the balcony like a ghost, Llyn. . . 332
He slipped out through the gate wheeling a slaughtered hog in. . . 334
Prince Michael could not sleep. A stone dug into his ribs but he. . . 365
The giant whom Elise called Orlem helped her ashore, his own. . . 375
“They have found each other,” A’brgail said. He held a. . . 382
Hafydd crouched low on the island’s shore. His blade was in the. . . 392
Lord Carl was on his feet, though he could not shake a deep. . . 396
It was an eerie sensation, Carral thought. He could not, of. . . 405
Elise had fallen asleep, if sleep one would call it. Baore was so. . . 408
A path of bubbles, delicate stepping-stones, stretched out into. . .. . . 425
“I led them here,” Elise was saying as Tam and Cynddl arrived. . .. 436
It was said that the Wynnd was a haunted river—a river of many mysteries and many branches that took men places none had seen before. A sorcerer was said to sleep in the deep, cool waters, dreaming of an ancient kingdom divided and brought to ruin. Wyrr was the sorcerer’s name, and his token had been the double swan.
A thousand years after the sorcerer gave himself to the river, two families went to war for the throne of the Kingdom of Ayr. They warred until there was no kingdom and no throne, but only their abiding enmity, which they passed down from one generation to the next, like a disease. These families were the Renné and the Wills, and their banners bore the double swan.
The Swans’War persisted for generations, driving many from the heart of the old kingdom to the farthest reaches of the land between the mountains. There they hoped to find peace and forget their pasts. A small number even reached the Vale of Lakes in the most distant north, but the Vale lay at the headwaters of the River Wynnd, and from time to time the currents drew the unwary away on strange journeys.
Tam, Fynnol, and Baore were three young Valemen of uncommon curiosity and unexpected tenacity. Unlike most of their kin, who wished to forget the past, these young men dug through an ancient battlefield searching for artifacts which they hoped to carry down the River Wynnd and trade for horses. But as they delved into the old meadows by Telanon Bridge, a traveler came and spent the evening by their campfire, charming them with stories of distant places.
That night, as they slept, armed men found them in the dark and would have murdered them had not the stranger, Alaan, led them to safety, holding the bridge so they could escape, but at the cost of his life.
The three young men from the Vale spent the night hidden among rocks in the river, and when the sun rose, they found the boat with their artifacts in it had been cut free and sent down the river. The men-at-arms who had attacked them were not to be found, but instead a caravan of “black wanderers” appeared: the dark-haired, dark-eyed Fáel on their spring pilgrimage to the north.
The Fáel were a mystery to the other peoples of the land between the mountains, believing in vision weavers and story finders and all manner of ghosts and spirits. This band of Fáel had brought Cynddl, a story finder, with them, and he offered to pay the Valemen to take him down the river so that he might “listen” to its tales, that they not be lost. Seeing a chance to recover their hoped-for adventure, Tam, Fynnol, Baore, and Cynddl set off into the wildlands down a haunted river.
They did not know that the men-at-arms who had tried to murder them at Telanon Bridge were seeking them still. To their horror, they were hunted down the length of the Wynnd and were forced to fight desperately to preserve their lives. By night an apparition haunted them, watching Baore as though he drew the thing to him, though he feared it like Death itself.
The River Wynnd lived up to its reputation, and carried the travelers along secret branchings, into strange landscapes where they found long-extinct animals and peculiar people.
Far to the south, the Renné and the Wills prepared for war again, and an arranged marriage between Elise Wills, heir presumptive to a nonexistent throne, and Prince Michael of Innes would give the Wills the wealth and the armies they needed.
But Lady Elise had a mind of her own, and she went to her father, the blind minstrel, Carral Wills, and told him she would not marry this prince and see the war begin again. With the help of a group of minstrels, she slipped out of her family’s castle and fled, taking a boat on the River Wynnd.
Traveling south by night, the Valemen ran ashore upon an island that appeared on no map of the river. There they met an old scholar who called himself Eber son of Eiresit. He dwelt in the uninhabited wildlands with his servants and young son, Llya, who had not the power of speech. Eber told them that the river tried to speak to him but he could not understand it.
Days later, as they continued their journey, a messenger from Eber, a traveler named Theason Hollyoak, caught up with them and told them that the river spirit that followed them was a nagar, and to escape it they must leave the Greensprings—as the Fáel called the wildlands—with all speed. Pursued by men-at-arms and a nagar, the Valemen and their Fáel story finder pushed south.
But nothing could be predicted when traveling on the River Wynnd, and the Valemen saved three minstrels whose boat was sinking. One of these minstrels was Elise Wills, traveling under another name and putting her father’s musical training to good use in her bid to escape Prince Neit of Innes—Prince Michael’s father—and his counselor.
All were going to the tournament at the Westbrook Fair, where the Valemen had learned that Alaan, the stranger they met by Telanon Bridge, was still alive and planning to sell their artifacts.
The fair was the focus of many plans that summer, for the cousins of Toren Renné conspired to end his life there and cast the blame on the Wills. Samul, Arden, Beldor, and Dease believed that Toren’s attempts to reconcile with their enemy, the Wills, had to be stopped or they would bring the family to ruin.
Cynddl and his companions from the Vale took Elise Wills to a Fáel encampment near the fair, but her presence became known to Sir Eremon, a knight rumored to have once gone by the name of Hafydd. . . though Hafydd had been dead for years. Sir Eremon, who was a counselor to Prince Neit, sent his guards to steal Elise away.
Alaan appeared and convinced the Valemen to aid him in rescuing Elise Wills at the Renné costume ball that would end the fair. He also recruited Elise’s betrothed, Prince Michael, and a champion of the tournament named Pwyll Stagshanks, a man-at-arms who had proven himself equal to the best knights in the land.
Sir Eremon, however, thwarted Alaan’s attempt and chased him into the hidden lands. The Valemen escaped with their lives, but learned that Elise Wills had thrown herself into the river, in despair at ever escaping.
The Renné conspirators tried to murder Toren but instead killed one of their own—Arden, who had gone to Toren to admit his part in the planned murder. Everything appeared to have gone awry with the most tragic results.
And so begins our story, on that night of the Renné Ball, beneath a full moon, in the land between the mountains.