Bridge of Souls by Fiona McIntosh Page B

battle cry? Or speak to him in the way Wyl would? Nothing added up, and the King’s belief that Koreldy would return to rescue him further muddied the waters of his thoughts.
    Gueryn was sitting in the corner of his cell, once again remembering Elspyth’s death, for which he could never forgive himself, when he heard the key turning in the lock.
    “You’re early, Haz,” he mumbled. He had no real knowledge of time, but his body and its regular functions gave him reasonable clues. And his body was not yet hungry.
    A huge man stepped into the cell, a man he had never seen before. “Gueryn le Gant?”
    Gueryn nodded, searching for a pithy rejoinder—any attack on his keepers felt good. “Who else did you expect?”
    The man grinned, which confused him, and turned to nod to another person outside. Gueryn was sure he heard Myrt’s voice saying that he would keep watch.
    “What’s going on?” he asked, alarm bells suddenly klaxoning in his mind.
    “I have very little time, so you must listen as I explain something quickly. And you’re going to have to trust me.”
    “Why would I trust you?”
    “I’m a Grenadyne, not one of the Razor People. And there’s a single word I can say that I believe will make you trust me.”
    “Oh yes? What’s that, Grenadyne?”
    “Thirsk,” Aremys replied abruptly. “Now hear me out. No interruptions. I am friend, not foe.”
    The name Thirsk was like a slap in the face. The big man had Gueryn’s full attention.
    “My name is Aremys Farrow. I am a mercenary and was employed by your king to hunt down and kill Ylena Thirsk.”
    “What?” roared Gueryn, pushing himself to his feet.
    “I said, don’t interrupt, soldier,” Aremys warned. “I found Ylena, but instead of killing her, I took her to safety into the north of Briavel, where we parted company. I hope she has made it south to Queen Valentyna. I won’t go into how I got to be here, but rest assured, although I might look like a free man, I’m as much a captive as you are. Cailech plans to use me to negotiate a parley with King Celimus. If I’m successful I might win my freedom, in which case I’ll go looking for Ylena again and offer my protection. There is another woman—someone you know—who holds strong affection for a man called Lothryn. I understand that Lothryn betrayed the Mountain People in helping you, Koreldy, and this woman, Elspyth, to escape. Now that I’ve found you, as I promised YlenaI would,” Aremys lied, “I’m determined to find Lothryn as well. My instincts tell me the King has kept him alive in order to make the punishment—whatever it is—of aiding your attempted escape the sweeter. You should know that Koreldy is dead.” Gueryn closed his eyes as he heard this. “And that somehow I am going to get you out of here.”
    Aremys stopped. It was obvious he was sharing too much information; the prisoner looked too shocked to respond.
    Then the Morgravian began to laugh. It was not the reaction Aremys had expected, and he gritted his teeth in annoyance. “A word of thanks might be more appropriate,” he suggested.
    “Thank you for coming, Grenadyne. Thank you for what you’re trying to do, but I’m as good as dead, man. If Koreldy is no longer alive, that’s my death warrant,” Gueryn said, painful resignation in his tired voice.
    “No one knows about Koreldy but myself and Myrt,” Aremys assured.
    “Myrt is a good man, but he is a loyal Mountain warrior. The King will already know.”
    “The King does not know. He doesn’t even know we’re here now. Myrt is outside keeping watch. He is protecting you.”
    “Why?” Gueryn demanded.
    “It doesn’t matter why.”
    “It matters to me. It doesn’t make sense. Myrt has no reason to betray his king.”
    “Let’s just say I have something on him that encourages him to help me.”
    Gueryn shrugged, suddenly tired. “Fine. Really, there’s no reason for me to care. Everyone I have ever cared about is dead except Ylena, and it