The Daylight War

Renna gasped and took a step back. Arlen met her eyes then, and she knew from his expression that the look on her face was horrified.

‘You … ate them? Demons?’

Arlen nodded, and Renna felt sick to her stomach. ‘Didn’t have much choice in the matter. Left in the desert to die, no food, no hope. I was wretched as a man could be.’

‘Think I would have let myself die.’ Renna immediately regretted the words as a look of anguish crossed Arlen’s face.

‘Yeah, well,’ he said. ‘Guess I ent as strong as you, Ren.’

Renna rushed to him, taking his hands and pressing their foreheads together. ‘You’re stronger than I ever was, Arlen Bales,’ she said, feeling tears well in her eyes. ‘You hadn’t slapped the fool out of me, I’d have let myself die to just keep the Tanner shame a secret. Ent no strength there.’

Arlen shook his head, and a tear of his own struck her lip, cold and sweet. ‘Needed the fool slapped out of me more than once over the years.’

Renna kissed him. ‘You sure it’s the demon meat gave you these powers?’

Arlen nodded. ‘Coline Trigg used to say that what you eat becomes a part of you, and I reckon that’s so. I’ve absorbed the corelings’ ability to store magic in their cells, but my skin has retained its proof against the sun. I’ve become like a battery.’

‘Cells? Battery?’ Renna asked.

‘Science of the old world. It doesn’t matter.’ Arlen waved the questions away in that annoying way he had, keeping the knowledge from her simply because he thought it too tedious to explain. As if she wouldn’t listen to him speak all night. As if there were a better sound in all the world. ‘Think of it as a drain barrel after a night’s rain. Full of water even after the sky clears and the ground dries up. Can’t tap the magic in sunlight, but I feel it inside of me, healing my wounds, making me tireless and strong. At night I can let it out like opening a bung, and I’m only just scratching the surface of what can be done.’

Renna paused, considering. Whatever Arlen might say, it was nearly impossible to see corelings as anything but evil abominations of nature, an offence to the Creator. Despite the fact she was often covered in the foul ichor they called blood, the thought of putting it in her mouth was abhorrent.

But the power …

‘Know what you’re thinkin’, Ren,’ Arlen said, snapping her out of her reverie. ‘Don’t go tryin’ this one.’

‘Why?’ Renna asked. ‘Din’t seem to hurt you none.’

‘You don’t know what it was like, Ren. I was crazed. Suicidal. Lived like an animal.’

Renna shook her head. ‘Alone in the middle of nowhere, no one to talk to but Dancer and the corelings. Know what that’s like. Apt to make anyone have a night wish, demon meat or no.’

Arlen looked at her, and nodded. ‘Honest word. But eating demon ent like painting blackstem on your skin. Won’t fade away after a few weeks, and you ent ready for it.’

‘Who’re you to say what I’m ready for?’ Renna demanded.

‘Ent giving you orders, Ren, I’m begging you.’ Arlen knelt in front of her. ‘Don’t eat it, and if anyone asks, you tell ’em it’s poison.’

Renna stared at him a long while, unsure if she should hold him or slap the fool out of him. At last she sighed, letting her swirling emotions drift away. ‘Think on it. And won’t tell anyone else. Honest word.’

Arlen nodded, getting to his feet. ‘Then let’s hunt. Need to be holding as much magic as possible when I heal Dancer.’

Twilight Dancer was lowing in pain when they returned to the stable, tongue hanging from his mouth. His feed was untouched, and the only water he had drunk was what they had poured down his throat. He laboured for breath.

With a single blow, the mimic demon had broken the great stallion’s ribs, puncturing Creator only knew what inside, and launching him through the air. Dancer had struck a tree, breaking his back, and the fall had shattered his legs. Arlen had saved Dancer’s life with his magic, but without further help he would never walk again, much less run.

But Arlen had suffused himself with so much magic his wards glowed of their own accord, lighting the stable bright as day. He seemed like the Creator Himself as he reached for one of Dancer’s legs, pulling the broken bones into proper position and tracing wards on the skin around the fractures.

Dancer whinnied in pain as the bones and sinews knitted back together, a terrible sound Renna could hardly bear. Arlen’s glow lessened a bit with each healing, and there were many. Soon his wards dimmed, and then winked out entirely. Still he worked, his sensitive fingers running over the horse’s body, probing for places to focus his power. Dancer’s chest inflated as the ribs healed, and he began to breathe normally. Renna sighed with relief until Arlen gave a slight groan and collapsed.

He was shivering when she carried him up to bed, his breath coming in short gasps. She could barely hear his heartbeat, and the glow of his magic had faded so much she thought it might wink out at any moment. She stripped and slipped into bed next to him, clutching him tight and willing some of the magic she had absorbed into him, but it seemed to make no difference.

‘Don’t you die on me, Arlen Bales,’ she said. ‘Not after all we been through.’

Arlen did not respond, and Renna stood, brushing back tears as she paced the room, her mind racing.

Needs magic, she thought. Go and get him some.

She had her knife in hand in an instant, grabbing her cloak and running out the door without bothering to pull her clothes back on. With the Cloak of Unsight around her, she was invisible to the corelings, and quickly found a field demon prowling not far from the wards.

She cast the cloak aside, and before it knew she was there, she had leapt on the demon’s back, pulling its chin up with one hand while she cut its throat. She took a bucket from the stables, draining the creature’s foul black ichor, rich with glowing magic.

Her naked skin was soon covered in the stuff, and she could feel her blackstem wards pulling at the power. She felt strong beyond belief, moving like wind back to Arlen’s side. She laid him on the floor and dumped the reeking bucket over him, watching the wards on his skin brighten and absorb the magic, then dim as his internal aura brightened. He began to breathe easier, and Renna fell to her knees.

‘Thank the Creator,’ she whispered, drawing a ward in the air.

The gesture was an instinctive one, but so similar to the way Arlen healed Dancer. If only she had been able to do the same for him.

She looked to the bucket, a slimy piece of demon gut clinging to its lip. She scooped the black thing up in her hand, poking at it like jelly. It stank, and her stomach heaved. She had to breathe deeply to keep her supper down.

He’ll pull away, I let him, she thought. Strong as he is, he can’t do this alone. Got to keep the pace, or I’ll be left behind again next time he’s pulled into the Core.

‘Done thinkin’,’ she muttered.

She held her breath, and put the meat in her mouth.

2

Promise

333 AR Summer

28 Dawns Before New Moon

Renna woke not long after dawn. Arlen slept peacefully now, and she moved carefully so as not to wake him as she washed the dried gore from her skin.

With the curtains drawn tight, Renna still felt charged with power, but as soon as she went out into the sunlight, that strength burned away. She stretched experimentally, seeking some evidence that her disgusting meal had had an effect on her. If there was a change, she couldn’t sense it. Arlen had eaten demon meat exclusively for months to achieve his level of power. Renna’s stomach churned at the thought of even another nibble.

She moved to the stable, brushing down Twilight Dancer and giving him his morning feed. The stallion looked hale, showing no sign that just two nights ago he had been moments from death. Even his scars were faded things, barely visible.

When she was done, she went out into the field, harvesting potatoes and vegetables from the wild crop, enough to make a proper breakfast for once. She had it ready when Arlen stumbled into the kitchen looking haggard, as if he hadn’t slept at all.

‘Smells like Heaven in here,’ he said.

‘Ent got eggs or proper bread, but I caught a rabbit in the fields, so there’s meat,’ Renna said, spooning the stew into a pair of wooden bowls they took out into the taproom.

When they sat, Arlen looked at his bowl for a moment, then put his head in his hands. ‘Might’ve overdone it last night.’

Renna snorted. ‘That’s undersaid.’

Arlen puffed his cheeks and blew out a slow breath. ‘Regrettin’ all that poteen now.’

‘Eat,’ Renna ordered. ‘Your stomach will calm with something in it. And best drink all the water you can stand, sweet or not.’ Arlen nodded and soon was eating voraciously, his bowl quickly emptied.

‘There any more?’ he asked, and Renna started. She’d been so busy watching him eat, she hadn’t touched her own food.

‘Take mine.’ She slid the bowl to him and took his empty one. ‘I’ll get another.’ She was pleased to see his second helping emptied by the time she sat back down.

‘Feeling better?’ she asked.

‘Feel human,’ Arlen said, a small smile tugging the corner of his mouth. ‘Been a while.’

‘Can rest up another day,’ Renna said. ‘Charge you up again tonight.’

Arlen shook his head. ‘Miles to go today, Ren. Got one stop this afternoon and then it’s straight on to the Hollow fast as we can manage.’

‘What stop?’ Renna asked.

Arlen smiled again, this time wider, with a glitter to his eyes. ‘Need to pick you a proper promise gift.’

Arlen set a strong pace as they headed down the Messenger road. Renna could see it took a toll on him after a few hours, but he steadfastly refused to ride.

‘Dancer needs the rest more’n me,’ he said.

The sun was well past its high point when they came to a fork in the road and Arlen turned onto the less travelled way, little more than a bridle path heading into the wild hilly plain.

‘What’s off this way?’ she asked.

‘Rancher I know,’ Arlen said. ‘Owes me a favour.’ Renna waited for more, but nothing was forthcoming.

It was an hour’s walk before the ranch came in sight. There were three barns, each with its own wards in addition to the posts set around the exercise pen and yard. Wide grazing areas had been warded as well.

A boy appeared on the roof of the closest barn, holding a short bow with an arrow nocked and pointed at them.

‘Whozzat?’ he called.

Renna crouched at the sight, ready to dodge left or right if the boy should shoot. She gripped the familiar bone handle of her father’s knife, though it would do her no good here. She’d hated Harl Tanner, but always felt safe when touching the knife she’d used to kill him.

Arlen seemed unconcerned as he shouted back to the boy, ‘Someone who’s going to regret not letting you get et by that wood demon, Nik Stallion, you don’t put down that bow and fetch your da.’

‘Messenger!’ Nik shouted, lowering the bow and waving. ‘Ma! Pa! Messenger’s come, and he’s brought Dancer!’

The boy slid down the roof to the porch awning, swinging easily to the ground from its lip. He ran to the garden and pulled up a couple of carrots before hurrying over to them, staring at Twilight Dancer in wonder. ‘He’s grown big as a barn!’

He eased carefully up to the great stallion, holding out the carrots. ‘Easy, boy, it’s me, Nik. You remember, don’t you?’ Twilight Dancer nickered, taking the carrots, but the boy stayed tense, ready to run.

Renna couldn’t understand his tension. If the boy knew Dancer, he should know the horse was gentle as the dawn. ‘He ent gonna kick or bite you, boy.’

Nik turned and seemed about to say something, but he paused mid-breath, noticing Renna for the first time. His eyes roamed her body, and she wasn’t sure if he was looking at her blackstem wards or the flesh they were painted on. She didn’t much care what he saw, but it was rude, and she put her hands on her hips and gave him a glare to remind him of his manners. The boy jumped and looked away so quickly Renna had to stifle a laugh.

Nik turned to Arlen, blushing fiercely. ‘You tamed him?’

Arlen laughed. ‘Hardly. Dancer’s still the meanest horse alive, but he only bites and kicks corelings now.’

A low whistle came from behind them, and Renna whirled. Without thinking, her hand found the knife handle again. She took it away quickly, hoping no one had noticed.

And I meant to teach young Nik his manners.

The man who approached showed no sign that he had seen. Like the boy, he only had eyes for the horse at first. He approached calmly, giving Dancer time to get used to his presence. The stallion snorted and stamped a bit, but accepted his touch.

‘He has grown,’ the man said, running his hands over Dancer’s heavy flanks. He was tall and lean, with a thick but close-cropped beard. His brown hair was long and braided in back. ‘Must be two hands taller than his sire, and old Rockslide’s bigger’n any horse I ever saw.’ He picked up one of the stallion’s feet. ‘Could do with a shoeing, though.’

The man looked up at them at last, and like the boy he let his eyes range over Renna, examining her as if she were a horse. A low growl formed at the back of her throat, and the man gave a start when his eyes finally met hers and saw her glare.

Arlen stepped between them. ‘Just a look, Ren,’ he murmured. ‘These’re good folk.’

Renna gritted her teeth. Much as she hated to admit it, he was right about what the magic did to a person, even in the day. Passion came quick to her now. She took a deep breath and let her anger fall away.

Arlen nodded and turned to the rancher. ‘Renna Tanner, this here’s Jon Stallion and his boy Nik. Jon breaks and breeds wild Angierian mustang.’

‘Catches and breeds, anyway,’ Jon said, his eyes offering an apology as he put out his hand. ‘Ent easy to tame something that can trample a field demon to death and outrun anything else in the naked night.’ Renna took his hand, but let go quick when he winced at her grip.

‘Know how they feel, sometimes,’ she muttered.

Jon nodded back at Dancer. ‘Take that’un. Caught him as a colt not six months old. Thought for sure I could break the wild out of one that young, but he wouldn’t take so much as a halter, and kicked his way out of the barn more’n once.’

‘The naked night ent forgiving,’ Arlen said. ‘Six months is a lifetime out with the demons.’

Jon nodded. ‘Didn’t think even you could tame him.’

‘Didn’t,’ Arlen said. ‘Just brought him back where he belonged.’

‘Got him taking a saddle and reins, though,’ Jon noted, ‘but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Back then, you were just the crazy tattooed Messenger who saved my boy. Now I hear tell you’re the ripping Deliverer!’

‘Ent,’ Arlen said. ‘I’m Arlen Bales out of Tibbet’s Brook, and I just got more sack than sense, sometimes.’

‘So you have a name, after all,’ a woman said, coming out from the ranch house. She was plain, but had the vigorous look of one used to hard work. She wore men’s clothes – high leather boots, breeches, and vest with a simple white blouse beneath. Her hair was brown and braided back much like Jon’s.

‘Don’t mind the boys,’ she told Renna. ‘Ent gonna talk about much else when there’s horseflesh about. I’m Glyn.’

‘Renna.’ Renna shook her hand, then clenched her fist as the woman embraced Arlen. Was it the magic that made her resent another woman touching him?

‘Good to see you again, Messenger. Can you stay for supper?’

Arlen nodded, showing the first warm smile Renna had ever seen him give another person. ‘I’d like that.’

‘What brings you out this way?’ Jon asked. ‘Ent just for the shoeing, I’d guess.’

Arlen nodded. ‘I need another horse. A filly I can breed with Dancer.’

He looked at Renna and gave her a half smile. ‘Startin’ a family.’

Mack Pasture, who lived up the road from Renna’s father’s farm, had been a horse breeder. Renna visited his ranch often when her mother was alive. It was a good deal smaller than Jon Stallion’s, but it worked much the same. After Dancer was brought to the farrier, Jon led the way towards a great fenced field where dozens of horses grazed under the watchful eyes of mounted ranch hands and barking dogs. On the way, they passed thick, heavy corrals, too high for even Twilight Dancer to jump in daylight, used for training and quarantine.

In one of these, Renna saw a giant black stallion cantering by itself, watched by two nervous ranch hands with ready whips. She stopped short.

‘Ay, that’s old Rockslide,’ Jon said. ‘Dancer’s sire. Caught him on the plain with half a dozen mares and young Dancer. Call him Rockslide ’cause that’s what it felt we’d been through when we finally herded him into a corral.

‘Big bastard won’t do a lick of work, but he’ll kick holes in the barn all night long, you let him. Mean as a demon, and too smart by half. City breeders’ll tell you wild horses ent smart because they won’t follow commands, but don’t you believe ’em. Mustang got their own smarts. Enough to survive the naked night, which is more than most folk can say. Rockslide liked to throw anyone that tried to mount, then trample them into the yard. Retired him to the breeding pen when we got tired of bone setting.’

Renna looked at the magnificent animal, and felt a profound sorrow. You were a king out on the plains, and here they have you running circles in a pen and mounting mares all day. She had to suppress an urge to walk right up to the gate and set him free.

‘Good foaling this summer,’ Jon said as they made their way out onto the field. ‘Lots of fillies to choose from.’

‘Your choice, Ren,’ Arlen said. ‘Any one you want.’

Renna looked out over the herd. At first glance, Jon’s horses looked little different from Mack’s, but as she drew closer and took in their scale, her eyes widened. The foals looked juvenile next to the mares, but even they were bigger than some of the stallions Mack kept. Jon had yearlings big enough for a grown man to ride, and there were no poor specimens. Demons had culled all but the strongest strains, and the remainder were giants, sleek and dark-coated.

There were a number of strong-looking fillies, but Renna found her eyes drawn instead to a grown mare who stood apart from the herd. The mare had a blotchy coat of brown and black, and stood a hand taller than the others. She had a surly look about her, and even the other horses gave her a wide berth.

‘What about that one?’ Renna asked, pointing.

Jon grunted. ‘You got a good eye, girl. Most folk can’t see past that ugly coat. That’s Twister. Caught her last summer, right before the worst windstorm I ever seen. Stronger’n most stallions and barely five years old, she’s tried to get away more times’n I can count. Go near her with a halter – night, go near her at all – and she gets all kinds of mean. Even bit old Rockslide when I put her in his pen to see if they’d get on.’

‘Ent gonna need a halter,’ Renna said, vaulting the fence and heading across the field.

‘Telling you, that horse is dangerous,’ Jon called after her. ‘Sure you know what you’re doin’?’ Renna waved a hand dismissively, not even bothering to look at him.

Twister didn’t back away as Renna approached. That was good. The mare seemed to be ignoring her, but the way her ears were pointed, Renna was sure she had the horse’s full attention.

She held up her empty hands. ‘Ent got a halter. Don’t reckon I’d care to wear one, so I ent gonna ask you to, either.’

Twister let her get in close, but when Renna reached out to stroke the horse’s neck, she moved fast, powerful jaws snapping. Renna barely snatched her hand away before it was bitten off.

‘Weren’t no call for that!’ she snapped, slapping the mare hard on the nose. Twister went wild at the blow, rearing up and kicking her feet, but Renna was ready. Months of hunting demons and absorbing their magic had left her stronger and faster than she had ever dreamed, and now that her blood was up she could feel a new tingle in her limbs, a taste of night’s power, even here under the sun.

Renna weaved like a barley stalk in the wind, feeling the whoosh of air as the kicking hooves missed her by scant inches. Again and again the frenzied mare tried to crush her. Powerful blows. And fast. Kicks that could break a field demon’s back.

But Renna’s moves were smooth and fluid like a dance, and she remained untouched. It went on for some time, and she began to wonder which of them would give in first. The new power in her limbs was only a fraction of what she felt in the night. The horse seemed tireless.

But at last, Twister’s kicks began to slow, and she bunched her muscles, ready to flee. Renna rushed in before the mare could gallop off, gripping a handful of mane in her fist and vaulting onto the horse’s bare back.

If Twister had been crazed before, her rage was tripled now. She fought true to her name, leaping and writhing in mid-air, bucking and galloping in circles, trying to throw Renna.

But Renna had her seat, and wasn’t giving it up. She threw her arms around the horse’s throat, so thick she was barely able to clasp her wrists. Once she had the hold, that powerful neck became her entire world, her only adversary. Nothing else mattered.

She called upon every bit of power she could muster, and began to squeeze.

It seemed to go on forever, but finally Twister began to calm. She stopped bucking and galloped around the pen, setting the dogs into a frenzy as the other horses leapt from her path.

Renna continued to squeeze, slow and sure, and soon even that gallop slowed to a wilful canter. Renna smiled. Wilful was good.

She eased her grip from Twister’s neck, taking two fists of mane and pulling hard to the left. She laughed aloud when Twister obediently turned. Gripping the horse’s flanks with her knees and the mane in her fist, Renna drew her knife and slapped the horse’s rump with the wide flat of the blade. ‘Hyah!’

Twister leapt ahead, breaking back into a gallop. Renna sheathed her knife and took the mane in both hands. A tug here or there would turn the horse, but Renna let her have her head, exhilarated as the wind whipped her long braid about, and she was jarred again and again by the horse’s powerful strides.

Renna leaned in, putting her mouth to Twister’s ear. ‘You belong in the night, girl. Ent gonna let you end up like Rockslide. Promise.’

Renna ran them back to the edge of the fence where Arlen and the others waited, pulling up short.

‘Made your choice, then?’ Arlen asked. ‘Twister?’

Renna nodded. ‘But Twister ent a good name. Gonna call her Promise.’

Dinner on the Stallion ranch was a family affair, and that family extended down to the last ranch hand and laundry girl, over thirty people in all. Even some of the dogs lay on blankets along the walls of the great hall, ready to leap for scraps. Renna and Arlen sat by Jon, Glyn, and Nik at the head of a long trestle table heavily laden with food and pitchers of water and ale.