The Eighth Court (The Courts of the Feyr - By Mike Shevdon Page 0,12

in a harsh foreign tongue, raw and guttural, to the source of the light. It hung there in the dark, and then edged towards the bank. As it neared, a boat resolved behind it, pointing upstream. A figure in a long cloak stood in the craft, balancing easily as it rocked and swerved in the current. There was no sail, and no one rowing, yet it leaned into the current and danced between the flotsam being dragged downstream. As it neared the bank, the hood was pulled back.

“Kimlesh?” I said, and then realised she could not see me.

She answered the young man, her clear voice carrying across the water.

“What do you wish for?” she asked.

He answered her. His words were incomprehensible whereas hers were plain, but his gesture at the far bank was clear.

“There is a bridge a few miles downstream,” said Kimlesh. “If it still stands.”

He said something under his breath and then held up the bag he had taken from the horse’s pack. He shook the package, which chinked, and though the sound surely did not carry to the craft bobbing in the current, his meaning was clear.

“You are lying. You will steal my boat and slit my throat, if you can,” she said.

He shook his head and climbed carefully down the bank to the water’s edge where the brown water sucked at the bank.

“Your voice betrays you,” she said.

He searched the bank, then, looking for something but not finding it. After a moment, he called out, again.

“There is no tether, Guillaume, nor any needed. This boat finds its way in any flood.”

His expression was bemused. He called a question to her.

“You already know that, son of Herleva. Why are you here, then?”

He shrugged, glancing over his shoulder.

“First we bargain, Guillaume, and then we will see,” she said.

There was a drumming over the persistent pattering of the rain; hoof-beats splashing through the wet. His expression changed at the sound of hooves, and his entreaties became more persistent, though he lowered his voice so he would not be overheard.

“What will you give me in exchange, Guillaume? What will you offer me in return for escape from your pursuers?” Her voice was quiet, but it carried across the water.

You had to admire the man. It took nerve to stand on the bank with the horsemen riding up and down the river looking for him while the bargaining went back and forth. At one point there was a cheer as they found the loose horse, but he never looked back. His attention was focused on the woman. Everything else, even the rain, might as well not have existed.

“We are agreed then,” she said. “I will take you to the far shore, and you will grant me a single boon when I come before you and petition in person, be it within your power?”

A jingle of harness behind us sealed the deal and the boat dived to shore. Guillaume tried to step into the shallows and sank up to his thigh in the deep water where the shore was cut away by the current. He was nearly swept away, but the craft was alongside, and she held it firm while he scrambled over the gunnel and tumbled in. Immediately the bow turned out into the current and it bobbed into the flow, the light dancing at the prow. A shout went up and horses pounded over, spilling men with spears. Guillaume was briefly visible, lying in the bow while the hooded Kimlesh stood in the stern as they faded into the rain.

The men peered into the dark, one casting a spear out across the water, which fell short and slipped into the flow and was not seen again. The men swore among themselves, but none tried to enter the stream after the young man. They gathered up their horses and rode away in a mass, downstream, heading for the bridge that Kimlesh had mentioned.

“Is he dead?” said a voice.

“You don’t see living people that colour,” said another.

“What’s that on his face?” said the first voice.

“It’s where the gate hit him. You see the pattern from the ironwork?”

I tried to move. I felt numb, as if my whole body had pins and needles. My body was twitching with the effort.

“He’s moving!” said the voice.

My body continued to twitch and jerk. “Nnnnnnngggh,” I groaned, trying to get my tongue to obey me.

“He’s alive,” said the second voice. “Call an ambulance! Get some help!”

People were shuffling around me. Across my vision, blobs of luminous colour