‘Give it a rest, Eain! Anyway he did fail once. He didn’t catch that fighter, Chain Shada. Word was that Grymauch took him out from under Huntsekker’s nose. So he’s human. He’s not some demon of the dark to frighten me.’
‘Well, the thought of him frightens me,’ said Eain.
Draig moved across the hut, lifting an old bearskin coat from the floor. He shook it then swung it round his shoulders. ‘We are not going to get involved in this,’ he said. ‘All I’m going to do is have a quiet word with Kaelin Ring. Then we’re out of it.’
In the dark of the night Chara Ring stood at the upper bedroom window, staring out at the moonlit snow, and the sharp, jagged lines of the distant mountains. A blue and green Rigante shawl was wrapped round her slender shoulders, and her thoughts were deep and melancholy.
Five years ago she had been taken by Varlish soldiers and brought to the Black Mountain fort, and there had been brutally raped and abused. Often she would dream of being back in that bleak dungeon, listening to the laughter and grunts of the soldiers and the vicious words of the traitor Wullis Swainham. Many times since she had convinced herself she was 6ver the worst, and that the vileness of that night had no power any more. Standing in the window she knew she was wrong. She knew that it would always be with her, like a wound upon the soul.
There was no doubting her love for Kaelin Ring, nor that she enjoyed the feeling of his arms around her. Mostly she could lose herself in the act of lovemaking, and occasionally it was even joyous. She had laughed with the Dweller about the importance to her of the physical closeness she had found with Kaelin. It was not strictly untrue. Chara needed to feel that Kaelin desired her. Often, however, as he held her, and entered her, she would see again the ugly, bestial faces of the men in the dungeon. The brutality of what she had endured would erupt from her subconscious, making her want to scream for Kaelin to get away from her. She would hold it back by picturing the moment that Kaelin came for her on that dreadful night.
In an act of breathtaking recklessness he and Rayster had entered the fort, killing the guards at the gatehouse and donning their uniforms. Then Kaelin had made his way to the dungeon and rescued her. She turned from the window and gazed at his sleeping form. He was lying on his back, one arm outstretched. In the moonlight the scar on his cheek shone bright. Chara remembered the sabre duel with her brother Bael that had caused it. It seemed a lifetime ago, as did so much of her life before the dungeon. It was as if she were two different people. Chara Then and Chara Now.
She no longer spoke to Kaelin about her memories. It was not that he did not care. It was that he cared too much. He wanted to find a ‘cure’ for her. In some ways it was touching, in others infuriating. On rare occasions she would open her heart to the Dweller. There was comfort there, for she would listen without seeking to offer remedies.
The worst moment had come just before this winter, when she and Kaelin had visited Black Mountain to bring in supplies. As the wagon was being loaded the two of them had walked through the town, and out onto the low meadow, by the stream. The day had been bright and clear, the sunshine warm. It was like a summer’s day, and Chara had felt at peace. She was holding Kaelin’s hand, and laughing at some little jest he made. Then she saw a man, also walking with his love. Three children were running alongside them, two tawny-haired boys and a girl with long auburn curls. Chara had stopped, her hand falling away from Kaelin’s grip.
The man was one of the soldiers who had raped her.
She had thought them all killed in the battle at the Rigante Pass – a battle won by the brilliance of her husband, who led the Rigante in a night climb down a sheer rock face to emerge behind the besieging Varlish. She had needed to believe they were dead, punished for what they had done to her.