‘It’s nearly sunset,’ said Quill; ‘You didn’t stop drinking until dawn and you’ve been sleeping since.’
‘Really? Oh.’
‘And this,’ she said waving her arm at the view, ‘is the first day of the Fog of Balian. It’s come a couple of days late this year, but it hardly ever starts precisely on the first of the month.’
Corthie shook his head. The Bulwark was invisible, shielded by a thick blanket of fog. The top of the Wolfpack Tower was poking out like an island in the middle of an ocean of mist. The sky remained dark and brooding, and there was no sign of the sun through the endless clouds.
‘So what did this Balian guy do to deserve having a fog named after him?’
‘Nothing. He replaced Princess Yendra in the calendar after she was executed and he was slain in the Civil War.’
‘He wasn’t a rebel, then?’
‘No, he was Princess Khora’s son.’
‘Did Yendra kill him, aye?’
‘No.’ Quill smiled. ‘The killing was actually carried out by two people, one of whom you’ve met.’
‘Aye?’
‘Yeah. Lady Aila, the adjutant who saved your life.’
Corthie tried to keep his face expressionless. ‘She killed him?’
‘She had a warrior who was helping her. Lady Aila used some kind of trick, and the warrior chopped Balian’s head off.’
He wasn’t sure why, but somehow the news made him feel deflated. ‘A warrior?’
‘Yeah, she was pretty amazing by all accounts.’
‘The warrior was a she?’
‘Yeah, that’s what I said.’
His heart lifted again and he realised that, for a moment, he had been jealous of a man from three hundred years before who hadn’t even existed. Why couldn’t he get Aila out of his mind? It had been a month since their fight at the Middle Walls, and yet every day he thought of her, wondering if she was still angry with him, or if their last kiss had meant as much to her as it had to him. He had to forget her; he had made a promise to Blackrose, and if his plan worked, then the dragon and he would be leaving the City forever. All he had to do was make it through another month without seeing Aila, then it would be done, and he could regret his choices later.
He could do it, he told himself, he just needed to stay in the Bulwark and behave himself. Obey orders and get cosy with the duke, just enough to allay the demigod’s suspicions without appearing like a sycophant. A month of discipline and patience, and then he would be free.
The fog might help with his plan, he thought.
‘So, how long does this mist last?’
‘Until the end of Balian,’ said Quill. ‘Give or take a few days in either direction.’
Corthie nodded.
‘The change will be just as sudden,’ she said. ‘One day it’s fog as normal, and the next morning it’s all sunny and dry. Cold, though, but clear and bright. The first greenhides usually get here about three or four days after that, and you’ll be busy again, praise Malik.’
‘Sorry I’ve been such a pain in the ass this last month.’
She glanced at him. ‘You drink too much.’
‘It’s to keep me out of trouble. If I just stay here, in the fort, and go drinking in the common room, then at least I won’t be up to no good, like going to the Circuit, for example.’
‘What, so you can visit the adjutant?’
‘No, so we can go to the Blind Poet, if it’s still standing.’
‘Your eyes looked away when you said that. You should practise lying more.’
There was a knock on the door. ‘It’s me.’
‘Come in.’
Tanner opened the door and strode in. ‘Is this you up at last? Seen the fog, have you?’
‘Lasts a month, apparently.’
‘Yeah, one more month of idleness. Suits me fine. Any day we don’t have to go beyond the walls is a good day as far as I’m concerned.’
‘Winter’s not as bad as summer,’ said Quill, ‘and with Corthie and Buckler in action, we should do alright.’
‘Not as many greenhides?’
‘Not as many, and they’re slower. They really hate the snow.’
‘I thought it was dry and sunny in winter?’ said Corthie.
‘It is, most of the time, but there are blizzards now and again. Wait until you see them slipping on the ice,’ she laughed; ‘their claws are useless.’
Tanner chuckled. ‘That’ll be a sight.’ He turned to Corthie. ‘Listen, lad. The reason I’m up here is that the duke is after you. He wants you to head along to Lifegiver.’
‘Again?’ said Quill, eyeing Corthie. ‘You’re very popular with the duke these days.’
Corthie smiled. ‘Just cultivating my career prospects. All I actually do when I go there is sit and nod while he talks. And, Lord Kano is always really annoyed that I’m there; it’s worth it just for that.’
‘What’s he like?’
‘Which one?’
‘The duke?’
Corthie considered his words, as stating his true feelings might jeopardise his plan. He hated lying to his two friends, but he had promised Blackrose, and he wouldn’t let her down.
‘He’s a clever guy,’ he said, ‘and he knows it. He understands every detail of the Great Wall, every fort, every turret, every catapult…’
‘Yeah, fine,’ said Quill, ‘but what’s he like as a person?’
Corthie shrugged. ‘He’s a demigod.’
‘What about Kano?’ said Tanner.
Corthie smiled, feeling on slightly safer ground. ‘He’s an asshole.’
‘Makes sense,’ said Quill, ‘after all, he’s a demigod too.’
Tanner chuckled as Corthie walked to the bed. He sat down and reached for his boots.
‘I should be back in a few hours, if I don’t get lost in the fog. Shall I meet you in the common room?’
‘Give us a shout when you get back, and we’ll come down,’ said Tanner.
Quill groaned. ‘Not another night on the brandy?’
Corthie shrugged from the edge of the bed. ‘It’s either that or the Circuit.’
‘Fine, brandy it is.’
Little yellow lamps lined the main route by the Great Walls, guiding the carriages and soldiers that travelled through the thick fog. Corthie’s attention soon wandered in the carriage; with nothing to see, he leaned back and closed his eyes.
Aila popped into his mind. He pictured her lying in his arms, covered in blood, and remembered how he had felt, then saw her in the room where they had argued in the Middle Walls. He went back further, to the time they had shared by the roses in the Shrine of the Three Sisters, and he felt his body ache with longing.
He shook his head, telling himself to stop. Thinking of Aila only caused him pain. The words of Blackrose had haunted him since the moment they had left the dragon’s mouth, that Aila had broken it off because she couldn’t bear the thought of him growing old and dying. If that was the real reason, then he should go to her and tell her it didn’t matter; tell her that what mattered was spending as much time together as they could; but maybe that would just make it worse, maybe he should stay away for her sake. He didn’t want to be the cause of her pain.
One more month. No, less than a month, because he had decided to bring his plan forward by a few days to make sure it coincided with the last days of the fog. The dense mist would make things easier, and he needed all the assistance he could get. He hadn’t shared his entire plan with Blackrose, because much of it remained only half-formed in his mind. Lord Naxor was a hard man to track down, and the Quadrant in his possession was a secret to all but a tiny handful of demigods in the City. Aila would know what to do, but the thought of asking her to help him leave the City forever was not something he was going to consider. Aila. He clenched his fists in silent frustration as the carriage rumbled towards the Fortress of the Lifegiver.
If he was leaving in under a month, why did he feel so bad? This was his first broken heart, he
realised, the first time he had understood what the phrase meant. He felt ill, his stomach twisted in knots and his chest tight. He remembered being with his sister when she had broken up with Lennox, a man Corthie had idolised. He had never understood his sister’s reasons for ending it, but he would never forget the period she had spent grieving afterwards. Every time he had walked past her room, he had halted, listening to her tears through the door. Karalyn had always been his closest sibling, and he had wanted to reach out to her, but her pain had seemed too strong a barrier for him to breach.
This was different, he thought. He wasn’t crying in his room, he was lying to every person he met, hiding himself and waiting for his moment to escape. His heart would heal, in the end.
He was almost relieved when the carriage pulled into the Fortress of the Lifegiver; anything to distract him from thinking about Aila was welcome, even Duke Marcus’s company. He stepped down from the carriage outside the Duke’s Tower and went inside, the guards nodding to him. He no longer had to sit through a preliminary meeting with Lord Kano to gain access to the duke, as the commander had made it clear to his adjutant that the champion was welcome. He ascended the stairs to the duke’s study and knocked on the door.
A servant opened it, saw who was waiting, and stepped aside.
‘The champion is here, my lord.’
‘Ahh,’ said the duke, glancing up from his desk, ‘good. Come in, lad, take a seat; I’ll just be a moment.’
He went back to his paperwork as the servant left the room. Corthie sat in his usual chair, and glanced at the full bookshelves. There were volumes on strategy, history and political theory.
‘Feel free to borrow any of those,’ said the duke, noticing where Corthie was looking.
‘I’ve not noticed many books in the City,’ he said, standing to take a closer look at the bookshelves; ‘why is that, sir?’
‘The cost of paper is prohibitive,’ the duke said, his eyes on his work. ‘Every tree that is felled in the City is accounted for, and most are set aside for urgent repairs, or go to the fishing fleet. There’s not a lot left over for books.’
Corthie noticed a large volume entitled The Governance of Prince Michael and he slipped it from the shelf. It had a painting of the prince on the cover, looking mighty and regal, and holding a sword almost as tall as the God-Child himself.
‘Is that sword painted to the right scale?’ he said.
‘Yes. It’s mine now. The God-King gave me my father’s sword at the end of the Civil War. It has a name; the “Just”.’ He put his pen down and glanced at Corthie. ‘I have never used it in battle, but, I fear, the day I shall have to wield it is drawing near. This is why I called you here today.’ He gestured to the seat and Corthie placed the book back onto the shelf and sat.
The duke glanced at him for a long moment in silence.
‘The situation in the City,’ said Marcus, ‘is no longer tenable. It pains me to admit it, oh how it pains me, and I wish it were my father who were in my shoes, for he would know what to do.’
Corthie nodded.
‘With every day that passes,’ the duke went on, ‘I feel my range of options diminish. If I stand aside and do nothing, then Auldan and Medio will rip themselves to shreds. It is with deep regret that I say this, but Princess Khora’s government has proved unequal to the challenges it has faced. For three hundred years the City has slid inexorably into decline and ruin, and I have watched with growing sadness and concern, but done nothing, as the constitution of the City decrees.’
He glanced at Corthie, but the champion said nothing.
‘Therefore,’ the duke said, ‘I have had to make an unprecedented decision. I have approached the God-Queen of Tara, and have gained her approval for the actions I am about to take.’
‘The God-Queen?’ said Corthie. ‘I thought she was above politics.’
‘She is. However, Queen Amalia and the God-King remain, ultimately, the supreme authority in the City, from whom all sovereignty derives. Her Majesty’s word is law, and she has granted me permission to make some adjustments to the way the City is governed. At last, some hope for this tired, angry land and its long-suffering people. I am anticipating resistance, of course. Some will misunderstand my motives, while others will work actively to thwart my plans. Princess Khora, for example, will not relinquish her authority willingly; she will fight to cling onto her last vestiges of power, even if it means the destruction of the City.’ He paused for a moment, his eyes on Corthie. ‘I cannot, will not, allow that to happen.’
The duke stood, and turned to his window. Like Corthie’s bedchamber in Arrowhead, the Duke’s Tower was high enough to rise above the thick blanket of fog covering the land. The champion watched him for a minute, conscious that he was waiting for him to make some sort of response.
‘How can I assist, my lord?’
‘What was that?’ the duke said, pretending not to have heard. ‘Sorry, my mind was distracted by the woes of the City and the burden of leadership.’
‘I asked how I could best assist you, sir.’
The duke turned. ‘I have one command for you, Champion of the Bulwark.’
‘Name it, sir, and it will be done.’
‘No,’ the duke said, shaking his head; ‘perhaps you are not ready for such a task.’
‘Have I ever disobeyed an order before, sir?’
‘Never. If you had, do you think you would be sitting here with me?’ He turned back to the window. ‘Timing is everything in this. Tonight, at midnight, I shall embark upon a ship, along with two thousand selected Blades, and sail to Tara. By the time I arrive, I require you to have completed the task I am about to set you.’
‘What do you need me to do, my lord?’
‘I require you to travel to Pella, enter Cuidrach Palace, and bring Princess Khora’s reign over this City to an end, soldier. Kill her, and every demigod that you find in the palace.’
Corthie felt his heart sink. ‘You want me to murder the princess, sir?’
The duke turned, his eyes flashing. ‘No, not murder. Execute. Princess Khora has been judged, and has been found guilty; guilty of negligence, corruption; and let’s not forget her numerous attempts upon your life. If she had her way, you would be dead, soldier. Of course, I know that in an ideal world, we would arrest her and put her on trial, but the situation is so dire, so urgent, that I cannot afford such luxuries. If Princess Khora is permitted to escape justice, she will resist the changes that the City needs, or worse, she will flee to the God-King, seek his aid, and plunge the City into a devastating civil war. I am relying on you to prevent these outcomes, soldier; I am placing great trust in you.’
‘I shall do as you command, sir, as always. May I ask, which other demigods are known to be in the palace?’
‘Lord Salvor, naturally, as Cuidrach is his home. I also believe Lord Naxor is present. Be very careful with that one. He is utterly lacking in any morals or compassion, and is a willing accomplice of his mother’s misrule.’
‘May I ask one more question, sir?’
‘Proceed.’
‘Why me, sir?’
‘Several reasons. You are permitted to travel throughout Medio and Auldan, and your absence from the Bulwark would be unlikely to alarm my aunt. Secondly, and Lord Kano would not like to hear this, but you are the best warrior I have. There is no one else among the Blades I believe to be capable of entering a guarded palace and eliminating a powerful God-Child and two of her demigod sons. I would need to send an entire division to do the job, and there would be a large number of civilian casualties, which is something I am trying desperately to avoid. If those three are the only fatalities of the night, I will be well pleased. Do you understand?’
‘Aye, sir.’
‘Good. Your prospects are rising all the time, champion. If you succeed in this task, you will be rewarded with a place at my side in the new regime that will take over the running of the City. You and Lord Kano will be my trusted lieutenants, and you will answe
r directly to me, not to him.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘The duke smiled. ‘I thought you’d appreciate that. I know how you and Kano don’t particularly see eye-to-eye, but I like that there is an element of competitiveness between the two of you.’ He nodded. ‘Very well, I think we are done here. I’m leaving all of the details to you. I don’t want to know how you intend to carry out your task, just ensure that it has been completed by the second hour following midnight. I shall set a flare from my ship as I enter Warm Bay, and when you see the red glow in the sky above Tara, you will know that I have almost arrived. Remain in Cuidrach, and I will come to you.’
‘Aye, sir; understood.’
‘Dismissed, and may the spirit of the Blessed Amalia guide your hand this night.’
Corthie stood, saluted, then left the chamber.
His mind was turning cartwheels by the time he reached the bottom of the stairs. His entire plan had been ripped to pieces, and he had no idea what he was going to do.
He left the tower and jumped into the carriage.
‘Back to Arrowhead,’ he called to the driver.
The dragon; he needed to warn the dragon.
‘Sorry, Captain, but I need to speak to her alone.’
Hilde glared at him as she stood blocking the door that led to the lair. ‘Why?’
‘Because there’s something I need to tell her.’
‘Tell me, and I’ll pass it on.’
Corthie frowned. ‘Have I done something to offend you?’
‘My personal feelings are not important. You have no right to be here; I was foolish to have allowed you in before. Please leave.’
The door to Maddie’s room opened and she poked her head out. ‘What’s going on? Why are you fighting?’
‘We’re not fighting,’ said Hilde.
‘It sounded like you were. Hi, Corthie; you here to see Blackrose?’
‘Aye, but, eh, we might have a problem.’
‘What?’
‘The captain doesn’t want to let me into the lair.’
‘Oh,’ she said, walking out from the doorway. ‘Why not?’
Hilde frowned. ‘He shouldn’t be here.’
The Mortal Blade: An Epic Fantasy Adventure (The Magelands Eternal Siege Book 1) Page 37
