by John Gwynne
It was dark now, as Braith, Camlin and the other woodsman steered Marrock into a side street. ‘You sure you only came back for me?’ Camlin said to Braith, who glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. Suddenly, quick as a viper, Braith had Camlin pinned against a wall, knife pricking under Camlin’s chin.
‘What have you said, Cam? What’ve you told–about me, the Darkwood?’
‘Nothing, Braith. Nothing, I swear. Nothing they don’t know, anyway.’
‘Have you told who my contact is here in the fortress?’ Braith’s eyes were cold, suddenly dead, a killer’s eyes.
‘No.’ He tried to shake his head, felt the knife cut into his flesh, felt blood trickle down his neck.
‘If I find out you’re lying to me, you know it’ll go bad with you. Best all round if you tell the truth now.’
‘I swear it, Braith.’
‘Have you been put to the question?’
‘No. Think that may’ve been coming later tonight. Brenin’s only just returned.’
‘I know.’ Braith took a step back, sliced open Camlin’s tunic, checked his torso. He lifted Camlin’s hands, counted fingers, looked for fresh scars or burn marks. Then, suddenly, he smiled. ‘Had to ask, Cam,’ he said. ‘Come on then, we haven’t got all night.’
‘How do we get off this rock?’ Camlin whispered with relief, his fear receding.
‘The fun is only just beginning,’ Braith said, flashing a smile. Braith often won men over with that first smile. It said you are the only person here, and seemed to hold all the charm and power of a blood-oath. Camlin found himself smiling in return. ‘Fortunately for you, I have friends in unlikely places. We’ve got a long walk in the dark ahead.’ Braith gripped Camlin’s shoulder. ‘You know, my friend,’ he whispered, ‘sometimes you can be a great deal of trouble.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
VERADIS
Veradis whistled through clenched teeth. He was standing in the main stable block at Jerolin, huge pillars of black stone rising high above him, braced by lengths of timber wider than two men standing back to back. Birds flittered in and out of view, chasing each other around the beams.
He was with Nathair, both of them staring admiringly at a huge white stallion, which reared and neighed, ears back. A tremor passed through the floor as its hooves thudded down to the ground.
‘He’s fair, I’ll say that,’ said Valyn the stablemaster.
‘Fair,’ laughed Nathair. ‘Tell me he’s not the finest animal you’ve ever laid eyes on.’
‘Not many could match him,’ the stablemaster admitted, ‘though one that equals him is stabled here right now. Not as big-boned, mind, but a little taller, and faster, I’d wager.’
‘What?’ said Nathair, genuinely shocked.
‘Aye. Belongs to your father’s friend. That Meical.’ He nodded towards a stable. Veradis could see the glimmer of a silvery mane, but nothing more.
‘Even he’s not this stallion’s better, though,’ Valyn said, seeing Nathair’s face darken. ‘And in truth, apart from Meical’s horse, I don’t think I’ve ever seen this animal’s equal.’ He stepped forward, held his hand out for the stallion to sniff, a decidedly flustered-looking stable boy holding on to its bridle.
‘So, come on, Nathair, how have you come by him?’ said Veradis. ‘He wasn’t bred hereabouts.’
‘He’s a gift. From Jael of Isiltir.’
Veradis was blank a moment, then a dark-haired, handsome face appeared in his mind’s eye. ‘Ah, the nephew of King Romar. I remember him.’ He thought of Kastell, kneeing the man in the knackers in front of the best warriors in the Banished Lands. He smiled, but did not share his memory. ‘You must have made an impression on him,’ he said instead.
Nathair smiled. ‘It would seem so.’
‘Easy, lad,’ said Valyn, resting a hand on the stallion’s chest, running the other down its foreleg, coaxing him to lift his hoof.
He did, but as Valyn bent low for a closer look the stallion’s head darted back, Valyn only just managing to jump out of reach of its snapping teeth.
He was laughing as he rejoined Nathair and Veradis. ‘Well, he’s got spirit, that’s for sure.’
‘You’re not going to let him get away with that?’ said Veradis. He prided himself on his knowledge of horses, and backbiting was one habit he’d always been taught to master as soon as it appeared.
‘I’ve a mind to let him off,’ said Valyn. ‘He’s come a long way, new surroundings–the best of us act up sometimes. Besides, attitude like that can suit what you’re looking for,’ he said to Nathair. ‘I think you’ve found yourself a warhorse. The best ones aren’t often the most easygoing. Time’ll be the judge.’
Valyn’s attention shifted, Veradis and Nathair following the stablemaster’s gaze.
Meical was standing in the stable entrance, a dark form outlined by the sunshine. He nodded to Valyn, strode towards where his horse was boxed.
‘Can I help you?’ Valyn called. Meical shook his head, then he saw Nathair.
‘Your father has sent runners for you. He wishes to see you in his chambers. Now.’
Nathair walked across the stable, following Meical. ‘Veradis, make sure there are no ears, nearby. I would have some privacy with Meical.’
Nathair opened the box; inside, Meical was adjusting a saddle-rug on a tall dapple-grey horse. Its dark, liquid eyes regarded the Prince. Valyn was right, the animal was impressive–regal, almost, more fine-boned than the white stallion from Isiltir. Veradis positioned himself by the open gate, with a good view of the stable as well as Nathair and Meical. There was something about Aquilus’ counsellor that he did not like.
Meical paused as the Prince entered the box, eyes flickering across Veradis, then back to Nathair. Not for the first time Veradis was struck by the counsellor’s height. He must be taller even than Krelis, he thought, though not so wide, and he had thought Krelis easily the largest man he had ever seen in all of Tenebral. He remembered his father’s and brother’s questions about Meical, back in Ripa, and Ektor asking the colour of Meical’s eyes. He looked, but the stable light was poor. They were dark, of that he was sure, but he could not tell more.
‘How goes it with the giant’s book?’ Nathair asked.
Meical stared at Nathair. His face was clean shaven, battle scarred, though otherwise unlined. Something about him whispered age. Long black hair was pulled back from his face, tied with silver wire high at the back of his head.
‘Slowly,’ Meical said.
‘Do you know who the Black Sun is yet? Where he will strike from?’
Meical regarded him with his dark, liquid eyes. ‘I cannot say, yet.’
‘Cannot, or will not? I am the Prince of Tenebral, your ally. You can talk to me of these things.’
‘Aye, you are prince, not king. Your questions are best asked of your father.’
‘Who are you?’ Nathair whispered, ‘that my father trusts you so?’
Meical returned his attentions to his horse, lifting a saddle onto the animal’s back. A dismissal.
A shiver ran through Nathair, then he turned and walked away. Veradis’ eyes lingered on Meical, who returned the gaze, unblinking. Veradis was the first to look away. Quickly he followed his Prince from the stables.
He caught up with Nathair as he entered the keep. Veradis felt he had come to know Nathair well, and there were times to ask questions of him. Looking at his face, this was not one of them. They climbed a staircase and passed into a short corridor, heavy tapestries stirring in their wake.
Nathair rapped his knuckles on a wooden door and pushed it open, not waiting for an answer.
King Aquilus was within, sitting on a carved oak chair. Peritus, his battlechief, stood before him. Fidele was there also, half-clothed in shadow as she gazed out of a narrow window. ‘Father, you sent for me. Mother,’ he added with a glance to the Queen.
Fidele smiled.
‘Peritus has returned to us,’ the King said.
‘I would sp
eak with you both. Of the way ahead.’ He smiled at Veradis. ‘You have become my son’s shadow, so much so that I almost forget you are here, Veradis ben Lamar.’ Veradis returned the smile, liking the sound of his words. ‘I am sure I do not have to remind you that the things we talk of remain between us only.’
Veradis nodded.
‘Good. Now, Peritus, tell us of your journey.’
Peritus was a slight man, dark haired, thinning on the crown, with sun-darkened skin. Despite his size, Veradis knew he carried a fierce reputation. The hem of his cloak was dark with mud, as were his boots, his clothes dusty and travel stained.
‘I have travelled the northern borderlands, stopping longest at Baran,’ Peritus said. ‘Marcellin was a good host, as always. He bids me tell you his oath stands till death, and that your will is his.’
‘Good,’ said Aquilus.
‘The rest of my journey was much the same. All of the barons that I spoke with pledged their loyalty to you and your cause.’
Aquilus nodded slowly, then looked to Nathair. ‘And you, my son, for Peritus’ benefit, tell us of your journey.’
‘My tale is much the same as Peritus’, as you know. Lamar of Ripa agreed to prepare for war and renewed his oaths to you. The barons that I met with, well, they are more concerned with crops, weather, the extension of their lands, and lawless men, but their oaths to you stand. They will come at your call. Tenebral stands united behind you.’
‘That is as it should be. But we must not sit idly by and just wait for Midwinter’s Day. Many will join us then, I am sure. Though not all.’ Aquilus stood, and began to pace around the room.
The King’s eyes were sunken and dark, and Veradis noticed much more grey in his cropped hair and beard. He carries a great burden.
‘Asroth’s champion is a mystery to us,’ Aquilus continued. ‘Who is he? Where? We know not, so we must do all that we can in the time that is left to us. Nathair, how does your warband fare?’
‘Well, Father. They train hard, every day. Numbers are growing.’ Nathair looked to Veradis. ‘How many?’
‘Just short of a thousand strong.’
Aquilus’ eyes widened. He laughed and slapped Nathair’s shoulder. ‘Well done, my son. You have taken my words seriously.’
‘Aye.’
‘It is no wonder our barns are emptying quickly. No matter. But we must find work for them to do, to earn their keep and to cut their teeth.’
‘Tenebral is as peaceful as I have ever seen it,’ said Peritus.
‘Aye, that is so. Particularly as the Vin Thalun have kept their agreement within our borders.’ Aquilus’ eyes flickered to Nathair. ‘So we must look elsewhere to give your men some experience of combat.’
‘What do you mean, Father?’
‘The alliance that was forged in the council. There were only a handful that stood with us outright, but already I have had requests for aid from Braster of Helveth, Romar of Isiltir and Rahim of Tarbesh. Brenin of Ardan spoke to me of trouble on his border. I think he would welcome help,’ said the King.
‘Braster and Romar share a border with each other, marked by Forn Forest. They have agreed to join forces in crushing the Hunen, a giant clan that lives within. They have asked me to be a part of their endeavour, to send men to aid them. I am of a mind to do so.’
‘When would this happen?’ asked Nathair.
‘Not this year. Next spring, most likely. And Brenin’s realm is not much further than Isiltir, so we could send a warband and then split it. One to fight against these giants in Forn Forest, one to help Brenin against the lawless men that trouble his border.’
‘Trouble lurks in the dark places,’ Peritus muttered.
‘So it would seem,’ said Aquilus.
‘And King Rahim of Tarbesh?’ asked Nathair.
‘He, too is having trouble with the remnants of a giant clan. There is a band of land stretching across his kingdom that has become too dangerous to cross. No forests, though,’ he smiled at Peritus.
‘And when would you send aid to Rahim?’ Nathair persisted.
‘Perhaps this year,’ Aquilus said, tugging gently at his short beard. ‘Perhaps soon. Their land is to the south-east, much of it desert, so winter would not hinder our warriors as it would in a northern campaign.’
‘I would be proud to lead men to Tarbesh, to represent you, to further the alliance and our cause,’ Nathair said eagerly.
‘It is a strange land, I have heard,’ Aquilus said. ‘Blistering heat in the day, nights of bitter cold. I was thinking to send a more experienced warband to Tarbesh, with men who have sat a campaign before. I thought to send you north come spring, Nathair, to Isiltir.’
‘Do you doubt me? Do you doubt my men? We are more than equal to the task,’ said Nathair.
Aquilus looked at him searchingly, then shifted his gaze to Peritus. ‘Perhaps. I will meet with your men, watch your training, of which I have heard much.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Then I will decide.’
Nathair bowed his head. ‘As you wish.’
‘Peritus,’ said Aquilus, ‘you still carry the dust of your journey. Please, relax this day. Join me on the morrow. We shall view my son’s warband together.’
‘As you wish,’ said the battlechief and, with a nod to Nathair, left the room.
‘Nathair, there is another matter that I would speak of with you.’ The King frowned. ‘A messenger came this morning from our border with Carnutan. He had interesting news. There have been more raids, by the Vin Thalun.’
Nathair said nothing.
‘Over the last moon the Van Thalun have caused more death and destruction than ever before.’
‘What of it, Father?’ Nathair said with a shrug. ‘They have kept their word to us. No raids have taken place within our borders.’
‘Aye, true.’ The King took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. ‘But the Vin Thalun are raiding as far west as Carnutan. That has never happened before.’ The King’s fingers tapped on the arm of his chair, the room otherwise quiet and still.
‘If you looked hard enough, you could almost see a pattern emerging here,’ Aquilus continued. ‘The lands raided during the last moon: only Carnutan, a realm that opposed me in the council, and Mandros of Carnutan louder than most. And what of Tarbesh? A realm that stood with me in the council, but that has oft been raided by the Vin Thalun in the past–nothing!’ Aquilus stood suddenly. ‘Tell me true, son. Have you played a part in this?’
Father and son stared at each other.
‘Nay,’ said Nathair eventually, holding Aquilus’ gaze. The King sighed, looked away, the tension dissipating.
‘Good. That is good. But if I have thought of this, others will not be far behind. Mandros most certainly; he mistrusts all at the best of times, and it is no secret that you have championed the Vin Thalun and our treaty with them. They could be trying to sow discord here, to undermine the alliance before it truly begins.’
‘Surely not, Father.’
‘In the past I would have agreed with you, but their new leader, this Lykos. I have heard troubling things of him. It was quite a feat of itself to unite the islands, eh? Panos, Nerin and Pelset were always a thorn in the side of the mainland kingdoms, but no more than that. Now that they work together, they are capable of considerably more.’
Veradis was growing increasingly uncomfortable. He knew that things had been hidden from Aquilus, but lying outright was a greater step. He swallowed. It is for the greater good, he told himself. His eyes touched on Fidele. She was watching Nathair intently, studying him.
‘Father, why is it that you care so much about the opinions of such as Mandros. They are beneath you. We do not need him, or any like him. We are the instrument of Elyon’s justice. We will take the war to Asroth, and the likes of Mandros will matter not at all.’
Aquilus shook his head. ‘Nathair, you are young, your principles fixed, but you have much to learn of politicking. You still possess the naivety of youth. And the pride.’ He sighed. ‘Asroth
’s champion, this Black Sun, will not be some mountain brigand that can be swept aside in a day’s combat. We must marshal all of the strength available before he reveals himself. We need the likes of Mandros. Every realm that does not stand with us will most likely stand against us.’
Nathair snorted. ‘I do not agree, Father. Mandros and his ilk are more trouble than they are worth. I have a feeling about Mandros: he is wrong, somehow. Have you considered that he could be in league with this Black Sun? Could even be him. Asroth is cunning incarnate, the tales tell us–he would not be likely to let you raise this alliance unhindered.’
‘You are not listening to me,’ Aquilus pounded the arm of his chair. Then his voice dropped. ‘I am not so interested in your agreement or your theories. It is your loyalty that concerns me. I will not have you opposing me thus at every turn. I am king, Nathair, and my word is law. Remember that.’ He now looked weary, bowed his head and walked to the open window beside his wife. ‘And my word on this matter is that you will distance yourself from the Vin Thalun. I do not want you linked to them, in any way. Is that clear to you?’
Nathair’s shoulders tensed. ‘Aye, Father. Your will is clear to me.’
Aquilus grunted. ‘That is all. I will see you on the morrow.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CORBAN
Corban grunted as Gar’s practice sword cracked his knuckles, his weapon dropping into the hard-packed dirt of the stable.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ Gar asked as Corban bent to retrieve it.
‘Nothing,’ muttered Corban, wincing as he flexed his hand. The knuckles were red and already swelling. He grimaced. In truth there was much wrong. He had slept little, wondering all night if he had done the right thing, allowing the brigands just to walk away. Cywen had made her thoughts on the matter clear before Braith and his companions had even disappeared from view, scolding him for a fool. But what else could he have done? Died a warrior’s death, yes, but Cywen and Marrock would have done so too, and the outcome would have been the same: the brigands slinking off into the darkness. They had talked about going straight to King Brenin, or their mam and da, but eventually decided against it. Telling any adult would most likely result in the alarm being raised and Marrock being executed. He did not doubt for a moment that Braith would do it. At least this way there was a chance that Marrock would live.
