The men restraining Graelen turned to meet the new threat.
Soon all eight Mieren were dead.
Graelen cleaned his knife. ‘The queen?’
‘Sorne’s taken her in the boat,’ Tobazim said. ‘But I saw another one we can use.’
Iraayel was bent double. Graelen helped him up. ‘Can you walk?’
‘I… I think so.’
They returned to the boat-house, piled into a rowboat and closed the gate. By now it had begun to rain. A downpour drowned all sound and made the night dark as pitch, cloaking them as they rowed across the lake.
Wet through from the rain, they dragged the boat onto the bank.
‘I killed tonight. Their shades will come after me.’ Iraayel had to raise his voice to be heard above the drumming of the rain. ‘I don’t have the training –’
‘I’ll shield you,’ Tobazim said.
And Graelen knew Tobazim saw the lad as one of his brothers, his to protect. Just as an all-father should.
In that moment, he knew that he wasn’t going to kill Tobazim.
‘Come on.’ Graelen led them up the slope, heading for the horses.
SORNE COULDN’T SEE his hand in front of his face. He followed the slope of the land and the faint smell of horses. A soft whicker greeted them as they drew close. He could sense roused male gift, laced with aggression, and that worried him. The three initiates had been back with the horses for a while now. Their gifts should be settled.
‘Where are the others, halfblood?’ It was one of the initiates and, clearly, he could see enough to make out that there were only two of them.
‘We were attacked. They sent us on ahead.’
The initiates let them pass. Sorne helped Jaraile onto her mount and tied her bundle onto the saddle, then mounted up and waited. He thought he caught whispering and had the feeling these three were up to something.
Then the gift aggression faded and he sensed he and the queen were alone with the horses.
Jaraile urged her mount close to his. ‘Are they going to be all right?’
Just then the rain started, drumming down around them and drowning all noise. Sorne felt uncomfortable. The longer he sat here, the more vulnerable they were. He had the queen, he should just go.
Instead he took the reins of Jaraile’s horse, turned his mount and went along the ridge a little, then downhill.
GRAELEN WAS TIRED. Every bone in his body ached. As he walked uphill in the cold rain, he felt every blow he’d taken tonight. He thought that one of his ribs was cracked and several teeth were certainly loose.
Only years of training helped him avoid the knife that came out of the dark. He blocked, sidestepped and caught his attacker’s arm. Skin on skin, he felt T’En power and knew the three initiates had been told to kill him. His instinct was to segue to the higher plane, but that would leave his body vulnerable here.
Someone collided with his back and he heard Tobazim curse as he struggled against an assailant.
He had no more time for thought as he fought in the rain, in the dark. He slipped in the mud and a blow went over his head. As he lurched to his feet, he shouldered his attacker in the stomach.
Someone kicked his knees from behind, and he went down. They caught his head by the hair.
A horse whinnied. Hooves flashed, thudding into his attacker, who grunted and collapsed.
He looked up to see someone dismount.
‘Grae, is that you?’ Sorne asked.
‘Quiet. There were three of them,’ Graelen warned. ‘I think we’ve only accounted for two.’
‘The third won’t be giving any trouble,’ Tobazim said.
‘Iraayel?’ Sorne called.
No answer.
Graelen spotted a pale face and felt it. Stubble on the jaw. Not Iraayel, then. Just as well, this one was dead. He found Iraayel next. The lad was unconscious, but breathing. They lifted him across Sorne’s horse.
Then they took the initiates’ arm-torcs and knives, and dragged their bodies to the lake, where they weighed them down and left them to sink. In the east, the sky was pale with the promise of dawn.
Now that the rain had ceased, it was fearfully cold. As Graelen waded back to the shore, there was just enough light to see the queen, huddled on her mount. Sorne had led their horses down to the shore; he handed them their reins.
Tobazim mounted up, then turned to Graelen. ‘You realise this means Kyredeon meant for us both to die.’
‘That, or Oriemn took it upon himself to make sure I didn’t get back. I hate to think what may happen to Valendia.’
‘Dia’s safe,’ Sorne said.
‘What?’
‘The night we left the ship, she came to me in tears.’ Sorne shrugged. ‘I didn’t tell you because I thought you’d say it was none of my business, but I couldn’t have my sister in danger. She’s in Shifting-sands Stronghold. So you don’t need to worry.’
‘You should have told me,’ Graelen said.
‘I’m telling you now.’
‘No, you should have told us right away,’ Tobazim said. ‘This changes everything. If Valendia’s missing, Kyredeon will take it to mean Graelen has changed allegiances and has hidden her, to protect her until after we challenge him. Kyredeon might have already moved against our supporters.’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise,’ Sorne said. ‘But I don’t have time for brotherhood politics. I have a queen to protect and a kingdom to save. I’m riding for Riverbend Stronghold –’
‘Riverbend?’ Jaraile sat up. ‘You can’t go there. Baron Aingeru betrayed you to Eskarnor. He and Baron Ikor rode for Riverbend Stronghold days ago. They were going to pretend to change sides, then turn on you.’
Sorne cursed. ‘Forewarned is forearmed. We ride for Riverbend.’
He took the lead with the queen right behind him.
Graelen realised Valendia must have been the extra person in the rowboat the night they left the brotherhood ship. Kyredeon had not known she was missing when he told the three initiates to make sure neither Graelen nor Tobazim returned from this mission.
As they rode uphill, Tobazim turned to him. ‘Sorne has no idea how his actions have complicated things. He’s forced you to side with us.’
‘I always wanted to side with you. Valendia was the only reason I agreed to serve Kyredeon, but he never meant me to return alive. He meant to keep her for himself.’
‘I thought she’d die, if you died.’
‘If a powerful T’En was there, ready to link to her when she lost me, she might survive.’
‘Kyredeon.’ Tobazim sounded disgusted. He stopped his horse and turned to face Graelen. ‘If we come through this alive, I would be proud to have you as my hand-of-force.’
It was everything Graelen had wanted at sixteen, a brotherhood leader he admired and the stature of his hand-of-force. But an all-father would go through several hands-of-force, and he had Valendia to think of.
‘I offer my loyalty without the reward of stature. I offer it because Kyredeon must be removed, before his gift corrupts and the contagion infects our whole brotherhood.’
‘You’re right.’ Tobazim said. ‘I only hope…’
‘You’re strong enough.’ Graelen didn’t think Tobazim was, but he had no choice now. And he had no intention of fighting fair, not against Kyredeon, who had lied and manipulated his way to power.
Chapter Twenty-One
SORNE APPROACHED RIVERBEND Stronghold by crawling on his belly through the thigh-high bushes. These were covered in white winter-bell flowers, which grew so thickly they looked like early snowdrifts in places. He’d left his horse and the rest of his party down in the hollow behind him.
Sixteen days ago, he’d sent the king’s guards to the barons’ estates. Since Dekaitz, Rantzo and Dittor had been killed by Eskarnor’s men, their sons or younger brothers would take their places. Ikor had changed sides, but the men on his estate wouldn’t have known this when the king’s palace guard arrived and ordered them to ride t
o Riverbend Stronghold, and they were Chalcedonians born and bred. They would not be eager to serve a jumped-up southern baron who meant to usurp their rightful king. By Sorne’s calculation, the men-at-arms from Shifting-sands Stronghold should also be here, which meant there should be an army waiting for him.
But when he reached the crest of the hill, pushed the sprigs of winter-bell flowers aside and looked down on the valley with its winding river, he had no way of knowing if Riverbend Stronghold held the remains of south Chalcedonia’s army, because there was no way he could get near it.
The stronghold was built on a small hill, at a bend in the river. A town had sat around the base of the hill, but the inhabitants had withdrawn and the town had been burned to the ground. Camped on the winter-bare fields were several hundred men. Smoke from their fires drifted straight up on the late afternoon air.
‘What’s going on?’ Tobazim whispered, joining him.
Sorne pointed to the two banners propped below. ‘Aingeru and Ikor have besieged the stronghold.’
‘Two barons? Surely there are enough men in the stronghold to deal with them?’
‘You’d think so,’ Sorne said, ‘but the besieging men are battle-seasoned troops. Meanwhile, Captain Ballendin and Nitzane are both in port, leaving the stronghold’s men leaderless. Most of the mustered troops are farmers, and they’ll be led by the barons’ younger brothers or inexperienced sons. Dekaitz, Rantzo and Dittor would have kept their best men with them to maintain the seige of the Wyrd city. Those men will have been killed defending their barons the night Eskarnor made his move. As for the king’s guard, they’re used to strutting about the port in fine uniforms taking orders from Commander Halargon. And…’ Sorne grimaced. ‘I told them to wait for me here. So they could be waiting for me to bring help.’
‘I thought Baron Aingeru’s plan was to appear to go over to your side, then kill you when your guard was down?’
‘Plans are written on the shifting sands of battle.’ Frustration churned in Sorne’s stomach. ‘There’s a small army in that stronghold, in need of a leader, and I can’t get to them.’
Graelen crept up the rise to join them. ‘We’ve got company. A column of men approach from the western road.’
Sorne glanced to their camp.
Iraayel had spent two days groggy from the blow to his head, but seemed back to normal today. He was on his feet, inspecting the bushes for something. Meanwhile, Jaraile huddled miserably in her cloak. Sorne had promised her a warm bed and dry clothes for the first time in three days. No chance of that now, and soon they would be trapped between two of Eskarnor’s barons and… ‘Did you see what banner these men flew?’
‘It was white, with a black bear.’
‘Dekaitz,’ Sorne said, relieved. He headed down the hill.
As he approached Jaraile, he was in time to see Iraayel present her a bunch of winter-bell flowers. ‘To brighten your day, Queen Jaraile. You said they reminded you of where you grew up.’
Tears filled her eyes and slid down her cheeks.
‘They were supposed to make you smile.’ Iraayel looked over to Sorne. ‘I didn’t mean –’
‘It’s all right. Give us a moment,’ Sorne said, kneeling in front of Jaraile.
The bedraggled queen held the flowers in both hands. She raised tear-filled eyes to Sorne. ‘I did say they reminded me of where I grew up. That was a chance remark yesterday.’
He squeezed her hand. ‘I need you to be strong now. Can you play the queen?’
‘Yes, of course I can.’
‘Good. Come with me.’
When he helped her remount, she kept the flowers.
Graelen came up behind him. ‘What are you going to do, Sorne?’
He swung into his saddle and turned his horse towards the western road. ‘Charald always said war is won in men’s minds.’
The three T’En looked bemused as he rode off with the queen.
‘What are you doing, Sorne?’ Jaraile whispered.
They climbed over the rise and saw the column of men coming towards them. Only two were on horseback; the rest marched, and there could not have been more than fifty. Sorne’s heart sank.
‘Play along,’ he said as he rode down to meet them.
Seeing him approach, the riders called a halt. One was nearly seventy and the other was no more than fourteen.
‘Who’s in charge here?’ Sorne asked.
The grizzled old man spoke. ‘I am. I’m Dekornz’s tutor. This is Baron Dekornz of Black-bear Stronghold.’
‘Where are the rest of your men? Where is the king’s guard I sent to your estate?’
‘He’s riding east to deliver the baron’s mother and the rest of the children to Shifting-sand Bay.’
‘What delayed you?’
‘My lady had just given birth. She would not have left at all, except the king’s guard insisted. He’s escorting her, but I sent twenty of our men with him, because I didn’t like his manner.’
Sorne rubbed his mouth to hide his smile. ‘What did he tell you?’
‘That the king was celebrating the return of his son and young Dekornz here is now the baron, since Eskarnor betrayed the king. He said nothing about Queen Jaraile being on the road.’
Sorne glanced to Jaraile.
‘Hello, Scholar Mozteben,’ Jaraile said. ‘It’s been a long time. What are you doing, riding to war?’
‘Trying to save a baron who’s still wet behind the ears.’
‘Please accept my sympathy on your loss, Baron Dekornz,’ Sorne told the lad. ‘Scholar, does the young baron have a set of plate armour?’
‘A fine set, newly made for him.’
‘Good. We’ll need to borrow it.’ As Sorne led Mozteben and young Baron Dekornz off the road, he told them his idea.
It was full dark by the time Sorne rode towards the besieging barons’ camp with Jaraile in the armour. She’d tucked a sprig of winter-bell flowers in her breastplate for luck. Seven of the burliest of the farmers pretended to be their honour guard. The torches fizzed as a few drops of rain fell. Sorne hoped the rain would hold off for now. It was essential to his plan.
Sentries ran to fetch the barons. Ikor approached first. He took in Sorne and the queen in full armour and went pale. Aingeru was next. He glanced to Jaraile once, then to Sorne. About a dozen men-at-arms stood with their hands on their weapons as Aingeru and Ikor strode out to meet Sorne and the queen.
‘You picked the wrong side this time, halfblood,’ Ikor gloated. ‘Eskarnor has Charald surrounded in Port Mirror-on-Sea. Once the port falls, the kingdom will be his!’
‘Port Mirror-on-Sea’s defences are strong and Eskarnor has no fleet to blockade her harbour. After we mop up your men, we’ll ride there and crush his army.’
Ikor snorted. ‘How will you do that? Putting a queen in plate armour doesn’t grow her a pair of balls. You need men.’
‘Sometimes brains are more important than balls,’ Sorne said. ‘You have made the mistake of besieging Nitzane’s stronghold. Queen Jaraile has graciously granted you this opportunity to surrender.’
Ikor laughed. ‘To her?’
‘To the queen and her army,’ Sorne said. ‘She has five hundred men camped over the rise.’
‘Impossible!’ Ikor protested.
‘Go look if you don’t believe me.’
Ikor called for a horse.
While they waited for it to be saddled, Sorne raised his eyes and saw the men clustered on the castle wall-walk. They’d recognise him, but not Jaraile in her armour. ‘Take off your helmet, my queen.’
‘I bring Queen Jaraile and an army to break the siege,’ Sorne yelled. The men on the wall cheered.
A horse was delivered to Ikor, who jumped astride it and rode to the crest of the hill. As the horse’s galloping hooves faded, Sorne turned to Aingeru. ‘Zaria sends her love.’
‘I know you have her.’ Aingeru glanced to Jaraile. ‘Last time I saw you, you were keeping Eskarnor’s bed warm.’
‘Not by choice,’ Jaraile said. ‘Next time I see Eskarnor, he’s going to beg my forgiveness as he bleeds to death at my feet.’
Sorne turned in the saddle, surprised by her vehemence.
‘He means to kill my son,’ Jaraile said, eyes glittering in her sweet face. ‘He has to die.’
‘Fair enough.’ Sorne turned back to Aingeru.
By now, Ikor would have reached the top of that hill. What he’d see was a dark valley dotted with many camp fires around which clustered huddled shapes. Around the closest fires were the fifty men. Towards the middle of the camp was the royal tent, its banner in silhouette against the torches. At a quick glance, it would look like a camp of five hundred men. And the sentries had been told to challenge Ikor, allowing him no closer. Sorne’s bluff relied on the baron’s nerve failing and Aingeru changing sides. ‘Zaria was convinced you’d support King Charald.’
‘I have no love for Charald.’
‘The king is dying,’ Jaraile said. ‘The reign of King Charald the Tyrant is over. My son will be a very different kind of ruler.’
Sorne could hear Ikor’s horse returning; time was running out. He urged his mount forward. ‘If you meant to swear allegiance to King Charald, then betray me, why are you besieging Nitzane’s stronghold?’
Aingeru lowered his voice. ‘I never meant to betray you. I revealed Zaria’s message as a ruse to escape Eskarnor. He’d have taken my head if he guessed my true intentions. But he was too clever for me. He sent Ikor along to make sure I didn’t switch allegiance. Ikor’s keen to prove his loyalty to Eskarnor. When we arrived here, he got into a pissing match with one of the king’s guard, and before I could do anything, it escalated and…’
Aingeru stepped back as the baron thundered in on his horse, and jumped down from it to confer with Aingeru, who glanced to Sorne.
‘Ikor tells me you have five hundred men in the next valley,’ Aingeru said.
Sorne nodded. ‘Tomorrow morning, I’ll march them over the hill. The stronghold will open its gates and your men will be crushed between the hammer and the anvil. But, if you reconsider your allegiance to Eskarnor the Usurper, you can surrender tonight. I understand it was a matter of die or change allegiance the night Eskarnor returned to the Wyrd city.’
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