by John Gwynne
‘Perhaps,’ Ektor shrugged. ‘That I can live with, but I think I have chosen the winning side.’
‘Why?’ Krelis asked, calmer now, anguish leaking from his voice.
‘You wouldn’t understand,’ Ektor said, ‘you who have everything.’
‘So did you,’ Krelis growled. ‘You want for nothing.’
Ektor shook his head. ‘I. Had. Nothing,’ he hissed bitterly. ‘No respect, no loyalty, no future, outside of my scrolls. I was laughed at, mocked with whispers as I walked by. Father did not respect intellect, only brawn. Well, I showed him.’
‘What?’
‘How did you think he ended up on Veradis’ sword, you idiot. Someone pushed him.’ He smiled. ‘It was not the only favour I have gifted to Calidus. How did you think the Vin Thalun scaled Ripa’s cliffs?’
‘I will kill you for this, I swear it,’ Krelis said, a coldness in his voice more daunting than his rage.
‘Unlikely,’ Ektor shrugged, picking up the bunch of keys from the floor. ‘Time to call some guards, I think.’
Footsteps sounded behind him, echoing down the corridor, the iron crack of eagle-guard boots on stone.
‘Perhaps naming does call,’ Ektor smiled.
Maquin peered down the corridor, saw a lone warrior in the black cuirass of an eagle-guard striding towards them. He passed under torchlight and Maquin saw who it was.
Veradis.
Nathair’s first-sword, Maquin thought, bowing his head. All hope left him.
‘Good timing, brother,’ Ektor called out, ‘though to be honest I could have done with your help a little earlier.’
Veradis paused when he saw Peritus’ body, glanced between the fallen warrior and the sword in Ektor’s hand, then stepped over Peritus and punched Ektor in the face.
Ektor staggered back, dropping sword and keys. Veradis followed and punched him again, flush on the chin. Ektor’s eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed, unconscious.
Veradis hurried to Peritus, crouched beside him, feeling for a pulse. He stood, shaking his head.
‘What has happened here?’ Veradis said. His voice was changed, the misery Maquin had heard in it the last time they spoke magnified a thousandfold.
What has happened to him?
‘Ektor is an agent of Calidus, was thwarting Alben’s attempt to rescue us,’ Fidele said.
Veradis looked at them all. His eyes were red-rimmed, face pale as bone.
‘Veradis, what has happened to you?’ Maquin asked him.
‘Fidele, you spoke the truth. Calidus is Kadoshim.’ He hung his head, grief and shame dripping from his voice. ‘And Nathair is . . .’ He trailed off.
‘The Black Sun,’ Alben breathed from the ground.
Veradis sucked in a deep breath, looked down at Alben, at the keys on the ground. He bent and picked them up, put an arm under Alben and lifted him to his feet.
‘I have been a fool, but no longer. You must leave here, now, under cover of dark,’ Veradis said as he ripped a strip of material from Ektor’s shirt, bound Alben’s wound as well as he could and then set about unlocking their cells.
Maquin put his arms around Fidele and pulled her close, felt her sink into him and hug him fiercely.
Krelis pushed past him and retrieved his sword from where Alben had placed it. With no warning he swung it high and chopped down into Ektor, severing his head with one blow.
‘No,’ Veradis yelled. ‘He was still our brother.’
‘He killed our da,’ Krelis said, nostrils flaring. ‘He pushed him onto your sword. He confessed it.’
Veradis stared at Krelis, those words sinking in, then just nodded.
‘Good, then,’ he said.
‘What do we do now?’ Fidele asked.
‘The warbands are making ready to leave,’ Veradis said. ‘Eagle-guard, Jehar, Vin Thalun. Many thousands of them. Dawn is still a long way off; it is chaos, your best chance is to escape in the confusion.’
‘My men,’ Krelis said. ‘There are eight hundred men of Ripa up there. I would not abandon them.’
‘They are ready and waiting for us,’ Alben said. He was still pale, but Veradis’ bandage had stemmed the flow of his blood and he seemed to have a little more strength about him.
‘Can you ride?’ Veradis asked him.
‘I’ll damn well ride away from here,’ he said.
‘But where?’ Fidele asked.
‘We must get to Drassil,’ Alben said, as if it were a simple task. ‘It is where Meical is, and the Bright Star.’
‘You will have to race Nathair and Calidus,’ Veradis said.
‘Then that is what we will do,’ Alben replied.
‘It’s a plan.’ Maquin shrugged. ‘But first we need to get away from this tower. I lived here, once. I know the pathways, I can lead us out. We should travel with those others leaving, at first, leave them once we’re away from this tower.’
He looked about at them, their faces stern and solemn.
‘Agreed?’ he asked.
‘Agreed,’ they replied.
They made ready. Maquin took Peritus’ sword, unstrapping the dead warrior’s belt and scabbard.
‘You have a good man’s blade there,’ Krelis said.
‘I will kill many of his enemies with it.’
Krelis smiled, a grim and fierce thing. ‘May that knowledge go with him across the bridge of swords.’
They were about to leave when Maquin stopped.
‘There are more prisoners in here,’ he said, looking to the end of the corridor.
‘Who?’ asked Veradis.
‘The giantess and her bairn.’
Veradis frowned a moment.
‘Calidus wanted them locked away, and that is a good enough reason for me to set them free. Can you hide them, take them with you?’
‘Hide them?’ Krelis snorted. ‘Not the easiest task.’
‘We can try,’ Alben smiled.
Veradis strode to the end of the corridor and unlocked their cell. Tentatively the two giants stepped out.
‘Raina, Tain,’ Fidele said, ‘we are fugitives in this place, fleeing, in danger of losing our lives, but you are welcome to join us, if you wish.’
Raina looked from Fidele to the end of the corridor, the door open, torchlight inviting.
She is scared, thought Maquin. Has been a captive so long, the alternative is a thing of fear.
‘It is a chance at freedom,’ Alben said. ‘You should seize it.’
‘Better to die free than to live in chains,’ Maquin said.
‘Is it?’ Raina asked, glancing between her son and Maquin.
‘Aye, it is,’ Maquin said with conviction. ‘And no one knows the truth of that better than I do.’ He felt Fidele’s hand brush his back.
‘We will taste freedom,’ Raina said, ‘even if it is only for a short while.’
They all strode down the corridor into a square room before a set of stairs. Two guards were sprawled on the floor. Alben shrugged. Krelis took their cloaks and gave them to the giants.
‘Probably won’t help much,’ he muttered.
‘I’ll go up first, make a distraction for you,’ Veradis said. ‘When you hear it walk fast, turn right at the top of the stairs and—’
‘I know the way,’ Maquin said.
‘Veradis,’ Fidele said. ‘You’re not coming with us?’
‘No,’ Veradis said. His eyes flickered between them all.
‘What?’ blustered Krelis. ‘But you must come with us.’
‘No. I have something to do.’
Maquin recognized that look. Had seen it many times in his own reflection.
Honour. Or death. And sometimes one follows the other.
‘Come with us, friend,’ Maquin said, stepping close to Veradis.
Veradis just shook his head.
‘We’ll see you again, then,’ Maquin said, squeezing Veradis’ shoulder.
‘Aye,’ Veradis nodded grimly. ‘This side or the other.’
&
nbsp; ‘What are you staying here for?’ Krelis called after him.
Veradis paused and looked back.
‘Brother, please. Come with us,’ Krelis pleaded.
Veradis shook his head. ‘I cannot. But I will join you if I can.’
‘Why? Why will you not come with us now?’
‘Because I am going to kill Calidus.’
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
ULFILAS
Ulfilas reined his horse in, Dag beside him. He had ridden back from the front line to find Jael, passing over two thousand men filling the road they had carved through the heart of Forn Forest. He felt a thrill of pride at seeing the road receding as far as his eye could see, branches arching over it as if they bowed to some royal procession.
Quite a feat.
He felt another thrill of excitement at what he had just discovered, or more accurately been told by Dag. He wanted to give the news to King Jael himself.
We started out with closer to three thousand men, Ulfilas thought as he rode through the throng. Hundreds had been lost to the cold and the predators of Forn.
And some of them have walked away on their own two feet, I am sure.
Many of the losses Ulfilas and Dag had attributed to enemy raids. They had kept their thoughts to themselves, not wanting to fuel the rumours that the Black Sun and his demons were hunting them at night. Nevertheless the fear had spread. The only thing that had stopped men deserting in large numbers was the fact that those who did desert were usually found dead within a day of leaving, victims of Forn’s denizens.
‘There he is.’ Dag pointed, and Ulfilas saw Jael standing before his tent, watching it being raised for another night in the forest. Winter was breaking now, the cold air fresh rather than bitter, the ground softer underfoot. All about them branches were flourishing with the green of new leaves. Days were lasting longer, allowing them to work later each day. Ulfilas jerked his reins and guided his horse down the embankment the road was being built upon, great lengths of timber laid over the crumbling stone of this ancient giants’ road. Jael was surrounded by his usual guards, Fram and a dozen men, they in turn circled by a score of the Jehar warriors, Sumur close to Jael.
He is always close to Jael. A permanent reminder of Nathair and his threat, or promise, no doubt.
Jael looked up as Ulfilas and Dag approached.
‘You have news?’ he asked.
‘We do, my King,’ Ulfilas said.
‘Come, then, tell me over a cup of wine,’ Jael said and marched into his tent; servants inside were lighting torches, laying out furniture, food and drink.
Within short moments Ulfilas was handed a cup of wine that had been warmed over a fire. He drank, allowing Jael to settle himself into his fur-draped chair.
‘Well?’ Jael asked when he was comfortable, a jewelled cup in his hand.
‘We’ve found Drassil,’ Ulfilas said.
Jael blinked at that, the words seeping in.
‘You’re sure?’ was the first thing he said.
‘Aye,’ Dag said. ‘Seen it with my own eyes.’
‘What’s it like, man?’ Jael asked, leaning forward. That had been the first question Ulfilas had asked of the huntsman.
‘It’s big,’ Dag said. ‘Like nothing you’ve ever seen.’
‘How long?’ asked Jael, looking both excited and scared.
‘Half a day,’ Dag replied. ‘We can stop building the road now, make a base camp here, use the old road to get there on the morrow.’
‘The old road? Is it fit for purpose?’
‘Good enough. We’ll have to walk, not ride. But clearing the way and laying the new road would cost another half a ten-night.’ He shrugged. ‘Depends how desperate you are to get there.’
‘We are the first, then,’ Jael said.
‘Oh aye, there were no other warbands camped outside the walls.’
‘So I shall be ruler of Carnutan and Helveth. Gundul and Lothar will be my vassals.’ He smiled viciously.
‘Do you think they’ll just allow that to happen?’ Ulfilas said, not able to keep the scepticism from his voice.
‘Do you think Nathair lacks the ability to enforce it?’ Jael replied.
Ulfilas remembered the display of Sumur against Fram, thought of a hundred like him. A thousand.
‘No, I don’t, now that you mention it.’
‘Neither do I,’ Jael said. ‘So we shall march with dawn and attack on the morrow.’
‘Would it not be wiser to wait?’ Ulfilas said. ‘Now that we have found Drassil. We could scout it out and wait for the others to arrive?’
‘No,’ a voice said behind them. Sumur, who had entered the tent silently. ‘Meical is there. His puppet is there. I will taste their flesh before the sun sets on the morrow.’
They all looked at him in silence.
Taste their flesh!
‘We have not carved our way through Forn to sit and wait,’ Jael said, trying his best to ignore Sumur and avoid the flat stare of his eyes. ‘Haelan is in there. I will not give him a chance to flee once again. And what of Gundul or Lothar? If we wait and they arrive from the south and west they will likely dispute my claim as first here! No. We shall be standing upon Drassil’s walls by the time they arrive.’ His grin widened. ‘This is a good day. And the morrow will be better. Now, let’s discuss how we are going to win the coming battle.’
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
VERADIS
Veradis stood on the spiral of the tower steps and stared out of the window.
Below him was the courtyard of Brikan, where great iron pots blazed and crackled with fire, creating pools of light amidst the darkness. He watched as Fidele and the others, the giants stooping like ancients, ludicrous to any eyes that lingered upon them, made their way through the busy chaos. Horses were stamping and whinnying, men calling out, marching or mounting up. Making it worse, the cauldron’s wain filled a large section of the courtyard, Jehar forming an unforgiving perimeter around it.
I have done all I can for them. My task here is too important to accompany them.
With relief he saw the escaping group pass through the arched gates that led to the encampment beyond, where – according to Alben – the men of Ripa were awaiting them.
Good.
He turned and strode up the stairs, grim-faced and determined.
Calidus’ chamber was situated on the first floor of the tower, with two Jehar standing guard. Flies buzzed languidly around one of them. It didn’t seem to bother him. They regarded Veradis with their black eyes as he knocked on the door and entered, not waiting for an invitation.
Calidus was bending over a small chest, silhouetted by a huge fireplace built into the wall. Unaware of Veradis’ presence he was focused on placing something – a doll-like figure with crude arms and legs – into the chest.
Alcyon was standing to the left, before a huge unshuttered window that looked out onto the river as it curled tight to the rear of the tower.
Focus on your task.
‘Ah,’ Calidus said. He closed the lid of the chest with a snap. ‘I was starting to think you had abandoned us.’
‘That is not who I am,’ Veradis said. He glanced at Alcyon, saw the giant regarding him with sombre eyes.
‘No, it is not,’ Calidus said. ‘But a man of your mind-set. I imagine it is hard to come to terms with such a shift in reality, almost like the ground changing beneath your feet.’
‘I have had to think long and hard on it.’
‘Indeed,’ said Calidus, head cocked to one side, studying Veradis intensely, like one of the vultures that circled a battlefield. Veradis walked to a table and poured himself a cup of wine, unable to meet Calidus’ gaze.
‘Have you visited Nathair first?’ Calidus asked him.
‘No,’ Veradis said, sipping dark red wine and taking a step towards Calidus.
‘That is unexpected,’ Calidus frowned.
‘I had some questions,’ Veradis said and took another step closer. ‘For you.�
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‘I would be happy to answer them for you, Veradis. You are a valued part of our campaign. Deeply talented at what you do. There is much you can accomplish for us.’
What I do. Kill people. A blunt instrument of war. And, oh, how many I have killed for your cause already . . .
He felt shame and self-loathing rise up like a wave, threatening to engulf him. With an act of will he forced it back down.
But can I kill him, standing before me without a weapon in his hands? It may be murder . . . but in this case I’m willing to make an exception. Maybe then Nathair will see sense.
After leaving Nathair, Veradis had found an abandoned stairwell and sat in solitary silence, thinking over, reliving every moment since he’d met Nathair. Their first meeting with Calidus and Alcyon, when he’d leaped through a wall of fire to defend Nathair, the council of Aquilus, the ants, sailing to Tarbesh and fighting giants and draigs, Telassar and Calidus’ unveiling . . .
And all of it is lies. I have been such a fool. And what more has been done without me by his side that I am unaware of?
And then the hunt for Mandros, Veradis leading a warband into Carnutan to hunt its King. He remembered Mandros’ words in the glade, just before Veradis had slain him.
Nathair killed your King, not I.
‘I understand that all is not black and white, that difficult choices must be made in war. I am no infant to expect anything other.’ He drew in a deep breath. ‘However, there is one thing I must know.’ He looked up now and met Calidus’ eyes. ‘Truth now is all I ask. Did Nathair slay Aquilus?’
‘Of course he did.’ Calidus snorted. ‘He had no choice. It was—’
‘For the greater good,’ Veradis finished for him, nodding. ‘As is this.’ He threw his cup of wine at Calidus’ face, at the same time leaping forwards and drawing a knife from his belt. Calidus staggered back a step, right before the roaring fire, his arms raised, flailing. Veradis heard Alcyon moving, the table between them being overturned in Alcyon’s rush, but he was too late. Veradis stepped in close to Calidus, ducked his flailing arms and buried his knife to the hilt in Calidus’ belly, twisted and ripped, blood slicking his fist.
