Valour

by John Gwynne

  Veradis had soaked in a hot bath, eaten a good meal and changed into a soft cotton tunic and leather kilt, though he still wore his two swords on his belt. His iron sandals had echoed in the stone corridors as he followed Nathair’s messenger back to the King’s chambers, and now here he was, drinking something disgusting with a Vin Thalun pirate. He never failed to marvel at the surprises the last few years had thrown at him.

  The door opened and in marched Nathair, followed closely by Sumur and Calidus. Alcyon came last.

  Nathair ushered them to chairs.

  ‘We must wait for one more before we begin,’ Nathair said.

  There was a knock at the door. A man walked in whom Veradis did not recognize. He was fair haired, dressed in tunic and breeches. His beard was neat and trimmed; there was an economy in his movement as he approached the table.

  ‘This is Evnis,’ Nathair said, ‘until recently the counsellor of King Brenin. He has entered my service, and has already proved his loyalty and his value. You can all speak freely in front of him.’

  Evnis smiled, showing creases about his eyes, and sat at the table.

  ‘I am glad that you are all here,’ Nathair told them. ‘It is no small thing that we are gathered together, hundreds of leagues from Tenebral.’

  ‘A miraculous sign of Elyon’s approval of our purposes, if ever we needed one,’ Lykos said, raising his cup and drinking deep.

  ‘And also testament of Calidus’ talents,’ Nathair said.

  Calidus waved a hand, frowning at Lykos.

  ‘Lykos, let us begin with you. I am eager for news of my home.’

  Home. I miss Tenebral, and so does Nathair, judging by his look.

  ‘Your mother sends her greetings,’ Lykos said.

  Nathair smiled, warm and genuine. ‘Is she well?’

  ‘Her health is good, from what I can tell. And she tries to govern Tenebral well, for her part.’

  ‘Tries?’ said Nathair, frowning.

  ‘There is unrest in Tenebral, my King. Your barons seek to take advantage of your absence and your mother’s grief.’

  What barons? thought Veradis. My own father is Baron of Ripa.

  ‘What do you mean? Mother has not sent me word.’

  ‘She has sent a letter for you,’ Lykos said and reached inside his tunic. ‘Here.’

  Nathair looked at its seal closely, then broke it and read the parchment in silence.

  ‘I doubt she would wish to talk much of Tenebral’s internal problems,’ Lykos said. ‘She seeks to reduce your burden, not increase it.’

  Nathair looked at him. ‘She says that you, the Vin Thalun, have been causing many of the problems.’

  ‘You have enemies that seek any advantage they can.’ Lykos shrugged.

  ‘Tell me,’ Nathair commanded.

  ‘I had many difficulties building your fleet – some of your barons obstructed the building greatly. Especially Marcellin in the north –’ he glanced at Veradis – ‘and Lamar in the south.’

  My father.

  ‘They limited the supplies, particularly timber.’

  I would not put it past him. He hates the Vin Thalun, as does my brother Krelis.

  ‘When I spoke to your mother of this she intervened. But because of their interference I thought it might be helpful to learn more about these people.’

  ‘You mean you spied on them,’ Nathair said.

  My father would not take kindly to that if he knew.

  ‘Yes. And I learned that there is complaining amongst your barons, of how you have ruled Tenebral, of your embracing corsairs.’ Lykos smiled grimly. ‘You would expect no different in any realm – there are always those that seek more power. But the things Marcellin and Lamar are saying of you, spreading rumours. It could become more than just words of discontent.’

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ Veradis said. ‘My father may be many things, but he would not speak ill of you, Nathair. You are his king.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Nathair. ‘But I remember our last meeting, as you must. It did not go well. And I recall him being disrespectful, even then.’

  Aye, he was. Veradis had almost come to blows with his father over the disrespect he had shown Nathair. Just the memory of it stirred his anger.

  ‘What are they saying?’ Nathair asked Lykos.

  ‘They talk of how you have abandoned your country, your people, to pursue your ambitions.’

  A look of anger contorted Nathair’s face. ‘All that I do I do for Tenebral’s good.’ He slammed a clenched fist on the table.

  ‘I know that, my King, but it seems that Marcellin and Lamar do not. And there is more. Peritus has been seen with Marcellin.’

  ‘Peritus?’

  ‘Aye.’

  Peritus had been battlechief to Aquilus, Nathair’s father. He had been openly disapproving of Nathair’s shield wall and new strategies for battle. Partly because of this he had found his standing in Tenebral shifting as Nathair set about acquiring his own circle of trusted supporters. Peritus was not one of them, though up until now Nathair had not doubted his loyalty to the crown.

  ‘I worry about the affairs in Tenebral,’ Lykos said. ‘Sometimes these situations require a firm hand, and I suspect your mother is not in the right frame of mind to deal with unruly barons resolutely. Since your father died, she has not been the same, I hear.’

  ‘I know.’ Nathair bowed his head. ‘I had hoped that leaving her as regent in my absence would help, pull her out of her grief, her introspection.’ He crushed the letter in his hand. ‘I will not have men take advantage of her kind nature. Or challenge me.’

  ‘The Jehar would willingly cut any rot from your kingdom,’ Sumur said. ‘We are not afraid to do what must be done.’

  ‘I do not doubt it,’ Nathair said, ‘but I have only just called the Jehar here – I would have you and your warriors about me.’ He looked at Veradis. ‘I will think on this. Hard decisions may need to be made.’

  Hard decisions about my father? My brothers? A seed of worry took root in Veradis’ heart.

  ‘Calidus has told me much of what has occurred in Forn,’ Nathair said, clearly wanting to change the subject. ‘Much good has happened, not least the discovery of the starstone axe.’

  All eyes turned to Alcyon, who had unslung the axe from his back and leaned it against the table.

  ‘It is an extraordinary blessing,’ Calidus said. ‘With it our position is strengthened. It gives us greater security once we have the cauldron.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Nathair asked.

  ‘This axe is one of the Seven Treasures, its blade forged from the same fabric as the cauldron, the same as the other Treasures. It is alien, powerful; when the Treasures are in close proximity, their power is increased. The cauldron’s power will be enhanced by the presence of the axe.’

  ‘This cauldron has been a part of my dreams for so long,’ Nathair mused. ‘I do not doubt its importance, but I have wondered. What power does it hold? Why is it so important in the war against Asroth and his Black Sun?’

  Calidus looked at Nathair, the silence growing. Then he spoke. ‘The Seven Treasures are not of this world,’ he said. ‘They all are linked to the Otherworld, the cauldron most of all. It holds the power to bridge this world of flesh and the Otherworld.’

  Veradis thought about that. The hairs on his arm goose-bumped. ‘For what purpose?’

  ‘To bring my kin across the veil. To bring the Ben-Elim to this world of flesh. With their help we will be invincible; we will crush the Dark Sun and establish Elyon’s kingdom forever.’

  A silence fell upon the room.

  ‘That is what I have hoped for, strived for,’ Nathair said, his expression one of ecstasy. ‘Is that not so, brother?’ he said, clapping Veradis across the shoulder. ‘To put the world right, to see our labour and hard choices justified.’

  ‘Aye, Nathair,’ Veradis said.

  ‘There is something else that I have discovered, which you should know,’ Calidus resumed. ‘
The cauldron can be destroyed, but only if all the Treasures are gathered together. So, possessing the axe is a double surety for us. While we have it the cauldron cannot be harmed.’

  ‘That is good to know,’ Nathair said.

  ‘So our task to find the cauldron can proceed.’

  ‘Evnis has confirmed that it is in Murias,’ Nathair said.

  ‘That is rare and useful knowledge.’ Calidus looked at Evnis with renewed interest.

  ‘I have had cause to study the Benothi giants,’ Evnis said. ‘And I have had small dealings with the Benothi in the past. They have confirmed to me that the cauldron is kept in Murias.’

  Calidus nodded. ‘Then we must hasten there.’

  ‘Not yet,’ Nathair said. ‘I am as eager as you, Calidus, to fulfil this task that Elyon has set us. But there is work to be done here, first. Great gains for the alliance can be made.’

  When you say alliance, I think you mean empire, Veradis thought, remembering Aquilus’ council and the following argument between Aquilus and Nathair. After witnessing first-hand the discord between the kings of the Banished Lands, Veradis knew Nathair’s dream to build an empire made perfect sense. An empire was simpler in concept. One ruler, less diplomacy and politicking, and that appealed to Veradis. But the reality was never as simple: to see an empire would mean kings bowing to Nathair, and that was about as likely as the Black Sun walking into their meeting and surrendering. So the only other option was war – death and slaughter on a unimaginable scale. Now that thought did not appeal. But what else could be done? Asroth would destroy every soul that drew breath in the Banished Lands: men, women, children. In that light warriors fighting and dying seemed more bearable. It is for the greater good.

  Veradis’ head was starting to ache with the enormity of all that was happening, as if they were walking a narrow bridge across a great chasm, and one misstep could send them hurtling to their doom. He shook his head.

  I’ll leave the politicking and the decision-making to Nathair.

  ‘Let me explain the situation as I understand it,’ Nathair said. ‘Evnis, please correct me if I make any mistakes. There are, or were, five kingdoms here in the west of the Banished Lands: Cambren, Ardan, Narvon, Domhain and Benoth in the north, where giants still rule. Ardan was ruled by Brenin, but he is now dead and Ardan has been conquered by Owain, King of Narvon. More recently Rhin, Queen of Cambren, has invaded Narvon and is now pushing into Ardan. She means to take both Narvon and Ardan from Owain.’

  ‘That will make her powerful,’ Calidus said.

  ‘Yes, it will. And she is ambitious. I do not think she will stop there. There are two more kingdoms in the west – Domhain and Benoth. I suspect she will turn her attentions towards them if she is successful here.’

  ‘I like the sound of her,’ Lykos said. ‘She reminds me of me.’

  ‘Will that not make her too powerful?’ Veradis said. ‘I remember her from your father’s council, and I do not trust her.’

  ‘I don’t trust anyone beyond this room,’ Nathair answered. ‘And, yes, it would make her powerful. But I would rather deal with one person that I know the measure of than four petty kings in her place.’ Nathair shrugged. ‘In the east, Carnutan is ruled by Gundul, who relies on my support. Isiltir is likely to have Jael as its new king, though Calidus tells me he may need some help in claiming his throne.’ Nathair looked at Lykos. ‘I think you may be of some help there, Lykos. It would give you an opportunity to do more than sail your ships.’

  ‘He needs something to do, before he drinks himself to death,’ Calidus murmured.

  ‘I must confess, since I conquered the Three Islands, life has become quieter. Boring, even. I could do with some action in my life.’ Lykos grinned and held his cup up.

  ‘If it’s action you want, I have just the task for you,’ Nathair said. ‘We shall speak more on that later. So then Isiltir would be in Jael’s control, and Helveth looks soon to be ruled by Lothar, another man in my debt. If the west came under the dominion of Rhin, and she answered to me, then most of the Banished Lands would be under our control.’

  ‘And my Three Islands are yours,’ Lykos added.

  ‘Yes,’ Nathair answered. ‘So Asroth’s Black Sun is running out of possible realms to support him.’

  ‘And what of Owain? Is he not already indebted to you? Would he not make a more suitable ally than Rhin, at least a less ambitious one?’ Veradis pressed.

  ‘Less ambitious, definitely. But he is small minded, stiff necked and weak – a bad combination. He does not have the strength to weather the coming storm. And in his heart he does not embrace me or the alliance. I am sure of that.’

  ‘Then we should support Rhin,’ Calidus said.

  ‘Yes,’ Nathair said. ‘How to do that is what we must decide while we are gathered here.’

  They discussed long into the night, making plans, Evnis proving every bit as useful and knowledgeable as Nathair had said. Also to Veradis’ pleasure he discovered that over five hundred eagle-warriors of Tenebral were stationed on ships only a handful of leagues away, part of the new wave of shield wall trained men that had been implemented in Tenebral only the year before. They were to be put under his command, to bolster his depleted warband.

  The eagle-guard put him in mind of home, and a thought leaped into his head.

  ‘Where is Rauca?’ he asked.

  All looked at him.

  Nathair shook his head. ‘Rauca is dead. He was slain on the night the fortress was taken by Owain.’

  ‘What . . . ?’

  Nathair continued to speak, but Veradis did not hear the words. He felt as if he had been plunged into murky water, everything about him becoming vague, unfocused. Rauca, dead. He knew it could happen, but somehow he had never considered it a possibility for his friend. Veradis looked up, saw Nathair’s lips were still moving.

  ‘Who?’ he asked, the word snapping the world back into sharp focus for him. ‘Who killed him?’

  Nathair looked at Sumur.

  ‘His name was Gar,’ Sumur said with a shrug.

  ‘The same man killed near all of my eagle-guard, single handed,’ Nathair added grimly. ‘Sumur, tell Veradis of this Gar.’

  Sumur looked down at his lap and took a deep breath. It was as much emotion as Veradis had seen pass across his face since the day Calidus had revealed himself as one of the Ben-Elim.

  ‘He is Jehar,’ Sumur began.

  ‘What?’ said Calidus, leaning forward.

  ‘He is Jehar,’ Sumur repeated. ‘Do you remember when you first came to Telassar that I told you another had come, that some of my sword-brothers had been deceived by this man and had left Telassar on some fool’s errand.’

  Veradis nodded.

  ‘Gar was one of them. He was young then, only just become a man, a warrior, but his father led the deceived, and Gar would cross a world on fire to stay close to him.’

  ‘His father? Then where is he now? How many Jehar were there with him?’

  ‘One hundred men and women left Telassar. Where they are now I know not, only that they went in search of the Seren Disglair.’

  ‘They did not find me,’ Nathair said.

  ‘Of course not. That I know. They must be dead, their quest long since failed. I cannot imagine Gar leaving his father for any other reason.’

  This Gar – I will see him dead, vowed Veradis, only half listening to the other talk, his mind too full of Rauca’s memory. He felt a frustrated rage welling up, the desire to draw his sword and strike something.

  ‘Was this Gar with anyone?’ Calidus spoke now, his voice quiet, but his tone caused Veradis to focus again. There was something, an underlying emotion, that he had never heard in the old man before.

  It was a battle,’ Sumur said. ‘All was chaos, but he looked to a boy, with a wolven.’

  ‘I have thought along the same lines as you,’ Nathair said to Calidus. ‘Evnis has told me something of the boy – this Gar was friendly with his family.’

&n
bsp; ‘A wolven?’ asked Calidus.

  ‘Yes,’ Evnis said. ‘The boy had a pet wolven, though it was far from tame. Storm, he called it.’

  ‘Storm,’ echoed Calidus. He closed his eyes. ‘Before one, storm and shield shall stand . . .’ he intoned. Nathair drew in a sharp breath.

  ‘What is that? What do you speak of?’ Evnis asked.

  ‘Calidus is reciting a line from Halvor’s prophecy,’ Nathair whispered. ‘It speaks of Asroth’s champion, the Black Sun.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  UTHAS

  Uthas strode through the heather, starlight silvering the moorland that stretched for leagues ahead of him. He was close to the southern border of Benoth now, would soon be moving into the realm of Domhain. The pain in his knee was a dull throb. He paused, resting his weight on his spear, and looked back. The fortress of Murias was long faded from view, the cauldron within it still drawing his mind, as dead meat draws a crow.

  Salach, his shieldman, loomed large behind him, the other giants accompanying them mere shadows strung out into the night. Five he had chosen at Queen Nemain’s bidding, five warriors to journey into Domhain, to spy on their enemy, Eremon, upstart king of an upstart race that had driven him and his clan from their homeland. He felt a wave of sadness, looking back at the kin he had chosen. They were young by giant standards, and he had hard choices to force upon them. But we must have our vengeance, and no path is easy in this grim life. If the Benothi are to return to the south once again, then hard choices must be made. I will make it worth their while.

  If they live long enough, another voice whispered in his mind. He felt the hairs on his neck stand up.

  ‘What is it?’ Salach said as he drew near.

  ‘Nothing. Just thinking.’

  ‘You’ve had years for that. It is time for doing now,’ Salach said.

  There was a fluttering from above; a dark shape swooped out of the night. A bird landed on a boulder close by, dark eyes glinting in the moonlight. Nemain had sent the raven with them to act as scout, but Uthas new that when they returned to Murias the bird would report back to Nemain on every word and deed.

  More spy than scout.