Cromwell snorted. “Who knows, but K’xarr is up to something. He would not leave Serban to join this rabble on a whim. There is no gold in helping these dirt diggers.”
“Unless they manage to win,” Endra pointed out, holding her hands over the fire.
Kian looked into the blaze. The cold didn’t trouble him much, but the fire’s warmth felt good spreading through his limbs. After the battle in Gallio, he didn’t think he would ever be pleased to stand close to a fire again.
Trimenia was not Masaria, and Constantine was no Malric Denn. The rebel leader wasn’t ruthless nor did he have much of a head for military strategies. His strengths lay elsewhere, and K’xarr would find Constantine was not one to be tricked into giving up his command. The rebel general believed he knew what was best for his people. Kian doubted he would listen to a foreigner, especially one who had been serving his enemy.
The Sons had been ordered to stay out of the camp until Constantine could make a decision on what he was going to do with the mercenaries. He had allowed K’xarr in to speak with him alone. The entire camp now waited for the result of the meeting.
“What are you going to do if the Sons join the rebellion?” Cromwell asked, bringing his attention back to his companions.
“Wish them well when spring comes I have my own plans, my friend,” Kian said without hesitation
“We have our own plans,” Endra corrected.
“Well, I will stay. I don’t much care for these Trimenians, but I dislike the undead more. I took an oath to K’xarr and my brothers, I will honor it. Besides, before I go, I will have blood for Morgana’s death,” Cromwell said with conviction.
The big man sounded disappointed at Kian and Endra’s reluctance to stay in Trimenia. Kian knew sooner or later K’xarr would propose he stay. This time, his answer would have to be no. Serban was evil, true enough, and he had sworn to stand against the darkness wherever he found it. But this time, he had to think of those he cared about. He couldn’t risk them again, not for this.
Ashlyn rubbed her nose. “If Cromwell is going to remain, I guess that is what I will do as well. This Toran ogre and the company are the only family I will ever have. I won’t desert them now.”
“I wish you and Endra would change your mind, Kian. We are a force to be reckoned with when we all ride together,” Cromwell said.
Kian knew it was true. When they were united, they were a dangerous lot, but it also brought out a great deal of foolhardiness in all of them. Together, they didn’t know when to back down or pass a fight by. He had often thought their closeness would one day be their undoing. “I must see to the children. I have no stake in this fight. I promised to help you avenge Morgana. I will do no more than that.”
“You said Constantine was counting on those wolfmen to kill Serban. I don’t know if I trust those shapeshifters to get the job done. I know you can. Once your shadow darkens an enemy, they are not long for Hell, Arradar.”
There it was. He knew someone would suggest he go end the blood drinker, and Kian was not surprised it was Cromwell. “Vladimir and Julian are good men, and they hate Serban. If the rebels can get to him, he will fall. And K’xarr is wily, I have no doubt if he joins the fight, you can take back this kingdom without me.”
“They are no fighters here; they’re just a bunch of shop keepers and farmers,” Cromwell said a note of distaste in his voice.
“K’xarr will find a way, it is what he does,” Kian said.
Cromwell shrugged. “I have no doubt of that, but how many of us will die to get that Camiran his victory?”
His friend spoke the truth. If K’xarr got involved, many would die. Cromwell didn’t understand that if he stayed, the outcome would be no different. What Kian wanted to know was why the mercenary had a sudden change of heart. He knew K’xarr well enough that it had nothing to do with the Trimenian’s cause. K’xarr had seemed content enough serving Serban, so something must have happened since last they spoke. If the mercenary captain had broken his contract, it was personal, and that meant a river of blood.
The door to the cabin slammed open and K’xarr stalked towards them, helmet in hand and his dark cloak trailing behind him. The bearded mercenary’s cursing could be heard before he even got close. “That Constantine is a slick-tongued bastard, and has a great deal of nerve talking to me the way he did. I should send Beck and Hastings to pay him a visit tonight.”
Endra held up her hands. “Slow down. Before you set your hounds on Constantine, tell us why you are even here?”
“That damned vampire killed twenty of my men for releasing your precious prisoners, and he threatened me. I’m going to put that corpse in the ground where he belongs when the winter breaks.”
“Constantine let you join his rebellion?” Kian asked.
K’xarr spit on the ground. “Yes, but he made it clear I was to follow his orders, and we would be paid only when the Wolf Throne was reclaimed. We are also not allowed in the camp; we must make our own in that damn brush pile of a forest. The stupid fool thinks he can command an army on his own. This rabble isn’t going to stop anyone. They have been defeated every time they have taken the field against the Trimenian army or Serban’s mercenaries. Why he thinks this time will be any different, I do not know.”
“You’re right. They could not defeat a clan of Toran women.” Cromwell snorted.
K’xarr threw his helmet on the ground. “Hell no, Bull. That popinjay said he can put another five or ten thousand in the field in the spring. Untrained and under-equipped, it will mean nothing but more dead men to burn. These rebels need real fighting men among them and a lot more than I have.”
“Why fight if we can’t win?” Ashlyn asked.
“Because I will have Serban’s head before I leave Trimenia, no matter who wins the throne.”
Cromwell’s eye gleamed in the firelight. “We are going to Brova soon to avenge Morgana. Since you are doing nothing, you can come with us. Killing some priests might improve your mood.”
K’xarr took a deep breath and scowled at them. “How long do you plan to be gone?”
“On horseback, if the weather holds, perhaps two weeks, maybe a bit more. I doubt we will be taking our time on the way back.”
“I don’t want to be gone from the men that long. They’re not going to like the idea of building a camp in this shit weather. I will most likely have to crack a few heads to get it done. I can send Rufio and a couple of men with you if you need them, though. I’m sure I can get some volunteers, few of them would rather choose to squat here in the snow.”
“No, it is best we go alone. We can get in and out quick the fewer of us there are,” Kian said.
The crunch of the frozen snow pulled their heads around. Pepca walked up, her face peeking out of the fur-lined hood of a heavy cloak. “I’m sorry, but I was listening while you spoke.”
“Why you little snoop, this isn’t talk for a princess,” Ashlyn sniped
“I think I can help you, Captain Strom,” Pepca said, ignoring the insult.
K’xarr folded his arms and faced the princess. “Help me? Why would you want to help me? I held you prisoner and wasn’t pleasant about it. I see little reason you would want to aid my cause.”
“It’s not your cause I want to aid. It is Trimenia’s. You said you needed real soldiers, and I might know a way to get some.”
The mercenary captain smirked. “Most of the rebels would hang you if they knew who you were, and they mean to depose your father the first chance they get. So you see, it’s hard for me to understand why you would aid the rebel’s interests.”
Kian could see that K’xarr’s words had hurt the young woman. “I know the rebels hate my family, and when this is over, we may not rule Trimenia anymore. But no matter what it costs me, Baron Serban must be defeated.”
“Alright, Princess, I’ll bite. Where can you get more troops?” K’xarr asked smugly.
Pepca bit her lip and glanced around the group. “I can’t, but my brother
can. Many of the soldiers in my father’s army are still loyal to Dimitri. If he were to tell them that it was Serban ruling the kingdom and not my father, they might join us—maybe not all of them, but perhaps enough.”
The captain’s eyes narrowed. “I see what you’re playing at, Princess. I’m aware the prince is in the palace’s dungeon, and I’m sure you would like him freed, but let’s suppose I believe you about his influence over the army. How do you purpose we get Prince Dimitri out of your father’s prison?”
“You said you were going to Brova. The palace is just a short distance away and if you can get us beyond the wall, I know ways inside that are not guarded too heavily.”
“Not guarded too heavily? How the hell do you think we are going to get back out?” K’xarr shouted.
Pepca took two steps back, blinking; the captain had frightened her with his bellowing.
Kian stepped up and put his hand on K’xarr’s chest, holding up a hand. “Pepca, is there a way out of the dungeon?” the swordsman asked evenly.
“The way we escaped was through the kitchens. I could show you.”
Kian looked back over his shoulder. “Let us think on this. Perhaps this trip need not be only for revenge.”
K’xarr pointed at Kian. “This is lunacy. You think you can waltz in and out of the palace as you please? The girl is an idiot and will get all of you killed for nothing.”
Pepca grabbed Kian’s arm, her eyes glistening in the fire’s light. “Dimitri saved me and I had to leave him behind. Tempest said you are a man of honor, so is my brother. Please help me. These people need to go back to their homes, and when Serban is defeated, my brother can take the throne and make right all that has been done to them.”
Kian looked around at his companions. K’xarr picked up his helmet and stalked off. Cromwell followed, chuckling.
“What is their problem?” Ashlyn asked.
Endra pursed her lips. “They know we are going to try and save the prince.”
The younger woman shook her head. “How do they know?”
Endra nodded at Kian. “They know him.”
* * *
Kago stamped his feet furiously; it felt like the snow had almost frozen them to the insides of his boots. Damn, but he hated cold weather. His tightlipped counterpart Rufio blew into his hands and stared at him. The idiot was wearing that stupid Dragitan helmet of his. The horse-haired crest was half-rotten, and the thing was covered with dents, creases, and deep curves. It was no wonder the man was dense after being stuck in the head so many times.
“How much longer do we have to stand out here in this weather while K’xarr is in that camp filling his belly with food and drink?” Kago complained.
Rufio shrugged, seemly uncaring about their situation. “Who knows? The captain will return when he is finished, so unless you want to fight these rebels in the cold, we will wait.”
“If not for Serban’s unnatural state, and the fact he killed members of the company, I wouldn’t hesitate a moment to kill every man, woman, and child in that camp for a plate of beef, some mulled wine, and a warm fire.”
“I have met many unpleasant men in my life, Kattan, but I think you’re the unhappiest son of a bitch I have ever known.”
“Go fuck one of your mares, you Dragitan cur,” Kago hissed.
“That would be little different than shagging a Sidian woman. I hear there is little difference between the two,” Rufio said, walking away.
He didn’t know which one would make him break the company’s law first—the brainless Toran or the pompous Dragitan. If K’xarr had not forbidden them from killing fellow brothers, both would already be in the ground.
It was getting late in the day and he didn’t want to spend the night in this frozen wood. Rufio might not mind the damnable weather, but he did. The warm winds of the south were more to his liking, as were the women. In the lands south of Masaria, the females dressed in fine clothing made from a sheer fabric, coving just enough for modesty. Here, the women were heaped in fur or wool during the cold months, with many never even bathing during the winter.
Kago had already had his fill of this icy waste. Food, wine, and fire were only a half-mile through the timber, and he would get the order to bring the men in or he would drag K’xarr out to suffer with the rest of them. Muttering curses under his breath, Kago struck out towards the smoke of the rebel’s fires.
Crunching through a snowy thicket, Kago realized it would take a little more time than he thought to reach the encampment. He was glad night had yet to come. Without the evening’s gray light, he would have been stumbling and staggering through the frosty forest.
Pulling his leg from a thorny bush that had caught his pants, Kago glanced up to see a figure standing not more than twenty yards ahead. Clearly female, the woman wore a dark funeral gown and had veiled her face. How she had moved through the tangled mess of a forest in those clothes was a mystery to him. She beckoned him to come to her. Brushing his dark hair out of his eyes, the scar-faced mercenary tromped forward.
“How do you stand the cold with no cloak or coat?” he said, irritated by her casual demeanor.
“Gods have no need of such things, mortal.”
Kago laughed mirthlessly. “So you are a goddess. Is this a jest or some rebel trick? You are no more a goddess than my horse.”
Placing her hands on her hips, the woman rose off the ground and floated towards where he stood.
“Sorcery,” he whispered. Kago drew his sword and prepared to cut the woman from the air. With a flick of her finger, his sword flew from his hand.
“Kneel before me, mortal.”
“I kneel to no one, man or god,” he said, casting a glance in the direction his blade had flown.
She stretched out her hand and his feet lifted off the ground. It felt as if powerful hands were squeezing his throat.
“You half-breed Sidian dog, you will come to heel when the Queen of Hell commands.”
His head hit the lower limbs of the snow-covered trees above him as he rose higher. Clutching at his neck and kicking wildly, Kago felt his vision begin to blur. No matter how hard he tried, he could not draw in any air.
Without warning, the power released him and he fell. The impact of his rapid decent caused him to fall on his knees.
“That’s better.” The self-proclaimed immortal laughed.
Furious, he came to his feet. God or not, the woman had a power he couldn’t resist. “What do you want?”
“I want you, Kago Kattan. With a bit of discipline, you could become a very important man.”
Rubbing his neck, Kago tried to contain his anger.
“If you are a god, know this. I need not whisper my prayers to the dark and hope my wishes come true. Nor will I kneel before idols or altars. Kill me if you will and be done with it.”
“You sound very much like your self-important captain.”
“You have spoken to K’xarr?” Kago asked, suddenly intrigued by the woman’s claim.
“Where do you think he got that armor he wears? And the sword Crimson Wave was not something he picked up on a battlefield. I gave them to him to further my cause.”
“He serves you?”
“No, but our interests lie in the same direction. What about you, Kago? Would you have the world bow to your will? You and K’xarr together could become unstoppable.”
Kago thought for a moment. If this was the Queen of Hell, what power could she bring him? He could avenge himself on the entire world. This wasn’t the pope’s invisible god who turned his face from a man’s wants. This woman was real, and she was making him an offer. “What would I have to do?”
“Nothing. All I ask is that you let me set your feet on the path to greatness, as I did your captain.”
“How do I know you are a true god?”
“Because I can give you what you truly want.”
His eyes narrowed. “I want power to destroy the Church, enough to put the world under my heel.”
Her l
aughter made him uneasy. “That is a noble pursuit, and a goal I find fitting, but we both know it is not what you truly want.”
“I swear it is,” Kago protested.
“Have no fear. I will help you in your conquests, Kago Kattan, but we both know what you truly desire is the woman Endra Korlest.”
His mouth opened to deny the accusation, but he could not utter the words.
“I will give you both power and the woman.” A sword appeared in her hands, and she offered it to him.
Hesitantly, he walked forward and took the blade from her. The hilt, crosspiece, and pommel were made from one solid piece of strange black metal. On the pommel was an inlay of silver; the design was arrows bursting out in all directions from a circular center. The sword’s keen blade seemed to swirl like it was a living thing, changing from black to gray with the movement of the light. Kago had never beheld such steel.
“It is called Malice. It is my blade, warrior, use it well.”
“What should I do?” he asked, still looking at the strange weapon.
“Whatever you choose, Kago, whatever you choose.”
He glanced up and the goddess was gone. If the sword hadn’t still been in his hand, he wouldn’t have believed she was ever there.
* * *
“I don’t know how you can trust them,” Katrina said hotly.
Constantine smiled. “Who said I trust them? We need fighting men. The Sons of the Reaper are seven hundred strong. It would have been foolish for me to turn them down. Besides, their commander agreed to my terms.”
Vladimir blew out his cheeks. “Constantine is right, we need men.” The dark-haired rebel moved closer to her. “I don’t like it any more than you, Trina. Hell, Strom held me prisoner, and he was not a compassionate jailer. I have no love for him or his mercenaries. The fact is, even if we rally the countryside to our cause, we will be facing real soldiers. The people are brave, but we have already found they are no match for a professional army. This time, we need to bolster our ranks with true warriors. Men with experience will make us stronger.”
Katrina slammed her hand on the wooden table. “I don’t care. An alliance with Strom and his scum will prove to be a mistake.”
The Star Of Saree (GODS OF THE FOREVER SEA Book 3) Page 24
