The Broken Pieces (20 page)

So Kaide gathered his men together, those who had been with him from the beginning, and gave them his orders, to be followed whether he lived or died. And then he marched into Arthur’s tent, just behind the escort that brought Sebastian.

Arthur stood before his brother, his hands at his sides. Kevin Maryll was also there, with several of his men. At Kaide’s entrance he was given a cursory glance, then ignored. Something hidden was going on between the brothers, a dialogue of long looks, met stares, and twitches of the face. It’d be settled by the first words either spoke.

And then Sebastian kneeled.

“I wronged you,” he said. “I put our kingdom at risk. Whether you believe it or not, I sacrificed my life, and the life of my men, to save it. I don’t know why they let me live. I don’t know who that man was they traded me for. But if the North is now yours, I rejoice. Forgive me, Arthur, if you feel it right to do so. Take my life if that is right as well. I will accept either without protest.”

Kaide held his breath as the moment lingered. This was it. Sebastian had cast his life at Arthur’s feet. Would he find succor, or a blade?

Arthur stepped forward, and he put a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“By your bent knee, I am now ruler of the North in name and deed. I will not have my first act be the spilling of my own brother’s lifeblood. Stand, Sebastian. By gods it’s been too long since I looked upon your face.”

Sebastian did, and Arthur embraced him. That embrace sealed Kaide’s actions.

“Forgiven by you,” he said, turning their attention his way. “But not by me.”

Unchecked by the guards upon entering because of the fervor around Sebastian’s arrival, Kaide still had both his dirks tucked into his belt. He drew them, and like an arrow he lunged forward. One of Kevin’s men managed to draw his sword in time, and another flung his body in the way of the two lords. Kaide spun around the man, and the dirk in his left hand parried away the desperate chop. His feet touched the ground, and then he lunged again.

The tip of his dirk slid into the flesh of Sebastian’s throat, and as the blood poured across Kaide’s hand, the relief was everything he could have ever dreamed of. He imagined the souls of his parents, his siblings, his poor dear Sandra, all settling deeper into their graves, satisfied at last with death. Kaide twisted the dirk, then yanked it out. The blood splattered with greater ferocity, and when Arthur grabbed his brother it splashed across the front of his shirt.

Soldiers reached for him, pinning his arms and tackling his legs. Kaide gave into them willingly. They forced him to his hands and knees as Kevin drew his sword and pressed it against his neck.

“Let me have the honor,” Kevin said.

“Do it,” Kaide said, “and all of you will die.”

The blade at his neck tensed, and Kaide closed his eyes, waiting.

“Wait,” Arthur said. “If any man will kill him, it shall be me.”

The blade vanished, and then a hand grabbed Kaide by the hair and pulled up to expose his throat. He looked into Arthur’s eyes, saw the sadness there. Was it for him, or his brother? Kaide didn’t care. He’d warned the man. There’d be no mercy, not from him.

“Not brave enough to take your brother’s life, but you’ll take mine?” Kaide said. “Of course. Who would weep for the loss of a vagabond rebel without a home? Oh wait, I think I know.”

As if on cue a soldier barged into the tent. He stopped, stunned by the sight before him.

“What is it?” Arthur asked, barely containing his anger.

“There’s fires spreading along the eastern camp,” the soldier said. “The people are chanting for Sebastian’s head.”

“So many men pledged to me,” Kaide said, their attention turning back to him. “How do you think they’ll react when it’s my head you present to them instead of Sebastian’s? You might win, Arthur, but you’ll have a riot on your hands. Hundreds will perish. In the chaos of a riot, anything can happen. Anyone can die…”

Arthur stood there breathing heavily, his hands shaking with rage. He put his sword below Kaide’s neck, using it to lift his head higher so they might stare eye to eye.

“I once counted you as a friend,” he said. “No longer.”

Arthur turned to Kevin, and he handed him his sword.

“Take the head,” he said. “Use it to quell the riots. Sebastian died by my order, do you understand?”

“I do,” Kevin said, kneeling down to begin the grisly work. Kaide watched, thoroughly satisfied with the sight of that skinny, pompous asshole having his neck chopped apart, his stiff face lifted into the air by the hair. Better than he ever thought possible. Jerico had filled his head with unreasonable ideals. Mercy? Forgiveness? Better the cold corpse and a severed head.

Arthur put away his sword and knelt before him. Reaching out, he grabbed Kaide’s right hand and took one of his fingers. He said nothing, only wrenched it back until it was out of place. He moved onto the next finger, and the next. Kaide felt his fury rise, not because of the terrible pain, but because the pain ruined his pleasure of watching Sebastian’s body mutilated. Somehow, he knew Arthur also realized it, and again and again his fingers were wrenched and twisted, until his hand was a horrible mess of bruises and swelling flesh.

“Look at me,” Arthur said, grabbing Kaide’s face with his hand. Kaide struggled to focus through the pain. “Look at me, you bastard. Sebastian tried to escape, and when he did, he broke your hand. It is then I ordered his death, and it was my sword that took his life. That is the story you’ll tell, no matter how drunk you get around the midnight fire. If you ever say otherwise, to any man or woman, I’ll have you executed for treason. Have I made myself clear?”

“Perfectly clear,” Kaide said, a grin on his face.

“Good.” Arthur stood. “Return to your camp, and make sure the rabble spends all day and night celebrating. Tomorrow, when I move into my brother’s castle, you’ll disband them. You’ve found your revenge. I hope it sates you. Return to your forest. Find a place to call your home. It won’t be Ashvale, either. Step within twenty miles of there and…”

“…and you’ll hang me for a traitor,” Kaide said. “I’m not an imbecile. Is there anything else you’d like to tell me before I go? Any other promises you’d like to break?”

Arthur reared back, and his fist struck him in the face. Tears ran down the lord’s eyes, but the sadness did not reach his voice.

“My brother also punched you before he died. Now get out of my sight.”

Kaide stood, and then struggling to hide the pain he felt, he bent down to retrieve his bloody dirks. Cleaning them off on his shirt, he shoved them into his belt, then bowed low while the rest of the soldiers tensed.

“Such a great day for a party, wouldn’t you say?” Kaide asked before stepping out.

He pushed his way through the guards surrounding the tent, not caring for their glares. Winding his way east, he found Adam and Griff waiting for him at one of the fires, the two burly twins standing with their arms crossed over their beefy chests.

“Whose blood is that on your shirt?” asked Adam.

“Sebastian’s,” Kaide said, and the words put a grin on their faces.

“Hot damn,” Griff said. “Arthur’s got balls after all.”

Kaide drew out a dirk and stabbed it into one of the logs set before the fire, then sat down beside it.

“No,” he said. “He doesn’t. I killed him against his wishes. We’ve been ordered to celebrate today, then disband. Someone will soon come parading around Sebastian’s head, and we’ll toast to his roasting in the Abyss. But come tomorrow…”

“Tomorrow we do nothing,” Bellok said, joining them from the mob. “For what else is there to do?”

Bellok was Kaide’s wizard, though his skill was marginally higher than an apprentice at the craft. He was cranky and bitter, but often Kaide’s most trustworthy advisor. The only person he’d trusted more was his sister, but Luther had taken her from him.

Luther…

“This is my fight now,” Kaide said. “There’s no reason to put any more of you at risk. Luther will march out tomorrow, and wherever he goes, I will follow. I won’t let him escape, not even if he goes to the far ends of the world. But as for you all…”

“Stuff it,” Adam said, interrupting him. “You think you’re the only one who misses Sandra? She was like a sister to me.”

“To both of us,” said Griff.

“You have families to return to,” Kaide argued.

“Well I don’t,” Bellok said, running a hand through his white hair. “Or did you forget why we took up arms with you in the first place?”

Kaide looked to the men, and despite his humiliation at the hands of Arthur, despite his fury at such betrayal, he couldn’t help but feel proud of everything he’d accomplished.

“Thank you,” he said. “But you four only. My feud with Luther has nothing to do with the rest. They wanted a new lord for their farms and villages, and they’ve gotten it. Let them escape without any more bloodshed. As for us…Luther’s not a king or a lord. We need no army to take him down. Just the right moment.”

“He’s powerful,” Bellok said. “And king or not, he still commands a fearsome army. I hope you have something clever in mind.”

“There’s times for brute force, and times for a clever mind,” Kaide said. “I only need to know which one is right for us at the time.”

“All and good, but right now’s a time for neither of those,” Adam said, procuring several mugs of ale that seemed to be magically flooding the eastern half of the camp. “Right now is a time to get completely, fully, thoroughly shit-faced. Sebastian’s dead. May he never rest in peace.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Kaide said.

“To the dead,” said Bellok.

“Both now and yet to come,” Kaide said, and despite the terrible pain of his hands, he lifted the cup and drank.

R
edclaw stood in the center of the manmade road, and he let the soft night breeze blow through his ember fur. He breathed in, and he tried to enjoy the scent of his prey before him. The presence of the priest sapped away all the joy. His wolves would not be allowed to tear through the human ranks with the wild abandon that made them such dangerous warriors. They couldn’t howl and feast, the blood of their victims on their tongues. They had to obey rules. They had to obey their god, Cyric.

“You know what must be done,” Cyric said to him. “Do it.”

With Redclaw’s howl, the rest of his pack approached, filling the road and the fields to either side. At his charge, they followed, storming into the dark streets of the village. The defenses were meager. No wall, no soldiers, just a few men who patrolled for thieves and brigands. Redclaw raced ahead of the others, determined to take what little sport there would be that night. He found one of the few wielding a sword and leapt upon him, opening his throat with a single slash. There was no satisfying splash of blood, his claws so hot they cauterized the wound as they cut. Redclaw’s disappointment was crushing. Putting his teeth to the man’s neck, he bit down, and at last he tasted the blood he craved.

Through the straw huts ran the rest of his pack, smashing open doors and dragging out men, women, and children. Some were bitten, others slashed, but nothing lethal. They had to obey their god. Redclaw stalked through them as the work was done. The village was small, maybe two hundred people. Compared to his thousand wolves, they were nothing, and in minutes the entire town was gathered in the square. They stood huddled and sobbing, rightfully frightened by the great mass of wolf-men that formed a living cage of claw and fur around them.

And then Cyric went to them with open arms.

“I come to you as the living embodiment of your god,” he said. “I am Cyric. I am Karak made flesh. Kneel, profess your faith, and live.”

Redclaw watched, trying to fight his frustration. His wolf-men were hungry, he knew that, for he was hungry as well. But what they were about to receive didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like a hunt. Of the two hundred, all but fifty knelt. Redclaw snorted. No matter how sincere their worship sounded, he doubted even a sliver of the kneeling actually believed Cyric was who he claimed he was. Mankind was a cowardly race, terrified of death. Why would they not bow to spare their lives?

To fight, of course, yet the ones who remained standing were not fighting. They only stood there, shivering, and it made no sense to the wolf.

“Those still standing, step forward,” Cyric called to them.

They did. Redclaw saw old people, young, even a few children clutching their parents’ hands. He waited, knowing what was to happen next. Calmly Cyric walked to them, and he pulled out five healthy men and women, guiding them to stand separate from the others.

I will claim the faithful, Cyric had told him. As for the unfaithful, their souls are mine by right, but I will give you a tenth.

Without a word, Cyric gestured to the five, and that is when the pack descended upon them. They tore and bit at one another, fighting to get at the bodies that were quickly shredded to pieces. Redclaw watched, careful to show no disapproval. It wasn’t a hunt, he kept thinking. They were being fed scraps.

Amid the sobs and cries of the rest, Cyric turned on the remaining forty and lifted his hands.