Valour (16 page)

Fidele gazed out of her tower window. In the distance the snow-capped Agullas glistened in the summer sun, before them rich meadows rolling all the way down to the lake shore,
where countless ships bobbed on the swell, cold and deep from the mountains’ snowmelt. And on those ships: fishermen, traders, all manner of people. Her people. She felt a rush of passion, a
fierce pride in the people of this realm.
I love this land.

Her gaze drifted southward, to the river that carved its way to the sea. The black ships of the Vin Thalun had long since sailed that route, disappeared into the distance; the only sign of their
presence here at Jerolin was the shipbuilding yard that had risen up on the lake shore. Even that was deserted now. Lykos had told her that the shipbuilding would continue to the south, near Ripa,
but he needed too many hands on his fleet as it sailed to Nathair and Ardan to keep the two shipyards going.

And good riddance.
She understood the logic that underpinned Nathair’s treaty with the Vin Thalun, knew their skills would be of great value in the coming war, but the reality of
keeping the peace between them and her subjects had been difficult.
Too many hard years between us to wash over in a few moons.
She left her chambers, Orcus her shieldman falling in at her
side. Fidele marched a quick rhythm through corridors and down the great tower of Jerolin until she was breathing fresh air. Her feet took her to the north, where the city grew quieter, to the
cairn ground.

‘I miss you,’ she breathed, barely a whisper on the air. She was stood before her husband’s cairn; Aquilus, King of Tenebral, High King of the Banished Lands, slain in his own
chambers, stabbed by a traitor king.
I wish we had had more time.
She touched one of the great stones of the cairn, already moss-covered, with lichen growing in yellows and reds. Aquilus had
been so focused, so strong, always somehow knowing the right path and having the strength to take it, to see it through.
I wish you had shared more of your certainties with me. Shared more of
your plans.
The knowledge of the God-War and the coming of the avatars had been a great burden, but Aquilus had borne it, though not without cost. And, because he had chosen to shoulder most of
it alone, things felt so unsure now. She was scared, scared of what the future held, scared of the threat to her son. Her poor Nathair, striving, struggling to do his best, to earn his
father’s notice. And now, to live up to his father’s legacy, not only to lead a nation, but to save the Banished Lands, or die in the trying. Fathers and sons – why did it have to
be so complicated.

She sighed. ‘I will not let you down. I will not let Nathair down.’

Footsteps crunched on stone behind her and stopped, a respectful silence, then the scuff of an impatient foot. A cough.

‘Yes,’ Fidele said, turning, wiping all emotion from her face. It was Peritus, her husband’s battlechief. Small, wiry, unassuming, deadly.

‘There is something you must see,’ Peritus said, his expression grim.

‘Where did you find him?’ Fidele asked.

‘Was fishing about a league to the north,’ the fisherman said. ‘Pulling in our crab baskets and he was tangled in one of them.’

They were standing on the deck of a mid-sized fisher-boat, half a dozen crewmen gathered around her. Despite the sun the wind was cold, carrying with it a hint of ice from the mountains. Fidele
pulled her cloak tighter. To one side, huge baskets were stacked on top of one another, crabs imprisoned within, clacking their great-claws. There was a body slumped on the deck, mottled blue, the
flesh bloated and peeling, green weed clinging to the limbs, trailing like extended fingers.

‘Course, the crabs have had a nibble at him,’ the fisherman said.

Peritus bent down and rolled the body over. It was decomposing, chunks of flesh missing, but Fidele still recognized the nervous-looking youth that had been led into her chambers only a
ten-night ago and told her of the Vin Thalun fighting pits.

Jace. His throat had been cut, the flesh frayed like rotted string.

Peritus spat on the floor. ‘So this is how Lykos obeys your commands.’

The army marched through the twilight of Forn, Alcyon’s bulk marking the column’s head. Veradis felt sluggish and ill-tempered after sleeping poorly, disturbed by
bad dreams. In them he’d been riding across an endless meadow, the head of King Mandros held aloft on his spear-point.
Murderer,
Mandros’ head had whispered to him, over and
over. Something had been bouncing against his leg. When he’d looked down he found Kastell’s head tied to his saddle.
Betrayer
, his friend had accused him.

He shook his head, banishing the nightmare, then saw Calidus drop back down the column towards him.

‘There you are,’ the silver-haired man said as he fell in beside Veradis. There was a new energy about the man since he had emerged from the catacombs beneath Haldis, a fierce
determination in his expression.

‘We are making good progress,’ Calidus said. The hard pace had been set from the first day out from Haldis, four days ago. Veradis had woken the day after the battle to the news that
King Braster of Helveth had been murdered in his tent by survivors of the Gadrai, Isiltir’s elite warriors. That had made no sense to Veradis – the realms of Isiltir and Helveth had
been on good terms, but Lothar, Braster’s battlechief, had witnessed the deed and told Calidus personally. This news had troubled Calidus and he had ordered all haste in breaking camp and
leaving Haldis.
We must speed Jael to claim Isiltir’s crown
, he had said.

‘I have been talking to Jael,’ Calidus said. ‘He is not as strong willed as I would like in an ally, but he is all we have, and we need Isiltir’s support.’

Veradis frowned at Calidus, suspicious of where this was leading.

‘Isiltir will be rocked by the news of Romar’s death. There will be others who will try to take advantage of the situation, try to claim the throne for themselves. Not least
Romar’s estranged wife.’

‘What of Romar’s son?’ Veradis asked.

‘He is ten years old. Jael will rule with the boy as his ward, until he comes of age.’

‘Unless the boy’s mother has anything to say about it.’

‘Exactly. And she has the boy in her care, which gives her the advantage. Especially if those survivors of the Gadrai reach Isiltir ahead of us and warn her of all that has happened
here,’ Calidus said. ‘Jael could do with some leverage, in the form of a warband, I am thinking.’

‘He has men,’ Veradis said, gesturing up the column, where Jael marched with his shieldmen about him.

‘Some – a few score here, some others at Mikil, but not enough to be convincing. We need Isiltir; Nathair needs Isiltir. It would be better if we could show our support . .
.’

‘No,’ Veradis said. ‘I am Nathair’s first-sword, and I am going straight to him.’

Calidus raised an eyebrow and seemed to consider pressing the point, then shrugged. ‘As you say. And you are probably not best suited to the task. Lykos and his Vin Thalun, however –
they would be perfect.’

‘That would take too long – by the time you sent word back to Tenebral, and then the time it took Lykos to reach Isiltir.’

‘Yes, unless Lykos had already left Tenebral and was sailing to meet us at Ardan,’ Calidus said, a smile twitching his beard.

‘But how?’

Calidus winked at Veradis. ‘I may look like a withered old man, but sometimes appearances can be deceiving. And where there is a will . . .’

There was a commotion up ahead, Alcyon calling a halt. The column rippled to a stop.

‘With me,’ Calidus said as he marched forward.

One of their scouts had returned, was talking to Alcyon, gesturing into the trees.

‘What is it?’ Calidus demanded.

‘Tracks in the forest, signs of a camp,’ the scout said.

‘How many?’ Calidus frowned.

‘Two, maybe three. The fire was burned out, but still warm.’

‘It is the Gadrai,’ Jael said. He had sidled up behind Calidus and Veradis.

‘Perhaps,’ Calidus murmured.

‘Take me to this camp,’ Veradis said to the scout.

Away from the path, the forest closed about them like a malignant wound, dark and treacherous. The scout led them through thick foliage and hanging vine. Dense webs draped the
branches, in one of them hung the husk of something, a bat perhaps.

The ground turned spongier and soon they splashed across a shallow stream, the scout stopping on the far bank. He pointed to a pile of ash inside a ring of loose stones. Veradis bent and sifted
the ash, rubbing his fingers together. There was a touch of warmth left, faint as the daylight in this forest.

Alcyon scanned the ground, Jael and a dozen of his shieldmen fanning out. The giant bent and scooped something up, a tattered piece of cloth. He sniffed it. ‘Smells of blood. One of them
is injured,’ he said.

‘Which way?’ Jael said. ‘If one is injured we can catch them.’

The scout pointed into the gloom and Jael marched into the forest. ‘Stay close to me; they are the Gadrai – giant-killers, and they know this forest better than any.’

Veradis thought there was an edge of panic in Jael’s voice. He shared a look with Alcyon.
Shall we follow?

‘Calidus will be unhappy if we return without him,’ the giant said.

Veradis shrugged and followed Jael, Alcyon close behind him.

They laboured through the forest; the going was slow as they searched for signs of their quarry’s passing. Soon they spread out into a line that grew more ragged as time passed. All except
Alcyon were murky shadows amongst the trees. The axe strapped across his back drew Veradis’ eye, dark blades fanning out above the giant’s shoulders like wings.

‘Is that really one of the Seven Treasures?’ Veradis asked.

‘Yes,’ Alcyon said.

‘How old is it?’

Alcyon shrugged. ‘Two, three thousand years. And it is still sharp.’

‘I know, I saw you fight with it at Haldis.’

A frown crossed Alcyon’s face. Was he thinking of the giant children, of their guardian whom Calidus had slain.

‘I did not know . . .’ Veradis started, trailing off. ‘About giant’s children.’

Alcyon looked at him. ‘We have children. Just not as many as you men. That is why they are precious to us.’ Something swept his face, a fleeting raw emotion, then it was gone.
‘At Haldis, so many of them killed.’ He shook his head.

‘Yes,’ Veradis agreed. ‘These are difficult times.’

‘We are at war,’ Alcyon said. ‘A war begun thousands of years
^a
g°.’

Veradis looked about – the others were a distance away, only shadows amongst the trees – and lowered his voice. ‘I am thankful that one of the Ben-Elim stands with us. It makes
the difficult things easier, somehow.’

A silence grew between them, man and giant focusing on their path through the forest. Veradis could not shake from his mind the look that he had seen sweep Alcyon’s face as they had talked
of giant children. A look of naked misery.

Time passed, and Veradis was thinking of calling a halt and turning back when he saw something: a snapped stalk amongst foliage that draped a massive trunk. It could have been caused by Alcyon
as he passed. Veradis stopped; Alcyon was fading into the gloom ahead. He looked intently at the broken stalk, then his gaze swept the surrounding area. There was a mark on the bark of the trunk
– a scuff? Then something dripped onto his shoulder, something dark. He touched it, raised a finger to his tongue. His head snapped up as he reached for his sword. It was blood.

From branches above a dirt-stained face was peering down at him. He drew his sword, sucked in a breath to call Alcyon, then in front of him a figure stepped out from behind the tree, at the same
time foliage rustling behind him. His call for help died in his throat as he gazed at the man standing before him.

Maquin.

The grey-haired warrior held a hand up, signalling to the unseen man behind him, and Veradis knew his life hung in the balance, as did theirs. One call from him and Alcyon, Jael and a dozen
warriors would be on them. Carefully, slowly, he lowered his sword, holding Maquin’s gaze.

‘It is good to see you,’ he said.

Maquin grimaced, eyes flickering to the figure behind Veradis. He shook his head. Veradis resisted the urge to turn, kept his eyes fixed on Maquin. ‘Kastell?’ he asked.

Grief twisted Maquin’s face. ‘Jael killed him.’

Veradis hung his head. ‘Was it you that murdered Braster?’

‘No. That was Lothar,’ a voice grated behind him. Maquin nodded confirmation.

Lothar? But, he has been in close council with Calidus.

A voice called from the gloom. ‘Veradis, where are you?’ Alcyon. There was a sound of approaching feet.

He made his decision in an instant. ‘You are being hunted,’ Veradis hissed. ‘Get back into the trees. I will lead them away from you.’

‘Do we trust him?’ the voice behind Veradis said. Maquin looked at Veradis, then nodded.

‘I am sorry,’ Veradis whispered, ‘about Kastell.’