Valour (86 page)

She sat up. Parchments were spread across her desk, the one before her empty, others full of her flowing writing. Most of them were orders pertaining to the movement of troops, her eagle-guard,
her protectors, and she was ordering them to details in the far corners of Tenebral. Scattering any of those loyal to her away from her reach. Another wave of frustration welled up inside her.

She stood and walked to a window, gazing out over the lake and plain. Winter was on the retreat, a hint of spring coming. Her eyes were drawn to the arena that sat between Jerolin and the lake
town, a malignant growth in her once-perfect view, a symbol of what was happening to Tenebral.

And how the people of Tenebral had taken to it – to pit-fighting, a fight to the death as entertainment. She would never have believed that they would scream so loudly for the sight of
blood, like a pack of frenzied hounds.

Have I been so naive? Does such a darkness beat in every heart?

With a startling clarity she remembered the contest she had witnessed, the man with the axe against a warrior wielding two swords, behind them Peritus and Armatus chained to a post. Her heart
had leaped as she’d seen her two old friends set free, other warriors rushing into the ring, pulling them to safety. Then the Vin Thalun had fallen upon them, the ensuing chaos ending in
Armatus having his head hacked from his body by Lykos.

Peritus, at least, had escaped. Lykos had been in a rage for days after, sending warriors to scour the countryside, but Peritus had disappeared. Her guess was that he had gone home, to his
village in the northern mountains. The Vin Thalun would never find him there.

Their ships studded the lake, more arriving almost every day. She didn’t know how many Vin Thalun sailed the Tethys Sea, but surely every last one of them had swarmed to Jerolin. Lykos and
his kind were like one of those parasites that attached themselves to a host, laying eggs in its body and eating it from the inside out.

That was how she felt, consumed from the inside out, her whole world spiralling into an ocean of permanent despair. As she looked out of the window the urge to just step out took hold of her, to
step into nothing, to just fall and fall and fall. But even that was beyond her, she knew. She’d already tried to take her life. Anything to be free of the hold on her, but Lykos’ will
was a compulsion in her mind, a cage that she could not escape.

Lykos strolled in, the sight of him making a fist of fear clench in her gut. He looked her up and down as he approached, his eyes lingering.

‘I have some good news for you,’ he said, running a finger down her cheek. ‘Your time of mourning Aquilus is passed.’

I will never stop mourning Aquilus.

‘Surprisingly, at this stage in your life, you have found love again. You thank Elyon for this rare blessing.’

Dear All-Father, no, let this be a dream, a nightmare. Let me wake from it.

‘We will be wed in a ten-night. There will be much celebrating in Tenebral at your newfound happiness. Games will honour the occasion. The fighting pit will run red.’ He grinned.
‘You may smile.’

She felt her muscles twitch, her lips moving involuntarily. She fought it, of course.

‘Not your most beautiful look,’ Lykos commented, frowning at the expression on her face.

Nathair – where are you? Please come home and end this nightmare.
Not for the first time she marvelled at Lykos’ sheer audacity – that he would do the things he was
doing in light of Nathair’s return.

‘What’s going on behind those eyes?’ Lykos said. ‘Speak freely.’

‘Nathair,’ she said. ‘How can you do these things, knowing that he will return one day?’

Lykos laughed. ‘Kingship changes people, my lady. Responsibility, pressure, it does things to a man. And Nathair will soon have far more on his mind than who his mother shares a bed with.
I don’t think you’ll recognize your son when he returns.’

Cywen stamped her feet and blew on her hands. It was cold and damp, her breath fogging before her. A heavy mist cloaked the ground. She crouched and scratched Buddai behind an
ear; the hound leaned against her, nearly pushing her over.

‘Mount up,’ Calidus said as he rode out of the mist.

She was close to the head of the column, the smell of Nathair’s draig strong in the air.

It had been half a ten-night since Alcyon had left the column, staying in the woods they had passed through. Calidus had been poor company since then, refusing to answer a single question she
put to him. That didn’t stop her trying, though.

‘Alcyon is waiting for my brother, isn’t he?’ she asked the silver-haired man, not for the first time.

He turned his yellow eyes upon her, the first reaction she had achieved. ‘Today is a momentous day,’ he said quietly, though she felt scared, suddenly, a threat in his voice.
‘You are a curiosity to me now, nothing more. I do not need you. If you distract me again I will put a knife through your eye, and enjoy watching you die.’ He held her gaze. ‘Do
we understand one another?’

‘I . . .’ She nodded, all her anger and defiance draining away.

A shout went up from the back of the column. Calidus pulled on his horse’s reins, turning to look back. A figure loomed out of the mist, tall and wide.

Alcyon.

He approached Calidus with his head bowed. As he drew closer Cywen saw that he looked exhausted, his usual pallor deathly white now, cuts upon his arms, matted blood in his hair. He came and
stood before Calidus, dropped to his knees.

‘I have failed you,’ the giant grated. ‘My life is forfeit.’

‘It’s forfeit when I have no more use for you,’ Calidus snapped. ‘Get up and follow me.’

Calidus ordered a warrior close by to watch Cywen, and then he rode a distance away with Alcyon in tow. Cywen strained to hear them, but only caught a few disjointed words as they returned to
her. ‘Half a day behind, maybe more,’ was all she heard Alcyon say.

‘We’d better get this done, then,’ Calidus said and cantered to the head of the column.

‘I told you,’ Cywen said to Alcyon.

‘What?’ the giant growled.

‘That Corban would be the one doing the killing.’

Alcyon glowered at her. ‘Mount up,’ he ordered.

As she climbed onto Shield’s back the giant reached out, his long arms encompassing her. Before she realized what he was doing she had a rope knotted about her waist, the other end tied to
Alcyon’s belt.

‘What’s that for?’ she said.

‘There’ll be fighting today, and I won’t be able to spend it all watching you. Can’t have you running off in the confusion.’

‘Fighting today?’

‘Aye.’

‘Can I have my knives back?’

‘No.’

‘Why not – I might need to defend myself.’

Alcyon smiled at her. ‘I can see why Veradis likes you,’ he said. ‘You’ve got spirit.’

Veradis?
That stilled her tongue.

‘Put your knives out of your head; there’s not a chance in Asroth’s Otherworld that I’ll be putting a blade in your hand. I might like you, but I don’t trust you.
And don’t worry; if you need defending, I’ll be the one to do it.’

She couldn’t think of an answer to that, so she just scowled at him instead.

All about her the Jehar were already mounted, waiting. Horses whickered, harness creaked, chainmail jangled, then a horn call rose up somewhere ahead, eerie and muted in the morning mist. The
host set off, two thousand warriors riding to battle.

‘The fighting will be at Murias, then?’

‘No more questions,’ Alcyon said. Something in his tone warned her not to press him.

‘I’m glad,’ she said to him.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Glad?’

‘That you’re still alive. That my brother didn’t kill you.’

‘Come, faster,’ he ordered, opening his stride, moving past rows of the Jehar, heading for the head of the column. Shield slowed as they neared Nathair astride his draig, but Cywen
encouraged him forward and they fell in beside Nathair and his bodyguards.

By mid-morning the mist had mostly burned away, revealing hills and vales of sweeping moorland, much the same as they had been journeying across for days. Up ahead a lone mountain loomed, dark
cliffs soaring into the clouds.

‘Murias,’ Calidus declared.

It was not until the sun was hovering over the horizon that they had ridden close enough for Cywen to make out towers and walls, though the place did not look like any of the
giant strongholds she had seen before. The towers looked as if they had grown out of the mountain, as if the rock had been melted and reformed by crude hands. Something organic, rather than
built.

The ground started rising, sloping up to meet the mountains. Cywen saw a wide road, cutting a line into long shadows cast by the mountain, leading to a huge arched gateway of carved stone. The
gates were closed.

‘Not planning a stealthy attack, then?’ Cywen said to Alycon.

Nathair overheard her. ‘I am the Bright Star, the Seren Disglair,’ he said from his draig’s back. ‘It feels as if I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life;
I’ll not lessen it by sneaking up like a thief in the night. This is my destiny.’ He looked at her and smiled.

Have it your way. Though I’m wondering how you think you’re going to get in there. Just walk up and knock on their gates?

In the distance a sound drifted on the air, a wolven howling, as if heralding the coming of night. Buddai whined, and Shield slowed, his head pulling around.

‘Walk on,’ Cywen ordered, digging her heels into Shield’s sides. Buddai was standing stock still, his head cocked to one side. Then he bolted away, back the way they had come,
quickly disappearing into the gloom. Cywen called him, reining Shield in.

‘We can’t stop,’ Alcyon said, tugging on the rope about her waist.

‘But Buddai . . .’

‘He doesn’t like the look of Murias,’ Alcyon said. ‘Sensible animal. He’ll be out here when we’re done, waiting for you.’

‘But . . .’

‘Keep moving.’ It was Calidus who spoke now. After a last look back Cywen urged Shield onwards.

‘Murias,’ Coralen said, pointing into the distance. A tall peak reared before them, the first mountain of a range that faded into the distance.

They had ridden hard since the ambush in the woods, two nights gone. At first she’d thought they would catch the giant, but he had not stopped running for two days and nights solid, each
morning the gap between them widening a little.

It had been a shock, seeing the other Jehar in the woods, a lesson of what awaited them once they caught up with Nathair and his warband. Tukul had been grim faced ever since, something unspoken
passing between them all.

Blood was going to be shed.

But I knew that, anyway.

She saw Corban gazing at Nathair’s host, a dark line winding its way towards the mountains. They were standing beneath a handful of wind-blasted trees, gnarled and twisted branches
grasping at the sky. Everyone had taken the opportunity to dismount and stretch their legs, drink some water, chew on some meat, tend their horses.

‘Nathair,’ she heard Corban whisper.

‘He’s there,’ Meical said, standing close beside them.

‘He killed my da. Put a sword in his chest; right here.’ Corban tapped a finger against his leather jerkin.

Meical gave him a searching look. ‘This is about rescue, not revenge,’ he said. ‘Or is it?’

She saw Corban close his eyes, screwing them shut. After a while he blew out a long breath.

‘Cywen is what matters here,’ he said.

‘Good. There are too many of them for us to take on. Another time. Of course, if there is an opportunity to take Nathair’s head from his shoulders . . .’

‘And Sumur’s,’ added Tukul.

Storm was standing nearby, sniffing the air. Suddenly she lifted her head and howled. Dath jumped. Coralen froze, half expecting to see the line of Nathair’s warband stop and look at
them.

‘Is she trying to tell everyone within a day’s travel where we are?’ Tukul said.

‘I don’t know why she did that.’ Corban frowned.