“Don’t be afraid,” said Grandys. “I would never hurt a child.”
He heaved her up and seated her in front of him. “Hold on to the saddle horn.”
She did so, biting her lip.
“You are my first, my chosen people,” he said to the assembled townsfolk of Swire. “Follow me to the castle.”
He turned to the town gates, never doubting that they would follow, walking his horse so the people could keep up with him. The other Heroes fell in beside him, buxom Lirriam and golem-like Syrten on the left, cadaverous Rufuss and slender, grave Yulia to the right.
Rix’s heart was pounding and a sick dread washed back and forth through his belly. One part of him could admire Grandys, his confidence and his swagger. Another part knew him for an arrogant brute who served no one’s purposes but his own.
More worryingly, Rix saw echoes of Grandys’ character in his own mother, and even himself. Was this his true inheritance? No, he thought, he’s not my ancestor. I won’t have it.
The Five Heroes rode through the gates of Castle Swire, followed by Rix and the entire population of Swire. All were agog to see how Grandys planned to chastise their lord. Rix was not. Sickness was churning in his gut.
Grandys dismounted, leaving the girl on the horse. He strode up the steps of the castle, pounded on the great iron-reinforced door with the butt of his sword and took several steps to the left.
“Lord Bondy, come forth.”
Shortly the door opened and a short, plump man came out onto the terrace.
“What the devil do you mean, hammering on my door like that?” he said furiously. He turned and saw the enormous figure standing there, armoured in black opal. Then the other four Heroes, and the townsfolk still flooding through the gates. Bondy blanched and made a dart for the door. Grandys blocked his path.
“Are you Bondy?”
“Yes,” whispered the plump man.
“The child on my horse said you don’t treat your people well.”
Bondy looked from Grandys to the girl in the saddle, and back again. He frowned. “I’m a good overlord. Are you playing some kind of joke, sir?”
“I never joke, Bondy. I could have your head for that.”
Bondy relaxed.
Grandys added, “In fact, I will.”
“Lord?” said Bondy.
Maloch flashed out, faster than Rix’s eye could follow, then returned to its sheath. Rix blinked. What had just happened?
Bondy’s eyes rolled up, then Grandys reached out and lifted the man’s neatly severed head from his neck. He strode down the steps and handed the dripping extremity to the girl.
“You won’t have any more trouble with him, child.”
Grandys raised his voice. “Castle Swire is mine. Turn its inhabitants into the street. Bid the servants here, either to swear to me — or die like their master.”
The girl dropped Bondy’s gory head and screamed.
Irritably, Grandys gestured to her mother to take her away, then reached out to the townsfolk.
“I am raising an army, and I’m going to take back our land. Who will join me?”
He said it with such self-confidence that no one could doubt him. Rix felt it too, despite himself: the pride that he had played a small part in an event of momentous importance, and the feeling — no, the unshakeable belief — that if he followed Grandys, together they would cast out the enemy and take Hightspall back.
It was clear that everyone else felt the same. Within an hour Grandys had signed up six hundred men. Messengers were sent to all the surrounding towns, villages and manors, bidding their youths to hasten to Swire, to Axil Grandys’ service.
In four days, he was training an army of thousands and planning his first attack, a demonstration of his power that no one could deny.
“Get your troops ready, Captain Rixium,” he said to Rix that morning. “Tonight we march on Castle Rebroff.”
“But… that’s the enemy’s most powerful fortress outside Caulderon,” said Rix.
“And led by Lyf’s greatest and most experienced general, Rochlis. That’s why I’ve chosen it.”
“How are you going to attack it with a few thousand untrained troops?” said Rix.
“I’m not merely going to attack Rebroff. I’m going to take it. We’ll feast like carrion crows in Castle Rebroff’s Great Hall, this time tomorrow night.”
It was impossible to doubt him. Was Grandys the leader Hightspall needed to hold back the Cythonian hordes, even defeat them? Despite his hatred of the man, Rix was beginning to think so.
He was also thinking that he could learn much about the art of leadership from Grandys — assuming he survived long enough.
CHAPTER 75
“The — the envoys have returned, Chancellor,” stammered his aide, from the door.
Tali and the chancellor were in the great dame’s chambers, which he had appropriated, by a blazing fire.
“Then send them in. What did Grandys say?”
“Th-there’s a m-message,” said the aide. His arms hung low, his feet dragged.
“What is it, damn you?”
The aide opened a brown sack and dumped the contents on the chancellor’s gleaming table. “This.”
The severed heads of the chancellor’s three envoys rolled halfway across and stopped, their clouded eyes staring at him.
Tali recoiled. The chancellor let out a strangled gasp.
“What’s Grandys saying?” said Tali, turning so she would not have to look at the heads, which had been severed a good few days ago and were past their best.
“I should have thought that was obvious.”
“Not to me.”
“It means that he, unlike every other foe I’ve ever dealt with, is utterly unpredictable. How can I fight such a man? I’ve no idea what he’ll do next.”
“I don’t know.” And Rix was in the hands of this monster, unable to help himself.
The chancellor’s sardonic eye turned to her, as if he had read her thought. “How could Rixium have gone off with the man? How could he be so weak-willed?” He spat into the fire.
In the shadows behind him, Tali saw Glynnie stiffen. The chancellor had taken her on because she was the perfect maidservant, but if he could have seen the look in her eyes now he might have thought otherwise. Was she grieving for Rix, Tali wondered, or burning for him?
He cleared his throat, pointedly. Rix’s betrayal was a theme the chancellor kept returning to, like a dog to a bone he’d gnawed all the meat off but could not let go.
“Grandys ensorcelled him,” said Tali, wishing the chancellor would have the severed heads removed. “You know that.”
“But for Grandys to do it so easily, surely Rix must have wanted it, subconsciously?”
“What if the enchantment on Maloch wasn’t protecting Rix for himself,” said Tali, “but because of the connection to Grandys?”
The chancellor started, and so did Glynnie, though she recovered quickly and stepped further back into the shadows.
“How do you mean?” said the chancellor.
“Did Maloch deliberately lead Rix to Precipitous Crag so he could attack the wrythen, terrorise Lyf with the reappearance of the sword that had cut his feet off, and weaken him from fear? Did Maloch direct Rix to Garramide so he’d paint the mural of the opalised man from images Maloch had previously shown him? A mural that would call Rix to recover Grandys’ petrified body from the Abysm.”
“Are you suggesting all this was foreordained?” said the chancellor.
“Not foreordained. But I do think there’s a malign purpose at work, and it comes from the enchantment on the sword.”
“Which makes this just the latest step in a two-thousand-year-old battle.”
“Lady Ricinus gave Maloch to Rix and told him to wear it, but he disliked the sword on sight,” said Tali. “Perhaps he sensed the magery in it. And the moment he strapped it on, he must have come under its influence. What if his great-aunt didn’t sent it to Rix as an innocent gift, but in the hope that it would influence him to bring Grandys back?”