Solène laughed. “There’s always hope.”
He did his best to smile, but he wasn’t as confident as she was. If Amaury could do half what Solène could do, Gill didn’t fancy their chances of beating him. With sword in hand and nothing else, Gill knew he would always best his old friend, but with magic added to the mix, what hope had he? An honourable death seemed like an empty promise.
Solène stared at the remaining Cup, which she held before her in the palm of her hand. “We can’t tell anyone about this,” she said. “They’ll just want to take it for themselves.”
“You’re going to enlighten the goldscale?”
She nodded. “I promised. I’m going to see it through. One way or the other. Leaving so great a creature locked in a cage, never able to realise the potential of what it might have been. It’s too horrible a thought.”
Gill smiled as comfortingly as he could. “It’s about as dangerous a task as you could take on.”
She shrugged. “The right things are never the easy ones. What about you? What will you do now?”
“Report to the king, I suppose. After that, I’ll help you however I can.”
“I suppose I’d better come with you to the king, to back up your story!”
“I’d appreciate that,” Gill said, not quite ready to see her march off alone to what could well be her death. He took a breath. “Do we have to do the thing again?”
Solène pointed behind him. He turned to see Castandres a short distance away.
“Ah,” he said. “Impressive. Shall we?”
Gill and Solène were challenged by sentries at the pickets, but were quickly identified and allowed through. The atmosphere about the town had changed dramatically in the time they’d been away. Gill wasn’t sure exactly how long that was, considering that he’d spent a chunk of his absence in the bowels of a mountain with no sense of time on the outside, and had travelled a distance that would have taken days if not weeks, in the blink of an eye. Had that been instantaneous, or did even magic have to pay heed to the running sands of the hourglass? He suspected they’d been gone for only a day, but there was no way to be sure.
As word of their arrival spread, a runner appeared, demanding their attendance on the king at once. They hurried toward the inn, where his headquarters were still housed. On the way, Gill took note of the sense of purpose that prevailed throughout the village, as men prepared for their next move, which would undoubtedly be advancing on the city. Gone was the sense of uncertainty and disunity that had filled the camp when he had first arrived. It was encouraging. An army won and lost on morale, which existed now, and was infectious. Perhaps Solène was right—perhaps there was hope.
“General Villerauvais,” the king said when they entered the taproom. His voice sounded stronger than it had the last time Gill had heard it. The tone was also far more authoritative. Boudain was blooded now, and clearly liked the taste. He stood, surrounded by his officers and nobles, at the head of a large table that was covered with maps and lists.
“I, uh, yes, your Highness?” Gill wasn’t sure when his promotion had come through, but he could think of worse things to happen. Or could he? he wondered.
“I’m glad to see you back safe and sound. You were successful in your endeavours?”
“We were, but I’m afraid I bring news that might not be best received.”
“Go on.”
“It seems that dragons aren’t the only ancient creatures of magic that have awoken recently. We encountered humanlike beings called ‘Venori.’”
“What are they? Will they cause us trouble?”
“Not immediately, your Highness,” Solène said, “but they will come out of hiding in the near future and will need to be dealt with. As to what they are … I believe them to be the creatures that gave rise to our myths of demons.”
Boudain barked out a laugh and looked at Gill, but cut his mirth short when he saw the expression on Gill’s face.
“Demons?”
Gill nodded.
Boudain took a deep breath and paced toward a window, where he stopped, arms akimbo. “I wonder if any of my forebears have been so vexed.” He chewed on his lip for a moment. “They are not an immediate threat, you say?”
“I don’t believe so,” Solène said. “But they will come, perhaps in only a matter of months, and when they do, we must be ready.”
“Well, then,” Boudain said, “right now, they’re a problem for another day. When we take my throne back, you can tell me all about these Venori. Until then, I’ve a dragon of my own I wish to see slain, and we’ve been busy during your absence.”
Gill frowned before getting the reference, and wondering again how long they’d been away.
“Over the past day, troops have arrived to bolster our forces, and reports have been received from spies and scouts,” Boudain said. “Amaury has recruited a force of mercenaries who are marching up from Estranza. I’m given to understand that it is comprised of several companies and is a significant body of men. I’d hoped we might be able to move and take the city before they arrive, but I’m informed this is overly ambitious. As such, we need to stop this force from being added to Amaury’s army.
“We have two options, as I see it. We can meet them on the field and destroy them before they link with Amaury’s force, or we can pay them to turn around and go home.”
“I must counsel against that, your Highness,” the Count of Savin said. “It sets a terrible precedent. Every rogue band of mercenaries short of work will march into Mirabaya, expecting to be paid off. We must send them packing by force of arms.”
Boudain tugged at his beard. “What do you think, Villerauvais?”
“I think that every soldier we lose fighting off the mercenaries is one less we’ll have to fight Amaury. There’s no reason to think mercenaries will see Mirabaya as an easy touch after this crisis is dealt with.”
Savin let out a dismissive breath, and his smugness was mirrored by several of the other nobles surrounding the table. It was interesting how hungry they all were for another fight, having witnessed their first from the safety of the village church’s belfry.
“You both have a point,” Boudain said. “And I’m loath to put Mirabaya’s sons at risk any more than is absolutely necessary. The funds so kindly bequeathed by my recently departed cousins are necessary to pay and feed my troops until I can gain access to the royal treasury again. Either way, I risk losing men, either to the sword or to desertion.”
Only one involves them dying, Gill thought, but realised that the king would see it as much the same—a deserter forfeited his life in shame. A dead soldier gave his for glory. The latter really didn’t seem to offer much more than the first to one so jaded by war as Gill. Still, that wasn’t the way kings thought, and it wasn’t the way they wanted their men to think.
“We ride to intercept the mercenaries,” Boudain said. “Prepare the men to march.”
There were the usual utterances of bravado as the officers filed out to pass the order on to their men. Gill made to leave, but the king caught his eye and gave a curt shake of his head. They waited until everyone else had left.
“I want you and Solène to ride ahead of the army and carry an offer to the mercenary commanders.”
“Highness?” Gill said, frowning.
“I’m not a man to close the door on options. I can buy this enemy, I can’t buy my next one, so I’ll preserve the resources I have to deal with that for as long as I can.”
Gill nodded, not sure whether to be impressed by the tactic or offended at the king viewing his soldiers—Gill included—as resources.