Vardan could only nod. This was an invasion force, and it would prove overwhelming to a few hundred of the Kinnon’s best warriors and mages. This was the afterlife, a punishment for all their sins. The gods were real, after all, after all his mockery and derision, and his punishment would be a grisly end, very close to this spot.
“It loo-” began Chirath, pointing out across the vista. If he’d not turned his head, the great black arrow would have skewered it like an apple, but he had, and the arrow had instead cut a gash from brow to neck, slicing off the top of his right ear in the process. Blood rushed down Chirath’s face, as they both ducked behind the protective stonework.
A few other arrows sailed past them, but it must only have been an opportunistic attack. They had been fools to stand so long atop a wall before an army.
Vardan crawled through the snow to Chirath, and scooped up fresh snow from the drift, to wash the wounds of blood.
“Don’t coddle me, Friend Vardan,” said Chirath.
“It’s quite a gash you have.”
“Aye, and that is my ear on the ground, but we must return and tell the others.”
Vardan nodded, and they crawled and stumbled to the safety of the stairwell, retrieving an arrow from the snow.
“I told you it was a bad omen,” Chirath chuckled.
“On the contrary, you lost only a little blood, and a superfluous ear part. I’d call that a good omen, just as I told you.”
They laughed together.
They said very little to each other. It was clear that neither of them appreciated being stuck with the other.
Kalummenon had decided that Pereg was incompetent as well as a young fool. Pereg seemed to have no sense of stealth. Kalummenon kept to the shadows, while Pereg walked straight down the middle of the snowy street. Eventually, Kalummenon couldn’t take it anymore. “Come here!” he hissed.
Pereg turned a startled face towards him, and after a moment’s hesitation, approached. “What do you want?”
“What do you think I want? We are meant to be keeping out of sight, and you keep prancing down the middle of the street like you’re on parade!”
“I do not prance!”
Kalummenon sighed. “Look. We need to cooperate. We need to do what we’ve been asked to do. All I’m saying is that you need keep to the edges of the street, so that if we see someone, we can watch them without them spotting us. That’s not so hard is it, lad?”
“Don’t call me lad! Why does everyone call me—”
“How old are you?” Kalummenon demanded.
“Seventeen. Almost eighteen though, but—”
“That’s why. You’ll grow up soon enough. If you survive long enough, that is.”
“I’m a cadet—”
“In the King’s Academy, yes, I know, you told me. But the Academy teaches you how to act like a soldier, and obey commands, does it not?”
“Yes,” Pereg agreed, feeling like a trap was being laid for him.
“So listen to me when I tell you what to do. I’m considerably older than seventeen, which makes me your commanding officer. Understood?”
The trap had been sprung, and the tone of command was unmistakeable. “Yes, sir!”
“There’s no need for that. Don’t call me ‘sir’. Call me Kal. I just want you to listen to what I’m saying. ”
“Agreed.”
Pereg followed meekly along behind Kalummenon, keeping to the shadows, searching here and there in open doorways and windows as they went. The tension between them dissipated, as Pereg behaved in a way more acceptable to Kalummenon, who took to command like it was the most natural thing in the world, and Pereg was comforted by the easy confidence of the more experienced man.
“I’m sorry I laughed, but it really is an odd name,” Pereg said eventually.
“Not to me it’s not.”
“Where are you really from? Originally, I mean?”
“I told you my father was a sailor. I don’t know if he was a pirate or not, to be honest. There is a lot that adults don’t tell young children. My father died when I was little, and I was brought to Peledar, and that is where I grew up. I barely remember any other place.”
“You learned Abrilian on the streets of Peledar?” Pereg sounded incredulous.
“Yes, and you learned it at a military academy. I… was acquainted with a courtier from Maynar for a while. She taught me a thing or two…”
“I’ll bet.”
After a while, Kalummenon took the bait. “And you?”
“Peledarri, born and bred. My father died in the War, and Mother died a few years ago. I have a sister, Aralda. She’s in service to a noble family somewhere up north. She keeps saying she’ll come for a visit when she can. She hasn’t been able to.”
“And that’s why you’re a cadet.”
“Yes, I suppose it is. There’ll be a place for me in the Royal House if I graduate with good enough honours, and then I’ll be set.”
“Provided the Royal House stays the Royal House.”
“Well, the king is young. I’ll bet he’s got a few years left in him yet.”
“Provided the rest of the Lords agree with the current state of affairs.”
“He’s a good King. Why wouldn’t they?”
“Politics.” Kalummenon shouldn’t have been surprised that Pereg was a loyal subject of the King, but it always got under his skin when people blindly accepted the things they were told, without questioning them in the slightest. Being an orphan made Pereg susceptible to being taken advantage of, of course. “I’m an orphan too. My mother died before my father did.” It felt strange for Kalummenon to talk about his past, even if he was still leaving out some key details. It was a relief in some ways, but it also made him feel vulnerable.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Pereg said quietly. “Being alone is the worst thing in the world.”
Kalummenon could immediately think of several things that were much, much worse, but he didn’t name any of them, instead letting himself appreciate the sentiment for what it was. “Thank you. And the same to you.”
Pereg nodded solemnly as Kalummenon held his gaze for a moment. But then something tore their attention away, ahead. There was a sound.
The street stretched away into the distance, and curved away to the left. From that distant hidden stretch of street emerged a procession. They watched it, spellbound, as it came closer. At the head of the procession floated a pale voluminous figure in flowing robes, and shimmering with a magical light. Behind the floating figure marched a battalion of armoured men, clad in furry hats and cloaks against the cold. Between the soldiers trundled several covered wagons, some of which were smoking ominously. The wagons moved without being pulled by any beast. Perhaps the floating figure was towing them with magic.
Kalummenon and Pereg looked at each other, and understood without needing to speak that it was time for them to return to the square.
Making no further pretence at stealth, the two Peledarri men sprinted down the last part of the snow covered street into the square. The square was so full now that it was difficult to maintain any speed through the huddle of warm bodies.
The magical vortex that had brought them here, and brought hundreds of others since they’d left the square, had vanished. They were trapped, and the strange procession was close behind.
Kalummenon and Pereg pushed anxiously through the throng. “Vardan! Where is Vardan?” Finally someone with the knowledge heard them, and pointed him out.
Vardan was speaking with the other scouts, and Chirath was sporting a thick red scar across the right side of his head, which must have been healed by a mage among those gathered.
“Apologies!” Kalummenon said, and all conversation in this circle ceased at once at the interruption.