Cole stared out across the water. He was handsome now that his stupid beard was gone and his hair had been shaved down to stubble; more rugged-looking. His recently healed nose was slightly crooked, but that only added to the effect. ‘It was an accident, you know,’ he said.
‘I don’t think it matters much now,’ she replied. ‘Though you owe Isaac an apology. And a new lute.’
The young Shard sighed and then nodded.
‘What’s your problem with Isaac, anyway? You disliked him from the moment you set eyes on him.’
Cole frowned. ‘I don’t trust him.’
‘Jealousy doesn’t suit you.’
‘I’m not jealous!’ he replied, a little too quickly. They stood there in silence for a time, watching the water lapping against the rocks. The sun was already on the way down. Within an hour they would be sailing west, skirting Dorminia and joining up with the army further along the coast. All except Cole, who would disembark and head for the militia camp, pretending to be a straggler from one of the smaller towns. Once the fighting started he would seek out his contact and be smuggled into the Obelisk.
‘Are you ready to do this?’ she asked quietly. ‘Are you prepared to kill Salazar?’
Cole squared his shoulders. ‘I was born-’
‘None of your bullshit, Cole. This is serious. If you fail, Salazar could destroy us all. The whole army.’
‘I’ve had training,’ he said. ‘The Darkson taught me everything he knew. Besides, Salazar’s magic can’t touch me. Not while I wield Magebane.’
She glanced across at him. He had a determined look on his face. She hesitated, and then placed a hand on his arm. ‘Thanks for watching out for me back there.’
He looked at her hand. His grey eyes rose to meet her own. ‘I won’t let anyone harm you, Sash.’
She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘You don’t really have much choice in the matter. I’m about to go to war.’
Cole looked troubled. ‘I know. Just… try and keep yourself safe. I’m not sure what I would do if anything happened to you.’
She wanted to roll her eyes at him — but, for some reason, she couldn’t. ‘I’ll try not to die,’ she said instead.
‘I missed you,’ Cole added, and this time his words really threw her. ‘I thought I would never see you again.’
She stared at her feet, embarrassment warring with the sudden urge to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. ‘You were only gone a month. Although it feels like a lot longer-What are you doing?’
Cole was leaning towards her, his lips brushing against her own. In sudden panic she threw her head back, bringing a hand around to slap him full in the face. The sound seemed to reverberate like a rockfall. He raised a palm to his cheek and stared at her with eyes full of hurt.
‘I thought-’ he began, but she cut him off with a snarl.
‘You thought you would lure me over here, get me feeling sorry for you? Is that it? Did you plan all of this?’
‘What? No, Sash, of course not-’
‘You’ll never change, will you?’ She stared at him, fury seething within her. The darkness suddenly seemed to expand, filling her head, throbbing with the need to escape and consume everything in its path. ‘You’re an asshole, Cole,’ she spat. ‘Your father would be ashamed of you. And so would Garrett.’
She spun around and stormed off back to the others, leaving him standing alone, mouth agape.
As it turned out, they were the last words she would utter to him before he departed their grim company for the militia training camp near Dorminia.
One Last March
Brodar Kayne had seen some armies in his time, but the host that awaited them when The Caress docked a day’s march west of the Grey City was a sight to behold. The coast was lined with ships almost as far as he could see. Carracks and galleys anchored side by side as a constant stream of smaller rowing boats ferried the three Sumnian mercenary companies to the shore.
The largest of the ships hoisted a flag depicting a stunning woman against a white background. Beneath the illustration, proudly displayed in flowing silver thread, were the words The Lady’s Luck.
The old Highlander’s breath caught as he stared up at the deck of the flagship. He squinted, just to be sure of what he was seeing. The man standing on the forecastle, if he really was a man, could be none other than General Zahn. From this distance, Kayne reckoned he looked about the size of some of the giants that roamed the High Fangs. No less than eight feet tall, certainly. The colossus was naked from the waist up, and he leaned upon a huge golden spear longer than the average Highlander was tall.
‘That’s the general,’ muttered the Darkson beside him. The Shamaathan had his hood drawn up so that only his eyes were visible.
Kayne shook his head in amazement. ‘For once, the lad wasn’t exaggerating.’ Davarus Cole had left them the night before, disembarking a few miles east of the city to begin his own personal quest. He had seemed unusually glum, which was surprising considering how much of a show he liked to make of things. The girl, too, appeared to be in poor spirits. He reckoned something had happened between them, but there was no point sticking his nose in where it wasn’t wanted. At the end of the day, he had a job to do.
It wasn’t as if he could have said no to Brianna. Not after she’d just saved their lives. Not with the promise of fifty gold spires between them if he and Jerek helped overthrow the Tyrant of Dorminia. Handing back Magebane only seemed right in the circumstances. And again, it wasn’t as if he really had a choice. You didn’t usually get the better of mages in an argument, not in his experience.
In any case, Brianna seemed like a pleasant and trustworthy sort. A fine figure of a woman, if he was being honest, and it was past time he should be feeling guilty about those kinds of thoughts. When it came right down to it, there were no certainties in life. The prospect of ousting a bastard of a Magelord was a job as worthwhile as any other he could think of.
The caravel he was on had a shallow enough draught to anchor close inshore, so Kayne eased himself into the water and waded towards land. He heard Jerek and the Darkson splash down and do the same behind him. The water reached up to his waist, but the late-afternoon sun was oppressively hot and the brief soaking was a welcome relief.
Curious faces turned to stare at them as they made their way up the crunchy shingle beach towards the vast camp being assembled ahead. The old barbarian returned the stares. These Sumnian warriors were a strange sight. They were dark of skin, a little paler than the assassin behind him. They wore leather vests and carried swords or spears together with circular wooden shields. With the notable exception of the monstrous general, they looked to be a fair bit shorter than the typical Highlander, though were still a shade taller than most of the Lowlanders he had met.
‘Maggot!’ shouted a cheerful voice somewhere ahead of him. ‘Over here.’ Kayne narrowed his eyes at the group of Sumnians grinning at them. The speaker was a striking man in his early thirties with amazingly thick, oiled hair that had been braided and fixed atop his head. He carried an oddly shaped sword in each hand, both blades curving near the end to form a hook. The leather he wore was bleached bone white.
‘You talking to me?’ Kayne asked. The man nodded in response, flashing a white smile.
‘You, yes. You maggots.’
‘Now that ain’t no way to speak to a man. We’re all friends here.’ Brodar Kayne was trying his best to keep his cool, but the gleaming smile on the other man’s face combined with the insults were beginning to grate on his nerves.
‘Friends, yes. What is your name? And this other maggot’s name? He looks angry.’
Jerek stepped towards the Sumnian, knuckles gripping the handles of the axes on his back. ‘Maggot? I ain’t taking that. Not from a fucking-’