‘Calm.’ The Darkson placed a hand on Jerek’s shoulder. ‘He means no disrespect. In the Sun Lands, “maggot” is a term of endearment for those with fair skin.’
‘Yes,’ agreed the Sumnian. ‘You are white, like a maggot, no?’ Something seemed to occur to him all of a sudden. ‘I know that voice. The Darkson.’
The assassin threw back his hood. ‘Well met, General.’
Brodar Kayne’s head was beginning to ache. ‘Wait… This man is a general?’
The Sumnian opposite him flashed another smile. ‘General D’rak, at your service.’
The Darkson pointed at the Sumnians behind D’rak, and then at the men standing around watching them in small clusters all across the beach. There must have been scores of them, maybe hundreds. They looked ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.
‘General D’rak commands these warriors. They would lay down their lives for him.’
‘And these are but a handful of my brothers,’ the general added. ‘The rest are still on the ships, or helping prepare the camp. One thousand swords and spears — the finest company in all of Sumnia!’ He brought his strange weapons together once, twice, three times. Those close enough to observe their general answered by clashing their own weapons against their shields or hammering them on the ground.
Kayne gave the man’s twin blades a doubtful look. ‘I’ve never seen swords like those. Can you fight with them?’
General D’rak laughed. It was an honest sound, sincere and heartfelt, and the old Highlander felt himself warming towards him. ‘I fight like no one you have ever seen. Walk with me, friend. I will introduce you — and perhaps later I will show you how one dances with the khopesh.’
Kayne glanced behind him at the scowling Jerek and the Darkson, who nodded at him. ‘I ain’t much of a dancer,’ he said uncertainly. ‘But I guess you’re never too old to try.’
By the time dusk had fallen the army was fully encamped. Fires sprang up all over the hill on which they were bivouacked. The mercenaries from the south apparently found the night air too chill for their liking, despite the heat of the day and the fact both Kayne and Jerek were still uncomfortably warm underneath their hide armour.
Kayne reckoned the Sumnians could be excused that little foible after everything else he had witnessed since coming ashore. The mercenaries functioned with a discipline he had never experienced up in the High Fangs. They moved with purpose, each man knowing his place despite all being equal under their respective generals.
These were men who lived for warfare. General D’rak had informed him that every mercenary in a company had to earn his place, and as a result there was no room for cowards or stragglers. It all seemed a far cry from the red-cloaked soldiers he had encountered back in Dorminia. If even half these Sumnians were anywhere near as skilled as D’rak, the Crimson Watch wouldn’t stand a chance in hell.
He shifted again, wincing at the pain in his left calf. The general had shown him how to fight with the curved swords, sparring with and then disarming two of his own men. He had then handed the weapons over to Kayne, who had given the khopeshes a fair go, though the blades had felt strange in his hands. Of course, when the time came to start spinning around as the general had demonstrated, he had almost tripped over his own feet and fallen flat on his arse. Jerek might have fared better, considering how he favoured a weapon in each hand, but the Wolf had responded to D’rak’s offer to participate with a grim shake of the head and that had been that.
‘Are you all right?’ Sasha asked, noticing how he kept rubbing at the muscles in his leg.
‘Just a bit of a cramp,’ he replied, though to be honest the pain had been so bad he’d tasted blood. As it turned out, jumping around like a lunatic without a proper warm-up was a young man’s game. Just like everything else, he reckoned.
Brianna and the Darkson were off at Zahn’s tent with the other two generals, no doubt discussing plans. They would begin their march on the morrow. He could hear Three-Finger’s laughter from somewhere behind him. The convict was an easy man to get along with, quick with a joke and a ready smile. Still, Kayne didn’t like the way he stared at the girl. He decided to stick close to her, just in case. She could look after herself, he knew, but a lone woman among so many warriors was always going to draw unwelcome attention.
‘Why does he always sit alone?’ Sasha asked, nodding at Jerek. He was sitting by himself at a nearby campfire, staring at nothing much.
‘The Wolf likes to keep his own company,’ Kayne replied. ‘It’s just the way he is.’
Sasha frowned. ‘How did he get those scars?’
He paused a moment before replying. ‘When he was a boy his family was attacked by outlaws. Men with no allegiance to any chieftain. They locked his family inside their home, set fire to the house. He was the only survivor. His mother, father, his brothers and sisters — they all perished in the blaze.’
‘Is that why he’s so angry?’
‘Could be. He don’t trust easily.’
‘He trusts you.’
‘I pulled him clear of the fire.’
Sasha looked at him. ‘You rescued Jerek?’
He nodded. ‘I killed the outlaws. Found a lad still breathing, terribly burned, and dragged him out of the wreck. Course, I was still young myself then.’
‘Is that why he follows you everywhere? Because you saved his life?’
‘The Wolf doesn’t forget a debt.’
‘But he saved you from the Shaman.’
He shrugged. ‘Aye, he did. Now we’re both outlaws. He don’t owe me anything — and yet here he is.’
Sasha was silent for a time. She looked troubled. ‘You worried about young Cole?’ he asked carefully.
She scowled. ‘Cole can look after himself. He’s obsessed with the idea of being some great hero. Well, now’s his chance.’
‘He cares for you.’
‘I know.’
‘Then what’s the problem?’
The girl sighed and ran a hand over her brow. Her pupils weren’t so wide now, which was as good an indication as any that she was clean of whatever it was she had been taking. He hadn’t spoken to her about it. Nothing good could come of it. ‘I said something I shouldn’t have,’ she admitted.
Ah. Now we’re getting to the root of it. ‘Cole’s tenacious,’ he said. ‘He’ll bounce back. Nothing seems to faze that lad for very long.’
There was a hint of a smile on her face. ‘You’re probably right.’
He grinned back at her. ‘There’s a first time for everything.’
Isaac ambled over to them. He had a leg of roast chicken in one hand and a notebook in the other. ‘These Sumnians have a most interesting culture,’ he said, wiping grease from his mouth with the back of one hand. ‘Did you know they are forbidden to marry until they have killed at least one warrior in battle? Once they have, they are able to take up to three wives. The generals can marry as many women as they like.’
‘I reckon one woman’s more than enough for any man,’ Kayne replied. He raised an eyebrow. The manservant never failed to surprise him. ‘We’re marching off to battle tomorrow and you’re making notes?’
Isaac shrugged. ‘Knowledge lives on even after we’re gone. That’s all we really are. The sum of what others have learned before us. If I die, I hope part of my learning will remain for others to find and make use of.’
The old barbarian frowned. What would he leave behind when he died? A mountain of corpses and regrets, he supposed.
‘Can a Magelord die?’ Sasha asked Isaac.
‘Not from natural causes. But we know at least thirty mages returned from the Godswar. There are far fewer than thirty Magelords in the world now. Maybe not much more than a dozen. Clearly many have perished over the years.’
‘If Cole fails…’ Sasha began. She didn’t finish her sentence. Instead she shook her head and looked down at the ground.
Kayne shrugged. ‘We got a job to do. We take the city and let Cole worry about the Magelord. If it comes to it, and Salazar proves too much… Well, we run like hell.’