Kilgar looked down uncertainly. He glanced at Nobul, who had no clue what to do. Before the serjeant could say anything the young lad in the brown robe piped up from below.
‘Erm … can you open the gate?’ he called. ‘I think they’ll be expecting us.’
It was almost funny, such a young streak of piss speaking for such an imposing column of warriors.
Kilgar turned to Nobul. ‘Go on then,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Open the bloody gate.’
Nobul hurried down to pull back the wooden bars that held the gate fast. Within the structure of the barbican there was also a portcullis that could be slammed down during siege, but that had not been used in decades. Wouldn’t be long before it would be needed again, he found himself thinking, but the gate was now open, and Nobul was staring at an army of armoured riders, whose leader was looking down at him like shit on his shoe.
Without a word the first knight touched spurs to his steed and the column was on the move once more. As he passed by the young lad in the robe looked down at Nobul and said, ‘Thanks,’ with an embarrassed smile.
It was then Nobul recognised him. Recognised him from weeks ago in the Chapel of Ghouls, remembered it was that young face covered in dust he’d seen when Nobul had looked up from cradling Denny’s body.
Whoever the lad was, he certainly got himself about a bit.
‘Right, let’s clear a path,’ said Kilgar, who had followed Nobul down from the barbican. At that, the lads of Amber Watch began to press ahead through the gathered crowd. Old Hake wasn’t much use, but it was work for which Bilgot was uniquely suited as he barged his fat frame through the city folk, shouldering the gawking onlookers out of the way. Nobul, Anton and Kilgar did their best, but it was still slow going as word spread throughout Eastgate and people flocked to see the fabled Wyvern Guard who had returned to Steelhaven once more.
Amber Watch and the new arrivals had almost got through when there was a commotion coming the other way. The crowd was suddenly bundled from the path and Nobul could see Dustin and Edric alongside the High Constable. He had his own retinue of Greencoats and each of them looked on open-mouthed as they saw the parade of bronze-armoured knights working its way through the city streets.
‘You weren’t lying, were you lads?’ said the High Constable as he looked up at the rider leading the column.
The knight looked down from within his winged helm. Nobul could see his neatly trimmed beard and his intense eyes.
‘I am the Lord Marshal of the Wyvern Guard, here to see the queen,’ he said. And that was all. Again he just sat there looking on expectantly, like he was the Duke of bloody Valdor and they should know to give him the red-carpet treatment.
The High Constable looked up agog, clearly unsure of what to do. ‘Er … an audience with the queen might be difficult at short notice,’ he replied.
‘Trust me, she’ll make time for us,’ said the Lord Marshal, and Nobul had to agree; she just bloody might.
Before the High Constable could find any more excuses, other figures pushed their way through the crowd, this time Sentinels from the palace of Skyhelm. They looked up unsurprised, as though they had been expecting the Wyvern Guard all along.
‘You’ll follow us,’ said the first Sentinel. ‘The palace is-’
‘I know the way, son,’ said the Lord Marshal, touching his spurs to his horse once more.
Nobul stood back, allowing the knights to ride on past him. He didn’t get an accurate count, but there were at least a couple of hundred in the column. Not enough to hold back the Khurtas on their own, but a welcome addition to the city’s defences however you looked at it. He hoped he’d be there to see the looks on those savage bastards’ faces when they realised they were up against the greatest knights in all the known world.
‘Don’t see that every day, do you?’ said Hake, as they watched the last of the riders disappear towards the Crown District, followed by a gaggle of cheering city folk.
Nobul just shook his head.
Later, back at the barracks, having already put his weapon back in the store, Nobul was changing out of his green arming jacket. Kilgar stood there watching him with his one good eye. It was obvious he wanted to speak, maybe wanted Nobul to ask what he was standing there for, but then Nobul had never been one for starting up conversations.
They looked at one another for a moment and Kilgar took a deep breath.
‘Good that they’ve come … the Wyvern Guard, I mean.’
‘Aye, reckon it is,’ Nobul said.
Another pause. Kilgar took another breath.
‘It’s coming, you know. It’ll be like the Gate all over again. The piss and the blood. The crying and the screaming. You reckon you’re up for it?’
Nobul nodded, though he reckoned this time it might well be worse. At Bakhaus Gate they could have retreated, but here they only had the sea at their back. He could swim well enough, but doubted he’d make it to all the way Dravhistan in one go.
‘We’ll weather it,’ Nobul said. ‘We’ve done it before.’
‘Aye that we have. And lived to tell the tale.’
Another pause, but this time Kilgar walked forward, leaning in like he didn’t want no one else to hear, even though there was no one else there.
‘It wasn’t your fault you know,’ said Kilgar. ‘It could have happened to any one of us. Any one of us could have been there that night. Any one of us could have ended up dying in that place.’
‘I know,’ said Nobul, not too sure this was a conversation he wanted to be having.
‘Denny thought a lot of you. He’d have been glad you were there … at the end.’
That one stung. Nobul didn’t believe Denny would have thanked him after leaving the lad to fall to his death. But what was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to open his mouth to Kilgar and tell him the facts? That Denny had been the one who shot his boy? That he’d wanted to punish the little fucker, and when he got his opportunity he’d let him drop from that ledge on purpose?
They said unloading your sorrows on someone else was meant to help. Nobul wasn’t convinced. Either way, he had nothing to say he wanted Kilgar to hear. He felt guilty all right, but he reckoned it was his guilt to bear, and bear it he would.
Before he had to make up some reply, Anton walked in. Dolorous as always he regarded the pair of them for a moment then began pulling off his jacket and helm.
‘Just think on,’ said Kilgar, patting Nobul’s shoulder with his one remaining arm. ‘If you want to talk about it, you know where I am.’
Hells, if Kilgar still had both eyes he’d most likely have given a wink too. Nobul wasn’t too sure he liked this side of Kilgar. He’d preferred him when he was hard as stone, a serjeant to be feared. Not acting the priest and confessor.
Kilgar left, and Nobul hung back, giving the serjeant enough time to clear the barracks before he made to follow. By that time Anton had finished with his gear and was leaving too. They walked out side by side, and Anton looked up and smiled. Now that was new. Nobul had never seen so much as a twitch on the lad’s lips since the day he’d started with the Greencoats.
Was everybody going fucking mad?
‘Er … fancy a beer, Lincon?’ Anton said.
This was all he needed. It seemed half of Amber Watch was keen to sit down and have a long chat with him about the great cycle of life.
‘No thanks,’ he replied.
Anton looked downcast, became his usual miserable self. Which only made Nobul feel worse. This was supposed to be his mucker, his comrade-in-arms and he couldn’t even be bothered to go for a beer with the lad.
What a twat you are, Nobul Jacks.
‘Well, all right then. Maybe just the one.’ He’d said it before he could stop himself. But what was the harm? It had been months since he’d been for a drink. Months since he’d just sat back and relaxed. Maybe it was about time. Maybe he even deserved it. In a few days he wouldn’t have the chance to do much of anything but fight. Best grab the laughs while you could.