‘Is she?’ said Argus. ‘How reassuring. And what will she bargain with? What assurances can she give them that their investment will be well placed? This city may well be ash in a few days. Who’s going to lend her money? Perhaps we should ask her?’
Argus turned expectantly, and Merrick found his hand straying to the hilt of his sword. It looked like he bore more allegiance to Janessa than he’d thought. Or maybe he just wanted to draw on this pompous arse and teach him some manners.
Luckily, Merrick wasn’t the only one.
‘Watch your fucking mouth, bastard.’ It was Oban Halfwyrd, who’d gone so far as to draw the knife at his belt.
Argus took a step back, looking for support from the Sentinels who were present. None of them offered any help.
Merrick saw Janessa move forward in her seat, perhaps to demand Argus be punished or that Halfwyrd stand down. He never got to find out which.
Captain Garret entered the throne room briskly, fully armoured, helmet held under his arm. The throne room hushed as all eyes fixed on him. Courtiers scurried out of the way to allow the imposing figure a clear path to the throne. From outside came the sound of marching feet.
Then they entered.
They advanced in ranks of two, bronze armour gleaming, faces hidden behind intricate helms. At their head two knights carried pennants which, on reaching the front of the throne room, they displayed so the red wyvern on a green field was visible to all. Behind them the bronze-armoured knights marched in strict unison, over a hundred in all. The knights at the front dropped to one knee, quickly followed by those behind, one by one, like a row of toppled books. Merrick marvelled at their practised discipline.
Three more bronze-armoured knights strode into the great hall. The first wore a massive winged helm and a broadsword strapped to his back. Behind him were two more bronze-clad warriors, one of them wearing the white pelt of some enormous snow beast around his armoured shoulders.
Garret looked on as the warriors stopped in front of the queen, then knelt before her, heads bowed. ‘Majesty,’ Garret said. ‘May I present the Wyvern Guard and their Lord Marshal.’
‘Your servants unto death, Majesty,’ announced the warrior with the winged helm.
There was something about that voice. Something about its commanding tone that Merrick recognised. But surely it couldn’t be …
‘We were told of your arrival and we are grateful for your aid, Lord Marshal,’ Janessa replied. ‘I am sure Captain Garret will see to your needs and those of your men.’
‘I will, Majesty,’ said Garret with a bow. ‘They will be housed in the Skyhelm barracks with all the privileges bestowed on my own Sentinels.’
Merrick saw a flash of pride in Garret’s features. It was true that everyone knew the legends of the Wyvern Guard — their deeds during the Dragon Wars, their banishment of the ghouls, the Harrowing of the Blood Isles — but Garret seemed to regard these men as old friends.
‘That’s it?’ said Marshal Farren suddenly, taking a step forward. ‘We are to invite these … men to dine at our table without so much as a by your leave? They could be spies of the Elharim for all we know. Who will vouch for them?’
‘I will,’ said Garret, his words snarled angrily, his disdain for Farren and his Knights of the Blood clear for all to see. But the Lord Marshal of the Wyvern Guard had already walked forward.
‘We are here at the behest of the city,’ he said. ‘Here to defend its people and its queen. Had we wanted to do it harm don’t you think you’d already know about it?’
Farren turned impatiently to the queen. ‘House them in the city gaols with the rest of the mercenaries. Not in Skyhelm. What have they done to deserve that honour?’
‘Indeed,’ said General Hawke, a little uncertainly. ‘We know nothing of these men.’
‘Oh but we know of you,’ said the Lord Marshal. ‘We know you let your king be murdered. We know you’ve both left your armies to the north and come here to hide like rats. Don’t talk to me of “honour” when you have none.’
‘Watch your mouth, dog!’ said Farren, taking a threatening step forward.
The Lord Marshal didn’t move but the warrior to his right, the one with the fur cloak, moved into Farren’s path, his sword ringing halfway from its sheath.
‘One more step and I’ll cut that winking fucking eye from your head,’ he said. Despite his choice of language in front of the queen, Merrick kind of liked him already.
Farren stared, his eye twitching frantically, but he went no further.
The Lord Marshal stepped towards the queen, and removed the helmet from his head.
On seeing the man’s face Merrick felt sick. Felt small. Wanted to piss. Wanted to run. A host of childhood memories flooded back. Of castigation. Of punishment. Of training … endless training … and never getting a fucking thing right.
‘Majesty,’ said the Lord Marshal. ‘My name is Tannick Ryder. Former Captain in the Skyhelm Sentinels. Sent forth almost twenty years since to restore the Wyvern Guard to its former glory. And now I have returned to defend your city and your life. Accept not just my words of loyalty. Accept my sword.’
With that he pulled the massive blade from his back with a metallic ring. Merrick saw Kaira tense across the throne from him, her hand straying to the hilt of her sword as this man drew his blade in front of the queen. But the Lord Marshal only knelt and offered up the magnificent weapon.
Odaka glanced up to Janessa but Merrick couldn’t read his expression. Not that he gave a shit what Odaka thought; he was battling his own daemons. Daemons from the past that couldn’t be fought with any weapons. Daemons of regret. Daemons of anger. Of sadness and loss.
Once again he was that abandoned and vulnerable child, and the man responsible was right there. The man who should have protected him all those years ago was not ten feet away.
‘Lord Marshal Ryder,’ Janessa said, standing. ‘It is an honour for us to accept you in our city. The Wyvern Guard has always stood beside Steelhaven and the Free States. Always defended its people in their greatest need. Now more than ever do we require your help.’
‘Then we will defend Steelhaven to the last, Majesty,’ he replied, standing up and sheathing his sword.
After bowing low, he turned, marching his entourage through the corridor formed by his bronze-clad warriors. Garret gave Merrick a knowing nod before accompanying them.
When the two men were gone the Wyvern Guard stood up as one, their discipline something to marvel at, turned on their heels and marched from the throne room. The warrior in his white pelt remained briefly, sword half drawn, staring at Farren, who glared back balefully. When the last of the Wyvern Guard had left the room, the man winked arrogantly at the Marshal of the Knights of the Blood, sheathed his sword and swaggered from the hall.
‘There is risk in this, Majesty,’ said Rogan as soon as they had left, but Janessa simply raised a hand.
‘Enough,’ she said. ‘Clear the hall.’
At that Odaka ordered the gathered courtiers on their way. Merrick stared on in shock. It must have been plain on his face, for even the queen seemed to notice, though she mistook his expression.
‘A fortunate turn of events,’ she whispered, as the seemingly endless trail of courtiers left the hall.
‘That’s one way of looking at it, Majesty,’ Merrick replied.
‘You don’t think so?’
Merrick looked at her, wondering whether to unburden himself. She was his queen and already bore on her shoulders the problems of the nation but …
‘I’m sure the Wyvern Guard will fight for you loyally, Majesty. It’s their Lord Marshal you shouldn’t put your faith in.’
‘Why would you say that?’ she asked, but then realisation seemed to dawn on her all at once.
‘Yes, Majesty,’ he said. ‘Tannick Ryder is my father.’