‘He’s waiting for you,’ said Grenel. ‘This way.’
The little house was warm and quaint, and the moment Aric stepped inside he felt its homey embrace. Typical of Liirian farmsteads, it had one main room where the family gathered, furnished sparsely with wooden chairs and chests and a table where the occupants could take their meals. Because this home was slightly grander than the rest, it had an open-air hallway leading to the kitchen, a common way of keeping fires at bay. Aric could see the kitchen across the covered walkway, noting an older woman working there over the fiery pots. Hearing them come into her home, she shot a glare at Aric, who quickly looked away.
The newcomers had barely taken two more steps when out of the adjoining chamber stepped Raxor, startling them all. Raxor paused when he saw Horatin, looking immensely pleased. Horatin bowed quickly to his king.
‘My lord, I’ve returned,’ he told his liege, and in his bow revealed the young man behind him. Raxor’s old eyes danced quickly from face to face, then stopped dead when he spotted Aric.
‘Great Fate above,’ he gasped. His weary face broke with emotion. ‘Aric. .’
Aric quickly parroted Horatin’s bow. ‘King Raxor,’ he said solemnly, but there was more than ceremony in his tone. Straightening, he smiled broadly at the king. ‘I’m back.’
Raxor went from exhausted to glowing. ‘And it is good to see you back, boy! Horatin, you surprise me!’ The king stepped forward, surmising Aric’s bodyguards. ‘And Nithins, too! You’ve brought the news I want, then?’
‘I have, my lord,’ reported Horatin happily. ‘These are Prince Daralor’s men, my lord. They came with us to protect Aric Glass, and to prove to you their prince has come.’
All the Nithins bowed to Raxor, but it was Brenor, the eldest who spoke for them. ‘Prince Daralor sends you greetings, King Raxor. He is honoured to be joining you in your struggle against Baron Glass.’
‘Is he?’ Raxor asked. ‘That is well. Your prince is a brave man, far braver than the cowardly kings who’ve turned their backs on us. Where is your prince now, Sir. .?’
‘My name is Brenor, my lord, of the Green Brigade. This Trace and Jason, both under my command. We’ve come to tell you that Prince Daralor is on the march as well. His armies have crossed the border by now, I am certain, and march toward Koth.’
‘As do we,’ said Raxor, pleased by the news. ‘Your prince and his army will have little resistance. These Liirians are like sheep this time. No one has even tried to stop us.’
‘Yes, what about that?’ Aric asked. ‘We didn’t expect to find you this far from the Kryss.’
‘I will tell you about it,’ said Raxor, ‘but first. .’ He turned to his Watchman, Horatin. ‘You have things to tell me, my friend, I’m sure.’
Horatin nodded. ‘Corvat is gathering the others, my lord.’
‘Good. Then there is time. Grenel, see to their needs. Horatin, all of you, rest now.’ Raxor sidled up to Aric and put his arms around the young man. At last, Aric could smell the heavy liquor on his breath. ‘You and I will talk first, boy.’
‘My lord?’
‘Come with me,’ said Raxor, turning Aric toward the adjoining chamber. ‘It is private this way. We can talk.’
Horatin surprised Aric by not saying another word. Instead he herded the Reecians back toward the main chamber, telling them to feel at ease while Raxor and Aric disappeared. Aric glanced over his shoulder as Raxor guided him away, not sure what the drunken king wanted from him. His Nithin companions, relieved to be out of the rain, seemed unperturbed as they began removing their wet coats and heading for the hearth. In the next chamber, Aric saw a table and a handful of plain wooden chairs. On the table sat a bottle of wine and an iron goblet, half-filled. Food had been prepared for the king, also half-consumed. A map and a few other documents lay across the table. Most striking of all, though, was the other occupant of the room, an attractive young woman dressed in a plain frock, her blonde hair brushed straight down her shoulders. She was collecting dishes off the table, but stopped when she saw Raxor reappear.
‘That’s fine, Alena,’ said Raxor. ‘Leave it. Go and bring some hot food.’
The woman — a girl really — made sure not to meet their eyes completely. ‘Yes, my lord,’ she answered curtly, then scurried past Aric to leave the room. Aric watched her go, confused.
‘Who’s that?’ he asked.
‘Alena lives here,’ said Raxor. He motioned toward the chairs. ‘Sit, Aric.’
Aric began taking off his coat, laying the sodden garment over one of the chairs. His whole person was similarly soaked, and the little fire built for Raxor in the corner of the room felt fine on his wet skin.
‘I’ll have dry clothes brought for you,’ said Raxor. Seeing Aric’s predicament, he dragged two chairs close to the fire and sat himself down.
‘I’m soaked to the bone,’ said Aric. Taking his chair, he started pulling off his boots, freeing his icy toes. ‘My lord, I’m not sure I understand your meaning. That girl lives here?’
‘This is her home, along with her mother and younger brother. There’s no father.’
‘They didn’t flee? When they saw you coming, I mean?’
‘Some did,’ Raxor recounted. ‘Others saw no need. We’re not mistreating anyone here, Aric. They’re taking care of us and that’s all. We needed a place to stop and this was as good as anywhere.’
‘But they’re Liirians.’
‘So? They hate your father as much as we do, I think. It’s as I said, boy; we’ve had no resistance. And I’ll wager your Prince Daralor has none either. We’re on the march toward Koth now. That’s where your father is making his stand.’
‘We heard that,’ said Aric. ‘Horatin told us. He’s holding up at the library.’
‘Just as you did last time,’ said Raxor with a grin. ‘A good enough tactic, though. He doesn’t really care about the rest of Liiria anyway. Just Koth. And that blasted library.’
Aric sat back. ‘That’s a painful thing to hear, my lord.’
‘It’s like a plague that’s swept the whole world. Liiria is dispirited, Aric. And Reec, too. We are all ruined. And only tiny Nith has come to save us!’
‘But I don’t understand,’ Aric protested. ‘Why are you here at all? You were going to wait until you had word from us. Why make war before you even knew the Nithins were coming?’
‘Because it is the time for war, Aric. Because it is forced on us. On me.I knew you would be wondering, that’s why I wanted to speak with you.’ King Raxor paused, then sat back to prepare himself. ‘Your friend Mirage. She is dead, Aric.’
The confession seemed to tear the old king apart. His words trembled. ‘Horatin told us,’ said Aric. ‘I’m sorry. For her and for you, my lord.’
‘I know what your father is like, Aric,’ said Raxor. ‘I let her go to him even so. That is shame enough.’
‘Is that why you’re here to fight him? Because of Mirage?’
‘No. Some people think that but they’re wrong. It is not just Mirage that brings me here. Not even Roland. Oh, I want my vengeance, yes, but it is Reec whose heart is broken. The people demand this war, Aric, and I cannot resist them.’
Raxor poured himself more of the wine and began to drink. His hands shook as he held the goblet. Looking at his eyes, Aric could see how bloodshot they were.
‘The world has gone mad,’ Raxor went on. ‘These men that follow me — they know what carnage they’re up against. It’s hopeless yet they yearn for it.’
‘They yearn for death?’
‘Aye, because they have nothing else! Your father took a thousand sons at the Kryss. Have you ever heard the wailing of a thousand mothers, Aric? No one can stand against that kind of noise. So now they send their husbands with me.’ King Raxor looked blackly into his wine. ‘I’m sure their fate will be the same.’