‘Shut up and listen,’ Farrell hissed, jabbing Dath with his elbow.
‘So, again,’ Brina said, eyes narrowed to slits now. ‘Why are you here?’
‘Because Corban is the Bright Star, the Seren Disglair, avatar of Elyon.’
There was a long silence, then Dath laughed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
FIDELE
Fidele rode through the wooden gates of Ripa, Peritus at her side, two score of her eagle-guard behind them. Things had escalated since the discovery of the body in the lake. The discovery of Jace — give the dead a name. He had obviously been murdered for his part in informing her about the Vin Thalun fighting pits. Peritus had had a fire lit in his bones, then, and had set about rooting out every scrap of information in Tenebral about the Vin Thalun. Word had reached them from Lamar, Baron of Ripa, that had been worth investigating in person.
It was late in the day, the sun low but still warm. The smell of salt filled Fidele’s lungs, the calling of gulls and the murmur of the sea underpinning all else.
They were met by a group of mounted men, Krelis ben Lamar at their head.
‘My lady,’ he said to her. ‘You would be best served by staying here. There may be hard words and bloodshed ahead of us. My father is looking forward to the pleasure of your company.’
‘Well, he will have to wait a little longer for it. I did not ride over a hundred leagues to sit in a tower and wait for others to tell me of events,’ she said, less politely than she intended.
‘But-’ Krelis began.
‘No. I am coming. There will be no discussion on it. I have my guards.’
Krelis frowned but said no more.
Not as brainless as he looks, Fidele thought.
He led them out of the fortress, turning north once they had left all buildings behind. They skirted Sarva, last great forest of the south, travelling steadily north as the sun sank into an ocean of green boughs. Fidele saw the outline of a fortress on a hill, ringed by trees. Its towers and walls were jagged in their ruin, framed by the dying sun.
Balara, once-great fortress of the Kurgan giants.
They rode up the hill, shadows stretching far behind them, through a thin scattering of trees and up to the walls of Balara.
‘The gates have been cleared,’ Krelis said to her and Peritus, pointing to where fallen rubble was piled high to either side of a wide stone archway.
‘You see,’ Peritus said to her, ‘the reports are true.’
‘Let’s go and see why they have gone to all this hard work,’ Fidele said. As they rode forward a horn call rang out, high and ululating.
‘They’ve seen us,’ Krelis called, spurring his horse to greater speed.
He clattered onto the stone, Fidele and their mingled warriors close behind. They passed through a wide stone street, then Fidele saw faces, saw figures running in all directions, others standing, just staring. As she sped closer she could see the iron in their beards.
Vin Thalun.
Some realized what was happening and drew their weapons. Krelis’ broadsword swept out of its scabbard; Peritus drew his own blade. Krelis sent a head spinning through the air with the first swing of his sword, Peritus trampled another with his horse, and then Fidele’s warriors were sweeping past her as she pulled on her reins, watching in silent horror.
A handful of the Vin Thalun resisted, pulling men from horses and hacking at them, but they were overwhelmed in moments, both by numbers and the ferocity of her men’s attack. Are we so very different from the Vin Thalun?
It was over soon, the Vin Thalun breaking and scattering, deeper shadows in the gloom disappearing amongst the rubble. Fidele dismounted and tethered her horse, Orcus her shieldman walking protectively beside her.
Peritus and Krelis had rounded up a handful of survivors. One of them barged forwards, hands bound.
‘What do you think you’re doing, you stupid bitch?’ he yelled. ‘Lykos won’t stand for this.’
Orcus clubbed the man across the jaw and he dropped to the ground, tried to rise and Orcus kicked him.
‘Enough,’ Fidele said. She looked to Peritus and Krelis. ‘Is it true, then?’
‘Aye, my Queen,’ Peritus said.
‘Show me.’
They marched across a rubble-strewn street, a ruined tower looming before them.
‘Careful,’ Krelis warned as they entered through a fallen archway.
Inside, the ground had subsided, revealing stone basements beneath — cellars originally, most likely. They had been dug out, a ring cleared around the edges where Fidele and her companions stood. She looked down into the cleared space and at first did not understand what she saw.
Bodies, the dead piled in a corner, blood pooling, flowing in rivulets. Cells had been erected, built from wood, like tiny stables, and in them stood men, some staring back at her. Some were young, not much more than boys, others older, all battered, battle scarred, all with a feral look in their eyes.
So it was true. They had discovered a Vin Thalun fighting pit.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
VERADIS
Veradis sat in Dun Carreg’s feast-hall. Bos sat beside him, the big man devouring his way through a trencher piled high with meat and gravy. The room bore the marks of conflict — charred beams above, smoke-blackened patches on the walls, the dark residue of stains on the stone floor that had been scrubbed at but not removed. Could not be removed. Blood leaves a stain, he thought, one finger tracing the scar on the palm of his right hand, mark of his blood-oath to Nathair. We are brothers now, Nathair had said to him that night, long ago in Tenebral. Nathair had been only a prince then, Aquilus still alive. He remembered how he had felt — excited, coursing with life, the future a grand destiny he had only to claim. And now here he was, a thousand leagues from home, claiming that destiny. There was just too much politicking going on for his liking. That’s why he’d enjoyed his morning in the Rowan Field so much, just to be able to face an opponent with a sword in his hand, even if it was only made of wood, not iron.
Just then figures walked through the hall’s doors: Evnis and a handful of his shieldmen — no one here seemed to move without a guard — Conall, the warrior he had sparred with earlier, was close to him.
‘He was lucky,’ Bos said, nodding at Conall. ‘You should’ve beaten him.’
‘He was fast,’ Veradis said. ‘And I’m not so used to fighting like that now; spent too much time in the shield wall.’
‘Excuses,’ Bos chuckled.
‘Not excuses, he fought well. Just the truth.’ It was the truth, Veradis having felt vulnerable and slow from the first strike of their practice swords. He would have to make sure his training was more balanced from now on — make time for both shield wall and individual sparring. He had already done that today, after his bout with Conall moving on to train in the Field with Nathair’s eagle-guard, then travelling out of the fortress, down to the meadows beyond to check on his warband and oversee their training.
He had enjoyed the day. But now he was back, summoned to a meeting with Nathair and Owain, the King of Narvon. Back to the politicking. I’d rather leave that to Nathair and Calidus. Lykos had already left, the Vin Thalun sailing with the dawn tide, taking his ships and his Vin Thalun warriors with him. That had been Calidus’ idea, and a sensible one — Lykos had looked set to drink Dun Carreg dry if something had not been found for him to do. He had taken half the fleet, only the shallow-draughted attack galleys. The troop carriers would not be able to travel where Lykos was going.
As if Veradis’ thoughts had summoned them, Calidus and Alcyon walked through the hall’s doors. Dark looks and murmurs spread about them, suspicious eyes watching Alcyon as he passed. Veradis felt a stab of anger at these people, at their ignorance, but understood their distrust. Once upon a time he would have felt the same, but Alcyon had saved his life once and — more than that — Veradis had glimpsed his humanity. And it came as a surprise to him that he liked Alcyon, had almost come to consider him a friend.