Malice (27 page)

Maquin belched in his ear.

‘Always good t’break your fast, lad, an’ that was the best we’ll have for a while, I’m thinking. Best make ready for the journey home, eh? Wouldn’t want to be last in the saddle, give your cousin something else to moan about.’

Kastell snorted. Things had not been going well with Jael. He had avoided the practice court since his run-in with his cousin, but Jael had still managed to root him out, and more of the usual had followed – goading, mocking. Somehow, and only by the slimmest of margins, Kastell had managed to keep his anger in check.

‘He left early this morning, again, hunting with his new friend, the Prince of Tenebral.’ Kastell hawked and spat. ‘They make a fine pair.’

Maquin laughed. ‘Come, lad, you sound jealous. Anyway, Prince Nathair can’t be all bad, not if his man Veradis is anything to go by.’

‘Aye, true enough.’ They had spent some time with the young warrior since meeting him in the forest glade, usually over a skin of wine, Kastell experiencing the strange new sensation of making a friend.

They headed towards their tents.

‘So what now? Back to Mikil?’ Maquin looked sidelong at Kastell.

‘What else is there?’

‘Plenty, for one with your skills, giantkiller.’

‘Joining the Gadrai’s a nice thought, if giantkilling gives entry to their band, but if it means fighting more of those Hunen, I think I’ll take my chances with Jael.’

‘You’d rather carry on like this, then?’

‘As I said, what else is there?’

‘Well, I’m not one for telling a man what he should be doing . . .’

Kastell snorted.

‘. . . but no good is going to come of this. There’s trouble brewing between you and your cousin. Real trouble. Neither of you are bairns any more.’

Kastell sighed, but said nothing. How could he argue with the truth? They finished their walk to King Romar’s encampment in silence.

As the tents were slowly dismantled and packed away a sound filtered through Kastell’s thoughts. He looked up to see a handful of riders spill from the forest. Nathair was at their head, the carcass of a deer draped across his saddle. Jael rode close behind. With a loud farewell to the Prince, Jael rode into Romar’s encampment, sneering at Kastell as he passed by.

Kastell looked away.

Another rider detached itself from the hunting party and headed towards Kastell and Maquin.

It was Veradis. He smiled as he approached them, slid from his horse, letting it graze freely on the meadow grass.

‘Making ready to leave?’

‘Aye.’

‘You’re back earlier than I thought,’ said Kastell. ‘Didn’t think Jael would return here until all of the work was done.’

‘Does he not like hard work?’ said Veradis.

‘Careful,’ muttered Maquin, glancing around, ‘remember where we are.’ They were hidden from view behind a half-collapsed tent, but the sound of others labouring nearby was still clear.

‘Well, Nathair has put in a good morning’s work, I think. Caught a deer and charmed the sons of some kings a little more.’

‘Work? What do you mean?’ asked Maquin.

‘Nathair works hard for this realm. He is championing his father’s cause – Tenebral’s cause. I know he is right, but I find it wearisome. Politicking is not my favourite pastime.’ He smiled. ‘Don’t mind the hunting so much, though.’

‘Politicking?’ Maquin said.

‘Nathair is trying to win more support for his father. You were there,’ he said to Kastell, ‘you’ve told Maquin about the council?’

‘Of course,’ Kastell grunted. His shieldman had been sceptical when he had told him of King Aquilus and Counsellor Meical’s claims.
He
was sceptical. The gods Asroth and Elyon, the Kadoshim and Ben-Elim brotherhood, suns and stars. It was a lot to ask any man to believe. Still, Kastell had felt
strange
, almost excited, as that ancient book was being read. And those things it spoke of – the stones weeping, the white wyrms. They had
happened
.

‘It is quite a claim,’ said Maquin thoughtfully. ‘Asroth’s God-War against Elyon, here, amongst us. Do you believe it to be true?’

Veradis flushed at the neck. ‘My King tells me it is so. There is no more.’

Maquin held up a hand. ‘I mean no insult to you or your King. There is no disloyalty in having an opinion of your own.’

Veradis grunted, his shoulders easing slightly. ‘Aquilus is a good king,’ he said slowly. ‘He is wise, has ruled Tenebral well for more years than I have drawn breath. I have not been close to him for long, but my father, who is critical of most that walk this earth, has only ever praised Aquilus. And if that is not enough there is Nathair.
He
I do know well, and trust with my life. He believes these things are happening, so I have no doubt that they are.’

‘Good enough,’ said Maquin. ‘Dark times ahead indeed, then. Let us hope that Prince Nathair’s efforts bear fruit.’

‘Aye,’ said Veradis, relaxing. ‘Talking of Nathair, I told him I would not be long. I just wanted to see you both before you left, to wish you safe journey.’

Kastell gripped Veradis’ wrist. ‘If this alliance works the way you tell it, maybe we’ll ride together one day.’

‘That would be good,’ said Veradis. ‘Until then, watch out for that cousin of yours. And you stay out of trouble, grey-hair.’ He grinned.

‘Look to your own hide, pup. I’ve had some practice at caring for mine.’

Kastell watched as Veradis walked away.
So many years without a friend, and now I’m making them in all kinds of places
. He shrugged and set back to the packing.

‘Here he is, lads,’ a voice said behind him. Before he could turn, he was grabbed by the shoulder and spun around. A fist sank into his gut and he doubled over.

‘Stay out of this, old ma— oof,’ he heard through ringing ears. Maquin stood over another man, fists bunched. Others were rushing around the side of the tent, closing quickly, all faces he knew, faces from Jael’s hold. Some fell upon Maquin, two running past the grizzled warrior to throw themselves at Kastell. He ducked a blow, sidestepped, managed to connect his own fist with a jaw and send the man on the end of it crashing to the ground.
Doing quite well, considering
, he thought, then he was grabbed from behind, someone pinning his arms.

‘Jael sends his greetings,’ a voice whispered in his ear and someone began raining solid blows into him. His vision blurred and stars burst in his head, then he heard shouting, then that unmistakable sound of a sword hissing from its scabbard. Suddenly he was falling, the arms that had gripped him gone. He crunched jarringly to his knees, toppled slowly to the side.

More shouting and his eyes fluttered open. Booted feet were everywhere, other figures lying near him, one of them rising slowly – Maquin, he realized, blinking to clear his vision. Holding onto a tent pole, he pulled himself up, looking around.

Two men lay unmoving on the floor, two more stood together, facing Maquin, fists raised. One stood alone, a sword-tip at his throat.

Veradis was holding the sword.

Kastell staggered over to Maquin’s side. Other men ran around the tent now, more of King Romar’s warriors. They snarled as they saw their friends, some drawing weapons.

‘Halt,’ cried a loud voice. Romar himself cleared the part-collapsed tent, Jael at his heels. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ he bellowed. An awkward silence fell. Romar repeated his question, this time aimed only at Veradis.

‘Best ask your own,’ the warrior of Tenebral replied calmly, keeping his eyes on the man at the end of his sword-point. ‘For myself, I was returning to the fortress when I saw these men set upon those two,’ he gestured towards Kastell and Maquin. ‘I do not know your customs in Isiltir, but here in Tenebral five against two is considered cowardly.’

King Romar looked from Veradis to his warriors to Kastell and Maquin, both with bloodied faces, and then finally to Jael.

‘You can sheathe your weapon,’ he said to Veradis, who took a step back, and smoothly slid his sword into its scabbard.

‘My thanks,’ mumbled Maquin through swollen lips.

‘And mine also,’ said Romar. ‘Come, share a drink with me before we leave.’ Veradis looked back at the fortress, then nodded.

‘I will deal with you later,’ Romar said to his warriors as he turned and walked away, Veradis following him. ‘Jael, Kastell, with me,’ he barked over his shoulder.

Silently the three men followed Romar’s broad back until they were standing in a row inside a tent. The King of Isiltir filled four cups from a skin and handed them out. Kastell winced as the sour liquid stung his cut lip, but he gulped it down nevertheless. Fighting was thirsty work.

‘Again, my thanks,’ said Romar, tipping his head to Veradis.

‘I am glad to have been of some help. Sometimes disagreements can flare into something worse.’

‘Not all would have done as you did. Aquilus is fortunate to have men like you around him. A wise king surrounds himself with men of quality, such as yourself.’

Veradis bowed his head, looking uncomfortable.

‘But what does that say about me, I wonder? Those I have close to
me
seem more inclined to fight each other than our true enemies.’ He scowled at Jael and Kastell. ‘And what have you to say?’ he directed at Kastell, who shuffled his feet, looking at the rim of his empty cup.

‘Just a disagreement. Nothing more,’ he mumbled.

‘Do not lie to me, boy. You are not very good at it.’ He looked back to Jael.

‘Do you think me a fool? Do you think I know nothing of this, this
bairn’s
grudge you have fostered against your cousin?’

‘You take
his
side?’ Jael blurted incredulously.

‘It is not about
sides
,’ roared Romar, hurling his cup at the ground. ‘I saw, Jael. I
saw
what you did to Kastell, in the practice court.’ He drained his cup and poured another. ‘I was ashamed. This. Ends. Now,’ he growled.

‘But . . .’ said Jael.

‘
NOW!
’ bellowed Romar. ‘You will both be lords soon. If I were to die it would probably be one of you two that would rule Isiltir until my son Hael comes of age. You will be leaders of men. You do not lead by shaming others.’

‘But he shamed
me
. If you were there you must have seen what he did.’

‘Aye, I did. There was wrong on both sides, but more with you, Jael.’ He began pacing around the empty tent. ‘I say again: this ends today. Right now. You are kin, bound by blood. This only brings shame on you both, on me, on our family.’

There was a long, uncomfortable silence.

‘Now, start behaving like kin, and men.’

Another long silence.

‘Yes, Uncle. You are right. We should put this childishness behind us,’ Jael said. He held out his hand to Kastell, who hesitantly took it.

Romar smiled. ‘That’s better, lads. Well done.’

Romar slapped them both on the back. ‘That is good. I have high hopes for the both of you. New times are ahead for us all, what with this alliance and . . .’ he trailed off. ‘Anyway, the two of you figure highly in my plans for the future of Mikil, and of Isiltir. Now, let us get this campsite cleared and begin the journey home.’

‘Yes, Uncle,’ said Jael. Kastell grunted, and they both left the tent.

‘This is far from over,’ hissed Jael as he walked away.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CORBAN

Corban slipped into the kitchen, face flushed and sweaty from his morning’s training with Gar. His mam was standing by the oven, pulling out a tray of oatcakes. He ran a hand through his damp hair, chewing on his bottom lip.

‘Can I speak to you, Mam?’

Gwenith placed the oatcakes on the table, brushed her hands down her woollen dress, and sat. ‘Of course.’

He sat opposite her, absently digging at a piece of wood in the table with his thumbnail.

‘Has this anything to do with the bruises on your da’s face?’ Gwenith asked. ‘And the rumours I’m hearing – that he had a
talk
with Helfach?’

‘I’m sorry, Mam,’ he said slowly. ‘I lied to you.’

She said nothing and he looked up at her now, his dark eyes meeting her gaze. ‘About my face. I didn’t fall on the rocks. I was fighting.’

‘Who with?’

‘Rafe.’

‘Ah. I see.’ Gwenith nodded to herself. ‘Go on.’

And so Corban told her his tale, including Rafe’s dare and his penance of afternoon chores with Brina. When he was done they sat in silence awhile.

‘There is something else,’ he said. ‘In the mornings, when I go out early. I have been training. Training with Gar. He told me to tell no one, but I wanted to tell you. I don’t want to lie to you any more.’

‘Does Gar know that you have told me?’

‘Yes, Mam. I spoke to him about it this morning.’

She looked at Corban, large brown eyes filling, and held out her arms. ‘Come here, son.’

He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled his head into her shoulder.

‘You are a good boy,’ she murmured, stroking his dark hair, ‘better than you know.’ A tear spilled out and rolled down her cheek.