Valour (10 page)

‘I can keep going like this all night,’ Lykos said. ‘There’s more than fingers I could be cutting.’

‘When I was taken,’ Jace whispered, ‘my family – mother, father, sister – all murdered, by you.’

‘How old were you, boy?’

‘F-fifteen.’

Lykos sighed, tutted. ‘Shame you didn’t learn your lesson.’

‘Wha . . .?’ Jace said, his face contorted with pain.

‘That I control life and death for you.’ Lykos nodded to Deinon, who still had a fist twisted in Jace’s hair. He pulled the lad’s head back and cut his throat.

‘Take him out in the lake and sink him with something heavy,’ Lykos said, stepping away from the blood pooling at his feet. He poured himself a cup of wine.

‘Don’t you want to let his body be found, show Fidele what happens to squealers?’

‘No, wouldn’t put it past that bitch to put me on trial for murder,’ Lykos said.

Deinon chuckled, stooped and slung Jace’s corpse over his shoulder, heading for the door.

Lykos sat in his chair and started drinking. It was full night now; the exhilaration of the conflict with Jace drained away. He was feeling weary – no, exhausted. Sleep would follow soon.
He gulped more wine down, afraid.

‘Father, who and what have I become?’ he muttered, cocking his head to hear an answer. When no response came he shrugged and continued drinking. Eventually he dozed off, still
sitting in his chair.

He woke screaming, eyes bulging. Thaan poked his head through the door.

‘You all right, chief?’

‘Wha . . . ? I. Yes,’ Lykos mumbled, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes.
Making deals with a devil was sure to have a down side
. He reached automatically for his jug
of wine. Only a few dregs were left but he slurped them back. ‘Good news for you,’ he said. ‘There’s a change of plan. We need to round up the Jehar and take them to Ardan,
and – even better for you – after that we’ll get to crack some heads. A lot of heads.’

‘Ardan?’ Thaan said.

‘Aye, Thaan. Ardan. We’ve been summoned.’

Evnis absently plucked at the petal of a rose, let it drift onto the stones at his feet. ‘Everything is turning to ash, Fain,’ he whispered.

He was standing before a stone cairn, weak sunlight streaming across the walls of Dun Carreg into the courtyard. The sounds of his hold waking stirred about him. Dogs were barking in the
kennels, children teasing them with scraps from the tower kitchen. The smell of baking bread and ham frying wafted about on the breeze. The sun had not risen long enough to burn the chill of night
away and Evnis shivered, pulling his cloak tighter about him. He took a deep breath, an attempt to steady himself for the coming day, but no matter how he tried to calm himself, to focus on what he
must do, all his swirling thoughts returned to one thing.

Vonn.

Where was his
son
?

They had argued, in the keep before the fortress fell, after he had told Vonn something of his plans. All Vonn had wanted to talk about was the girl from Havan, Bethan the drunkard’s
daughter. Evnis had told Vonn to put her out of his mind, to focus on what was important, but that had only made Vonn worse. He had stormed out into the night. And now he was gone, disappeared in
the chaos of Dun Carreg’s fall, before Evnis could talk to him and put things right.

Please, Fallen One, do not let him be dead
. Evnis had spent most of a day searching, checking every corpse that had been piled in the streets, questioning survivors. Some had spoken of
seeing Vonn with Edana and her handful of protectors.

He blew out a long breath. His son with Edana, with Brenin’s daughter. In other circumstances the irony of it would have made him smile.

It was two nights since Dun Carreg had fallen, since Owain’s boar of Narvon had replaced Brenin’s wolf. He remembered little of his fight with Brenin: it had been a red haze, over a
year’s worth of pent-up rage and grief spilling out in a few moments. Until his knife had pierced Brenin’s chest, anyway. He remembered that clearly enough, could never forget it; the
brief resistance of cloth, skin and bone, then the hot pulse of blood, Brenin’s strength fading so quickly, like a bird taking flight. There was a flutter of something in his gut.
Shame?
Perhaps
. Certainly Fain, his gentle-hearted wife, would not have approved. But she was not here now, her corpse rotting beneath the cairn he was standing before. Brenin’s choices had
sealed her death. If Brenin had allowed him to leave Dun Carreg, to take Fain away, to the cauldron, things would have been different. Fain had deserved a blood-price. There was some kind of
justice in the way things had turned out – Brenin dying by his hand.

‘My lord.’ A voice pierced his thoughts. Conall was limping towards him, a few of his warriors following.

‘It is time,’ Conall said.

Evnis nodded curtly, crushed the rose in his hand and scattered it over the cairn. He stalked through the grounds of his hold, past the kennels where Helfach’s boy was feeding the hounds,
through the wide gates. Conall and the other warriors settled about him, a tension amongst them all. They knew the stakes as well as he. The fortress may have fallen but it was far from safe, with
many on both sides who would like Evnis dead. He glanced at the buildings either side, searching the shadows for assassins.
I have rolled the dice,
he thought.
No going back now.

He glanced at Conall, who still walked with a limp. The warrior had fallen from the wall above Stonegate and had only survived because the crush of those fighting about the gates had broken his
fall.

The warrior was all confidence and swagger, quick to laugh and quick to anger. Beyond the arrogance there was a keen intelligence. Conall saw much. It had been a wise choice, winning him over,
though he had needed a little help. He was learning the power of the earth, extracting secrets from the book he had discovered in the tunnels beneath the fortress. There were ways to influence a
man, even control him. He felt like a novice, struggling in the dark, but he had learned enough to add an edge of power, of persuasion to his voice, especially when the target’s will was
wavering. And so he had won Conall’s loyalty.

‘You have no regrets leaving your brother, Halion, opposing him?’

Conall looked surprised and his mouth twisted, a haunted look sweeping his face. ‘No. I am glad to be out from under his shadow. He was turning from me, in deeds if not in words. It was
clear he’d chosen Brenin and flattery over me.’ He grimaced. ‘We all live with the consequences of our choices, eh?’

‘That we do,’ Evnis muttered, glancing at an old scar on the palm of his hand, a reminder of a glade in the Darkwood, of a pact made years ago to Asroth, his master, to whom he had
pledged his life, his soul. And Asroth had told him to aid Nathair, of that he was certain. So aid the young King of Tenebral he would. And if somehow that turned out to his benefit, then all the
better.

Figures burst from an alleyway and Conall half drew his sword, but they were only children, running and laughing as they goaded a skinny hound with a bone.

‘Jumping at shadows,’ Evnis said.

‘Well, you’re not the most popular man in the fortress right now. Most of Dun Carreg must want you dead,’ Conall said, glaring at the children.

‘I’m more concerned over the quality of my enemies than their quantity,’ Evnis murmured, thinking of Owain.

‘I’ve heard something similar, though usually from the ladies.’

Evnis snorted, almost smiled. Laughter rippled through the warriors behind him.

‘Enemies in high places. I’ve had that problem myself,’ Conall said.

‘Really? And what did you do?’

‘I ran away.’

‘I see.’ He regarded Conall silently, wondering about his new shieldman’s hidden past. ‘Perhaps I have a less drastic remedy.’
Friends in high places. Or in this
case friend. Nathair
. The young King had come to him asking questions about the Benothi, Dun Carreg’s ancient giant masters and their treasures, and that was a subject that Evnis knew
much about, possibly even more than old Heb or Brina. Evnis had hinted at his knowledge, given snippets of information, whispered promises of more, and it was those promises that he hoped would
keep him alive until Rhin arrived. Nathair would protect him, at least while it was in his interest to do so. Or so Evnis hoped. Owain was unpredictable. It had been a gamble, helping the King of
Narvon gain entrance to the fortress, but Nathair had asked him for help, and so he had given it. The act of opening Stonegate had won much favour with Owain, but Evnis was not sure how much the
act of slaying a king had compromised that favour. Nobody liked that, especially not another king.

‘Time will be the judge,’ he muttered.

‘Aye. It usually is,’ Conall replied.

The rest of their journey passed in silence. Evnis hardly spared a glance at the charred pile of ash that marked all that was left of Dun Carreg’s fallen defenders, the stench of their
burning still lingering in the air. He swept into the keep and marched through it into the corridors beyond until he reached Nathair’s chambers.

One of the black-clad warriors that he had spirited into the fortress to such devastating effect was standing guard. The man ushered him into the chamber but blocked Conall as he made to
follow.

‘Only you,’ the man said to Evnis.

Evnis nodded to Conall and those behind him as the guard closed the door.

Nathair sat within, sipping a cup of wine. His bodyguard, Sumur, was standing beside an unshuttered window, sword hilt jutting over his shoulder. A handful of Nathair’s eagle-guard were
lounging at a table in the far end of the chamber, gathered about a half-eaten round of cheese and a leg of pork. They eyed Evnis suspiciously, then went back to their food. Evnis stared at them,
remembering their comrades in the keep the night Dun Carreg fell, arrayed about him and Brenin and Nathair in a wall of shields. They were all dead now, most of them cut down by Gar, the crippled
stablemaster. That night had left more than one mystery in his mind that begged to be solved.

‘Welcome, Evnis,’ the King of Tenebral said, standing and gripping Evnis’ wrist. ‘Thank you for coming so promptly. Are you hungry? Thirsty?’ He gestured to the
food and wine.

‘I have already broken my fast. Though perhaps some wine.’

‘Of course.’ Nathair filled a cup for him. ‘I was hoping that you might help me.’

‘If I may be of service, my lord.’

‘I am certain that you can. When I came here it was as part of a bigger journey: I planned to travel north. I still do. The issue is when to leave. Much has happened here that I think has
bearing on my alliance, on the future, but the situation here is fluid, prone to change. Dramatically. Would you agree?’

‘Your summary is quite correct, to my mind,’ Evnis said.

‘I am torn, Evnis. My errand in the north is pressing, but I feel that perhaps I should linger here a while longer, as these events play out. To ensure that the results are favourable to
me and my alliance.’

‘Most prudent, my lord.’
This is a man who thinks before he speaks. Where is he leading this conversation?

‘You are probably wondering why I am telling you this.’

Evnis smiled and dipped his head in acknowledgement.

‘I believe that you are pivotal to this situation. And certain that you know more than you have told me.’

‘Do any of us tell all that we know, my lord?’ Evnis replied. ‘After all, knowledge is power.’
This is dangerous.

‘Wise words,’ Nathair said with a smile, ‘and words that I have heard before. But let me be frank with you. We are both in a position to help each other. I am in a strange
land, surrounded by war, a history guiding it that is unfamiliar to me. I need to make decisions, but I lack the knowledge to be confident that I am choosing the right course. You are familiar with
the politics of this realm, this conflict, well placed to see much. I need that knowledge. But you are surrounded by enemies – Owain, the man that took your own brother’s head, rules
here, so you need a friend, someone in power who has some influence. You need me.’ Nathair took a deep breath, fixing Evnis with intense blue eyes. ‘Tell me, Evnis, what is your
heart’s desire?’

Evnis blinked, thrown by the question, the sudden change of direction. ‘I . . .’
What is happening here? Be careful.
Nathair’s eyes pinned him, became the whole world.
Is he bewitching me? Using the earth power?

‘To find my son,’ he heard himself say, surprised to hear the tremor in his voice.

‘Yes. Escaped with Edana, or so rumours are saying.’ Nathair waved a hand. ‘I am not completely without information, even here. I could help you find him. I look after those
that serve me.’

‘Serve you?’

‘Yes. I am looking for men: powerful men, brave enough to take risks, brave enough to follow me into a new order, a new world. I think that you are such a man. Follow me and you will gain
more than you can imagine. But in return I must have your loyalty. Unquestioning, unfailing.’