Valour (5 page)

‘It is strange,’ Veradis said, the words spilling out, ‘how Romar and all his shieldmen died in the tunnels. Yet Jael survived.’ He raised his head and stared hard at
Calidus.

The counsellor gave a thin-lipped smile. ‘It is war. These things happen.’

Calidus was right, men did fall in battle. Veradis had lost more shield-brothers than he cared to think about in battle, many of them friends, and he knew that in life things were not always
clear cut. But this? What had happened in the tunnels felt like
betrayal
. ‘Did you see Romar die?’ Veradis pressed. ‘And the one that slew him?’

‘Oh yes,’ Calidus said, his face as expressionless as stone. ‘A giant slew Romar. Think more on the living than the dead, Veradis. We are all serving Nathair here. What we do
is for the greater good, for Nathair’s good.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘I hope that you have the conviction to serve your king fully.’

‘Of course I do,’ Veradis said. ‘Never doubt my loyalty to Nathair.’

‘Good.’ Calidus gave a faint smile. ‘Well, I am for my rest. We have an early start and a long journey ahead of us.’

Alcyon rose and followed Calidus into the darkness, Akar making to do the same.

‘Akar. Did you see Romar fall?’

‘Aye.’

‘And . . .’

‘Calidus spoke true,’ Akar said. ‘A giant did slay Romar.’

‘Oh,’ said Veradis, both surprised and relieved. He had been so certain that Calidus had been involved.

‘A giant wielding a black-bladed battle-axe,’ Akar said, then turned and strode into the darkness.

‘I’m going to let you go, now. Don’t do anything stupid.’

The words filtered into Maquin’s mind as if from a great distance.

Where am I?

He opened his eyes, though at first it seemed to make little difference. It was pitch dark, his face was pressed hard against cold stone and a pain bloomed in his shoulder.

‘Careful. They’ve been gone a while, but sound carries in these tunnels,’ the same voice said.

Tunnels?
Then it came back, an avalanche of memory.
Haldis, the battle in the tunnels, Romar arguing with Calidus over that axe. Betrayal. Death. Kastell . . .

‘Kas . . .’ he breathed.

There was a long silence, then. ‘He’s dead. They’re all dead.’

Kastell
.

He had seen Jael stab him, knew instantly that it was a killing blow. He had tried to get to him, but Orgull, captain of the Gadrai, had grabbed him, dragged him into the darkness while battle
still raged nearby, though the end had been in no doubt. Romar, King of Isiltir, had been betrayed by Calidus of Tenebral. And by Jael.

And Kastell had been slain.

At first Maquin had fought, trying to break Orgull’s grip on him, but the man’s strength was immense, and then . . . nothing.

‘I can’t remember it all. What happened?’ he croaked.

‘You were fighting like a draig to run off and get yourself killed. Had to crack you one on the head.’ Orgull’s voice drifted down to him. He felt the big man shrug, a ripple
of pain through his back. ‘Sorry.’

He became aware of a pressure on him, a great weight pressing down. ‘Are you sitting on me?’

‘Had to be sure you wouldn’t jump up and run off the moment you woke up.’

‘No chance of that,’ Maquin grunted. ‘Get off.’

He felt Orgull’s weight shift from his back. Maquin rolled onto one knee, groaning as he stood, a hand reaching instinctively for his sword.

Orgull frowned. ‘You thinking straight?’

‘Aye.’ Maquin scowled. He rolled his shoulders, cramped muscles stretching. And there was a greater pain shouting for his attention. He remembered catching the wrong end of a
giant’s war-hammer. Waves of pain pulsed from his shoulder. He gritted his teeth and looked about the chamber.

Torches still burned, blue light flickering from some kind of oil held high in iron bowls that marked an aisle to the dead giant-king, his cadaver still sitting in its stone chair upon its dais.
Bodies lay strewn before it.

Maquin and Orgull shared a look, without a word walked back to the battle scene, treading carefully amongst the dead.

We’re all that’s left of the Gadrai
, a voice whispered inside his head.
The rest are gone. All dead
. He closed his eyes, saw again Jael’s sword punch into
Kastell’s belly.

Orgull knelt beside Vandil and closed the eyes of their leader’s corpse. There was a gaping wound in his chest where the giant Alcyon had struck him with that black axe.

Maquin strode to where he had seen Kastell fall.

He lay face down, a black pool of blood spread about his waist. Maquin knelt and rolled him over, cradling him in his arms.

‘Oh, Kas,’ he whispered, tears rising up and choking the rest.
So many memories
. He remembered the day Kastell had been born, when he had been a warrior in the hold of
Kastell’s da, remembered his pride when he had been chosen as Kastell’s shieldman, remembered carrying the boy from the flames and wreckage of a Hunen attack, remembered his oath,
solemn words to protect unto death.

Tears dripped off his nose, smudging pale tracks in the grime on Kastell’s face.

I have failed you
. He had loved Kastell as the son that he had never had, and he had let him die by Jael’s hand. A cold rage ignited in his belly.

Tenderly, Maquin brushed dirt from Kastell’s face, then laid him back down. He found Kastell’s sword and placed it on his body, folding stiffening fingers about its hilt. Then he
knelt, whispered a prayer, asked for forgiveness and swore a new oath.
And this one I shall not fail, except by death’s intervention. Jael shall die by my hand
. He drew a dagger from
his belt and cut a red line across his palm, let his blood drip onto Kastell.

Orgull came and stood beside him, head bowed.

‘Jael killed him,’ Maquin mumbled.

Orgull nodded, torchlight gleaming blue in his eyes. ‘Jael seemed overly close to that Calidus. I should have seen it. They have much to answer for.’ He tugged thoughtfully at the
warrior braid bound in his blond beard. ‘This ran deeper than some blood-feud between uncle and nephew. I am thinking that Jael has designs on the throne of Isiltir.’

‘The throne?’ said Maquin.

‘Aye. Romar’s boy is, what, ten summers?’ Orgull said. ‘And Jael is blood-kin to Romar, though distant. He would have a claim, if those closer were removed.’

‘Such as Romar,’ Maquin said.

‘And him,’ Orgull added, looking pointedly at Kastell.

Maquin ground his palms into his eyes. ‘Jael will pay for this.’

Orgull gave him an appraising look. ‘If I am right, the best revenge is to deny Jael the throne of Isiltir.’

‘A sword in his heart will do that,’ Maquin said.

‘And if you fail? We do not know how things lie up there, but likely he has shieldmen about him, and Calidus, along with his giant and the Jehar. Chances are you won’t get close to
him. Then Jael still gets the throne. Don’t call that much of a revenge.’

Maquin glared at Orgull, part of him recognizing the truth of his words, but the greater part of him not caring.

‘Word must get back to Isiltir of this – of Jael’s treachery. I’ll not see all our sword-brothers dead for nothing.’

Orgull bent besides Romar, recovered the dead king’s sword and wrapped it in a cloak. ‘I did not save you to see you throw your life away the instant we set foot above
ground.’

‘My life is not yours to decide,’ Maquin said. ‘I am going to kill Jael.’

Orgull stooped to look Maquin in the eye. ‘I need your help. There is more at stake here than one man’s vengeance. Please, help me to get word back to Isiltir of this
slaughter.’ He paused, eyes locked with Maquin, then shook his head. ‘I will make a pact with you. Help me to do this, and then I shall help you. We shall bring about Jael’s death
together, or die trying. I swear it on our fallen brothers.’

Maquin sucked in a deep breath, chewing over Orgull’s words. There was sense in them: if he went charging after Jael now he was most likely rushing to a death that accomplished nothing.
‘All right,’ he whispered, glancing at Kastell’s corpse.

They gripped forearms.

‘Course, we’ve got to get out of here first,’ Maquin said.

‘True. Are you injured?’

‘I’ve been better.’ His left arm hung limp at his side, his face was pale, slick with sweat. ‘I blocked a hammer blow with my shoulder.’

Orgull stood behind Maquin, his fingers probing the warrior’s shoulder and arm. ‘Dislocated, not broken. Here, bite on this.’ He gave Maquin a strip of leather, then gripped
the warrior’s shoulder in one large fist, placing his other hand between shoulder blade and spine. Then he pushed, hard.

There was a loud crack, Maquin hissed and slumped.

‘Next time, use a shield, not your shoulder,’ Orgull said.

‘I’ll try and remember,’ Maquin mumbled, spitting the leather from his mouth. He sank to one knee.

‘Take what you need,’ Orgull said, reaching down to grab a shield from a fallen warrior. ‘We need to find a way out of here.’

With an effort, Maquin walked away from Kastell’s body and began searching the ground. First he looked to his water skin, drinking deep, then refilled it from others about him. In short
time he found a plain wooden shield, iron-rimmed and bossed. Its face showed signs of the battle, but only shallow scratches. He hefted it, checked its straps, then slung it across his back. He
also found a broad-bladed spear. Orgull was holding an axe that had belonged to one of the long-dead giant warriors left guarding their king. As Maquin stared at him, Orgull swung the axe at the
stone floor, sparks flying as it chipped a chunk out of the rock. Rust fell from the blade. Orgull ran his thumb along its edge and nodded approvingly.

‘You thinking to chop your way out of here?’ Maquin asked.

‘If I have to. It’s still sharp enough.’ Orgull smiled humourlessly. ‘I’m not taken with the idea of using their front door, though. Can’t see that Calidus
leaving it open, or unguarded. And if I start chopping at it I’ll wake all between here and the forest.’

‘Agreed,’ Maquin said.

‘See those flames?’

Maquin looked up at the blue flames. Some flickered and crackled, touched by a breeze.

‘Let’s find where that air is coming from and hope it’s more than a crack in the ground.’

There was a sudden muffled groan from amongst the bodies around them. Maquin pulled at the corpse of a Jehar warrior, revealing twitching fingers, a moving arm.

It was Tahir, one of their Gadrai sword-brothers. He was a young man, not much older than Kastell.
They had been friends.

They uncovered him and checked him for wounds but could only find a large, egg-shaped lump on his temple. The stocky, long-armed warrior touched it and winced.

‘What happened?’ he muttered, his eyes unfocused.

Orgull recounted Jael’s treachery.

‘Vandil?’ Tahir asked, rising unsteadily to his feet, gazing at the dead strewn about him.

‘Dead. Slain by Calidus’ pet giant,’ Orgull said.

Tahir whistled, shook his head and instantly looked as if he regretted doing it. ‘What now, then?’

‘Find a way out of this hole. One thing at a time.’

Maquin fashioned torches out of axe and spear shafts, wrapping them in strips of cloth torn from tattered cloaks, and dipped them in the oil-filled bowls that lined the walkway. They flickered
with the same blue light.

Together they marched to the edge of the chamber and began tracing its edge, searching for a doorway. It was not long before they found an archway draped with thick cobwebs, a slight breeze
stirring it. Maquin touched his torch to the web and blue sparks crackled out in a widening circle, consuming the web right back to the stone. Orgull looked at them both, then strode into the
darkness. Tahir followed.

Maquin paused, looking back into the chamber. ‘Farewell, Kastell,’ he said, and after a few long moments he gritted his teeth and stepped into the tunnel.

The three of them trudged in silence, blue-tinged torchlight flickering on the tunnel’s high roof and walls. Other corridors branched off, Maquin eyeing the dense shadows suspiciously.
This place was in Forn Forest, after all, or beneath it, and Forn was the dark savage heart of the Banished Lands. Its inhabitants were by and large unpleasant. And predatory.

His thoughts drifted back to those left behind, to Vandil, to his Gadrai sword-brothers, to Romar and most of all to Kastell. Yet again he saw Jael stepping in front of Kastell, stabbing him. He
should have stayed closer. His vision blurred with tears and he swiped at his eyes, fist clenching.

A sound drew his attention: a scraping, submerged in the deep shadows of a side tunnel. He stared into the darkness, thought he saw the hint of movement just beyond the torchlight’s reach.
Something big. There was a faint reflection. He hissed a warning and drew his sword.

‘What’s wrong?’ Tahir said, as Orgull joined them.

‘Something’s down there,’ Maquin muttered.

‘What?’

‘I don’t know.
Something
.’