Blood Song (62 page)
Authors: Anthony Ryan
“I really wish you’d come with us.” He looked up finding Nortah perched atop a massive piece of fallen statuary. It took Vaelin a moment to recognise it as the marble head of a bearded man, his carved expression one of deep contemplation. Surely one of the city’s luminaries commemorated in stone. Was he a philosopher or a king? A god perhaps. Vaelin leant against the statue’s forehead, running a hand over the deep lines in his brows. Whoever or whatever he had been was forgotten now. No more than a great stone head waiting for the ages to turn him to dust in a city where no one was left to remember his name.
“I… can’t,” he told Nortah eventually.
“You don’t sound so certain now.”
“Perhaps I’m not. Even so, there is much I need to know. I’ll only find answers in the Order.”
“Answers to what?”
There’s something growing. A threat, a danger, something that threatens us all. I’ve felt it for a long time, although it’s only now I realise it.
Vaelin left it unsaid. Nortah had a new path now, a new family. Sharing would only burden him. “We’re all looking for answers, brother,” he said. “Though you appear to have found yours.”
“That I have.” Nortah leapt down from the statue and held out his sword. “You should take this as well as the talisman. It’ll add to your proof.”
“You may need it, the road to the Northern Reaches will be long and hazardous. These people will need your protection.”
“There are other forms of protection. I’ve spilled enough blood with this. I intend to live the rest of my days without taking another life.”
Vaelin took the sword. “When will you leave?”
“There’s no point waiting for winter. Convincing the others may be difficult though. Some of them have been here for years.” He paused, his expression oddly sheepish. “I didn’t kill the bear.”
“What?”
“During the Test of the Wild. I didn’t kill it. The shelter I built collapsed in the wind. I was desperate, freezing, wandering in the snow. I found a cave and thought the Departed had guided me to shelter. Unfortunately, the bear who lived there didn’t appreciate visitors. It chased me for miles, all the way to the edge of a cliff. I managed to grab on to a branch, the bear wasn’t so lucky. Kept me fed for a while though.”
Vaelin laughed, the sound was strange amidst the ruins, out of place. “You bloody liar.”
Nortah grinned. “Next to the bow it was my major talent.” His smile faded. “I’ll miss you, and the others. Can’t say I’m sorry about the Battle Lord though.”
They walked back to the camp, fed the waning fire and talked of the Order and their brothers for hours. When Nortah finally went to the shelter he shared with Sella, Vaelin settled down in his cloak knowing that in the morning he would wake early and leave without a farewell. The reason came to him before he tumbled into sleep:
I want to stay.
In addition to his many lies regarding the supposed perfidy of Alpiran interlopers, King Janus had need of a legal device to supplement his premise for war. Accordingly, extensive digging into the royal archive unearthed an obscure treaty dating back some four hundred years. What was in fact a lapsed and fairly standard trade agreement on tariffs between the Lord of Asrael and the then independent city states of Untesh and Marbellis enabled the king’s Lord of Justice to seize on a minor clause formalising arrangements to cooperate in suppressing Meldenean pirates. Through a mixture of inventive translation from the original Alpiran text and basic sophistry this clause was twisted into an invitation to assume sovereignty. Thus was the lie fabricated that the invasion was simply a seizure of property which already belonged to the king.
The invasion fleet arrived off the Alpiran coast on the 96th day of Emperor Aluran’s reign (all praise his wisdom and benevolence). Although the recent deterioration in relations between our empire (may it live forever) and the Unified Realm had caused some imperial advisors to warn of a possible invasion, the comparative smallness of King Janus’ fleet led many to discount their fears. The imperial mathematician Rerien Alturs calculated that to deposit the Realm Guard on our coast would require a fleet of at least fifteen hundred ships and the Realm possessed barely five hundred of which only half were warships. Sadly, no word had reached our ears of the treacherous actions of the Meldenean pirate nation (may the ocean rise to swallow their islands) in agreeing to ferry the Realm forces across the Erinean sea. Sources disagree on the price paid by Janus for this service, opinion ranging from no less than three million gold pieces to the offer of his daughter in marriage to a Meldenean of suitable rank, but the cost must have been high indeed for the pirates to set aside their hatred of the Northmen born of the destruction of their city twenty years earlier.
It was the greatest misfortune that the Hope was at that very moment engaged in a ceremonial visit to the Temple of the Goddess Muisil in Untesh, accompanied by one hundred men of the Imperial Horse Guard. He was therefore only ten miles from the landing site when a terrified fisherman arrived with news of a Meldenean raiding party of previously unseen size. The Hope immediately mobilised the local garrison, some three thousand horse and five thousand spears, setting out in the dead of night to confront the invaders and sweep them back into the sea. It took several hours to assemble the force and march to the coast. If his force had moved only fractionally quicker the Hope would have had a chance to deal a serious, possibly fatal blow to the forces still assembling on the beach. However, the first Realm Guard regiment to land had already formed ranks to defend the narrow track through the dunes leading to the beach. At their head was the most fanatical and ferocious warrior priest of the Unified Realm’s heretic faith: Valin il Sorna (curse his name for all the ages).
Verniers Alishe Someren,
The Great War of Salvation, vol. 1
(unrevised text). Alpiran Imperial Archives.
“It must have pained you,” I said, “finding your brother’s body. Seeing him so... mutilated.”
The Northman got to his feet, rubbing at the stiffness in his legs and groaning as he stretched his back. “Not the most pleasant sight,” he agreed. “I gave what was left to the fire, took his sword and his medallion back to the Order. The King and Aspect Arlyn accepted my word without question. The Battle Lord, understandably, was less trusting, naming me a traitor and a liar. I think he would have challenged me too if the King hadn’t ordered him to silence.”
“And the mysterious beast that killed Nortah,” I said. “Did you ever discover what manner of creature it was?”
“They say wolves grow large in the north. In the eastern crags there are ferocious apes twice the size of a man with faces like dogs.” He shrugged. “There are many dangers in nature.”
He moved to the stairs leading to the deck and began to ascend. “I feel the need of some fresh air.”
I followed him out into the night. The sky was cloudless and the moon bright, painting the ship’s rigging a pale blue as it swayed in the stiff sea breeze. The only crewmen I could see were the helmsman and the dim shape of a boy perched high on the main-mast. “Captain told you to stay in the hold,” the helmsman growled.
“Then go and wake him,” I suggested before joining Al Sorna. He stood resting his forearms on the rail, staring out at the moonlit sea, his expression distant.
“The Teeth of Moesis,” he said, pointing to a cluster of white specks in the distance where waves were breaking on a series of jagged rocks. “Moesis is the Meldenean god of the hunt, a great serpent who fought Margentis, the giant orca god for a day and a night. So great was their struggle they made the sea boil and forced the continents apart. When it was over and Moesis floated dead in the surf his body rotted away but his teeth were left to mark his passing. His spirit joined with the sea and when the Meldeneans rose to hunt the waves it was to him they looked for guidance, for his teeth mark the way to their homeland. We’re in Meldenean waters now. Where I believe your ships never venture.”
“Meldeneans are pirate scum,” I said simply. “Any of our ships would make a valuable prize.”
“And yet the lady Emeren’s vessel was taken here.”
I said nothing. I had unsettling questions of my own on this matter but was reluctant to discuss them with him.
“I understand the ship and crew were allowed to sail on their way,” he went on. “Only the lady was taken.”
I coughed. “The pirates no doubt recognised her value for ransom.”
“Except they asked for no ransom. Only for me to come and fight their champion.” His mouth twitched and I realised I was being baited.
I recalled Emeren’s bitter audience with the Emperor after the Northman’s trial where she had begged for his sentence to be changed. “A death demands a death,” she had railed, her fine features contorted with rage. “The gods demand it. The people demand it. My fatherless son demands it. And
I
demand it, Sire, as widow to the murdered Hope of this Empire.”
In the chill silence that followed her tirade the Emperor sat silent and unmoving on his throne, the attending guards and courtiers shocked and stiff with trepidation, their eyes fixed firmly on the floor. When the Emperor finally spoke his voice was toneless and devoid of anger as he decreed the Lady Emeren had offended his person and was banished from court until further notice. As far as I knew they hadn’t exchanged a single word since.
“Suspect what you wish,” I told Al Sorna. “But know the Emperor does not scheme, he would never indulge in revenge. His every action is in service to the Empire.”
He laughed. “Your emperor has sent me to the islands to die, my lord. So the Meldeneans can have their revenge on my father and the lady can witness the death of the man who killed her husband. I wonder if it was her idea or theirs.”
I couldn’t fault his reasoning. He was, of course, expected to die. The Hope Killer’s end would be the final act in the trauma of our war with his people, the epilogue to the epic of conflict. Whether this had been in the Emperor’s mind when he agreed to the Meldeneans’ offer I truly don’t know. In any case Al Sorna seemed free of fear and resigned to his fate. I wondered if he actually expected to survive his duel with the Shield, reputedly the finest swordsman ever to wield a blade. The Hope Killer’s story had left me in little doubt as to his own deadly abilities but they were sure to have been dulled by his years of captivity. Even if he did prevail the Meldeneans were unlikely to simply allow the son of the City Burner to sail away unmolested. He was a man going to his doom. I knew it, and so, apparently, did he.
“When did King Janus tell you of his plans to attack the Empire?” I asked, keen to extract as much of his story as possible before we made landfall.
“About a year before the Realm Guard embarked for Alpiran shores. For three years the regiment had roamed the Realm putting down rebels and outlaws. Smugglers on the southern shore, bands of cut-throats in Nilsael, ever more fanatics in Cumbrael. We spent a winter in the north fighting the Lonak when they decided it was time for another round of raiding. The regiment grew larger, adding two companies to the roster. After our Cumbraelin adventure the King had given us a banner of our own, a wolf running above the High Keep. And so the men began calling themselves the Wolfrunners. I always thought it sounded silly but they seemed to like it. For some reason young men flocked to our banner, not all of them poor either and we had no further reason to recruit from the dungeons. So many turned up at the Order House the Aspect was forced to instigate a series of tests, mainly tests of strength and speed, but tests in the Faith as well. Only those with the soundest Faith and the strongest bodies were taken. By the time we came to board the fleet for the invasion I had command of twelve hundred men, probably the best trained and most experienced soldiers in the Realm.” He looked down at the blue-white froth of the ocean as it collided with the hull, his expression sombre. “When the war ended less than two thirds were left. For the Realm Guard it was even worse, maybe one man in ten made it back to the Realm.”
Deservedly so,
I thought but didn’t say. “What did he tell you?” I asked instead. “What reason did Janus give for the invasion?”
He lifted his head, staring at the teeth of Moesis as they faded toward the dim horizon. “Bluestone, spices and silk,” he said, his tone faintly bitter. “Bluestone, spices and silk.”
The bluestone sat in Vaelin’s palm, a king’s gift, the dim light from the crescent moon gleaming on its smooth surface, a thin vein of silver-grey marking the otherwise flawless blue. It was the largest bluestone ever found, most were little bigger than a grape, and Barkus had informed him, with barely concealed greed, that it would fetch enough gold to buy most of Renfael.
