King’s Wrath (40 page)

31

 

Piven was becoming restless. ‘What an interminable journey. How much longer?’

‘We are nearly there, your majesty,’ Vulpan said. ‘We just passed the marker stone.’

‘And we’re sure she’s headed for the convent?’

‘So my men assure us,’ Stracker said. ‘There is nowhere else. She is hardly going to disappear into the mountains.’

‘Lily has survived in the forest most of her life. She’s not scared of living rough,’ Greven warned. ‘I hope she does disappear into the Teeth, never to be heard from or seen again!’

‘Be quiet, Greven,’ Piven said wearily. ‘Stracker, I’ve allowed you to bring one hundred of your men. You said you would explain as we neared the convent. Are you going to tell me why now that you have exasperatingly negated my ability to steal up on them?’

Stracker’s tatua stretched as he grinned, his chains attached to his nose and ears, lips and eyebrows jangling lightly. He would normally not wear his ‘jewellery’ into any sort of fray, Piven knew, so he was clearly feeling comfortable that whatever opposition was ahead, it would be minimal.

‘I have given it a lot of thought and it’s a precaution for Loethar. He’s getting help and I don’t know from whom or how many. But the person who gave me this,’ he said, pointing to the
wound on his head, ‘was a Davarigon. If he has somehow won that people’s support, then while you are hunting down Lily Felt for your own reasons, I want to ensure my brother is sent to the gods. And I want the men around me to bear witness.’

‘Oh believe me, Stracker, when I say that I want the same for your half-brother. But what makes you think your army will strike down their emperor?’

‘These are the Greens only. And they will follow me — before anyone — to my death. I don’t need them for the killing. That will be my pleasure. But I want them to see the leader of the Greens strike a blow, one that’s been long overdue.’

‘They might have to kill, though, general, if the Davarigons are involved.’

Stracker laughed. ‘The Davarigons are not aggressive. They will not take on the army. That’s another reason I brought along the Greens: they will act as a deterrent. And they will show Loethar that he has lost control. If he’s here and he sees the Greens arrive as one, the message between him and me is clear.’

‘Are you certain the Greens will follow you above the emperor?’ Vulpan wondered and, at the glare from Piven, hurried to rephrase. ‘Er, I mean, if Loethar and you are kin, why wouldn’t they want him spared?’

‘Almost all of the tribal colours would refuse to move against Loethar but the Greens are different,’ Stracker acknowledged with a rare sigh. ‘The Greens have not forgiven him for not proudly tattooing his royal status to his face and body in their shared colour. And what’s more, he has shown no favour to the Greens since their generous help to make him emperor. Still, if it were anyone but their own leader asking it, they would not be a party to treachery,’ he said, grinning widely. ‘But I am a Green before I am anything and they know it and would kill for me. Through me they will enjoy the favour they want.’

‘And you think Loethar might be right here?’ Piven asked.

‘I last saw him in the north. I’ve had spies working hard. A Davarigon woman was asking for a physic’s help in the town of Francham not long ago, which is close to where I was attacked. The physic she contacted has since disappeared and there are rumours that they were glimpsed heading east.’

‘And?’

‘I know every step of this land,’ Stracker admitted. ‘There is nothing near Francham this far north other than the convent. Besides, that’s where Loethar sent Valya, so he is familiar with it, no doubt on friendly terms with its Abbess. It would be a good place for Loethar to lie low unnoticed and convalesce from his wounds.’

‘My, my, Stracker, your creativity has been working hard. It all sounds thoroughly plausible and whether or not it comes to fruition, I find your imagination most entertaining. Plus it will be incredibly amusing to watch the nuns quake beneath your imposing gaze, not to mention your one hundred Greens.’

‘Piven, this is madness,’ Greven counselled. ‘What can you expect to gain from this?’

‘Everything, if Loethar is here. And I have to tell you, Greven — and don’t deny that you aren’t feeling it too — my senses are twitching. Perhaps General Stracker has excelled himself. I smell Valisar magic on the wind.’

Greven looked away angrily and Piven knew he felt it too. This was the moment he had been longing for. Which Valisar would he slaughter first? Toying with that notion kept him entertained for the last few dull miles of their journey. He hoped it was Loethar.

Behind them lay a devastated compound on the outskirts of Barronel. General Marth’s mustering of the soldiers who could still remember the old hate for the barbarians had been a lynchpin of the attack but it had been Leo’s inspired idea to trial whether he could be used as a channel for magic that had won
the day. It was true that the Vested camp was not the most heavily guarded of regions in the empire; they were a community known to be non-aggressive, of almost accepting their fate as imperial prisoners.

The Vested were so compliant in fact that their supervision over the years had dwindled to what was essentially a skeleton guard. Loethar left the administration of the community mainly to former administrators of Barronel — civil servants who knew how to work as part of a group and keep good account of spending, provisioning the Vested, caring for them, providing the structure they needed, from accommodation to teaching to apothecaries. Barronel was now seen as an outpost, a place tribal soldiers were sent in their earliest years to do a ‘season’ as it was known in their ranks, or somewhere those same soldiers — perhaps a bit older — might be sent as punishment for misdemeanours. It had evolved over the decade into a more casual, even sleepy hamlet where little excitement occurred and most of the men were keen to leave. They showed little interest in the Vested and as such there was all but nil interaction between Vested and imperial guard.

And so the uprising had not only caught the soldiers entirely ‘off guard’ but Marth had planned the strike to occur during the night when it was left to locals of his ilk to keep an eye on the Vested’s end of town. In the small hours the Vested were led as quietly as possible out of their compound while Leo and a small unit of Marth’s most trusted patriots had moved silently on a killing rampage.

Marth knew there were exactly fifty-one soldiers in the city. Fate was smiling on them; that was the lowest number he could recall and he had deliberately and very generously greased the palm of the two innkeepers at the favoured drinking spots to not water any wine or ale — in fact to be liberal with his servings. One final act of defiance that, while it didn’t sit easily on Marth’s conscience, was necessary to ensure their success was the
drugging of the soldiers’ liquor. Leo had insisted on every precaution being taken.

‘Make no protest, Marth, this is war. Loethar used cunning for his overthrow. This is just a different form of fighting. Subterfuge is something my father was clearly adept at and would applaud if it meant it achieved our aim.’

Marth had nodded, accepting that this was their one glittering opportunity to overthrow their captors.

And Leo had used the slackness in attitude by the barbarians to devastating effect, striking while the majority of the fifty-one men dozed in a drugged stupor. The rest he killed with startling efficiency with his own skills … a hefty dose of his new-found magic magnifying his abilities, Perl dragged alongside, her eyes wide with terror. But one man, found relatively sober in the arms of a whore, died awake. Tied naked to a chair, the whore’s screams still echoing, he was conscious and entirely aware of the blade being drawn across his throat.

‘Remember me, Welf?’ Leo had said as blood burst forth and the young soldier had begun to gurgle and choke. ‘Let King Leonel’s face — a Valisar — be the last face you remember on your way to hell.’

Even Marth had chosen to look away when he’d seen the savagery in the eyes of the man in whom he’d placed his faith.

The Vested had emerged onto the main road between Barronel’s easternmost point in either fast-moving family carts hitched to teams of horses or saddled up on horseback ready to ride hard.

Leo had consulted the runes for their best course.

‘You cannot lie to me, Perl,’ he warned.

‘I can withhold information, though,’ she said.

‘Then I will make sure I ask all the right questions,’ he said as she spread her stones out by torchlight. ‘Now tell me what you see.’

With a stormy look darkening her expression, Perl picked up her marked pebbles and gave consideration.

‘I cannot predict the future,’ she snapped. ‘I can only get impressions of your life. East. Your destiny lies east.’

You’re sure now? Not south into Penraven, which makes a lot more sense.’

Perl shrugged. ‘Ignore me if you choose. Follow your own instincts. The stones suggest east. But I’ll tell you I sense darkness there. You would do well to take your chances elsewhere.’

‘Where is Tolt?’ Leo called.

‘Here,’ a sulky voice replied.

‘What have you dreamed?’

‘Killing.’

‘Who?’

‘Many.’

Leo gave a look of exasperation at Tolt’s vague responses.

Suddenly Reuth shouldered her way forward. ‘I had a vision earlier this evening.’

‘And?’ Leo said, standing from where he’d been crouching near Perl and her runes.

‘Well, it was fast and made no sense. It was just a flash of a picture in my mind. I saw the convent at the foothills of Lo’s Teeth, surrounded by the barbarian army — the Greens.’

‘The Greens are Stracker’s,’ Leo hissed. ‘Did you see Loethar in your vision?’

‘No, majesty. Only the walls of the convent surrounded by the soldiers.’

‘So, the convent,’ Leo repeated as though this would be the last place in the whole of the Empire he would imagine heading. ‘How do you know it’s that one?’

‘I recognise the landscape. I sought refuge there when we first escaped Loethar’s clutch. It was the Qirin there who suggested I return to the south and into Medhaven; she said happiness would find me there. I thought she might have meant peace but I now realise she meant Clovis.’

‘Perl says east,’ he murmured.

‘And the convent is east,’ Reuth said.

‘Then east we go. By my reckoning if we ride hard, general, with scouts up ahead to make sure of no traps, we can make it by midday.’

Marth nodded. ‘Let’s get out of Barronel. We can regroup once we near the Teeth. I’m presuming you have a plan, majesty?’ he said, an eyebrow lifting.

‘I’m working on one,’ Leo said, with anger in his voice. ‘Let’s ride. Come, Perl.’

Soundlessly she stood, followed Leo and permitted him to help her up behind him on the fine stallion he’d stolen. With her arms around him they looked like lovers but that was where the comparison stopped. Their expressions showed there was no love between them … not even companionship. Marth suspected the young king had no time for friendship even though he’d permitted a Vested priest to say the words of marriage hurriedly for them.

Driving them hard through the night and sticking to the northernmost roads, Marth suspected they would encounter few, if any, of Loethar’s people, and he was right. These were not densely populated areas anyway so there was scant reason for soldiers to be patrolling. But the handful of surprised barbarians they met along the way, who looked astonished to see a column of hard-riding, dishevelled peasants on good horses, met a swift death. Leo had been well trained in the art of killing from horseback and with Perl’s protection he won not a single scratch from the barbarian arrows. Galloping, howling with glee at the soldiers, he killed even those who ran from his swinging sword or begged mercy.

People ate, drank, even rested as they travelled and so the column never stopped moving. They were two hundred strong; most of the Vested had chosen to join Leo and Marth but some were too infirm or too young to make the journey, and a few simply refused to be drawn into what looked like dangerous times
ahead. By dawn they had caught their first glimpse of Lo’s towering Teeth in the distance. It was here, herding people into the nearby woods, that Leo called his first and only halt, and after watching that everyone was sufficiently hidden by the trees, he alighted his horse and called to Marth and Reuth.

They stood now on a rise talking about what was ahead.

‘Do we have anyone among the Vested who is a specialist in the academic side of magic?’

Reuth nodded. ‘We have a scholar. He’s Cremond and was formerly of the Academy.’

‘Could you fetch him, please?’

Reuth did so. He was a man getting close to moving into his seventh decade, tall with a head of thick silver hair and a neatly trimmed beard the same colour. He looked tired but his pale, penetrating eyes were alert. ‘You wished to see me?’ he asked.

It was obvious to Marth that no one was quite sure how to address Leo but the young king didn’t seem to be worried about that for now.

‘You are?’

‘Trellon. Formerly Professor Trellon.’

‘Thank you. Professor, I need to learn some details of the Vested magic and I understand you are something of an authority.’

Trellon seemed surprised. ‘I wouldn’t call myself that. I suppose, though, I’ve been around the Academy long enough to have a solid grasp of the magics we find in the Vested.’

Leo nodded thoughtfully. ‘I’m interested in how to harness magic.’

‘Oh, I see.’ At this Trellon gave a brief blink that turned into an uncertain shrug. ‘You mean wielding someone else’s power? It has not been successful in the past.’

‘What has been attempted?’

‘Oh, amazing concepts from trying to reflect it off mirrors, trying to concentrate it through glass … even water. I think the
Academy tried to tap into it via the Vested’s dreams even. And two Vested tried to pass on their powers to each other but look,’ he said, shaking his head, ‘none of this came to any avail. And I would be lying if I said any of us took it seriously.’