The Bloody Quarrel (The Complete Edition) (25 page)

Prince Kemal locked eyes confidently with Fallon. The cowardly Gaelish scum was frothing at the mouth, his eyes wild as he held a razor-sharp knife to Orhan’s face.

“Tell me what I want to know or I will skin your son and wear him like a cloak!” he snarled.

Kemal imagined his mind was a steel spear and he drove it into Fallon’s crazy eyes. “You will not. You will release my son and then release all of us. For that is the only way you will live and the only way your families will live. Harm a hair of his head and not one of your people will survive. They will die screaming and cursing your names.”

Fallon glared at him but the Gaelishman’s confidence broke apart on Kemal’s rock-hard certainty. With a scream and a curse he threw his knife away.

“Now untie me. I shall give you the chance to get away before I come after you,” Kemal said, his voice throbbing with power.

“You have to do it,” Fallon’s friend, the big Gaelishman, said.

Fallon cursed again but Kemal could see he was broken. He was no longer able to meet Kemal’s eyes as he sawed his bonds apart and then stumbled from the room, head downcast.

Kemal stood to take the embrace of his relieved sons and then the passionate kiss of his wife.

“Aroaril, you are such a man,” Feray whispered, her hand slipping down his body and cupping his groin.

He was just enjoying that when, over her shoulder, he saw Fallon walk back into the room. “High one! You are needed on the deck!” the man shouted in Kottermani.

Kemal jerked awake and flung himself out of bed, rubbing his eyes. He looked down and cursed himself. His body had betrayed him, and he buried his head in his hands. He groaned. The same dream again. When would he get some peace?

“I will be there,” he called to the sailor outside his door.

He hurriedly washed and dressed and went up on deck to stare at the horizon with bloodshot eyes. The crew looked little better. He had been driving them hard and they stumbled around at their posts, struggling to complete even the most mundane of tasks. The wind had been with them and he had ordered the ship pushed as hard as it was able. His sailing master was exhausted, snatching a turn of the hourglass of sleep here and there.

To his men he seemed the same and outwardly he could project an image of calm and control. Inside, however, he was still weeping and begging for his son’s life. He could not get away from that until he confronted Fallon again.

“What am I looking for?” he demanded. He blinked and rubbed at his eyes, feeling as if they were filled with sand.

“Land! Adana dead ahead!” The call came from the lookout at the masthead and he felt the relief wash over him. He could not stand the thought of Feray and the boys in the hands of that madman for one day longer than necessary. He would sleep for a day, while the ships were refitted and the army gathered, then start the return voyage. That one would be easier, for each day would be bringing him closer to his family, not taking him further away. And, of course, there was always the thought of revenge. Even though his foot was healed, it still seemed to throb with sudden agony at strange times, a reminder of what had been done to him. He owed Fallon twice as much pain.

*

“I don’t think you should do this,” Ely said.

Bridgit looked at her critically. The young translator had been growing more withdrawn and quiet as they prepared for their escape. Now it looked as if she had tears in her eyes.

“Don’t be afraid,” Bridgit said, reaching out to draw her in to an embrace.

“No!” Ely knocked her away. “This is madness and it will end in disaster. The children will be killed and we will all suffer a terrible end!”

Bridgit grabbed hold of her hands and forced the young woman to look at her. “Listen to me,” she said harshly. “I spent most of my life living in fear. I let my worries rule me, and always thought about what could go wrong. I cannot continue. We have to have hope. Without it there is nothing, understand?”

Ely shook her head, big, fat tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. “You don’t know what is waiting for you!”

Bridgit pulled her even closer. “But I do,” she said. “I have gone out there. I know what risk we take – but do you know what happens if we do nothing?”

Ely shook her head, her eyes glistening.

“We betray everything and everyone. And we watch these children be sent away, one at a time, into slavery. That makes us as bad as Gokmen and his guards. And I will not be a part of that, no matter what it costs.”

She was shocked to see Ely dissolve into tears then. She thought that little speech might have put some backbone into the girl, rather than make her feel worse. And she could understand Ely. If their places had been reversed, she would have been paralyzed by fear, imagining all the things that could go wrong. But she had not just the children but her baby to think about. For their sakes she had to concentrate on how to defeat these obstacles, not waste time and energy worrying about them.

“Sshh,” she said, drawing Ely into her arms and rocking her gently, as she had done so many times with Kerrin. That thought brought a prickle of tears into her own eyes and a renewed determination to get out of there. She had to see him again. “We shall get out of here and we shall laugh about this once we are back in Gaelland.”

Ely snuffled her tears to a stop and pulled away slightly. “Bridgit, there is something I have to tell you,” she said softly.

“Of course, anything.”

“You will hate me for it but I must tell you anyway.”

“Whist! I know how you feel only too well,” Bridgit said with feeling. “And with only a day to go, it is natural to feel fear.”

Ely shook her head angrily. “No, you do not understand!”

“Then speak, tell me,” Bridgit said. “Whatever it is, it is eating you up.”

Ely nodded at that. She took a deep breath, let it out and looked unsure as to how to begin.

“Ship! Ship entering the harbor!” Riona called, racing into the room.

Bridgit turned around irritably. “There are always ships coming into the harbor!”

“Not ones flying the flag of Prince Kemal!” Riona snapped.

Bridgit felt a touch of fear then. Why was he back so quickly? And when would he want to speak to Gokmen, who would no doubt want to know if it was true that Bridgit was carrying his child. Their escape plans would come to an end on the instant.

“We shall be right there,” she said, then helped Ely to her feet.

“What did you want to tell me?” she asked again.

Ely sighed. “It is foolish,” she said. “I am scared of Gaelland and how they will accept me there.”

Bridgit chuckled. “They will love you. Or I will want to know why not! Now come on.”

They joined Nola and Riona on the terrace and watched the ship sail in, looking ragged and dirty.

“What does this mean?” Nola asked. “Should we delay?”

“There can be no delay,” Bridgit said strongly. “Once the Prince is here, our people will be shipped out as slaves. And it can work in our favor. It means there are more ships down there ready to make the trip. We hold to the plan. Do not think of things that could go wrong. Think instead of what it will feel like to see our families again.”

They looked at her and she smiled at them. “Tomorrow we shall be free, either way,” she said.

Fallon made his way through a series of groups of recruits being put through their paces by a mixture of villagers and guardsmen. With one trainer to no more than five recruits, progress had been swift, and each day the men were getting stronger, faster and more skilled. He still had no idea if they would be able to hold against a Kottermani army, but they could at least work together and that would give them a chance. He waved and smiled and wondered what the King would want this time. Surely there was nothing else that he could tell the man. The big decisions had all been made: now it was all about small increases in ability and stamina. He hoped Aidan was not going to call him the champion again in front of the nobles. He did not think he could take another one of those sessions.

“Quickly now,” Regan said fussily, guiding him upwards towards the King’s rooms.

At least this would mean their conversation would be without a huge audience, Fallon thought gratefully.

Quinn and a couple of guards were on duty outside the King’s rooms. Quinn glowered at Fallon while the two guards snapped to attention, making the guard officer look even angrier.

“Leave all your weapons behind,” Quinn said shortly.

Fallon was used to this by now, so unhooked the baldric that held his sword and shillelagh, took out a pair of Brendan’s throwing knives and placed them all on the table.

“Is that everything?” Quinn growled.

“What do you think I am going to do?” Fallon snapped back at him.

“Search him.” Quinn pointed to his guardsmen.

“What is this?” Fallon asked indignantly. “I have never been searched before!”

Regan was there a moment later. “It is a new set of orders, Captain. Nothing to do with you,” he said swiftly.

Fallon glared back at Quinn. “Fine. But he has to do it,” he said, jabbing his finger at Quinn.

Quinn bristled immediately but Regan nodded agreement. “Do it, Quinn,” he said.

Grumbling, the young officer moved in and began to clumsily run his hands across Fallon’s arms and legs, searching for a hidden weapon. Fallon smiled sarcastically at the officer as the man missed checking his boots, where he had another pair of throwing knives hidden. He was already looking forward to walking out of the office and dropping them into Quinn’s lap.

“He is clean,” Quinn said, stepping away.

“More than I can say for him. He pawed at me like a drunken sailor in a whorehouse,” Fallon sneered.

Regan stepped between the two of them. “Just go right in. I shall see you later,” he said, ushering Fallon into the room and shutting the door behind him.

Fallon looked around the room, expecting to see the King behind his desk, or in the armchair before the fire, but instead Aidan was advancing on him, arms wide and a broad smile on his face. Strangely, he wore a rust-red cloak inside, although the fire had the room nice and warm.

“My champion! Good to see you!” Aidan said warmly, enfolding Fallon in his arms and pounding him on the back. Fallon could not bring himself to touch Aidan, so he merely let his hands hang by his sides. Aidan did not seem to notice and changed position, moving Fallon into the middle of the room, with an arm around his shoulder.

“You really are a man after my own heart,” he said with a wink. “People see you and they think there’s a simple, straightforward man but really you are a thinker and planner.”

“I try to be, sire,” Fallon replied, wondering where this was all going. In conversations with Aidan it always felt as though only one of them knew what was going on.

Aidan chuckled. “When I first met you I did not know what to make of this country sergeant my poor Cavan had taken on. But you have proved yourself the equal of anyone I have met in this court. What you have done with those raw recruits is nothing short of magical. A rabble turned into an army in such a short time. And now this!”

“What’s that, sire?” Fallon asked, a twinge of concern intruding into his confusion.

“You are too modest! And too clever! You had a little surprise for me, a special trick up the sleeve! The only thing I would say is you should have come to me first of all, but no harm done, eh?”

Fallon had no idea what Aidan was babbling on about. Previously he had found the best course of action was to nod and smile until things became clearer, so he merely did that.

“I admit, if there was one worry I had, it was I didn’t think you were ruthless enough, but you proved me wrong. You are now ready to lead my army.”

As he spoke, Aidan kept his arm around Fallon’s shoulders and guided him across the room, past the pair of ever-present burly bodyguards. Both of them were also wearing cloaks in that not particularly pleasant color.

“I am willing to get the job done, sire,” Fallon said.

“Oh, I can see that! So now, let me reveal everything to you.”

Fallon could feel his heart begin to pound as the King guided him around the desk. Just in time he remembered he was not supposed to know about the secret door behind the hanging.

“Where are we going, sire?” he asked, putting some of his confusion into his voice.

“To prove you are the man Gaelland needs,” Aidan said, giving him a wink. He let go of Fallon’s shoulder to open the secret door and Fallon made himself look surprised.

“Where does that go, sire?” he asked, wondering why they were going down to the throne room this way, rather than in the normal manner.

“You’ll see,” Aidan said. “Come, all will be made clear!”

Fallon was mystified as to what the King was going on about. Aidan was smiling broadly and at his affable best, which was as usual more disturbing than when he was angry. One thing seemed obvious – the King was not going to stop talking in riddles until they got down to the throne room. So he stepped through the door. The last time he had been hiding in here, there had been no light and he had been terrified of falling. But this time it was well lit, a series of lanterns flickering away in recesses in the wall.

“Straight down, I’ll tell you where to go,” Aidan said cheerfully, the guards between him and Fallon.

Fallon walked down the steps, finding them much easier in the light than the dark. They finished in a landing and he saw the door to the throne room right ahead so naturally reached out for the handle.

“Not that one!” Aidan said. “Keep going down!”

Fallon turned and stepped out to the side, which revealed another staircase leading further down, one he had missed completely in the dark. He was already nervous but now he began to get a little frightened. That level merely held a series of storerooms – and the dungeons. He could not imagine the King wanting to take him down to show off his collection of rare Kottermani wines. Had the Duchess somehow been captured and blabbed about their talks, perhaps even blamed him for the plot to seize the throne and win over the nobles? That fitted into what the King had been saying but, if so, why was Aidan being so pleasant? He would have expected the greeting party to be Kelty and a squad of guards.

He walked down the next set of stairs feeling as though his heart was thumping loudly enough to be heard over the sound of his footsteps.

“This stairway was built to allow servants to bring valuables up to the King without being seen – and for the King to be able to slip down into certain parts of his castle in secret. There are things a King wants to do that his Queen does not need to know about,” Aidan said.

Fallon could feel the hair on the back of his arms rising up now. After all, down here was where Swane and his Fearpriest had been holding their evil ceremonies. Padraig and Rosaleen’s words about a huge evil came back to him and even the air felt colder down here. He was tempted to draw his hidden knives, try and put down the guards and demand answers from the King. But a glance over his shoulder showed him Aidan was several steps behind and the guards were both brandishing shillelaghs. By the time he had taken them out, Aidan would be long gone. Besides, if the worst was behind that door, it was a chance to destroy not just Aidan but Swane and, maybe, the Fearpriest too. He thought of Kerrin and Bridgit with a sharp shaft of pain, then the stairs ended in a thick wooden door.

“Here we are,” Aidan said brightly. The guards stopped right behind Fallon. “I truly think you can lead my army to victory,” he said sincerely. “Now I just need to see the final proof.”

Fallon nodded nervously, not trusting himself to speak. Whatever waited on the other side of the door, he could have a knife at the King’s throat in an instant.

A guard pushed open the door and gestured for Fallon to walk through. After a moment’s pause, he strode through the door. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the blaze of light – and then he was filled with terror and fury.

Time seemed to slow and every breath lasted an age as his eyes took in everything in less than three heartbeats. The first thing he saw standing before him was the Fearpriest, hood hiding his face, arms crossed over his chest. To his right stood Swane, his usual sneer on his face, his hands on his hips and no chains or ropes on either of them. Behind them were men wearing the robes of Guildsmen, as well as a scatter of nobles. Yet all of them wore the same rust-red cloak.

Before he drew his knives out of his boots, he caught sight of the second thing. Small figures, behind Swane and his Fearpriest, tied down onto a stone slab. Three of them. The room was well-lit, braziers at every column driving back the cold and dark, and he recognized them instantly. Feray, Asil and Orhan.

Then he saw the third thing, a small figure tied to a column, looking right at him. Kerrin. Beside him, Captain Kelty with a shillelagh in his hands.

Fallon saw all that and his mind raced through his choices, holding his rage in check only by the slimmest of threads.

“It looks like I should have ordered a new cloak,” he said.

He heard Aidan laugh and had to hold back a shiver of hatred so intense it threatened to rip away his last vestige of control.

“My dear Fallon, you truly are a gem!” Aidan chuckled.

The guards escorted him into the middle of the room. Fallon still felt like his mind was racing almost out of control, going through what he needed to do, and he uttered a silent prayer that he would have the strength for what would come.

“So, this is where Prince Swane has been?” he asked, wanting to get Aidan in closer.

The King sniffed. “No, he and Brother Nahuatl have been locked up. I punished them because they disobeyed my orders by provoking Cavan and then failed to finish the job by killing him and, worse, got themselves captured. Their stupidity and incompetence was more than worthy of punishment but, ironically, without their failure I would never have seen your true value so, in a way, we have them to thank.”

Fallon glanced at the Fearpriest, seeing glittering eyes and the tip of a dark-skinned nose beneath the hood, but nothing more. The Fearpriest stepped back, allowing Fallon to walk into the center of the room. He could see Kerrin, Feray, Asil and Orhan now and they could see him. All were gagged, all were crying and their eyes were desperately begging him to save them. He had to assume Devlin and the other villagers were dead, or as good as dead, for them to be here and the fury within him settled into his chest, a raging ball that threatened to burst out if he gave it even a hint of a chance.

Then he looked away to examine the other men.

He was in a large chamber, presumably some sort of storage room at some time, stone arches and columns supporting the roof above, and they stepped out from behind these, a score of them, nobles and leaders of guilds. He recognized the Count of Londegal and the Earl of Meinster, as well as others who had clapped him in the throne room.

“Sire, why a Fearpriest?” he asked, fighting for calm.

Aidan sighed. “I know what you must be thinking. Why not rely on the strength of the people? And I confess, if I had you by my side six moons ago, I might have tried that,” Aidan said, his voice light. Then it grew darker. “But when the Kottermani Prince Kemal came to me, insulted and defied me in my own throne room, ordered me off the throne and declared we would be a part of the Kottermani Empire, I did not have that choice. What else was I to do? Give up my crown, that my family has worn for hundreds of years? Turn Gaelland into a farm for those filthy Kottermanis? Not be able to make a decision without asking that jumped-up camel-shagger for permission?” The King was working himself up into a fury and Fallon saw the guards and most of the others take an instinctive step back, away from him. Good. “Did he really think that I would just bend over, drop my trews and let him rut me over my own throne?”

“Gaelland should be free and you are its rightful King,” Fallon said.

Aidan was pacing now, his eyes wild. “That is right! But how was I to stop them? We had no soldiers and they knew it. They mocked me and looked down on me! Well, there was no way I was having that. I made a bargain with them, pretended I needed time to hand over the crown and that I had to persuade my people to give up peacefully. So he handed me his three bodyguards, whom I altered with the help of the King’s Wizard Finbar and used to take children off the streets, while Kemal was busy stealing peasants from the coast. He thought he was pushing us closer to becoming part of his Empire but he was working to my plan the whole time. The Kottermanis are always so pious, bowing and scraping to Aroaril, who gives them nothing. I knew my only hope was a power they could never have. And there was only one way to get it.”

“Zorva,” Fallon said flatly.

Aidan’s eyes lost some of their wildness. “What else was I to do? Give in to the Kottermanis? I would rather die! So I sacrificed to Zorva and he gave me the power to bring Brother Nahuatl here, where he has been instructing my son Swane. I was ready to show Prince Kemal my power and tell him that unless he bowed to me, I would unleash our strength on him and destroy his people. With the power of Zorva behind us, nothing can stop Gaelland from taking over the Kottermani Empire. And now we have an army to help enforce my will over those dirty camel-lovers, we shall be able to keep all we won. But, of course, Kemal ran off. I wondered what it was but now I see that you had your own plans to stop the Kottermanis!”