The Lord of Lies: Strange Threads: Book 2 (25 page)

‘How many swords is that?’ he asked an Unwoven who rolled along a barrel in which swords clattered against each other.

‘How many?’ she repeated, her brow creasing.

‘One hundred and fifty two, for example.’

‘I’ve never had to count
that high before, lord.’

Mergan grunted. ‘Carry on.’

Down on the Fields, spread out across the yellow grasses, Unwoven poked with interest through the growing stockpiles of supplies. Some of them liked the swords and armour, others apparently didn’t. A few had picked up bows, though there did not seem to be a great many arrows. Already some were feasting on the food he’d had to shout at them repeatedly to bring, for they seemed to lack any innate ability to plan ahead. If not for his commands, most of them would have left the Dale half-naked, without bread or water to see them on their way.

‘Lord Regret!’ said Scarbrow, arriving by his side. ‘You should come and have some rations while they are hot off the flame!’ He rubbed his belly in satisfaction. ‘I have had plenty of rations myself.’

Mergan sighed. Obviously the notion of ‘rations’ was not being understood. Well, the Unwoven did what they wanted, and that was that. Wasn’t that what had attracted him to them in the first place?

That’s right! What am I doing anyway, barking orders, counting rations?

‘By the breaking Spell,’ he exclaimed, ‘I do indeed feel like a hearty helping of rations!’

He made his way down the slope towards a roaring bonfire, where greasy-jawed Unwoven waved meat at him in greeting. Even as he joined them to tuck in with gusto, he couldn’t help but think they really
should stop eating horses. It wasn’t like they had many left.

Ah, well – the Unwoven could run, and had the stamina to last. The question was, where should they go?

From the reports of his scouts (another concept he’d introduced to his people), forces from Althala and the Plains Kingdom were converging upon them from the south and east. From what he could gather, they would arrive at roughly the same time. He could wait for them here, then be off to new lands after they were dealt with … maybe to Althala? Perhaps he and the Unwoven would even stay there a while, enjoying what the place had to offer? They didn’t have to take over the world in one big swoop. They could do it slowly – unconfined by mountains, his children could breed with abandon and spread naturally. And he, their immortal ruler, could watch them dominate in every direction.

Don’t be stupid
, he thought, and wondered what he meant. What had he been thinking about?
Ah, yes
– the two enemy armies. It would be unwise to wait here if they were going to arrive at the same time. Better to
go
to one of them while they were divided.

‘It’s time to leave,’ he told Scarbrow, picking sinew from his teeth.

‘My lord, do you wish dancers to watch us from on high, and send fliers to us when the time is right?’

Mergan glanced at the Peaks uncomfortably – the truth was he would prefer no silkjaws, but he could not think of a reasonable excuse.
Besides, they would add a valuable swell to his ranks.

‘Of course,’ he said.

He finished the meat he’d been chewing and clambered back onto his horse. He would have to make sure that
this
horse, at least, did not get eaten.

‘Unwoven!’ he called. ‘It’s time for a really big raid. A raid on the world! How does that sound?’

Widespread nodding and grunting was his answer.

‘First we head east, to attack the Plainsfolk! Follow me!’

He gave a strange, undulating roar, kicked his horse, and off he rode.

Are they coming?

Thousands of voices issued up behind him, the ground shaking with their pounding feet. He glanced over his shoulder, saw that his people were leaving most of the supplies behind, and laughed.

Ahead of the Althalan army, the land stretched coarse and yellow all the way to the mountains. Yalenna rode down the line from Loppolo, who she still avoided whenever possible. He was surrounded by officers and cohorts, and growing bolder every day, though she supposed it mattered little. As long as he was pointed in the right direction, doing what was needed, what did she care if he considered himself ruler in his head?

She found her vision
sliding to his pattern, to remind herself of the blessing she had given him.

May you always have happy dreams.

Somehow it did not seem right anymore – it had been given when she had been trying to comfort a king dethroned by her friend. Now that Loppolo was back in charge, it was too trivial – here was a man who spoke for many, which
should
keep him up at night. She waved her fingers at him surreptitiously, undoing the blessing, discarding its shreds to float away. In its place, she put something new.

May you make good choices.

There – more befitting, and not solely about him.

Other blessings left her too, random bundles off to find homes in those around her. If she had tried, back in the castle, to keep herself segregated from the populace, certainly that time was over. At least the general mood was improved by various good things happening to the people around her. A happy moment here, a newly discovered talent there, an old hurt removed, a past sin forgiven – it all added up.

To a cloud of corruption
, she thought grimly.

Jandryn rode up beside her, holding something in his hand.

Things had been good between them since taking to the march. Perhaps it was because she had told him about his blessing, or because Rostigan wasn’t around to confuse things, or maybe just because they were finally aligned in a task. She did not question it too deeply, was simply glad that each night she had someone to lie next to. At first he had tried to keep his
visits to her tent a secret. In a camp of thousands, however, even though they were careful to spend their time together quietly – sometimes more quietly than Yalenna cared for – it did not take long for rumours to circulate. Finally, she had been able to convince him that it did not matter. Why should he care if others knew about them? Because of some misguided notion of his about protecting her honour?

Walk up to the tent door and enter
, she had told him,
without care for who is watching.

He had come to see that, if anything, knowledge of his being the Priestess’s consort made other soldiers hold him in awe. Most of it was respectful, although there was some backslapping she did not care for in the peripheries, but she supposed she had to take the good with the bad.

Jandryn cleared his throat and held out a small blue flower. ‘Not many of these about,’ he said. ‘But when I saw one that wasn’t yet tromped on …’

She took it from him with a smile, while he scowled around at others nearby who were chuckling and nudging each other.

It was the first time he had done something like that in public.

You should be proud to be with me
, she had told him.

I am. Oh, I am, I promise you.

It is permissible to show it.

Was there a future for them? Yalenna wasn’t sure. She didn’t even know if they would live through the coming days. Or, if she did
make it to the Spire roof to give away her gifts, would that change things? Would all her blessings fade away?
To be lucky in love …
would the departure of such words bring her out of some trance, in which she considered Jandryn worthy, when really he was not? She decided she did not believe that any blessing of her own held such sway as to rob her of her senses. There was no doubt that she grew increasingly fond of him, and his silly way of taking everything extremely seriously. As a result, she found herself ever more concerned about his safety once they clashed with the Unwoven. He was full of bravado, eager to prove himself, and she feared he would charge too brashly into the fray. She promised herself she would look over him, and maybe she needed a ruse to keep him nearby.

‘You will protect me, in the upcoming battle,’ she said, slipping the flower behind her ear, ‘by staying close at all times.’

‘Of course, my lady,’ he said, looking pleased.

Something was happening over by the king. A threader – Kalia was her name, Yalenna remembered – was gesticulating excitedly.

‘Let’s go and see what the news is.’

They arrived to find the king stroking his chin furiously, as if he might milk wisdom from it. Around him his officers wore bleak expressions.

‘What’s the message?’ Yalenna asked.

‘From a Plainsfolk threader,’ Kalia said, ‘to the east.’

‘Where their army marches,’ muttered Loppolo.

‘What did it say, girl?’

‘Attacked by Unwoven. Too many.
Silkjaws also. Are you close? Please aid us.’

Yalenna looked eastwards. Across the Ildiun she thought she could make out a blur that might be the distant battle. A few hours away at least, if they picked up the pace.

‘Tell them to retreat towards us if they can!’

Kalia nodded and set to concentrating, while Yalenna rode her horse out before the army, turning about to face them.

‘The Plainsfolk desperately need our help!’ she called. ‘Shall we make haste?’

An answering roar rose from the masses.

‘Make haste, then!’ she called. ‘Make haste!’

Rostigan allowed impatience to deepen his glower. Forger had dithered for a good few days after they had taken the city, despite Rostigan’s urging for them to be on their way. The main problem seemed to be that, while some of the army had departed to supervise the new slaves hauling loot back to Tallahow, Forger was unsure what to do with the majority who remained.

‘Should I set them marching again?’ he asked, not for the first time. ‘Set them towards Galra? How long will we be gone, do you think? I don’t want them reaching a new place without me.’

‘You’ve heard my counsel,’ said Rostigan. ‘Leave them in Ander as we go about our errand. They can rebuild the city’s defences in case others try
to retake it. Then, once we are victorious elsewhere, we will return and decide the next step.’

Forger scratched his cheek thoughtfully. ‘Yes, yes. You are wise, Karrak.’

‘We have already decided this. You have chosen Balen as your proxy. Come, it is time to depart.’

‘Very well, very well. But how are we to journey to the Ilduin together and ensure we arrive at the same point? It’s all just one big yellow stain. What landmark do we both know? We can’t aim for the Pass, lest we appear in the thick of the Unwoven army. And the Plains Kingdom is too far away.’

‘Remember those three huge boulders where we camped on that first journey together? We stopped beside them the night before we entered the mountains.’

Forger frowned. He always had trouble thinking about his life before the change.

‘When we were eight Wardens united,’ prompted Rostigan. ‘I spent the evening jousting with Yalenna, and you argued with Braston over how to stew rabbit.’

‘I think so.’

‘All right then. That’s where.’

‘But what if they aren’t there anymore?’

‘They are. I saw them again a few years back. Are you ready?’

‘I guess so.’

‘Put on your clothes then.’

Begrudgingly, Forger put
a shirt on to hide his leather. Then he pulled trousers up over his loincloth.

Alone in the throne room, they closed their eyes, and fell to concentrating.

As soon as they came into being, the distant sounds of battle reached them.

‘Well, thank goodness,’ said Forger, gazing up at the looming boulders. ‘They
are
still here!’

Rostigan ignored him, staring off across the Fields. Some way to the north, a great mass of figures clashed and clamoured, white puffs rising above them.

‘Looks like Plainsfolk and the Unwoven,’ said Forger.

‘Come on,’ said Rostigan, as his stomach began to settle.

Forger kept up with him easily, matching his jog with long, loping strides.

‘Would you like to ride on my back, Karrak?’

‘This is not the time for idle humour.’

‘I wasn’t trying to be humorous. Better to say to you, perhaps, that this isn’t the time to be prideful.’