Glenda Larke: The Heart of the mirage

betrayal? You seemed so – so loyal to Tyrans. What happened? Did they ensorcel you?'

'I grew up. I learned what Tyrans really is. A behemoth, Favonius, that crushes the weak beneath it. A giant beast without compassion or understanding. Melete's heart, you came here with orders to kill babies! Is that what the Stalwarts are all about? Well, this servant of the behemoth doesn't serve any more.'

'I don't understand. I'll never understand how you could change so.'

I nodded. 'I never expected you to. Go back across the Alps, Favonius. It's your only chance.' I waved a hand around me to encompass the camp. 'You don't have enough weapons to fight with any more.' I used my sword again. The shaft of light caught him on the temple and he dropped where he stood.

'Have you killed him?' Brand asked. He didn't sound particularly upset at the thought.

I gave a low laugh. 'Brand, the way I feel at the moment, I couldn't kill an ant if I crushed it between my fingers. Although it might be wiser if I ended his life here and now. He meant what he said about seeing you dead one day.'

He wasn't perturbed. 'Our paths are not likely to cross too often.'

I lingered for a moment longer, gazing down on Favonius's prostrate body, and wondered if I did him a disservice by leaving him alive. His career was finished after this fiasco, for a start, and the Stalwarts were all he'd ever had. Or perhaps I was just looking for a reason to kill him and satisfy the panic in me, the deep unease that told me not killing Favonius would be as large a mistake as not killing Pinar when she'd lain unconscious at my feet.

I was right, of course.

If only I had done it.

If only.

Brand touched me on the shoulder. 'Let's get out of here.'

We heard shouts of consternation. The bellow of an officer, as loud and as inflamed as a male gorclak's challenge call, penetrated the fog. And the opportunity was lost. Brand put his arm around me and pulled me away. 'Quick! Which direction?' he asked.

When I awoke in the morning, Brand was cooking at the fireplace. 'Smells good,' I said. Fatigue tugged at me; even rolling over to face him was an effort.

'I had some luck hunting this morning,' he said, adding laconically, 'Duck. At least I think it was. It did have a hairy tail like a cat, though.'

'How did you get back in through the ward?'

'You forgot to renew it last night.'

'Oh, Goddess…'

'No harm done. I kept watch. And I didn't have to go far away to find the duck, either.'

'What are the legionnaires doing?'

'Packing up to go. The fog has gone. They've been sifting through the remains of the camp to see what they can salvage. Some of the men have been off hunting – they are short of food now. I've seen Favonius from a distance; he seems to have recovered. The Legate wanted to see you again. I told the messenger you were ill. I hinted you were ensorcelled. He – the Legate – sent back the advice that you ought to move out of the building. He says you're welcome to join them on their retreat across the mountains. Ligea, why in all Acheron's mists didn't Favonius tell everyone he believes you were responsible for what happened last night?'

'I told you he wouldn't.' I had reassured Brand of that the night before, but he hadn't quite believed me.

'How did you know he wouldn't?'

'I know Favonius. How could he {ell anyone? Everyone knows he and I have been lovers for years. How can he tell his comrades-at-arms he was bedding something capable of sorcery all that time and never knew it? His pride won't let him say a word. Pride has always been Favonius's weakness. Pride and the arrogance of the younger son who made it on his own.' He brought across a plate of food to me. 'Goddess, this looks good, Brand. And I'm so hungry. There's nothing like a spot of sorcery to increase the appetite!'

By midmorning the Stalwarts were on their way.

There was nothing proud about them now. Many of them still had their gorclaks, but there was little else of value for them to take back over the Alps. Their food would be whatever they could hunt or forage on the way, their only shelters the caves they could find, their only warmth the fur cloaks they wore. Many of them were going to die, and they knew it.

I also knew it and part of me grieved.

Brand and I stood by the river and watched them ride past. The men rode without speaking, many of them making the evil-avert sign as they passed the building the Mirage had built. The Legate reined in when he came level with me. 'Legata.' He inclined his head in greeting. 'You look ill. Your servant told me you were sick.'

'I am recovering, fortunately.'

'Do you wish to ride with us?'

I shook my head. 'I have no mandate to return to Tyrans.'

'Tribune Favonius tells me you refuse to give us the information of how to cross the Shiver Barrens. Is that true?'

I nodded.

"Why is that?'

'If you sought to return to the coast that way, you would all fall to sorcery, without exception. There is no other way back to Tyrans for you but this one.' I nodded to the mountains.

'By your silence you ensure that we have no choice. Yet it is not the task of the Brotherhood to make decisions on behalf of legionnaires. You exceed your authority. Do you persist in withholding the information?'

T do.'

He sat there looking at me in silence for a long minute. From his emotions, I had a fair idea of what he was thinking. He wondered if he could force me at sword point to tell him what he wanted to know.

I stared back. 'I'm a Compeer of the Brotherhood, Legate. You know my reputation.'

He nodded, resigned. A compeer would die rather than talk under torture. Or they'd give the wrong information. And then he'd have to face the wrath of the Magister Officii. He said, 'I shall be making a complaint to the Brotherhood about your lack of cooperation.'

'That is your privilege.'

He nodded curtly and rode on.

I said quietly to Brand, 'Rathrox will make animal mash out of him if he starts talking about what the Brotherhood should and should not do.'

Favonius was one of the last to ride by and he, too, halted his mount in front of me. His face twisted unpleasantly. T told no one here of what you are, but I will make you a promise,-Ligea. The Brotherhood will

be told all I know when I return to Tyr. If you dare to show your face again within any civilised portion of the Exaltarchy, you will have to deal with them. And if I ever hear of your return, I shall ride after you personally. You may be clever with that gem in your hand, but I doubt even you are immune to an arrow in the back.'

I was overwhelmed by a need to explain, to try to eradicate that expression of vicious hate on his face. 'Favonius -' I began, not knowing what I was going to say, but he didn't let me finish anyway.

'There is nothing – nothing! – that you could say to excuse what you have done.' He waved savagely at the line of men now fording the shallowest reach of the river. 'How many of them do you think will be alive when we reach Tyrans? Without shelter, food supplies, weapons?'

'A great many more than would have ultimately survived an incursion into the Mirage.' I didn't know whether that was true or not, but I wanted him to believe it.

'But at least they would have died in a fight, with swords in their hands! They would have fallen with honour, not perished slowly of cold and hunger and fatigue.'

'With honour? Is there honour in killing children, Favo?' Anyway, what does honour matter to the dead? Some of you will survive this way.'

'Goddess, you understand nothing. Nothing! We are the Stalwarts -' He choked on the words, his anger silencing him. He jerked the reins brutally to swing his mount away from me, then dug in his heels and plunged the beast down the riverbank.