Richard Ford - Lord of Ashes

Cormach jumped down from the horse and presented the Dreldunese banner to the Lord Marshal, who took it in his hand and regarded it reverently for a moment, before thrusting it above his head.

‘Right, lads,’ he shouted. ‘I think that’s proved our point.’

With that he swung his horse around and headed back towards the Stone Gate.

Merrick could feel his heart almost beating out of his chest, the blood pumping in his ears. As he followed his father he realised his hands were shaking and he tightened his grip on the reins of his horse to try and stop them.

Pleased with yourself, Ryder? Now that you’ve proven you’re as crazy as the rest of them?

Despite feeling elated at what he’d just done, he was still relieved they were entering the city once more. Having almost come face to face with the entire Khurtic horde, he was glad there was ten foot thick of curtain wall holding them back. He might have proven his worth to the Wyvern Guard, might have risked his life for a flag on a stick, but he still didn’t want to die just yet.

As he rode through the gate the cheers were almost deafening. Men chanted the name of the Wyvern Guard and for the first time Merrick could see the method behind his father’s madness. News of their deed would spread across the wall and through the city. The Khurtas had been robbed of their prize. They could be beaten. And the Wyvern Guard hadn’t had to charge valiantly into their ranks to prove it.

Before he’d realised it, Merrick had pulled his horse up to a halt beside his father’s. Tannick glanced across at him, and Merrick saw that the old man looked none too pleased.

But what were you expecting, Ryder? Hug and a kiss? For him to ask you if everything was all right? If those nasty Khurtas nicked you with their horrible arrows?

‘I told you to stay beside me, boy,’ said Tannick. ‘You just risked your life needlessly.’

‘Yes, Lord Marshal, but-’

‘But nothing. Defy me again and I’ll have you flogged. No matter how short of men we are.’

‘Yes, Lord Marshal.’

‘Other than that, good work.’

Merrick let that hang there for a moment, almost failing to recognise his father’s acknowledgement. ‘Good work?’

Tannick barked a laugh. ‘Of course, good work. Cormach would be dead if not for you. The banner of Dreldun lost. I’d have had to send more men if he’d fallen. You showed bravery. Initiative. You did well, boy.’ Tannick leaned over on his saddle, his warm look disappeared. ‘But never disobey me again.’

‘I won’t,’ Merrick replied. ‘But it was Cormach who rode to the Khurtic line. He won the banner. If anyone should be commended for his bravery it’s him.’

Tannick shook his head. ‘The Whoreson’s not brave, boy. Bravery is born of fear. You have to overcome that fear to show courage. Cormach Whoreson fears nothing. And he obeys without question — something you could learn from him.’

Merrick nodded his assent, though how much he took his father at his word would remain to be seen.

Before they could dismount, Marshal Farren approached, flanked by several Knights of the Blood.

‘You’re a fool, Ryder,’ Farren barked. ‘Risking your men like that. And what have you done other than stir the Khurtas up into a frenzy?’

‘They’re not the only ones I’ve stirred up,’ Tannick replied, flinging the Dreldunese banner at Farren, who snatched it from the air. ‘Look around you. These men are now eager for the fight and that means this city has a glimmer of hope. I’ve proven there’s nothing the Khurtas have we can’t take away from them.’ He gestured at the cheering men surrounding them. ‘These men think they just might win. So make sure you mount that where everyone can see it. The day’s first victory is ours.’

‘You’re insane. Endangering your men for a standard.’

‘Only two men,’ Tannick replied. ‘Both of them unhurt. And one of them my own son.’ Marshal Farren glanced across at Merrick, who tried his best to look impressive under that twitching glare.

‘Then you’re a family of madmen,’ Farren replied before stalking away. As he did so he thrust the banner into the hands of one of his knights, mumbling curses to himself.

With nothing further to say, Tannick dismounted, a steward coming to take his stallion’s reins. Merrick sat for a moment, relieved that the shaking in his hands had subsided. For now he was safe, and a veritable bloody hero, but he was sure there’d be plenty more opportunities to show he was an idiot or a coward over the coming nights. Maybe even tonight.

Merrick swung his leg over the side of his mount and climbed down to find someone was already holding the reins of his horse for him. Cormach Whoreson glared, as though Merrick had just smeared shit all over his shiny breastplate.

‘Don’t think this makes us fucking friends,’ he said, still staring deep into Merrick’s eyes as though daring him to take the piss.

‘Don’t worry, I don’t,’ Merrick replied.

Without another word, Cormach turned and left.

‘And there’s really no need to thank me,’ Merrick said quietly towards Cormach’s back.

Oh so quietly.

He could see the city burning from beyond the distant horizon before the ship’s lookout ever spotted land. A black cloud rose up in the clear, crisp sky, a beacon to be seen from miles across the flat ocean. It had been a tortuous journey, but he now felt some relief that it was almost over.

River should have never left Steelhaven in the first place. He had lost count of the number of times he had cursed himself for his folly. But he had been tricked. His brother Forest had lied to him; told him their Father would hold to his bargain and spare Jay’s life. And so, like a fool, he had gone along with their plan; slaying more men than he could count to ensure Amon Tugha’s artillery ships were sent north to the city of Steelhaven. But Forest and the Father of Killers had not held to their side of the bargain and his own brother had come to kill him once River had played his part.

When River had learned of their betrayal at Aluk Vadir pretending to be a mariner aboard this ship had seemed the fastest way to return to her side. Now as he neared his goal they seemed to be travelling slower than ever.

For every hour they’d spent at sea, River felt his heart sink further and further into his chest. What if he was too late? What if the Father of Killers had already slain his love? What if Amon Tugha had already sacked the city and cut out her heart in front of his baying hordes?

River gripped the prow, staring intently, almost willing the wind into the sails of the ship. It had only been a few days since he’d set off to sea but it seemed like months. Since he had infiltrated the supply ship at the harbour of Aluk Vadir, desperate to return to Steelhaven, every day stretched out longer than the last, and with each passing hour River felt more helpless. Aboard the ship he had busied himself with the work of a sailor. It had not been difficult to pick up, and no one seemed to realise or care that he was an unfamiliar face with little experience as a mariner. Not one of them had questioned him, and River could only assume that many of the men aboard were unacquainted with one another, having been hired en masse as part of this fleet.

‘Don’t worry,’ said a voice behind him, and River turned to see the first mate staring out towards the city as well. ‘We won’t get close enough to be in danger.’

River had hardly spoken to a soul since boarding, considering it best to keep his own counsel rather than risk giving himself away, and he was instantly wary at the man’s familiar tone. He had become acquainted with every face aboard ship but these men were not his friends. They had come to aid in the sacking of Steelhaven. Whether they knew it or not, they were still his enemies.