Richard Ford - Lord of Ashes

He could only hope his luck would hold and he’d survive with everything intact, or die a swift and glorious death. It would definitely be the former if he had any say in it.

As he continued to buff his breastplate a figure silently entered the courtyard. No one seemed to notice the red-robed old woman as she made her way across the training square; everyone continued their laughter and not one of the Wyvern Guard even so much as glanced in her direction. It was like she was invisible to all but Merrick.

When she reached the centre of the courtyard, he suddenly felt a pull in his chest, right where his wound was. That wound, the one that should have killed him but a few short days ago, seemed to recognise the old woman, even if Merrick didn’t. He lifted a hand to his shirt, expecting to feel it sodden with blood, but it was still healed over.

Merrick stared at her as she continued across the square. Before she reached the other side, Lord Marshal Tannick walked out from beneath the eaves of a building to greet her.

The two regarded one another with familiarity, though Tannick seemed a little wary. The words they exchanged were brief, with Tannick nodding and shaking his head while the old woman spoke. All the while the pain in Merrick’s chest seemed to intensify, burning a little as though the blade were still sticking in him and starting to glow with heat. After a final solemn nod from Tannick, the old woman turned. As she did so she fixed Merrick with a look he couldn’t read. There was something about her he recognised, but from where it was he had no idea. It was like he’d dreamt about her and the memory of it still haunted him at the periphery of his thoughts.

She made her way back across the courtyard, still fixing him with that look, the corner of her mouth turning up slightly as though she were somehow relishing his discomfort. Merrick grimaced at the pain now, fighting back the urge to cry out.

As the old woman almost made it to the archway leading from the courtyard, she stopped. Sweat had beaded on Merrick’s forehead now, and he was filled with sudden dread and panic.

The woman in red lifted a gloved finger to her lips. As quick as it had started, the pain in Merrick’s wound subsided, and he let out a sharp exhalation.

With that, the woman was gone.

While Merrick’s eyes were locked on the archway from the courtyard, a shadow fell over him. He looked up to see his father standing there, face stern as ever.

‘I’d have words,’ said the Lord Marshal, before marching off back to his quarters.

Merrick glanced around, bewildered. Still no one had noticed the old woman or Merrick’s discomfort. They simply carried on with their bragging and polishing. He stood gingerly and followed his father across the courtyard. Though the pain in his chest had abated, Merrick’s legs were still unsteady, the beads of sweat on his head now cooling in the morning air.

‘There’s a mission,’ said Tannick, once they were both within the confines of his chamber. ‘And it’s a dangerous one.’ Here it comes, Ryder. A chance to prove yourself! ‘That’s why, when I ask for volunteers, you’ll keep your mouth shut.’

‘I’ll do what?’ Merrick asked.

‘You will stay silent, boy. I’ll not have you put in harm’s way.’

‘Harm’s way?’ Merrick could feel his hackles starting to rise. ‘What would you call last night? A gentle stroll in the evening air?’

‘You weren’t in any danger last night. I had my eye on you all the time.’

‘I don’t need-’

‘Regardless of your needs, boy, you’ll not be volunteering. Is that clear?’

Merrick had suffered about enough of this. His father had allowed him to join the Wyvern Guard, given him a chance at redemption, but all the while stopped him from showing his worth. If he hadn’t ridden out to save Cormach the foul bastard would be dead, and the defenders on the wall would never have seen the Wyvern Guard riding back victorious with their banner. And besides, he’d more than held his own on the wall last night. More than shown he was as good a blade as any other man there.

But what did he say to you yesterday, Ryder? Don’t disobey again, wasn’t it? Are you going to try it? Are you going to defy your father’s wishes a second time? Go on, give it a go. See what happens.

‘Clear as crystal,’ Merrick said, struggling to hide his disappointment.

As he followed his father back out onto the courtyard, all he could think was this might have been his chance to prove his mettle. To show he was a warrior equal to his family’s reputation. That he was not riding in the wake of his father.

As much as he had been accepted into the Wyvern Guard he wasn’t convinced he had the total respect of his brother knights. And at least one of them clearly hated his guts, but the less he thought about Cormach Whoreson the better.

‘Right, listen up,’ shouted Tannick as he stood in the centre of the courtyard. Immediately the men of the Wyvern Guard stopped what they were doing and stood, crowding in around their Lord Marshal. ‘We have a mission. I need twenty volunteers. It’ll be dangerous and it’s doubtful most of you will survive it. Who’s in?’

Merrick glanced around. Few of the Wyvern Guard looked worried at the prospect of dying.

‘I’ll go,’ said the first voice. Merrick wasn’t surprised to see it belonged to Cormach.

Immediately he felt a bristle of anger. Of course that bastard would be the first to volunteer. Any chance to show he was the toughest, hardest, maddest fucker in this whole damned city and he’d be all over it like a peasant on pie.

Unlike you, Ryder. You’re just Daddy’s little boy. Can’t have you getting your hair messed up. Can’t have you playing rough with the bigger boys.

Merrick counted as more men stepped forward to volunteer one after the other … four, five …

And the Lord Marshal’s told you not to volunteer. So you’d better do as you’re bloody well told, otherwise you’ll be in for a spanking.

… eleven, twelve, thirteen …

And why would you want to put yourself in harm’s way anyway? You want to live through this, don’t you? The Lord Marshal’s just said it’s doubtful most of the volunteers will survive.

… sixteen, seventeen …

Just keep your trap shut, like you’ve been told, and you might just make it through this in one piece.

… nineteen …

‘I’ll go,’ said Merrick, barging his way forward before anyone could take the last place.

Tannick glared at him, and for a moment Merrick thought the old man was going to chastise him, right in front of his brother Wyvern Guard.

‘Makes twenty,’ he said instead.

It was all Merrick could do not to whoop with joy. But then he remembered that he’d just volunteered for a suicide mission. Whooping definitely did not seem the right thing to do.

Regulus stared out to the north as night turned to dawn turned to day. His claws had gouged a four-ridged furrow in the stone of the battlements, his grief over Hagama cutting him equally as deep. He knew he should not have let it hurt him so, he knew it was more than likely he would lose more of his warriors, even his own life, but still the pain was like a knife.

Hagama had been by his side since they were children. They had played together, fought together, bled together for years. Hagama had been the first of the Gor’tana to pledge himself to Regulus after his father had been betrayed. Even before old, wise Leandran had offered his service, Hagama had stood by Regulus’ side, unswerving in his loyalty. And now he was dead.

It wasn’t the need for vengeance that moved Regulus so; there would be time aplenty for retribution. It was the fact they had lost his body. The fact the Khurtas had dragged him off back to their camp to do Gorm knew what to his corpse. They would never be able to convey his soul to the stars. Never be able to ensure the Dark Walker couldn’t catch the brave warrior before he took his place with the other fallen heroes of Equ’un. It was not a fitting end.