John Gwynne - Valour

The giant burst for freedom, smashing through the chaos of fighting bodies with two of his Jehar guarding his escape, holding off any pursuers for a handful of moments. By the time they were dead the giant was gone.

FIDELE

Fidele sat at her desk with a quill hovering in her hand. Her other hand held a sheaf of parchment flat. She was sweating.

Just write it. Lykos controls me by some spell. The words my mouth speaks cannot be trusted. Kill Lykos.

That is what she wanted to write, what she was willing with all of her mind and strength for her hand to write, but it refused, as if it were a separate, sentient entity. It hovered over the parchment, a tremor of will setting droplets of ink splattering across the parchment. With a strangled yell she flung the quill away and collapsed on the desk, breathing hard.

Lykos. She could feel him, even now. A caress in her mind, a presence, like a watcher in the shadows, a maggot crawling across her skin. It made her feel sick. For a moment she could feel his hands on her, smell his sour breath, a wave of revulsion spasming through her body.

She sat up. Parchments were spread across her desk, the one before her empty, others full of her flowing writing. Most of them were orders pertaining to the movement of troops, her eagle-guard, her protectors, and she was ordering them to details in the far corners of Tenebral. Scattering any of those loyal to her away from her reach. Another wave of frustration welled up inside her.

She stood and walked to a window, gazing out over the lake and plain. Winter was on the retreat, a hint of spring coming. Her eyes were drawn to the arena that sat between Jerolin and the lake town, a malignant growth in her once-perfect view, a symbol of what was happening to Tenebral.

And how the people of Tenebral had taken to it — to pit-fighting, a fight to the death as entertainment. She would never have believed that they would scream so loudly for the sight of blood, like a pack of frenzied hounds.

Have I been so naive? Does such a darkness beat in every heart?

With a startling clarity she remembered the contest she had witnessed, the man with the axe against a warrior wielding two swords, behind them Peritus and Armatus chained to a post. Her heart had leaped as she’d seen her two old friends set free, other warriors rushing into the ring, pulling them to safety. Then the Vin Thalun had fallen upon them, the ensuing chaos ending in Armatus having his head hacked from his body by Lykos.

Peritus, at least, had escaped. Lykos had been in a rage for days after, sending warriors to scour the countryside, but Peritus had disappeared. Her guess was that he had gone home, to his village in the northern mountains. The Vin Thalun would never find him there.

Their ships studded the lake, more arriving almost every day. She didn’t know how many Vin Thalun sailed the Tethys Sea, but surely every last one of them had swarmed to Jerolin. Lykos and his kind were like one of those parasites that attached themselves to a host, laying eggs in its body and eating it from the inside out.

That was how she felt, consumed from the inside out, her whole world spiralling into an ocean of permanent despair. As she looked out of the window the urge to just step out took hold of her, to step into nothing, to just fall and fall and fall. But even that was beyond her, she knew. She’d already tried to take her life. Anything to be free of the hold on her, but Lykos’ will was a compulsion in her mind, a cage that she could not escape.

Lykos strolled in, the sight of him making a fist of fear clench in her gut. He looked her up and down as he approached, his eyes lingering.

‘I have some good news for you,’ he said, running a finger down her cheek. ‘Your time of mourning Aquilus is passed.’

I will never stop mourning Aquilus.

‘Surprisingly, at this stage in your life, you have found love again. You thank Elyon for this rare blessing.’

Dear All-Father, no, let this be a dream, a nightmare. Let me wake from it.

‘We will be wed in a ten-night. There will be much celebrating in Tenebral at your newfound happiness. Games will honour the occasion. The fighting pit will run red.’ He grinned. ‘You may smile.’

She felt her muscles twitch, her lips moving involuntarily. She fought it, of course.

‘Not your most beautiful look,’ Lykos commented, frowning at the expression on her face.

Nathair — where are you? Please come home and end this nightmare. Not for the first time she marvelled at Lykos’ sheer audacity — that he would do the things he was doing in light of Nathair’s return.

‘What’s going on behind those eyes?’ Lykos said. ‘Speak freely.’

‘Nathair,’ she said. ‘How can you do these things, knowing that he will return one day?’

Lykos laughed. ‘Kingship changes people, my lady. Responsibility, pressure, it does things to a man. And Nathair will soon have far more on his mind than who his mother shares a bed with. I don’t think you’ll recognize your son when he returns.’

CYWEN

Cywen stamped her feet and blew on her hands. It was cold and damp, her breath fogging before her. A heavy mist cloaked the ground. She crouched and scratched Buddai behind an ear; the hound leaned against her, nearly pushing her over.

‘Mount up,’ Calidus said as he rode out of the mist.

She was close to the head of the column, the smell of Nathair’s draig strong in the air.

It had been half a ten-night since Alcyon had left the column, staying in the woods they had passed through. Calidus had been poor company since then, refusing to answer a single question she put to him. That didn’t stop her trying, though.

‘Alcyon is waiting for my brother, isn’t he?’ she asked the silver-haired man, not for the first time.

He turned his yellow eyes upon her, the first reaction she had achieved. ‘Today is a momentous day,’ he said quietly, though she felt scared, suddenly, a threat in his voice. ‘You are a curiosity to me now, nothing more. I do not need you. If you distract me again I will put a knife through your eye, and enjoy watching you die.’ He held her gaze. ‘Do we understand one another?’

‘I. .’ She nodded, all her anger and defiance draining away.

A shout went up from the back of the column. Calidus pulled on his horse’s reins, turning to look back. A figure loomed out of the mist, tall and wide.

Alcyon.

He approached Calidus with his head bowed. As he drew closer Cywen saw that he looked exhausted, his usual pallor deathly white now, cuts upon his arms, matted blood in his hair. He came and stood before Calidus, dropped to his knees.

‘I have failed you,’ the giant grated. ‘My life is forfeit.’

‘It’s forfeit when I have no more use for you,’ Calidus snapped. ‘Get up and follow me.’

Calidus ordered a warrior close by to watch Cywen, and then he rode a distance away with Alcyon in tow. Cywen strained to hear them, but only caught a few disjointed words as they returned to her. ‘Half a day behind, maybe more,’ was all she heard Alcyon say.

‘We’d better get this done, then,’ Calidus said and cantered to the head of the column.

‘I told you,’ Cywen said to Alcyon.

‘What?’ the giant growled.

‘That Corban would be the one doing the killing.’

Alcyon glowered at her. ‘Mount up,’ he ordered.

As she climbed onto Shield’s back the giant reached out, his long arms encompassing her. Before she realized what he was doing she had a rope knotted about her waist, the other end tied to Alcyon’s belt.