John Gwynne - Malice

‘Oh,’ said Kastell, feeling suddenly more interested in this tale.

‘Aye. He has risen far, your friend. He is now the first-sword of Tenebral. You will see him soon. He is to lead Tenebral’s offering in this campaign.’

Kastell grinned. Veradis had been a friend to him when friends had been in short supply. Then he’d noticed Romar’s face. ‘Why so troubled?’ he asked. ‘Veradis is a good man.’

‘Aye. .’ Romar shrugged, ‘I thought so, too. But I feel uncomfortable; this shift in power sits badly with me. This has been ill handled, with Mandros not being judged. I am reconsidering the alliance with Tenebral.’

Kastell shrugged. Once the alliance had been of interest to him, when Romar had first spoken of it. But no more. He had a new family now, the Gadrai was all that mattered to him, and Tenebral seemed a long way away.

Romar then spoke his mind. ‘Come back to me, Kastell,’ he had said.

‘What? I do not think that would be wise.’

‘Times are turbulent,’ Romar had said. ‘I need people about me that I can trust. You are my kin, my brother’s son.’

‘You have Jael,’ Kastell replied, trying to keep the bitterness from his voice.

‘Aye,’ Romar said. ‘Jael. He is eager, for this campaign, for the alliance with Tenebral. Sometimes I think too eager. .’

‘What do you mean?’

Romar had waved a hand impatiently. ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Jael aside, it would be good if you were with me. You are close to this Veradis, eh? That could be of benefit to me. I need someone close to Nathair’s inner circle. Things are not as they were with Aquilus. This slaying of Mandros — I shall call for a trial into Mandros’ death. Nathair must account for his actions, and something about this feels ill omened.’

‘So you want me to spy for you,’ Kastell had said.

Romar shrugged. ‘In a way. We all have interests to protect, Kastell. For one, I want my axe back, and would reward handsomely any that help me.’ He had then reached out and gripped Kastell’s wrist. ‘You have proved yourself with the Gadrai, but they are not your kin. We are blood. Come back to me.’

Kastell remembered Romar’s look, almost pleading. It seemed so out of place; his uncle had always been so decisive, a leader of men.

He wanted to say yes, but memories of Jael flooded his mind. ‘Jael said things. About my da,’ he said instead.

Romar had frowned, but said nothing.

‘He spoke of my da’s transgressions . .’

Romar was angry now but still he said nothing.

‘But what did he mean?’ Kastell pressed.

‘I will not speak of it,’ Romar said.

‘Then I will not come back,’ Kastell had snapped, suddenly furious. He had stood and stalked from the tent, his uncle glowering at him.

An argument up ahead distracted him from these thoughts, and he could just see Alcyon’s bulk. Beside the giant someone was waving their arms, almost shouting, his gesticulations aimed at Calidus.

Kastell frowned and craned to see better.

The angry figure suddenly broke away, others following. It was Romar, his face flushed and his posture stiff with rage.

Calidus was watching Romar’s departure, then turned to another figure to murmur an aside. Kastell squinted and saw that the man was Jael.

Sunset had come and gone, and there were small campfires flickering between trees as far as Kastell could see. He was sitting staring at the flames as great moths flapped around them, sending shadows dancing across his fellow warriors gathered about the fire.

A twig snapped in the darkness and a figure stepped into the firelight. Vandil nodded to them all and crouched down, Orgull offering him the wine skin. ‘We’re all set,’ he said, wiping his mouth. ‘Tomorrow’s the last dawn the Hunen will ever see.’

‘A big day for the Gadrai,’ Maquin said.

‘Aye,’ said Vandil, looking into the flames. ‘One I never thought to see.’ He grinned, teeth flashing red in the firelight. ‘A good time to be alive.’

‘What is next?’ Kastell asked, pausing the rhythm of his whetstone.

‘Next?’

‘After the Hunen.’

‘Let’s see if we live through the morrow, first,’ Vandil shrugged. ‘Have this conversation then, eh?’

‘What about Drassil?’ Suddenly all eyes were on Kastell.

‘It probably doesn’t exist. Men have tried to find it, searched for the treasure rumoured to be there. None ever came back. Shouldn’t be filling your head with thoughts of that fool’s gold,’ Vandil warned. ‘’Specially when you’ll need all your wits to keep your head from parting with your shoulders on the morrow.’ He stood, took another draught of the wine and handed it to Orgull. ‘Sharp swords ’n’ clear heads, lads.’

‘Aye,’ the men around the fire assented as Vandil walked away, disappearing quickly into the gloom.

Soon after, Veradis found his way to their circle.

‘Come, sit,’ Maquin said. ‘Share some wine with us.’

‘No, I cannot,’ said Veradis. ‘I would speak with you both, though.’

Kastell sheathed his sword and pocketed the whetstone he’d been using to sharpen it. Veradis turned and led them into the darkness. They followed into the shadows, where Veradis’ features were silver-edged with moon-glow.

‘Are you well?’ Maquin asked.

‘Me? Aye,’ Veradis muttered, not meeting their gaze. He seemed uneasy, then finally looked at them. ‘We are friends, you and I, are we not?’

‘Aye,’ Maquin said slowly. Kastell just nodded.

‘That is rare,’ Veradis murmured, almost to himself. ‘Something of value.’

‘What is troubling you?’ Maquin said, softly but firmly.

‘Your oath, first — that my words stay between us.’

‘Aye,’ they both said, Maquin frowning.

‘Be careful who, or what, you trust, over the coming days,’ Veradis said. ‘Be on your guard, and not just from giants,’ he added, almost a whisper.

‘What do you mean?’ Kastell asked.

Veradis looked at them both. ‘Romar — he is making an enemy of Nathair. You would be wise to find a new lord.’

‘Romar is my kin,’ Kastell said. ‘He took me in. Is there more that you are not saying, Veradis?’

‘Just watch your backs,’ Veradis said. ‘That is all I can say, more than I should have,’ then he turned and slipped into the night, before Kastell or Maquin managed to speak.

‘What do you make of that?’ Kastell said.

‘I don’t know,’ Maquin murmured, ‘but it sounds like trouble to me.’

CYWEN

Grass tickled Cywen’s neck as she lay near the cliff’s edge, looking down into the bay, watching the newly arrived ship. She was supposed to be helping Gar in the stables and knew she would get a tongue-lashing for her absence, but she didn’t care.

Ever since the Darkwood, since she had held Ronan as he died, nothing felt important. The only thought that sparked a reaction was that of using her knives on Rhin’s champion. She hated him, spent her time dreaming of revenge, then wept bitter, frustrated tears as the unlikelihood of that revenge consumed her.

Warriors were now disembarking from the ship, still flying its eagle banner. She was suddenly restless to be gone, running back to the fortress to join the growing crowd of those eager to greet the newcomers.

Then Storm was padding towards her, followed by Corban, with Dath and Farrell only just managing to keep up.

‘Cywen, Cywen, you won’t believe what’s happened to me,’ he said as he reached her, his words almost falling over themselves.

‘What?’ He seemed very excited about something, so she tried to appear interested.

‘I am to take my warrior trial on the morrow — sit my Long Night.’