Adrian Tchaikovsky - Heirs of the Blade

Enough to kill us, she had to concede, but the odds she faced were simply extremely bad, not actually overwhelming.

That thought made her laugh, startling her fellows, but then her reputation amongst them was for bloody-handed madness, so this did not seem out of character.

Tynisa stood watch, peering into the gathering darkness and waiting for Salme Elass’s next assault. Occasionally she thought she heard wings overhead, but no onslaught came from the trees.

How many of them have we killed, in all? she wondered. With her blade to aid them, and with the great doomed assault Varmen had made on the enemy camp, the brigands had certainly given far better than they had received. This was helped by Salme Elass’s lust for vengeance, which had made her throw her people pell-mell at them, in whatever numbers could be mustered, rather than conserving her strength. Still, that vengeance would mean the end of the bandits, however long it took. She would keep spending the lives of her own people until nobody was left, and most of all until Tynisa herself was dead.

If I walked out there now and gave myself up… She glanced back at her companions: Che she would die for certainly, Thalric, probably not, and she barely knew Maure. Of the others, they were desperate, violent men, and scarcely worth a grand sacrifice.

She found, though, that she liked and respected them, their leader most of all. She had seen him shepherding his people all the way from Leose to this forsaken place, and decided he was a man to admire. If the Commonweal could have recognized such qualities in a man of common blood he would no doubt have become a war hero, an officer, a tactician. But all that life had granted him was to be a leader of criminals.

Che appeared at her elbow. ‘I’ll take over now.’

‘You get your sleep,’ Tynisa urged her.

Unlike the meek girl she remembered, Che managed a smile with about a hundred years of pain and wisdom in it. ‘And you’re so fresh, after a day running and fighting? We’ll need you tomorrow, so go get something to eat with the others, then sleep. And be thankful the nights are still long.’ When Tynisa opened her mouth to protest, Che added, ‘And I can see in the dark, like a Moth.’

Her tone was almost commanding, imperious, and Tynisa found that her natural reaction was to nod and obey. But you and I will talk, about what has happened to you.

The bandits had stoked up the embers of a fire, and the walls around them helped a little to confine the heat. They all looked ragged and drained, but they were passing around jerky and grain cakes, and someone had a little pot reluctantly coming to the boil. To her amusement they were making kadith, Soul Je producing a roll of sad little dry bundles to steep in the water.

‘How the other half lives, is it?’ she asked, elbowing herself some room and sitting down.

‘Kadith is an ancient and inviolable ritual,’ Soul Je replied softly, almost reproachfully.

‘And besides, what are we saving it for?’ added Dal Arche. The brigands produced a motley collection of drinking vessels, from clay bowls to tin cups that still bore the stamp of the Imperial army.

Thalric was carefully bandaging Mordrec’s shoulder with torn cloth. The Wasp’s armour, metal plates sewn into cloth, had taken some of the force, but the arrow had still driven in some way.

‘Well,’ he said, after the kadith had been shared out, just a half-cup for each, ‘this will be it then?’

There was sober nodding about the fire.

‘We’ve given them a run, though,’ one of the Dragonflies remarked.

‘We were close, too,’ added the other. ‘They won’t forget us.’

‘Small comfort,’ Thalric muttered.

‘Oh?’ Maure challenged him. ‘And when the next leader comes along to rouse up the underclass, is it no consolation at all that the work of those gathered here will inspire them?’

Thalric gave her a bleak look. ‘Rouse up the underclass? And how did that ever solve anything?’

‘Ask Collegium that question,’ Che called back from the doorway where she sat watching, wrapped up in cloaks and her breath steaming. Tynisa saw Thalric about to argue, but then he stopped and, to her surprise, he tacitly conceded the point. A moment later Che squeaked – there was no other word for it – and then got out, ‘Alarm! I mean someone’s coming! Attack!’

They were up and to the windows instantly, peering into the darkness.

‘I don’t see… yes, yes I do,’ Dal started, nocking an arrow. ‘Is there… just one?’

‘Wasp-kinden,’ Che replied. ‘Approaching, walking with hands closed – Gaved? It’s Gaved.’

‘And who’s Gaved?’ the bandit leader demanded.

‘He works for the Salmae,’ Tynisa said, and added hurriedly, ‘so they may have sent him with a message. Especially if he’s on his own. He’s no hero.’

‘We see you,’ Dal Arche yelled. ‘What’s your business?’

‘Just to talk,’ came the Wasp’s voice, from the night.

‘Let him talk from out there,’ suggested one of the brigands, but Tynisa shook her head.

‘Let him come in,’ she decided. ‘I know him.’

They looked to Dal questioningly, but the Dragonfly nodded. ‘Any tricks and he’s a dead man, even if he’s your lover or your brother,’ he warned.

‘Approach, Gaved,’ she said, pitching her voice sufficiently to carry out of the window. He did so cautiously, until the faint light of the fire touched him. For a moment he stood just beyond the doorway, plainly debating the wisdom of entering, but then he ducked under the lintel and stepped inside.

‘Salme Elass sent you?’ Tynisa observed. She, Che and Thalric had stayed to talk with him, while the rest of the brigands returned to their fire, save for Dal Arche, who remained by one of the windows, plainly not convinced that this might not be some kind of distraction.

‘She did and she didn’t,’ said Gaved. He looked tired, having no doubt been kept busy trying to track them down across half of Leose Province. ‘She sent out all her scouts, and there are a dozen of us around this place, making sure nobody slips away.’ He shrugged. ‘But I came to say goodbye.’ He looked from face to face, seeing matching frowns. ‘The game’s changed. I’m lighting out, while I can.’

‘But Salme Elass…’ Che started uncertainly.

‘Will take it badly, I suspect. She took it poorly enough when I didn’t pitch in against Varmen, as though I could somehow conjure up some kind of Imperial magic to counter him. They want me to fight for them. Because I’m a Wasp, they want me to be a soldier.’ His eyes flicked about the ruined tower’s interior. ‘I guessed Varmen didn’t make it, after there was no sign of him yesterday. They don’t know for sure, though. They can’t be certain he’s not going to rise up again. They never found his body.’

‘But what about Sef?’ Che interrupted

‘I sent her to Prince Lowre, he’ll keep her safe enough until I can find her again. I knew, before the start. I knew the deal was going sour.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Tynisa said.

He blinked at her, taken aback. ‘Not your fault, girl. Maybe you stirred the pot, but Salme Elass has had this planned from way back – stir up the brigands, get them marching in strength, put them down, and then swallow up Rhael under cover of keeping her own lands safe. You helped, of course, and certainly the bandits put up a better fight than she’d guessed, but her plan’s still on track right now. Except of course she’s down a son, which might complicate her plans for keeping up the dynasty.’ He sighed wearily. ‘They’re going to come for you soon after dawn,’ Gaved stated flatly. ‘You must know that already. You’ve cut a dent into her numbers, with all your fun and games, but she’s not giving up, not now, not ever.’ He looked over at Dal Arche. ‘You’ve given her a better run than I’d ever have guessed, but it ends here – you must know that.’