Roger Taylor - Ibryen

Good, she thought, quickly throwing on her tunic and sticking the knife back in her belt. A little more familiar with the Citadel now and the authority that her uniform carried, she would spend as much of the day as she could learning more about what was happening. Then she would seek them out.

Rested, armed again, and free of the cloying presence of the servants, Jeyan felt more her old self. The disorder that the Gevethen had left in their wake renewed and fed her long hatred. Whatever their reasons, whatever their intentions, they were of no concern to her now. It was sufficient that events were swirling in disorder and that opportunities would arise that might never come again. She must strike the Gevethen at the first chance she had. For a fleeting moment, her elation plummeted into awful fear, then sprang back again.

‘No choice,’ she said to the silent room, and the words echoed over and over through her mind.

No choice.

She preened herself for some time in front of the tall, black-edged mirror. The Lord Counsellor’s uniform must be without flaw; it was both her sword and her shield. Her reflection stared back at her disdainfully.

Checking that her knife was held securely and secretly in her belt, she opened the door. Helsarn was framed in it, his hand raised.

‘My… apologies, Lord Counsellor,’ Helsarn stammered, lowering his hand awkwardly and bowing as he stepped back. ‘I was about to knock. Their Excellencies ask that you attend on them in the Watching Hall.’

Helsarn’s momentary confusion prevented him from noticing Jeyan’s.

Her stomach became leaden. What did they want? Had they been searching for her yesterday?

‘There are no servants to carry such errands, Commander?’ she asked sharply, forcing herself to remain at least outwardly calm.

Helsarn misunderstood the question at first, but provided the answer to one she was reluctant to ask. ‘Your body servants have been called to the mirrors, Lord Counsellor,’ he said hurriedly. ‘And it was not fitting that a lesser person carry such a message.’

Jeyan nodded and motioned him to lead the way. She noticed that he was dressed for travel, and was carrying a helmet under his arm. ‘The mobilization goes well?’ she asked as they walked along.

‘It does, Lord Counsellor. It has gathered pace through the night and new units are arriving by the hour. Such a Levying will enter Nesdiryn history as a truly great military achievement. A force is being gathered that will crush the outlaw Ibryen’s rag-tag followers once and for all, and bring him back to Dirynhald in chains.’ He took the opportunity to associate his own name with this glory. ‘It’s been a great honour for me to play my small part in such a venture.’

‘Indeed,’ Jeyan said coldly. The news added to the darkness growing within her. It wasn’t possible that Ibryen could stand against the forces being marshalled. More and more it was becoming apparent that she was the only one who could put an end to the Gevethen. ‘Ibryen will prove no easy prey,’ she said. ‘What is the condition of the men?’

Helsarn half-turned towards her. The question was unexpected and he started answering without thinking. ‘Those from the city and nearby are fresh. Others…’ He hesitated, realizing that he was on the verge of casting doubts on what was happening. This creature was beginning to unsettle him as much as Hagen had.

‘Yes?’ Jeyan pressed.

Cornered, Helsarn resorted to the truth for inspiration. ‘Others are sore and weary with the hard marching when they arrive, but the very nearness of their Excellencies sweeps all fatigue away.’ He began to walk a little more quickly, his body reflecting his anxiety to be away from this topic. In reality, the men in some of the units could barely stand and were on the verge of mutiny. The news was being kept from the Gevethen as their response was already known: ‘Execute one in ten.’ Helsarn wanted no part of that. Not that he suffered from any problem with his conscience in taking such an action, but what might be expedient in a single, isolated unit was another matter altogether when so many were being held in such close proximity to one another and in so disorganized a manner. He also had sufficient foresight to see that in the difficult mountain-fighting that was to come, opportunities for the discreet removal of unpopular officers would abound. They continued in silence, Jeyan preoccupied with what the Gevethen might want, Helsarn relieved not to have compounded his error.

As on the previous day, the Citadel was alive with activity, though to Jeyan it seemed to be a little more ordered. When they reached the Watching Hall, the Guards opened the doors without command and Helsarn entered as well. It took Jeyan a moment to orient herself amid the scattered lights and the crooked, dully glittering towers that rose, tree-like, into the dusty gloom. She was sure that these had been moved, but it did not seem possible, some of them were so large. Her eyes went first to the high throne platform at the far end, but it was empty. Then they were drawn to the only movement in the place. Turned into a milling crowd by the surrounding mirror-bearers, the Gevethen were standing at the centre of the hall, in what could almost be called a clearing in this strange forest. For a fleeting instant Jeyan felt the urge to turn and flee but her legs were already obeying the command she had given them, and were carrying her resolutely towards the waiting throng. She was aware that it was Helsarn who was now following.

As she drew nearer, the mirror-bearers continued moving. There were more of them than before, Jeyan thought, though it was difficult to tell, they moved so quickly and with such eerie precision. The Gevethen became a circle, then there were just six of them, and Jeyan became aware of converging lines of marchers on either side of her. She was approaching the Gevethen flanked by lines of herself. The marchers glanced at her surreptitiously.

A thought came to her, sudden and vivid. Should she strike now? Should she spring forward instead of kneeling, and drive her knife into the throat of one of them? The answer crashed upon her with such force that she almost stumbled. Yes! This was the moment. Another might never come. Who could say what they wanted her for, or when she might come so close to them alone and armed again? She embraced the resolve. This day in Nesdiryn history was going to be very different from the one that Helsarn imagined, though he would indeed be mentioned in it – if he lived, for she was steeling herself for a frenzy of killing that would not stop until she was exhausted or dead.

She straightened up and ran a hand casually down her tunic as if smoothing it. The actions brought her hand close to her knife. Her heart began to race. Soon it would be over. She wished Assh and Frey were with her. What an end to these creatures they’d make together!

Then something seemed to be wrapping itself about her legs. It was as though she was wading through water or deep soft sand. The resistance increased with each forward movement and within a single pace she was completely halted. She recognized the force that had possessed her on the march from the dungeons. She was powerless against it. Her tight-wound intent twisted and screamed within her at this unseen and unexpected frustration and turned instantly to terror. Did they know about the knife? Had they sensed her intention? She did the only thing she could. She dropped to her knees and bowed her head.

‘Rise, Lord Counsellor,’ the two voices grated out. ‘We are to the battlefield today. The worm eating at the heart of our new order is soon to be torn out.’

It took a moment for the words to register, so prepared for an assault was she, and then it was a strange excitement in them that reached her first.