Tom Lloyd - The ragged man

It gives me a little hope, that the people we once were aren't gone forever, Doranei thought. Let's hope it works the same for the king. I doubt much of the news he's received recently has been good.

They walked through the lines of tents, a thousand faces looking up from their supper and wondering at the cloaked and hooded strangers in their midst. In addition to his long, tattered cloak, Isak wore a faded shawl the witch had given him to shade his eyes from the afternoon sun. It hid his face, but even with his awkward stoop Isak was large, even for a white-eye. Doranei heard whispers of 'Raylin' more than once as they made their way across newly dug ditches and defensive lines of stakes.

Legana provoked as much interest as Isak, but while the white-eye shirked from the whispers, she rose to the occasion. Doranei had wondered how she would manage to keep up, with her inability to face the sun and her ungainly walk, but during the day she'd effectively blindfolded herself, and still matched the brisk pace he set without complaint.

With the sunset, Legana had uncovered her head and eyes and, walking with the aid of her gnarled oak staff, she looked like a figure of legend come to join the battle. The copper seams of her dark hair shone bright, caught by the waning light, and her emerald eyes were never brighter.

'Doranei,' called a voice from the small bridge that crossed a deepset stream and Morghien stepped forward, Veil beside him.

Doranei hurried over to embrace his Brother.

'How goes it?' he asked.

Veil's face darkened. 'Not good. From what we hear, Aroth was destroyed entirely. Lord Styrax put the whole fucking city to the sword, and since then the Menin have done the same to every town they've come upon. They're not interested in prisoners; they're even chasing down refugees fleeing the fighting. He's sent a message, as if he hadn't already made the point: he'll kill everyone who crosses his path unless the king surrenders – or faces him in battle.'

'Best our mages can tell, Styrax has sent one force roving west, laying waste to every town and village they can find,' Morghien added, his face reflecting Veil's anger. 'The other, larger, army is coming this way, looking for a fast run to Narkang. No doubt his scryers have found us by now; it's a matter of weeks before they reach us.'

'I take it you're still not happy about facing them?'

Morghien's voice dropped to an urgent whisper. 'I ain't the only one – turns out bloody Larat himself warned the king not to face him in battle. Suggested he follow Aryn Bwr's tactic, sapping the enemy's strength in his retreat, using ambushes, rearguard actions, the lot.'

'The last king lost that war,' Doranei pointed out, 'and I for one don't intend to follow him all the way to the Dark Place. Besides, his intent's clear enough even without the messenger. If we don't face him somewhere, he'll put the entire kingdom to the sword. It's as much a warning to the Farlan as showing the king the price of retreat.'

He watched as Legana approached, Isak behind her. The white-eye walked with his hand on Mihn's shoulder, as he had for much of the journey. Hulf trotted alongside, warily watching the soldiers.

'You think this is the answer?' Morghien said quietly. 'The mad mystic converted you while I was away?'

'Enough of that,' Doranei warned. 'You start that again and Mihn's going to make good his threats. It ain't for us to decide these things, not even you. We leave that for the king.'

Morghien made a disgusted sound as Legana had reached them. She stopped and looked at Veil for a moment. Her pale skin was almost luminous in the gloaming, and it made the shadowy handprint on her throat even more obvious. Doranei noticed Veil staring at the mark, looking as if the sight of Legana in the twilight was making him feel Azaer's creeping presence.

It's not the first time he's seen her, though, Doranei reflected. I guess some of us are more used to the unnatural. He cleared his throat. 'You're to lead us to the king?'

Veil ducked his head. 'Aye, follow me.'

He led them up the stepped slope towards Moorview Castle. It didn't look much militarily – a smallish tower set against the southern side of a defensive perimeter wall – but inside there was a newer, highly fortified keep. It stood on a bald outcrop surrounded by thick forest, dominating the landscape. It was, in the eyes of the king and his Brotherhood, a fine place for a last stand. There was one proper road running through the forest to the castle, and a few animal paths used by those who could find them, but for the main it was impassable to large bodies of troops. They crossed a defensive ditch around what had been formal gardens until two legions of Kingsguard had camped on it, and laboured up the last hundred yards to the main gate.

With Veil leading, they were admitted without challenge. The high walls concealed ground that was teeming with uniformed officers, their weapons and finery gleaming despite the advancing gloom. Veil headed for the keep, but before they reached it a black-armoured King's Man came out, followed by the king's bodyguard, Coran, and Veil had already moved to Isak's side as he saw the last man stop in the open doorway.

A slight hush descended upon the scene as the officers and soldiers on the wall all turned to watch as King Emin advanced from the shadows of the doorway, a curious, almost pained smile on his face.

'So it is true,' he said softly.

The king was resplendent, although dressed for war – not in all-enclosing plate, but in something more akin to the heavy armour worn by the soldiers of the Kingsguard. His cuirass was green and gold, of such intricacy and artistry only a king would ever consider wearing it to battle. Doranei picked out the angular Elven runes woven into the design: there was magic imbued in the metal.

His greaves were magnificently detailed, with knee-guards of bees in flight; Doranei's sharp eyes noticed their gilded stings protruded slightly from the metal plate.

'It is true,' Mihn said, stepping forward when no one else spoke, 'but it was not done without consequences.'

The king nodded, looking haunted. 'Aye, that I cannot doubt,' he murmured. Abruptly he swept off his feathered hat and bowed low to them, but Doranei realised it was only when he looked at Legana that his welcoming smile reached his eyes.

'That it was done at all is a miracle,' the king continued, 'and one I scarcely know how to begin asking about.'

Mihn held up a hand to stop him. 'Your Majesty, there will be time for questions another day, and I will answer them – yours is, ah, an inquiring mind, and naturally you will wish to know every details.' He looked apologetic as he glanced briefly in Isak's direction. 'However, there are some memories best not unearthed.'

Isak hadn't looked up through the whole exchange, but when Mihn turned in his direction he seemed to sense it and he flinched. Hulf started at the unexpected movement and Isak knelt, running a hand down the dog's back to sooth him. The sight of his abused flesh made more than one man gasp and Isak quickly withdrew his arm.

King Emin gave Mihn a puzzled look, clearly not having expected Isak's self-effacing bodyguard to be so assertive, but he was right; now was not the time. He walked forward and went down on one knee in front of Isak.

Hulf immediately moved forward and placed himself between the two men. Though not yet fully grown, Hulf was no longer a puppy, and he was piling on muscle every day. His growl was threatening enough to make the King's Men on either side edge forward. But the king ignored them and reached slowly forward with one hand for Hulf to take his scent.

Isak remained very still while Hulf sniffed at the king's fingers and quietened.

Emin heard the white-eye's breathing, shallow and uneven, but still Isak would not look up at him.