by R. S. Ford
‘And I know what you are,’ she replied.
‘What’s that?’ he asked.
‘You are the new warlord. A conqueror. Slayer of tyrants.’
Laigon barked a laugh.
‘You saved them all,’ she said.
‘And yet I don’t feel victorious,’ he replied, his eyes not leaving the ashes. ‘So many of my people dead. So many of my brothers.’
‘Those who remain worship you now. You are a god to them. Would you still have them in thrall to the Iron Tusk?’
‘I am no god,’ said Laigon. ‘I never asked for this.’
‘Some men crave power. Most have no idea what to do with it when they finally hold it in their hands. Now it is yours. Whether you like it or not, Laigon Valdyr, you must use it.’
‘I am a soldier. Not an emperor.’
‘You are a leader of men,’ she said. ‘You have an army that would follow you anywhere. There is no choice but to accept that.’
‘All I wanted was to free my family,’ he said, turning to look at her. ‘Now that is done. I have once again searched the eyes of my wife and child and found only love there.’
Siff could see the relief in his bloodshot eyes. ‘You did that. You were the one who freed them, and an empire along with them.’
‘And what am I supposed to do now?’ he asked.
‘You are a soldier, Laigon. You must fight your next battle.’
Laigon shook his head. ‘There are no more battles left to fight. And I am tired. So tired of it all.’
‘There is one battle left. You have vanquished one tyrant. Now I would ask you to join me in defeating another.’
Laigon shook his head. ‘I’ve done enough. I have seen brother kill brother. All that remains is to go home and rebuild my homeland.’
‘And for how long do you think you’ll be safe? An empress is risen in the Ramadi. She looks to conquer the western nations and once she is done, she will not stop there. Go home now and you will only be building on a foundation of sand. Come with me, Laigon. Bring your army north and we can defeat her before she is too powerful to be stopped.’
Laigon looked down, as though the right answer might be written in the dirt. ‘I never asked for this,’ he whispered.
‘Few of us do,’ Siff replied, knowing full well how he felt. She had asked for none of this, and yet here she was.
Laigon turned to her. All doubt was gone from him now. ‘You will have your army,’ he said.
With that he left her by the dying pyre and walked back towards the waiting Shengen legions.
Siff watched him go. Despite his pledge, all she could feel was sadness. She would take his army north. She would face down Innellan in the thin hope that she could save these people, but it would not be she who would suffer and die should they fail.
But then it was never the gods who suffered. Only those who worshipped them.
* * *
With the mountains and the fortress behind him, all Josten could see was open scrubland in every direction. He’d endured enough sand and heat to last him a lifetime, but here he was again. Not that going home would have been much better. At least no one was trying to hang him from a gibbet here. Not yet anyway.
They were still digging the huge grave. As soon as they’d excavated a big enough hole it would be full of bodies. Those militia lads couldn’t dig fast enough. Josten considered lending a hand, but he’d dug one grave already and that had been enough for him.
He looked down at where he’d laid Ermund Harlaw’s body in the ground, and had no idea why he was standing here. It wasn’t like he was going to say any prayers. Still, here he was with all his bloody regret and guilt and there was Harlaw. Dead as a fucking doornail.
‘You could have given me a chance,’ he said to that grave. ‘If not to kill you myself, then at least to…’
He couldn’t say it. Couldn’t bring himself to tell Harlaw how sorry he was, even now the man was dead.
Josten had betrayed him. Harlaw had given him everything and still Josten had fucked the man’s wife. Maybe Josten had believed he was in love. Looking back he knew it was just an infatuation. A story that had been written a million times before, but still that hadn’t stopped Josten Cade.
He suddenly got that prickly feeling he was being watched. Looking behind him he saw Ctenka standing there, looking all sorrowful. For a moment he felt angry. Who did this little prick think he was? He hadn’t known Harlaw – not the real Harlaw. Not the ruthless bastard Harlaw who would have fired his mother from a trebuchet if he thought it would win him the battle.
‘What are you after?’ Josten asked.
‘Just…’ Ctenka shook his head. ‘Answers, I guess.’
‘Well you won’t find them in a graveyard, son. No point asking dead men questions; most of them don’t have much to say.’
‘I just don’t know what to do. Where to go. Who am I supposed to be?’
‘How the fuck should I know?’ said Josten, not entirely sure what Ctenka was on about.
‘Is this how it feels to be victorious? Is this what it is to be a hero?’
Josten turned to look at Ctenka full in the face. ‘I don’t know much, but I do know that you’re no bloody hero.’
Josten hadn’t meant to be so harsh, but then he never did. Just the way it came out of his mouth, he supposed.
‘But… I matched the Iron Tusk’s blow,’ said Ctenka. ‘Did you not see? I parried that sword. It should have cut me in two but…’
‘I’ve seen a lot of strange shit I can’t explain,’ said Josten. ‘And most of it’s been men riding their luck. Trust me, eventually it runs out. Take my advice, pack up, go home, farm or trade, do whatever. But don’t be a soldier. It’s not for you.’
‘So what are you going to do?’ Ctenka asked. ‘Carry on fighting until someone kills you?’
Josten glanced over Ctenka’s shoulder. He could see Silver approaching from the fort and knew exactly where she was headed.
‘I reckon I’m going to find that out soon enough,’ he replied.
Silver came and placed her hand on Ctenka’s shoulder. The young lad glanced at her, his wrinkled brow suddenly untroubled at a mere touch from the woman.
‘Go in peace, Ctenka Sunatra,’ she said.
Ctenka shook his head. ‘I can’t. I don’t know—’
‘You will,’ she said. ‘You will.’
That seemed enough for the lad, and he nodded his thanks to her before walking back towards the fort.
Then there were two.
‘What did you hope to find here, Josten Cade?’ Silver asked.
He glanced down at that grave. Whatever he wanted, he knew Ermund Harlaw wasn’t going to give it.
‘Maybe some peace and quiet?’
‘The redemption you seek is not here,’ said Silver. ‘Punishing yourself will not bring you what you want.’
‘Punishing myself? Trust me, there’s plenty of people all too willing to do that without me joining them.’
‘You will not find the peace you desire until you forgive yourself, Josten.’
‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ he asked. Her dumb statements were making him uncomfortable. Or maybe they were a little too close to the truth he’d known all along.
‘I cannot promise to give you what you want,’ she said. ‘But if you come with me I can try.’
‘Why? Where are you going?’
‘North,’ she replied. ‘Innellan is raising an army to conquer the world. I need—’
‘I’m in,’ Josten said.
‘So eager? Most likely we will all be slaughtered.’
‘Why didn’t you say that in the first place? When do we go?’
A smile crept up one side of Silver’s face.
Without another word, she left him by the grave as she went to prepare their journey.
Josten looked back down at it for the last time.
He had no idea whether dying for a cause would bring him any kind of redemption, but e
ven if it didn’t he knew one thing…
…eventually he’d get exactly what he deserved.
EPILOGUE
The Cordral Extent, 106 years after the Fall
CTENKA squinted up at the sun. The last time he’d ridden the trade road west it had been hot, but this was just ridiculous. Every crevice was moist, his clothes were sticking to him like tar and his own stink made him want to gag. And he’d not even got started on the disgusting excuse for a horse he was riding yet.
Turning in the saddle, he saw that the children were enduring the journey much better than he was. Castiel was at the front, clutching the reins. Lena was behind him, her arms around his waist. Ctenka had to admire the boy’s horsemanship. When they had first left Dunrun the steed had appeared keen, ready to bolt at the first opportunity. Now under the boy’s ministrations it plodded along, docile as any cow.
When they had been riding for two days, Ctenka saw a cloud of dust in the distance. He gripped his reins the tighter as he stared westward, his nerves getting the better of him.
What was it Josten said? ‘You’re no bloody hero,’ or some such. And he’d been right. Ctenka Sunatra was many things, but hero wasn’t one of them.
And if nothing else, a man had to be honest with himself.
So here he was, riding along with two silent children, away from the Great Eastern Militia. Riding away from his ambitions. He couldn’t bring himself to regret it.
The closer they got to the dust cloud, the more tightly Ctenka gripped his reins. He knew Lena and Castiel could more than look after themselves, but the less they explored what they were capable of, the better for everyone around them. Most of all, Ctenka.
Eventually he could make out details of the approaching riders. They flew the crossed scimitar flag of the Kantor Militia, and he could even pick out the preened figure of Aykan Cem at their head. Suddenly his fears disappeared like dust on the breeze. Even Ctenka had nothing to fear from the likes of that cowardly bastard.
He guided his horse to the side of the road and signalled for the children to do the same. Castiel pulled his reins to the right and his mount duly obeyed, plodding slavishly onto the side of the road. There they sat, waiting for the army to pass by.
When Aykan Cem reached them he reined in his horse, motioning for the column to carry on.
‘What’s this?’ he said. ‘A deserter running from the fight? If I wasn’t in such a hurry I’d have you clapped in irons.’
Ctenka gazed at him, wondering if he should deign to answer. It was probably polite. ‘The fight is over, Marshal,’ he replied. ‘And you’re late.’
Aykan Cem’s expression immediately altered. If Ctenka didn’t know better he’d have thought the man was relieved.
‘I see,’ he said, running a hand thoughtfully through his well-oiled beard. ‘I take it we won?’
‘If we hadn’t I doubt I’d be here to tell you the truth of it, Marshal.’
Aykan nodded. ‘Very well. And where do you think you’re going?’
Ctenka motioned towards the children. ‘I have orders to take these two to safety.’
Aykan looked towards Castiel and Lena. Now his relieved expression turned to one of fear. His horse seemed to sense his unease, and it grew restless beneath him.
‘Well, carry on then.’
With that, he put spurs to his steed and joined the column eastward.
Ctenka sat there, watching the men of the Kantor Militia pass by, before he guided his horse back onto the road and led the way west once more.
He’d made a promise, more of a bargain really, that he would take Lena and Castiel home when they had served their purpose. In recent days Ctenka Sunatra was becoming more and more a man of his word. He had to admit, it felt good.
The sun was falling by the time they reached the little farm on the edge of Ankrav Territory. Darkness had almost crossed the entire field of crops but still Markhan was out there, hoe in hand, carving a furrow into the harsh landscape.
The farmer was too busy with his labours to notice them, and Ctenka led his horse to the little white house at the edge of the fields. He climbed down, his damp clothes now starting to chill him in the cool evening air. When he turned to help Lena and Castiel down from their horse he saw they had already dismounted and were waiting patiently.
Felaina opened the door before he could even knock, and Ctenka was greeted by her big gap-toothed smile just as before.
‘Ctenka, come in,’ she said, hugging him to her ample bosom. ‘And who are these two?’
Ctenka introduced the children, and Felaina knelt beside them, giving them an equally huge hug. Neither of the children seemed to mind, and if Felaina noticed that one was burning hot to the touch and the other freezing, she didn’t mention it.
The woman didn’t even ask what he was doing back here, just eagerly invited them in, sat them at her meagre table and offered a share of their even more meagre meal.
Ctenka was struck by how much he had missed this. Honest hospitality. It made him feel a sudden sting of guilt at the arrogant way he had treated the pair when he last stayed.
As it grew dark outside, Markhan returned to the house. He greeted Ctenka like a long-lost brother, ruffling the hair of both children before taking his seat at the table. To Ctenka’s surprise, he saw both Lena and Castiel were smiling as they tucked into a bowl of lukewarm broth. It was the happiest he’d seen them.
That’s how he knew this was the right thing to do.
‘You’ll be staying the night,’ said Felaina. It wasn’t a question, and Ctenka gladly accepted her offer.
As the few candles in the little house began to flicker down to nubs, Felaina and Markhan bid Ctenka and the children good night. They’d been given ample blankets, and the floor wasn’t the worst place they’d slept in the past few weeks, so Ctenka had that to be grateful for.
He waited in the dark until he heard Markhan’s gentle snoring before he got up.
Lena and Castiel got up with him, following him across the room as he went. Ctenka signalled for them to stop before kneeling down beside them.
‘You can’t come with me,’ he said.
‘Why? Where are you going?’ whispered Lena.
It was a pretty good question. One Ctenka didn’t have the answer to.
‘Look, these are good people. They will take care of you. But you both have to promise me one thing. Can you do that?’
Both children nodded in unison and he took them both by the hand, one red hot, one freezing cold. ‘You mustn’t use your gifts on anyone. Neither of you, unless it’s to protect yourselves or someone you love. Do you promise?’
Both children nodded again.
‘Say it,’ Ctenka said.
They both said, ‘I promise,’ in unison.
‘Good. Then go back to sleep, and when you wake up you need to do whatever Markhan and Felaina tell you to. They’ll do their best by you. Try and be grateful.’
With that, Ctenka stood. He took the little note he’d written the day before from his pocket, and left it on the kitchen table before creeping out of the house. It wished Markhan and Felaina well, and apologised for leaving the children. He doubted they would mind.
Out in the chill night, Ctenka felt a mix of emotions. He was at once guilty for leaving those children behind and relieved to be free of them. Which emotion would rise to destroy the other remained to be seen.
After untying his horse he quietly mounted up and rode it away from the farm. He let the steed lead him on through the dark until the sun started to rise. Looking around in the newborn light, Ctenka found himself at a crossroads and wondered which way he should go.
If the tales were true, an army was coming from the north. A horde of warriors determined to conquer the whole world. Riding south as far and as fast as he could go seemed the only sensible option.
Ctenka had already risked his life for the Cordral and for Queen Suraan, and what did he have to show for it? What was there to gain by going to Kantor othe
r than more suffering? More danger? More… glory?
‘Don’t be an idiot,’ he said to himself.
It was a stupid idea. One that would only see him dead. Ctenka Sunatra had not been raised a fool, he had more sense than to put himself in mortal peril once more.
Didn’t he?
‘You’ve got no bloody sense at all.’
With a pull of the reins, Ctenka set off west.
With luck he’d be in Kantor before sundown.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Richard Ford originally hails from Leeds in the heartland of Yorkshire but now resides in the wild fens of Cambridgeshire. His previous works include the raucous steampunk adventure, Kultus, and the grimdark fantasy trilogy, Steelhaven.
You can find out more about what he’s up to, and download free stuff, here: www.richardsfordauthor.com/.
And follow him on Twitter here: @rich4ord
ALSO AVAILABLE FROM TITAN BOOKS
A DEMON IN SILVER
R.S. Ford
In a world where magic has disappeared, rival nations vie for power in a continent devastated by war.
When a young farm girl, Livia, demonstrates magical powers for the first time in a century there are many across the land that will kill to obtain her power. The Duke of Gothelm’s tallymen, the blood-soaked Qeltine Brotherhood, and cynical mercenary Josten Cade: all are searching for Livia and the power she wields.
But Livia finds that guardians can come from the most unlikely places… and that the old gods are returning to a world they abandoned.
“Mixes the epic and the earthly, delivering gory battles and well-crafted banter.” SFX
“A Demon In Silver is a brilliant book, and happily the first in a trilogy so there is more excitement to come.”
The Book Bag
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THE PAGAN NIGHT
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The Celestial Church has all but eliminated the old pagan ways, ruling the people with an iron hand. Demonic gheists terrorize the land, hunted by the warriors of the Inquisition, yet it’s the battling factions within the Church and age-old hatreds between north and south that tear the land apart.