The royal pyre took an entire settan to complete and it was not a moment too soon. Janir’s body and those of the titans had been stored in the coldest part of the palace cellars, but even so they were beginning to show signs of putrefaction. Olanna and a group of healers used their considerable skills to dress the corpses and cover the signs of decay. Jae’nt ordered the commital for noon of that same day.
The Medravians raised no objections despite the fact that it was their Holy Day—an unsurprising occurrence considering they had an occupying army of thousands patrolling in and around their city. But even had the army vacated the city I doubted that its citizens would have objected. Most of the population seemed to regard the arrival of the Zetan-Morlan-Kendirith coalition as a positive event. Perhaps had they been privy to the original intent of our march north they would have adopted a less charitable attitude. As it was they seemed content both with the funeral and with the fact that the new king of Zetaria had helped them to set up an interim government with local nobles acting as a governing council while their ambassadors sought out a legitimate heir.
The slaughter of King Varrin, his family and heirs had left a vacuum of power which would tear the city and the country apart if it was left unchecked or ignored. Jae’nt considered that Mederlana had suffered enough under the invasion and he was loath to leave the country in chaos when we withdrew and returned to Zetaria.
Jae’nt was gracious with his eulogy for he not only spoke of his father as a great loss to the nation, he also included those men and women who had followed the king into the battle and given their lives to stop the evil that was the Black Legion. The youths who were the pages and squires who had died beside their cavaliers and warriors would all be remembered with the fallen each cycle from this day forward. The day would be called The Evil Day and Zetaria would honour the sacrifice of the soldiers Zetan, Morlan and Kendirith by observing a fast from sunrise to sunset. The priests would offer prayers in every temple and shrine in the Pentageonate during the same period. No markets or stores would open and neither would the taverns.
“And so, as our king leaves us and rides into the arms of the Great God Zoar, he takes with him an army of faithful, honourable and courageous souls. Rest well, my king!” Jae’nt said and threw his torch into the base of the pyre. We all followed suit each in order of rank we all stood in silence watching as the flames took hold and carried the king to his final rest. Jae’nt leaned heavily on the hand rail of the dais. “Rest well—babar.”
“He has more than earned his rest, Your Majesty,” I said as mourners began to leave the pyre site.
Jae’nt gave me a sad smile. “Yes. I suppose he has.”
Jae’nt remained in mourning for a settan; a long enough time, he reckoned, to fulfil the exigencies of propriety and a short enough period for the more practical considerations of getting things organised for the long march home.
Aarin and the Kendirith departed five days after Janir’s funeral, the new Dthamrid taking with him one of Janir’s long bones—an arm bone I think—with the promise that it would occupy a place of great honour in the vaults of his ancestors and that the king would be honoured each cycle by the Kendirith nation.
I will never be completely certain if Jae’nt let the relic go easily, but once the precedent had been set various soldiers and generals from both Morlan and Zetan forces petitioned the new king for permission to gather splinters of bone either as mementos or amulets. With Royal Assent given, the king’s remains were visited almost constantly until only the large bones remained. And when no more relic seekers came Jae’nt order the pyre to be cleared and the remaining bones to be gathered and ground by the Body-breakers.
That night as Dthor and I settled for our evening meal Jae’nt arrived unannounced and unescorted. “I have something for both of you,” he said and handed us each a sealed gold locket.
Inside, he told us was a lock of his hair and some of Janir’s bone dust. He had had one made for each of the Kyr-Garrin Elite so that, no matter what, we would always be together. “And so that you are aware, Meriq,” I have given the order to withdraw as has Markos.”
The kings had decided that with the Kendirith on their way back to the south, and with the Medran nobility now firmly in control of the city as the ruling council it was time to return home. Half of the infantry had already been ordered to march on the morrow and a quarter of the archery brigades and cavalry would go with them as support. The men also had orders to exterminate any Black Legionnaires or Legion Slavers they encountered. No quarter was to be given. The slavers were to be searched for evidence that they might have been involved with the deaths of the titans. It seemed that Jae’nt was determined that my pledge to Tariq would be honoured to the fullest extent of his ability.
I had already instructed Orrin and Markos ordered a ten-man squad of kayetim to go with him on the hunt saying they were to return to Tariq alone and only when they had retrieved what had been taken. The order seemed harsh, but the men simply bowed. Orrin gave me his usual cocksure smile and said “Consider it done.”
Dthor and I watched the group ride out of palace courtyard from the throne room balcony; there was something of an air of finality about the scene. Soldiers milled around stacking packs or loading supply carts in preparation for transferring the foodstuffs to the quartermaster’s wagons in the lower city.
“Your pardon Ez’n—Lord Consort.”
We both turned at the sound of Jalin’s voice. The page stood before us holding out a sealed letter. “The king asked me to give you this and said I should wait for your reply.”
I cracked the seal. “It is an invitation to dinner,” I told Dthor, “Has Jae’nt been moonstruck? He could have just sent you to ask us.”
Jalin shrugged. “He just wanted to give you pause for thought,” the youth said and shook his head slowly. “His humour is a little hard to fathom, but I am sure I will become accustomed to it in time.”
“Good luck with that, Jalin,” Dthor mumbled.
I folded the letter and handed it back to the page. “Tell the king we are pleased to accept.” I turned to Dthor, “We should away and prepare, there is not much time.”
†
CHAPTER 45
THE DARKEST HOURS
Tenbris Sectari
THE KING was in high spirits when we arrived. To my surprise he was seated with Tariq and Khannis, the elite Morlan warrior who had taken on one of the Aergin’s acolytes as his squire. It transpired that he had invited Khannis to return to Kalina with the Zetan forces and remain there to train the men in the Morlan style of unarmed combat and two-handed sword fighting. Khannis had accepted the invitation and would be leaving with us in three days’ time. Markos had given the man his permission somewhat reluctantly, so Khannis informed us, since he did not really want to lose him.
“I confess I would not want to lose a man of your calibre from my troops,” I told him.
“You honour me, my lord.” Khannis dipped his head.
Aenar and Kylos arrived with Faedron and Maegor and Markos arrived a short while later with a very attractive Medran woman on his arm. “This is Ineria,” he said, “Daughter of Governor Tristain. She has very kindly offered to be my escort for tonight so that I would not be one alone.”
Jae’nt nodded a greeting. “You are a most welcome and, may I say, a most attractive addition to the company.” The king leaned slightly to peer around Aenar. “You are minus your little demon I see.”
“Not quite, highness, he and Polo are “helping” Jalin.”
“Ah!” said the king grimacing slightly, “Should I be concerned?”
“Very,” Kylos said laughing.
Jae’nt shrugged. “Ah well! This is our last meal of the campaign. I want it to be something we will remember.”
The king’s words were prophetic. The meal was one none of those present would ever forget. Certainly I would not for it was on that very night at that meal that I lost the one thing I held most precious.
We were halfway through the desert when Jae’nt suddenly went very quiet. He stood up slowly, his hand moving to his sword.
“What is it, sire?” Aenar said rising and turning to where Jae’nt was looking.
“I am not sure—Jalin is . . . he just . . .”
But he got no further for the door crashed open and Zarin burst through it dragging Jalin with him one hand firmly on the boy’s throat and the other clutching a javelin. He stared straight at Markos. “You!” Zarin hissed, “Korlaq told me what you did, blasphemer. And you, Ez’n, I know your part in this. And do not think you can kill me with your magic before I can break this boy’s neck. He tightened his grip making Jalin choke.
“What do you want, Zarin?” Markos demanded angrily, “Can you not see the madness of your actions? You must know that the moment you fell any one of us with that short spear the rest will cut you to pieces.”
“What do I want? I want justice for my sons.” Zarin tightened his grip more making Jalin’s eyes roll in his head as he teetered on the brink of unconsciousness. “You cost me what was most precious to me, Ez’n, and left me with a depraved monster. Now I will take what is most precious to you and leave you nothing.”
So saying he let fly and then everything seemed to happen at once. The javelin was no sooner out of the man’s hand than Kylos launched one of the carving knives taking the man in the heart.
I had scarcely time to blink when there was the moist crunching sound of metal ripping flesh and bone and a sudden sharp blow in the centre of my chest knocked me back into my seat. The sound of Ineria’s scream brought my eyes open and I found myself looking down at the javelin I thought was protruding from my chest. But it was not.
“Meriq! What have you done?” My throat swelled shut and cut off my voice. He smiled up at me and gave a short, surprised laugh.
“I-I am not sure, ‘b’zaddi,” he said looking down at the blade protruding through his chest. “Odd,” he said frowning slightly as if puzzled, “It does not hurt. I am sure something like this should hurt. Shouldn’t it?”
Aenar shouted for Daryth. The boy came running skidding to a halt when he saw the carnage. “Quickly, Daryth, Meriq needs your help.”
“Please, Daryth, as fast as you can.”
The boy looked at me his face lined with pain and fear. “I-I cannot, Lord Consort. I have been studying the bodies of those who fell in battle, but I do not yet know enough about how the body is made.”
“Well that is—inconvenient.” Meriq said, coughing a small jet of blood.
I clutched Meriq to my chest heedless of the razor tipped javelin as it sliced across my ribs. “Please, Daryth—something—anything.” I knew I sounded pathetic, a grown man pleading with a child, but I did not care.
“I can close the wounds but I cannot mend damage I cannot see in my mind.” He turned to Aenar. “Lord Soldier, you must draw the weapon out slowly to give me time to work.” The boy gave me a look that was disturbing in its seriousness. He suddenly looked so much older than his ten cycles. “You realise, Lord Consort, that pulling the blade alone may end him?
Jalin stumbled over rubbing the scratches Zarin and made on his throat. He took Meriq’s hand in his. “Let me take the pain, my lord.”
As Aenar began to pull the spear back Meriq let out a short gasp, tensed and then lay still in my arms. Jalin went the colour of tallow and began to tremble. Daryth shut his eyes, the deep frown creasing his brow bearing testimony to his level of concentration and effort. When the javelin finally came free from his back the only blood visible was that on his clothes and mine.
“Meriq? Are you with me still?”
He smiled weakly and opened his eyes. “Of course I am, ‘b’zaddi,” he whispered with carefully calculated mischief. “Wizard’s do not die easily.”
I glanced at Daryth. He pushed himself away from Aenar as swayed uncertainly to his feet. “I have given him time, Lord Consort, but only a few days.”
Meriq struggled to his feet wobbling slightly as he did so. “Well, everything seems to be working.”
I looked again at Daryth. “It will not last, Lord Consort, I am so sorry.”
Meriq turned to the king. “Well, majesty, since I am going to die soon, will you pardon me if I do not finish desert there are things I must do—preparations to be made and I would like to spend my last hours with Dthor.”
Meriq spend his last few days working. I had no idea what he was doing, and he would not tell me. He stayed cloistered with Olanna the healer, Kort the chief armourer and a couple of the glass spinners. After two days he emerged from his study looking pale and tired. He trudged over to me.
“I am sorry, my love, but the work had to be done,” he said, “but now, let us take pleasure in the time that is left to us.”
We rode out of the city to a small copse by a river and sprawled out on blankets soaking up the sun and listening to the soft chuckle of the water, Meriq rolled into my side, throwing his arm over my chest. I slid my arm around his shoulder a pulled him close so that his head rested on my shoulder. He looked up at me, his deep violet eyes so full of love and pain that my breath caught in my throat. Before I had even considered I was on him, my lips pressed to his. He pushed against me, his hands sliding softly under my tunic and into my breech cloth.
We made love slowly and earnestly each taking the other in turn as was our way until finally we spent ourselves. We dozed for a while before wading into the slow shallow river to bathe. We rode back to the city just as the sun was sinking towards the western horizon.
We made love again that night and slept locked in a tight embrace, neither of us willing to release the other. When I awoke Meriq had slipped from my hold and was standing by the window staring out over the palace gardens. “Is it Fate or Chance, I wonder. I cannot quite decide” he said turning to face me.
I noticed there was blood seeping on to his nightshirt. “Is what Fate or Chance?” I asked.
“That I was born here in Mederlana and now I am to die here.”
“Please don’t speak of that, Meriq. We still have some time left.”
He smiled at me putting his hand to his bloody chest and then examined the stain on his hand. “Our time is run, ‘b’zaddi, it is time you called our dearest friends, I would like to say my goodbyes.”
When Faedron and Maegor arrived Meriq was sitting by the window of our bed chamber in his dress robes. His hair was perfectly combed and pinned, the Ez’n’s circlet glowed softly in the early morning sunlight. I could not help but notice that Faedron was leaning heavily on Maegor as if he could scarcely walk the short distance across the room.
The couple sat in silence for a short while before Maegor spoke. “I have made the arrangements for Vyrnath, Lord Ez’n. He will be buried by the copse you marked on the map.”
“Wait,” I said, Will we not be sending him to run free across the plains?”
“No, Lord Consort,” Maegor answered. “Ibid-djinn die with their riders, just as kal-tzarrak die with their masters.” The sergeant turned back to Meriq. “And similar arrangements have been made for Zorn. You remember Clarix was lost when we took the city”
Meriq grinned at him. “There is a hole in my chest, Maegor, not my brain!”
Faedron jumped to his feet, his fragile composure completely shattered by the humour. “I cannot do this! I cannot sit here and discuss your death as if we are agreeing the menu for tonight’s meal.” Tears began to stream down the young corporal’s cheeks. “I cannot bear for you to die, not like this. You and Dthor should die together as old men, living in an apothecary somewhere surrounded by cats or something.”
“I could do without the cats,” Meriq told him smiling, “but I decided my path when I thought with my heart and not my head, Faedron.” He turned his eyes then to me. “Love is often very stupid, but I do not regret that stupidity for a single heartbeat and neither should you.”
When Aenar and Kylos arrived, Faedron and Maegor took their leave. Faedron rushed up
and hugged me so tightly he almost winded me. “Dthor, I never told you this, but I do not think that Meriq could have bonded with anyone better. I have never seen him as happy and content as when he has you by his side. My heart is breaking at the thought of his leaving, I cannot even begin to imagine how it must be for you.”
I could not answer him. I was numb at the thought that the first and only man I had ever loved was about to die, and was going to die because he had sacrificed himself to save me. I managed a small smile and brushed away the corporal’s tears. “None of that,” I said gently, “you know how he hates a fuss.”
By the time Jae’nt, Tariq and Markos arrived and Aenar and Kylos were gone, Meriq called me to his side. “My love,” he said gently, “Kort and Olanna will be arriving shortly. When they get here I want you to leave with Jae’nt and Markos and wait outside.”
“No!” I will not leave you, not now. Not when . . .”
“Please, ‘b’zaddi, do as I wish. When they leave return to me. I will not leave without you beside me.”
The healer and armourer remained for the best part of a secta and by the time they emerged from the bedroom I was on the verge of breaking free from the kings and bursting into the chamber.
Meriq was lying on our bed looking very pale and drawn. His breath was shallow. He opened his eyes when he heard me approach his eyes lit up and he smiled the same beautiful smile that had first made my heart pound against my ribs. For a short while he looked exactly like the man I had seen in the barracks two cycles ago. I knew immediately it was a glamour that he had worked for me, but I did not care. A slight rustling behind me took my attention for a moment and when I looked around it was to find that our friends had returned.
Meriq shifted slightly and took my hand. “Ah,” he said, “and here we all are!” His face lit and changed again, “I did not want you to be alone, and when I am gone I want you to promise that you will all eat too much, get disgustingly drunk and disgrace yourselves in the most scandalous manner you can manage.”
A Rising Darkness Page 67