by Stuart Daly
‘He’s rented a warehouse down by the docks,’ Lachlan replied.
Kilt’s eyes widened. ‘A warehouse! Are you serious?’
Lachlan nodded dourly. ‘Sadly, yes.’
‘Well, I’m not too sure if his latest acquisition will fit inside there,’ Saxon commented. ‘He’s now the proud owner of a Roon warship.’
Caspan almost choked on his drink. ‘What?’
‘Remember the Roon boat that managed to make it to the beach during the Battle of the High Coast? Well, he sent a messenger raven last week, asking if he could have it.’
Lachlan cocked an eyebrow. ‘And you said yes?’
Saxon shrugged. ‘I could hardly begrudge him. If it wasn’t for the Brotherhood, the High Coast might have fallen.’
‘With Roland aboard a warship, the High Coast might still fall,’ Lachlan warned. ‘I hate to think of what trouble he’ll get up to, sailing around the west coast in a Roon galley.’
Kilt scratched her head in wonder. ‘What’s he planning to do with all this stuff? Open a museum?’
Caspan chuckled. ‘Beats me. The way he’s going, he’ll be able to equip a small army.’
‘Have you heard about what happened to him last night?’ Kilt asked the boys.
Lachlan moaned. ‘I’m not sure I want to.’
‘As you know, Roy Stewart and his contingent of highland lairds arrived here yesterday,’ Kilt explained. ‘Well, the laird of the Strathboogie Clan has made Roland an honorary member of his clan.’
Caspan shook his head and grinned. ‘We’ll never hear the end of his bagpipe playing now.’
‘I think we’ve got bigger problems than that to deal with,’ Lachlan said. ‘Check this out.’
Everybody looked at a cleared space in the middle of the hall, where a group of highlanders had assembled in a line. A pair of Caledonish basket-hilted broadswords lay at their feet, their crossed blades forming an X. At first Caspan wasn’t sure what had alarmed Lachlan – until he saw Roland standing in the middle of the line, wearing a Strathboogie kilt and shawl, his hands planted on his hips.
Caspan shook his head. ‘Don’t tell me he’s going to –’
A highlander standing off to the side drowned his sentence with a burst of bagpipe music. Guests stood up and gathered around the group, curious expressions on their faces. When there was a large enough audience, the musician stopped, glanced at his fellow highlanders and nodded. Then he played a tune that Caspan recognised instantly – Caledon the Brave. To a roar of applause, Roland and the Caledonish warriors danced a highland jig around the broadswords.
‘Where did he learn to do that?’ Kilt yelled over the music and clapping.
Caspan smirked from ear to ear, marvelling at how Roland’s feet darted nimbly between the blades. ‘I don’t know. Although nothing surprises me much more about him. Mind you, I think he’s improvising a bit.’
As if on cue, Roland skipped into the middle of the hall, pirouetted and leapt onto a table. He quickly arranged a knife and fork into an X and attempted to jig around them. It failed miserably, with the fork stabbing him in the heel and the knife knocking over a tankard. Still, it didn’t stop Roland, who dived off the table into the arms of his fellow performers. No sooner had they placed him back on his feet then he planted his hands on his hips again and skipped, kicked and capered his way around the broadswords.
There was a chorus of cheering at the conclusion of the dance. Then the highlanders hoisted Roland onto their shoulders and did a lap of honour around the hall.
‘Och, ye wee Jimmies!’ Roland called as he was carried past his friends, waving his blue Strathboogie bonnet with pride.
‘Personally, I blame Shanty,’ Kilt commented, watching as Roland was escorted around the royal table, much to the amusement of King Rhys and Duke Bran. ‘It was his idea to dress as highlanders to infiltrate Tor O’Shawn. I always said it was a bad idea. And now look at the monster he’s created.’
Caspan smiled warmly as he regarded the Stewart Laird, who sat in a special seat beside King Rhys and his wife. Roy had remained true to his word and withdrawn his soldiers from Darrowmere. Duke Bran had likewise honoured his part of the agreement the men had made at the stone circle. A new duchy, Glengyle, had been created in the north-west of Lochinbar. It was a land of rich, rolling pastures and forests plentiful with game. Highlanders were already settling in the area. For the first time in several hundred years, Caledon and Lochinbar were at peace. Caspan couldn’t also help but notice the strong bond of friendship that had been formed between Roy and Duke Bran, who sat to his right. They joked and laughed like old comrades.
Caspan also noticed how well Prince Dale and Skye were getting on. They sat beside one another at the royal table, smiling happily as they chatted. Caspan felt immense pride in having played an important role in solidifying the union between Andalon and Caledon. If he hadn’t escorted Skye to Sharn O’Kare Glen and remained for the subsequent meeting with Roy Stewart, Lochinbar and Caledon might still be at war.
Caspan had also learnt that Lady Brook, General Brett’s co-conspirator in forming an alliance with the Roon, had been caught at one of the southern city ports, trying to buy passage aboard a merchant ship bound for Salahara. She was now locked in a dungeon, facing charges of treason. Brett, however, was still on the loose, and Caspan was certain they hadn’t seen the last of him. But looking at Dale and Skye, both of whom would chart the future course of their countries, Caspan had every confidence that the alliance between Caledon and Lochinbar would only get stronger. The Prince’s desire for peace was no longer a distant dream but a reality and firmly within his grasp.
And Caspan was determined to play an integral role in maintaining the peace. Only yesterday he and his fellow former Brotherhood initiates had met with King Rhys to discuss their appointments as barons. This was a reward for their services to the King during their mission to Tor O’Shawn. The appointments would take place next week during an official ceremony, but the King wanted to know if the treasure hunters had a preference for a particular territory. Many lords had died during the recent war, and Rhys was eager to appoint new nobles to the estates. After his shock that he would soon have a title and a manor house, Caspan thought long and hard about which territory he’d like to control. Of course, advisors and managerial staff would be provided to assist the new young lords, who knew little, if nothing, about managing an estate. They would also remain members of the Brotherhood and spend most of their time at the House of Whispers.
Sara chose a territory close to Briston so she could see her family more regularly. Roland likewise selected an estate close to the village he grew up in, south of the High Coast. Lachlan was adamant he wanted a manor house somewhere in the north of Dannenland, up near The Scar, where he could protect the border should the Roon ever try to return. Caspan wasn’t surprised when Kilt selected an estate near Castle Crag, no doubt to keep in close contact with Saxon.
Caspan thought back to the first time he had seen the Caledonish highlands. It had been during the mission to Tor O’Shawn, when the treasure hunters had rested at Mance O’Shea’s Break. Peering through a hole in the wall, Caspan had gazed in awe upon the snow-capped mountains and heather-flecked hillsides. Never before had he seen such rugged beauty, and it left an indelible impression on him. After much deliberation he decided to have an estate in Glengyle, the newly formed duchy in the north-west of Lochinbar. According to Duke Bran there was an old castle there that would suit Caspan nicely. It overlooked a loch and had strong walls that could be easily defended. It needed a little work, but to Caspan it sounded just perfect.
He would help the Caledonish settlers in Glengyle make a new home for themselves. He’d learnt a little about diplomacy during his adventures with the Brotherhood, and he believed his calm demeanour and patience would be valuable in resolving disputes. He also shared a close bond with both Duke Bran and Prince Dale, and he had earned the respect and trust of Roy Stewart and Skye. Caspan believed he’d b
e able to mediate between them should their alliance become strained.
‘You look like you’ve got something on your mind,’ a familiar voice said, drawing Caspan from his thoughts. He was surprised to find that Oswald and Sara were standing beside him; Lachlan, Kilt and Saxon had returned to the table.
‘I’m thinking about everything that’s happened since I joined the Brotherhood,’ Caspan replied to the elderly treasure hunter. ‘It leaves me a little numb at times.’
Sara smiled and pointed towards the far end of the hall, where Frostbite sat with his fellow magical guardians, who were neck-deep in a barrel of food. ‘I’ve never seen a Warden eat so much,’ she remarked.
Many of the guests were wary of the Wardens and kept well clear of them, but King Rhys had insisted that they be allowed to attend the celebratory feast. They had played just as important a role in defending the kingdom as had the treasure hunters, and he insisted that a section of the hall be reserved for the guardians. Blankets had been laid across the flagstones, and barrels of savoury meat and grain had been prepared for their sitting.
Caspan felt guilty every time he looked at Frostbite. If he’d taken better care of his soul key he would have been able to dismiss the drake to the astral plane to heal. He’d remained on the battlefield at Chester Hill until night fell, searching through the trampled earth and broken weapons that littered the valley floor. His friends had helped him, but they couldn’t find Frostbite’s soul key.
Fortunately, Arthur wasn’t only skilled in healing humans, and quickly tended to Frostbite’s wounds upon their return to Briston. The drake’s injured leg was set in a splint, his left wing was supported by a massive bandage, and his missing scales had been patched with pieces of thick, hardened leather. Arthur insisted that, with rest, Frostbite would soon be fully healed and soaring through the sky once more. Still, it was bittersweet for Caspan. Frostbite would recover from his wounds, but with his soul key lost the drake would never be able to return to his astral home. He was forever trapped in Caspan’s world. Caspan was grateful for Frostbite’s company, but he felt immense sorrow that Frostbite was now mortal.
Meanwhile, Bandit had made a full recovery. The friends had waited with bated breath yesterday evening as Roland summoned his manticore for the first time since the fight against the rocs. Caspan had feared that Bandit might have succumbed to the injuries he’d sustained during the ferocious encounter and be lost forever. Words could not express the joy he felt when the manticore had materialised out of the blue smoke. The Warden had stretched out his wings slowly and, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, tripped Roland over. Tears of joy streaming down his face, Roland climbed to his feet and embraced his Warden in a great hug that lasted for minutes.
Caspan had feared that the war would tear his friends apart, but they were all now back together, ready to return to the House of Whispers. Their lives would never be the same again, with new titles and responsibilities, but they were still proud members of the Brotherhood. There was a world for them to explore, of Dray tombs and burial mounds to investigate, but the House of Whispers held a special place in Caspan’s heart. It would always be his home.
His heart swelling with pride, he glanced at his friends; at the small gathering he now called family. Gramidge was wearing an old coat he’d found in the small chamber that had once served as his private quarters when he had worked in the castle. The steward extracted a piece of parchment from his pocket and studied it curiously. He leapt suddenly to his feet, startling those seated around him.
‘I can’t believe it!’ he yelled, waving the parchment above his head for all to see. ‘I found it! I found it!’
‘You found what?’ Roland asked.
‘The lost recipe for Lip Smacker!’ Gramidge hollered. He sought out Caspan and beckoned him over. ‘We’ll start production tomorrow, Cas. What do you reckon?’
The members of the Brotherhood cheered and banged their tankards on the table.
Smiling broadly, Caspan put his arms around Oswald and Sara, then went over to join his other friends.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
As always, a special thank you to the wonderful team at Random House Australia, particularly Zoe Walton and Cristina Briones, and to my amazing family and friends – you all know who you are.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Stuart Daly is a History teacher in a private high school in Sydney. He is the author of The Witch Hunter Chronicles series, an epic tale of witch hunting and demon slaying set in the seventeenth century. Brotherhood of Thieves is his action-packed fantasy series about a secret order of treasure hunters. Stuart lives in Sydney with his wife and three children.
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(Also available in ebook format)
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Version 1.0
Brotherhood of Thieves 3
9780857985392
Copyright © Stuart Daly 2015
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
A Random House Australia book
Published by Random House Australia Pty Ltd
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Random House Books is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com
First published by Random House Australia in 2015
National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication Entry
Author: Daly, Stuart
Title: The final battle [electronic resource]
ISBN: 978 0 85798 539 2 (ebook)
Series: Brotherhood of thieves; 3
Target Audience: For secondary school age
Subjects: Fantasy – Juvenile fiction
Magic – Juvenile fiction
Thieves – Juvenile fiction
Dewey Number: A823.4
Cover illustration by Jeremy Reston
Cover design and typography by www.blacksheep-uk.com
Map by Stuart Daly and Anna Warren
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