The Glass Throne (Legends of Ansu Book 4)

by JW Webb

  “Yes, but he’s been shifty and furtive and not wanting to speak with anyone—not even Tarin, who sees him as a mentor.”

  Silon shrugged. “Time will out. Can I suggest council tonight in the throne room?”

  “I can’t avoid it - can I?”

  “Not really.” Silon folded his arms and rose to his feet. “I’ll take my leave, Ariane. Go steady with Tamersane, and I’ll meet you later when you call council.”

  “Yes, fine.” Ariane had the nagging sensation that she had overlooked something. She was tired, that was all. She slid her long boots on and yelled her maids get her a candle and escort to accompany her to the oubliette. Best not delay what had to be done. But when Arianne reached the dungeons it was already too late.

  ***

  Tamersane mooched and fretted whilst Teret’s dark eyes flashed warning signals at any approaching them. His first reaction since arriving in the city had been to get seriously drunk. That he achieved without improving his mood. Rather it darkened him.

  There was a worm swelling inside Tamersane’s chest threatening to devour him. The words “brother” and “traitor” kept surfacing in his mind, and every time they did he would feel the acid bile of the worm’s breath rise with them.

  Teret sat in the cold tavern sipping on wine, which tasted like flowers to her, but at least had the desired soothing effect. Beside her, Tamersane stared into his half empty tankard saying nothing.

  Teret gazed about. It was quiet and still. All the fuss of the queen’s return had settled into the grim realisation that another army was encamped close outside the city. She’d heard people out in the streets shouting that Perani’s entire force was camped nearby. Teret cared little about what she heard. What would be would be. Her prime worries surrounded her lover. At last she could stand no more.

  “Don’t you want to know the truth?”

  “What?”

  “About your brother. I thought you were going to confront him and at least allow him to explain his actions, or deny any wrongdoing. It serves nothing us sitting here with you getting wasted.”

  Tamersane turned and awarded her a long mournful look. “I am trying to forget him at the moment,” he replied. “I’m tired, Teret. I need to get my head around things.”

  “And I say you won’t achieve a damn thing sitting here moping and whining. Come, let’s go visit and get this sorted out. Your countrymen might have drawn the wrong conclusions about your brother.” Teret’s first impression of Wynais and its people hadn’t improved. She viewed them as soft suburban chatterers, which was not entirely fair.

  Tamersane slurped his ale, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and yawned in her ear. “Very well then, if only to have some peace.” He tossed some coin at the innkeep and stumbled out into the cold afternoon light. “Too bright out here,” he grumbled.

  “You know the way?”

  “Of course I know the fucking way, everyone knows where the sodding oubliettes are. And you can usually tell by the smell, even in this cold.” He tromped through the streets with cloak pulled tight about his body and Teret clinging to his arm. She flashed him a smile and for a brief while he felt better.

  After a sombre walk, they reached the creaky gate that led down to the dungeons. The three guards seated at table were dicing; they jumped up when they saw Tamersane. They said nothing but their eyes were wary. “All right lads, it’s only me.” Tamersane grinned and the nearest nodded, and Tamersane left them to it. Teret, glancing back, noticed how the guards whispered and muttered as they stared after them.

  Tamersane grabbed a sconce from the wall. “Take care, it’s slippery down here.” He led her down a steep spiral stairway leading to another door. A fourth guard stood there yawning on his spear. He looked up surprised seeing Tamersane and the foreign-looking young woman. “You got a pass?” It was so gloomy the guard hadn’t realised whom he was addressing.

  “Shut up and unlock that door.” Tamersane put his nose close to the guard’s nose. The guard blinked, finally recognizing the queen’s cousin, and hastily fumbled for his keys.

  “Last cell on the left,” he coughed helpfully. Tamersane and Teret ignored him and disappeared into the gloom. The guard rubbed his eyes, wishing himself in his favourite tavern and not stuck down here in the bitter chill and damp.

  Teret chewed her bottom lip as she followed her lover past doors on either side. It was very dark down here and the cobbles beneath her feet were slippery with ice, whilst green weed slimed the walls wherever the sconces showed light. “This is a cheerless place,” Teret said.

  “It’s meant to be, and it’s rumoured a damn sight better than the dungeons up in Kella City, or Kelthara, and as for those in Kranek Castle, ask Prince Tarin about that. We in Wynais are more forgiving than those other folk, and these dungeons are mostly empty.” They had actually been full recently but Valentin’s rangers had slain the guards and freed the folk within.

  “We don’t have these places in Rorshai. If a man is charged with an offense then he has he right to prove his innocence with steel.”

  “What happens if he’s a crap swordsman?”

  “He dies.”

  They reached the last door on the left. Tamersane rapped his sword pommel on the heavy oak and someone grumbled inside. There was a rattle of a key sliding into a lock. The door creaked ajar. Another guard blinked at them. This one recognised Tamersane right away.

  “I heard you were back.” He lit a sconce on the wall and grinned at them. “I was just checking if he’d eaten his scoff. He hasn’t and is asleep at the moment.” This guard pointed to a cot at the far end of the dank cell where a shaggy figure sat hunched forward with chains holding his wrists. It was safe to say Yail Tolranna had looked better.

  “Fuck,” muttered Tamersane staring at the battered sleeping shape of his brother. “Leave us, good fellow.”

  “Is that wise?” The guard retrieved a long pike that he’d left resting on the wall. “And who’s she?” Teret glared at him and the guard shrugged and slipped out behind the creaking door. “Shout if you need me,” his voice echoed from outside the cell.

  Teret stared at the grim figure hunched on the cot, the chains chafing into his wrists and the dark stain of blood crusting around them. “He doesn’t look much like you.” The sleeper groaned and opened an eye.

  “Who are you?” Yail Tolranna blinked at Teret and choked. “Get me some water, will you?” Teret turned to Tamersane who lurched toward his brother.

  “Drink this.” Tamersane poured some water left in a bucket into a rusty cup and placed it at his brother’s swollen mouth.

  “Oh, it’s you. Back from your adventures at last, heh?” Tolranna drank greedily at the cold water and choked and coughed spilling it down his front. “Wine would be better,” he croaked. Tamersane knelt on the cot and looked hard at his brother. Teret watched them from the door. Outside the guard shuffled and muttered.

  “Tell me this is some absurd mistake,” Tamersane said at last, his blue eyes challenging his brother’s brown glare. “Tell me they’ve got it all wrong. That Perani or some other bastard twisted the facts and somehow you ended up down here. Lie if needs be, tell me anything. But don’t tell me you’re a traitor. And don’t tell me you murdered Dazaleon.”

  “Shit happens,” Tolranna coughed again. “And usually to me. You, brother, always got the breaks whilst I got the responsibility. You, Tamersane, are a lightweight and I don’t need to explain anything to you. And who’s this wench you’ve brought to show me? Looks like a Rorshai bitch. You want to be careful brother lest you catch something.”

  “What happened to you?” Tamersane shoved a gloved hand hard under his brother’s chin forcing Yail to choke again. Teret’s lips were tight and her left hand rested on her dagger. Were this not her lover’s brother then Tolranna would be dead by now. “I always admired you, brother. Always you were strong and steadfast and passionately loyal. I don’t understand what has happened to you.”

  “I need to sh
it,” Tolranna grinned at Teret. “Your wench doesn’t like me much. Heh, wench, bring me the soil bucket, will you?” Tolranna chuckled bitterly.

  “Teret, leave us a minute please.” Tamersane urged her depart outside. “I need to get the truth from my brother, one way or another.” Tamersane’s earlier drunkenness had vanished. He appeared ice cold sober now.

  “I’d rather stay.”

  “Just a few minutes, my love.” Teret nodded and joined the guard outside. Tamersane turned to his brother. “Those manacles hurt, I should imagine?”

  “So what? Feeling sorry for me, Tamersane? After everything I’ve done? Yes, I killed Dazaleon; he was weak and we needed a leader, and Perani told me if I didn’t do it then he would kill me, and I couldn’t let that happen, could I? So I spilt the old man’s blood in this very room.”

  “He was like a father to both of us,” Tamersane struggled for words, confused and baffled by what he was hearing. “What of Ariane, I know you loved her and yet you betrayed her too. Why?”

  “Because she is a fool!” Tolranna spat phlegm over his brother’s cheek. “It’s because of her this country is on the brink of ruin. We cannot win this war, brother. Caswallon is too powerful. I knew this and brokered a deal to save us, though I could not save Ariane. And yes, I love her, I always have—but that’s just the shit way my life is.” Tolranna tugged at his hands until fresh blood smeared his wrists. “And I still need to shit.”

  “Guard!” The soldier peered in.

  “What?”

  “Unlock my brother’s manacles, I’d not see him treated worse than a dog. Allow him to void his bowels and not foul himself.”

  “I have strict orders from Lord Valentin.”

  “And I am Queen Ariane’s fucking cousin, so unlock his chains!” The guard grumbled into the room, producing his keys, and he thrust one into the hole at Tolranna’s wrist. He turned it and the manacles snapped apart.

  “Keep um, that way I’m not responsible.” The guard thrust the keys into Tamersane’s hands and vacated the room again.

  Tolranna sighed as his hands were freed. “Thank you.” He wiped the blood from his sleeve and licked it. Unnoticed by either brother, Teret slid back inside the room, her dagger now in hand.

  Yail laughed as Tamersane placed the soil bucket by the bed. “I was joking little brother, just seeing how I could play you.” He saw Teret smouldering by the door. “Pretty little thing, isn’t she? Have you told her how many whores you’ve tupped? Does this girlie know what a total lush you are, little brother?”

  Tamersane lashed out with a fist knocking Tolranna from the bed. “Shut up!” Turning he saw Teret standing over Tolranna with the knife, her eyes flashing in the dark. At a look from her lover she made to slide the knife back in its sheath but Yail proved quicker.

  The former Captain of the Guard rolled and lashed out with a foot catching Tamersane under the jaw and sending him sprawling, then he swung to his feet and caught Teret’s wrist, twisting it until she dropped the dagger. He threw her across the floor as the guard came rushing in, pike in hands.

  Yail danced sideways and wrenched the long weapon from the guard. He reversed it sending the razor sharp point into the guard’s neck. The pike man crumpled. Tamersane’s sword was out, but Yail blocked his brother’s half-hearted thrust and kicked him in the groin whilst making for the door. There Teret tripped him and he sprawled to his knees, but not before twisting the dagger up into her flesh.

  Teret cried out as her own dagger tore deep into her bicep. Tamersane, seeing her hurt, surged to his feet and barrelled into his brother. For a time they rolled on the filthy floor whilst Teret gripped her arm and tried to quench the bleeding. At last Tolranna locked his brother’s arms and twisted him beneath him. Crazy with rage, he lifted the knife.

  Just then the door swung open, catching Yail from behind and pitching him over his brother, the knife clattering across the floor. Tamersane rolled free and retrieved the knife, Tolranna jumping after him. Red with rage Tamersane sliced out with the knife and shuddered as it slid hard into his brother’s neck. Tolranna grinned at his brother and then slumped on top of him.

  Tamersane clutched his dying brother and sobbed, all his rage evaporated. Then his eyes fell on the doorway where Queen Ariane stood in silence, the other three guards behind her.

  Chapter 22

  Point Keep

  For four days they filed along the icy thread of The Wild Way, their breath steaming and fingers and toes numb with cold. During two of those days snow storms had made the track almost impassable, and sometimes they must needs shovel banks of snow so that the horses and few wagons they possessed could get through.

  A hundred and one hard-faced men, lean with hunger but fuelled with vengeful purpose. The war was turning in their favour, Corin an Fol said, and who were they to argue?

  Most remembered him as the headstrong nasty-tempered Longswordsman who had led many a wild foray and risky caper down in Permio during that last war. Some of the younger ones like Scaff had only heard his reputation, now fired up by their older comrades’ exaggerations.

  As for Corin, in a weird way he was happy. Not dreamy happy like he had been in Vioyamis with Shallan in his arms. But happy with purpose, and that concreted to the knowledge of who he was. Not that he gave that much thought at present. So many bizarre things had happened to him that Corin decided to take this last revelation in his stride, at least for the moment anyway. One day at a time.

  He recalled that night on Barin’s ship when Zallerak had hinted at his identity. Of course he had pushed that away, coming as it did from the Aralais. But it had been nagging at his subconscious ever since. But for now Corin decided he’d do best to focus on the days ahead as they got closer to the folds of mountain that led down to the hidden fortress, Point Keep.

  Corin had only been there a few times, running errands and such that provided a healthy break from his usual station down in Permio. It had always been cold when he’d arrived, but roaring fires and lolling hounds, roast fowl and copious ale had made it seem like home to Corin.

  It felt surreal to be back with his old companions, but his joy of seeing Halfdan hale and fit, despite the rumours, overcame any weariness and filled him with energy, as did the thought of seeing Shallan in a few days.

  As dusk fell on the fourth day, they crested a ridge awarding sheer views to the right. Far below, a faint orange glow announced firelight coming from the highest tower of Point Keep. Halfdan’s scouts found the track they’d used to flee the fortress buried beneath fresh snow. Without delay they commenced clearing a way through and following it down the steep path toward the half-hidden fortress.

  It was tough going, dangerous and slippery underfoot, but they had just enough light to steer the horses and carts to a level area in a frozen copse. Here they rested and ate a cold supper, whilst Halfdan, Corin, Baley, Bonkers, and some of the others discussed their next move.

  “Do we wait for morning?” Baley tore at a dry stick of beef. “Catch them at first light?”

  “No.” Halfdan’s eyes were intent as he gazed up at the sky. “It’s a clear night and we know the way. I say we slip in after midnight and pay back our dues whilst their bellies are filled with our ale. Sound good, gentlemen?”

  Corin nodded and the other men grinned: they were more than ready for this. After their meal, everyone drew lots to see who must stay with the horses. Three grumps were left behind as the rest, including Corin, followed Halfdan and Baley’s lead down the steep descent toward the sleeping Point Keep.

  ***

  The girl snored in his arms as he ruffled her flaxen hair and slipped a lazy paw inside her shift. His pale blue eyes were bloodshot and his mind slow with drink. All about the hall his men sprawled and snored with their lemans, all in various states of undress. Just another night in Point Keep fortress.

  Vale the Snake surveyed the hall with lazy gaze, taking in the crackling fires attended by thralls and former captives from Morwella, the g
reat lounging hunting hounds they’d brought with them, and the uncorked ale barrels lined up against the far wall.

  Point Keep—they’d been here a month, wenching, feasting, and drinking; fighting and occasionally hunting when winter allowed. But mostly sleeping off their heavy nights, much as they did during this season up in far Grimhold, their home in the north. Such were the activities of the Princes of Leeth during winter.

  But Vale the Snake was tired of this inaction. He was bored stiff, sick to the bones of being holed up here in this forgotten fortress. To the north, his father’s army held the Gap, and across from that the other, mightier fortress of Car Carranis refused to crumble, even though King Haal had spent the last week hurling rocks and missiles at it. Vale had joined them for a time up there, eager to avenge his brother.

  It wasn’t that he missed Corvalian; he couldn’t care less about him. And that brother’s death left him closer to the throne—though Redhand coveted that for his future like a broody hen. Rather, the chance of real battle had lured Vale away from his idle diversions in Point Keep, just to break the monotony, and his imagined vengeance was a motivator for the men.

  But after a few freezing days staring up at those unforgiving walls, and then rowing with his father and, more violently, his older brother, Vale had departed in sulks back to his captive hold. Point Keep might not be much but it was his—the only thing he owned, despite being one of the two remaining Princes of Leeth.

  The city had fallen too easily; it had left little sport as the legendary Kelthaine Wolves had died fighting to a man. They hadn’t found Halfdan, which had bemused Vale somewhat.

  He’d sent scouts out across the mountains, but they returned with nothing, and Vale soon forgot about the general, who was rumoured dead, so why should he care?

  One thing had happened of note since their return here. One of his outriders came back from a rare hunting trip informing Vale that there was another army making for the Gap from the southeast—a strange direction.