The Glass Throne (Legends of Ansu Book 4)

by JW Webb

  At last satisfied and exhausted, Caswallon allowed his mind rest and prepared for the inevitable. Two hours later, the Urgolais and his dragon arrived.

  ***

  Ariane woke to the sound of shouting at her door.

  “What is it?” She flung off her covers and studied her tired features in the mirror. To her left, the pale drapes spilled just enough light to inform her it was morning.

  “I said what is it?”

  “Morning,” came the stupid answer and Ariane recognised Cale’s adolescent tones. He sounded excited and out of breath.

  Ariane rolled her eyes; sometimes she could skewer Squire Cale. “What do you want, Cale?”

  “They’ve gone, Highness!”

  “Who has gone? What are you talking about?” Despite her annoyance Ariane approached the door and unlatched the bolt, allowing the excited boy to spill inside the room and crash into her.

  “The enemy!” Cale finally squeaked out after apologising and untangling his jaunty arms from the irritated queen. “Silon told me to report to you straight away!”

  “The enemy has gone? Where?” Ariane sighed and took seat on her bed. “What are you talking about Cale?” Then she glanced up to see Tamersane leaning against the doorframe. “Cousin—how fare you?”

  “The boy speaks sooth,” Tamersane’s lips smiled but his eyes remained cold. “Yonder foe have departed.”

  “I don’t believe it—why?” Ariane dare not allow the joy of false hope in. So instead she stoically bid them wait outside, whilst she dressed swiftly and let boy and man escort her out onto the walls.

  Silon was there and Valentin, Tarello, and the other captains too. Teret stood close by and Tamersane rushed to join her. Ariane smiled as she saw them embrace and hug; perhaps this woman could save her cousin from himself after all.

  “They left at first light,” Silon said, pouring some hot tea into a mug from a flask and handing it to Ariane.

  “Thank you,” she nodded. “Why, Silon? What reason their departure?”

  “I have no idea, Queen. But something untoward must have happened, and I suspect Caswallon has ordered his troops return to Kella City.”

  “Then Kella is under attack?”

  “We must assume so.” Silon sipped his own tea and studied the white fields and woods for any sign of movement but nothing stirred out there. “It is a riddle, Ariane.” A shout turned their heads. A man, one of Valentin’s scouts, was running full pelt toward them along the palisade.

  “What now?” Ariane nearly choked on her tea, not ready for such an exciting morning. She recognised Doyle, who had become one of Valentin’s scouts despite her misgivings on his abilities.

  “Army coming this way fast!”

  “From where?” Silon yelled.

  “North!” Doyle yelled back causing Ariane to chuckle at the ridiculousness of the situation. It was like a pantomime and she hadn’t had enough tea to partake. “On the Car Carranis road!”

  Several minutes later Ariane and her captains and retinue stood at the north wall watching as the grey shapes of soldiers filed through the morning.

  “I see no Groil among those ranks,” Ariane said, handing the spyglass back to Silon who held it steady for a moment and then smiled. “What is it?” Ariane flashed her dark eyes his way.

  “It’s Lord Halfdan of Point Keep,” Silon laughed with relief, handing her the glass again. “The old wolf has returned at last! We are winning this war, Ariane!”

  Chapter 32

  Valkador

  Corin stood at the prow of The Starlight Wanderer alongside its master. The voyage to Valkador had taken three days with fair winds and kind seas, and now the mountains of Barin’s home rose majestic above the waves on the northern skyline.

  Steering the craft beside Corin, Barin hummed a merry tune. He was happy today and Corin was pleased for his friend, who would soon be united with his wife and daughters after so long away.

  Truth was Corin felt tugged by guilt. He’d rather Barin stay with his family, but knew he needed the Northman’s skills and knowledge on the whereabouts and layout of Grimhold Castle. Moreover, Corin knew Barin now regarded Shallan almost as another daughter, and couldn’t sit by whilst she were held by his foes.

  “Redhand, Rael, and Hagan.” Bleyne joined them to watch the mountains grow in size. “That’s an unholy trio.”

  “Want to give Grimhold a miss?” Corin asked the archer.

  “Certainly not. But I do think we are in for a lively week. Lots happening. And it’s nice to be on the sea again, though I’m more of a woodsman as you well know.” Bleyne winked at Barin and slunk off to watch dolphins dancing hard to port.

  “He’s changed,” Barin said, shaking his head in wonderment. “Never used to say a word and now you can’t shut the daft bugger up.”

  “We’ve all changed,” Corin said.

  “Aye—that we have and you more than anyone.”

  “Me? No way. I’m still crap at dice.”

  “That’s true,” Barin chuckled. “Oh, by the way, have you spoken to Tarin? The young prince seems most anxious to natter with you, says his got something for you in a bag. Very mysterious. Seems most determined to rid himself of it.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Corin laughed. “It’s caused him and the rest of us a deal of trouble.”

  “Oh…I see…” Barin nodded sagely and then scratched his beard. “And yet I saw the bag and it’s rather small. Small enough to keep inside his pocket, and I hardly think the…”

  “Tekara.” Corin turned and awarded Barin a level look. “I know what he has Barin, the size doesn’t matter. No doubt Zallerak was involved with fixing that.”

  “Speaking of whom?”

  “I don’t know either, but I expect we’ll see him ere the end.”

  “The end? That’s a bit gloomy, even for you?”

  “It’s coming Barin—I can feel it.”

  “The end of what?”

  “This fucking story.” It was Corin’s turn to grin.

  “Does that mean I get to put my feet up?” Barin blinked at the sun and Corin left him musing and humming at the morning. He went below where Tarin was waiting.

  “I can’t avoid you—can I?”

  Tarin looked pensive; he produced a small leather bag and thrust it into Corin’s hand.

  “I’m not ready for that yet,” Corin said, thrusting it back. “I know Zallerak quested you with giving it to me, though he could have saved a lot of trouble by giving it me back in Croagon’s forge.” Corin’s face softened and for the first time he smiled at the prince.

  “I know what it is, Tarin. The time will come when I do take it but that time is not now. Keep it awhile yet, I beg you. We all must play our role - apparently. Once I have my Shallan safe I’ll look to this again—cousin.”

  Tarin’s face lit up hearing that last word. “I will keep it safe,” he said. “Zallerak taught me the rune spell that alters its size, and come the moment I shall utter it. But you are wrong. It was Silon bid me seek you out, requested that I accompany Bleyne and Ulani in riding north with Sir Greggan and Valentin’s boys.”

  “Sir Greggan?” Corin chuckled and left Tarin gaping as he made his way to the heads.

  Throughout that morning the island grew until it filled the horizon. The mountains dominated but lesser heights revealed green hills folding over forests and wide grassy fields. Corin saw homesteads and settlements and even the odd grey ribbon of road.

  All Barin’s crew were singing about their duties except Fassof, who retained his dour taciturn foul-mouthed mannerisms. He had smiled once though, when he’d spied Zukei amongst the passengers clambering aboard at Kashorn harbour.

  Fassof had clasped her in his arms for a moment and slimed her mouth with a wet kiss. That had got him a sonic whack between the ears from the angry-eyed young woman, but he seemed happy enough receiving it.

  Mostly Zukei remained aloof, steering clear of Corin and her father, occasionally eye-flirting with Fas
sof, but only in a half-hearted way to make him smile. Zukei liked the mate but her heart, wherever it was, was not for such as he.

  They raised long strands of shingle, and green fields showed beyond, these leading across to the docks where other vessels bobbed and danced in violet blue waters. These were steadfast-looking craft but none compared with The Starlight Wanderer.

  Corin studied the island as the crew heaved oars and stowed sail. He had expected snow and bitter chill but the atmosphere was surprisingly mild; only the tall peaks at the centre of the island wore snow about their crowns.

  Grinning, Taic informed Corin that mild winters and sunny summers blessed the island. Corin found that hard to believe, but then Taic had been drinking ceaselessly for almost five days.

  Horns filled the nearest valley like lowing cattle as Barin’s harbour crew greeted their master’s return. Corin saw the tiny shapes of people rushing to the quay, eager to greet the lord of their island at last homeward bound.

  They moored against a jetty reserved especially for The Starlight Wanderer. Here men rushed aboard and clasped hands with comrades and kin. Taic and Sveyn butted heads with some shaven-headed drinking cronies and soon vanished toward the nearest tavern. Cogga threw his arms around the hips of a red-faced, freckled, heavyset woman, who laughed bawdily at something he said.

  Ruagon the cook cried out as two chunky boys ran grinning to greet their father. And then Barin saw his wife Marigold with a laughing daughter grasped in either arm.

  “My girls!” Barin boomed, and the big-eyed, long-limbed blonde twins rushed to embrace their laughing father, whilst his calm-eyed wife folded her arms and watched in silence from the dock.

  “Greeting Marigold!” Barin jumped to the jetty and approached his wife.

  “Husband,” Marigold gave him a long steady look and then smiled as he threw his huge arms around her. “I’ve stew and ale in the cottage; these good folk can spare you an hour or so.” Corin smiled seeing Barin led like an excited little boy away from the quay by his blonde-haired, handsome wife.

  That night Barin held a feast in his great hall. He had explained to Marigold that his stay was short but insisted they make the most of it, hence kine and boar were slaughtered and many a squawking fowl tossed in with their midst.

  A hearty feast that proved, with ale and mead flowing aplenty. Young warriors sang bawdy songs, whilst golden-haired maidens danced around tables with the older women clapping and cheering and wishing they could still do those steps. Hounds lolled and sprawled, keeping two eyes out for scraps, and every now and then a draught would fill the hall as a newcomer entered and took eager seat at one of the long tables. Such was Barin’s feast that night the stranger came.

  Nobody noticed him at first, but it seemed an odd chill had entered the hall, and the fires, roaring recently, died to splutter and spark. Men’s voices stilled to a conspirators’ hush, and their women looked around with worried eyes.

  It was Marigold who saw him first. A silent figure hunched by the door, hood covering his features and long spear leaning jaunty against the wall. One eye was visible: it shone with the cut-glass sparkle of polished diamonds.

  “You are welcome here, stranger,” Marigold’s rich deep voice struggled to ease the tension in the hall. “Please eat, drink, and be merry with the rest of us, though I do not recall seeing you before on our island.”

  “Aye friend, be welcome,” Barin, his mouth full of beef, bid the stranger join his warriors at the far bench, a gesture that was lost on them for the old man had an unsettling effect on all present. To Barin’s right, King Ulani’s eyes narrowed, as did Corin’s beside him.

  “He seems familiar,” Ulani growled in Corin’s ear, whilst Zukei—seated close by—slid a slim knife from her sleeve. Tension thickened like smoke in the hall. A dog growled, another joined it, and then a third added its voice to the chorus. The stranger glanced their way, and in a skulking pack they circled and scurried from the hall with tails between their legs.

  “Speak friend, lest our welcome fades—your manners have upset my hounds!” The smile fled Barin’s face.

  A chuckle like falling gravel on broken cliff.

  That single silver eye fell on Barin. Cold as northern ice it stung the Northman until Barin turned his gaze away. “There is one here I would speak with outside and alone.” The stranger’s voice was a blunt saw tearing knotty wood. “He knows who he is.”

  “But who are you?” Ulani’s tough face held that cold gaze a moment, until he too turned away.

  “King Ulani you are far from home, as is your daughter with the smoky hair.” Zukei hissed like a lynx and gripped her knife ready to toss. The stranger chuckled though he couldn’t see the weapon. “Put that away, girl—you cannot use it on me.” Zukei dropped the knife and shook her hand as though she’d been scalded.

  As Corin had known it would, the stranger’s eye fell on Corin. Unlike his friends, he held that chilling silver gaze and refused to drop his own.

  “Where?”

  “At the edge of yon crow wood. Your friends can bring ale and meat but then they must depart.”

  “What’s in it for me?” Corin pointed his food knife at the stranger who laughed and stood to face the doors.

  “Life, advice, and choices. And helpful suggestions,” the stranger said before disappearing into the night.

  Corin stood, his eyes hot and nasty. He slammed the eating knife point down onto the table, and then apologised to Marigold for spoiling her cloth.

  “Corin, don’t go out here!” Olen yelled from a table close by.

  “He’s right,” Barin said, grabbing Corin’s arm and yanking him back down to his seat. “Don’t trust that spook, let him do his worst outside and be buggered!”

  Corin shook free of his friend and host. “You’d best do as he says, bring sustenance and leave this to me. Those of you that know me well,” Corin nodded to Barin, Bleyne, and Ulani, “are familiar with this sort of thing. The rest of you relax, eat, drink—I’ve got this.”

  Amid murmurs and tuts and gritting of teeth, Corin eased his long body clear of bench and table and slipped outside without further word. “You’ve got to stop him!” Marigold slapped Barin’s ear, but the Northman shook his head.

  “That boy knows what he’s doing, wife. Now Daisy Girl! Mollie Flower, you too! Barin’s daughters were wide-eyed and scared as they huddled close to their mother. “Go be useful and get some good slices of meat and some of the best ale for Corin and that other fellow. Bring them here and I will deliver them myself.” The girls nodded and fled to the kitchens hidden behind screens at the end of the hall.

  They came back minutes later with a huge tray of meats and two generous flagons of the master’s finest brew. Barin thanked them with a wink and reached for the vittals. “I’ll be back in a mo,” he told them.

  “I’m coming with you.” Ulani stood and dusted off his tunic, a woolen garment he had worn during this voyage north.

  “As am I,” said Bleyne joining them. Close to the door were seated Shallan’s brothers. Tolemon’s gaze was suspicious and wary as he watched on in silence. Barin grunted and the three men left the feast behind. Outside, a roving half moon slid through cloud, its silver varnishing the still waters of harbour and quay. Barin frowned.

  “Calm before the storm,” he said.

  “Do you see them?” Ulani asked, balancing the ale jugs in one hand so he had a free one for a weapon.

  “Over there.” Bleyne pointed to where Corin crouched lean below the shadow of a huge pine. The stranger stood several feet away, his back to them and his silver gaze following the restless moon.

  Corin saw them approach and waved. “Thanks, leave those on the ground over there, I’ll come and get them in a minute. This won’t take long.”

  The three friends exchanged quizzical glances until Corin’s hand whooshed them away. “Go!” Reluctantly they complied with his wish, but lingered outside the hall just in case something untoward happened.

&
nbsp; ***

  “It’s good ale. They know how to brew in the north.” The stranger’s rough voice cut the silence of the night like a vixen’s banshee warning. His gaze remained on moon and sea. He’d left it to Corin to gather the food and ale and place them at his feet.

  “Why are you here?” Corin stared at the other’s back, willing the stranger to turn and face him. “What trick are you planning next, Wanderer?”

  That name had the desired effect: the stranger turned and the hood slipped form his face to reveal an old man with scraggy white beard and long wispy hair. The left eye shone back at Corin like wet steel. The right was missing, in its place a hollow scoop of soot that hinted at things no mortal man could comprehend.

  Corin, though stung by the impact and savagery of that gaze, refused to look away. “You owe me answers,” he pressed.

  “I…owe…you?” The old man croaked a laugh. “I think you’ve had too many knocks on the head, my lad. Don’t you remember Darkvale? If it weren’t for me —”

  “But you’ve been interfering from the start. You’re worse than Zallerak—” Corin flinched, seeing the sudden anger spark in that single eye. He’d best be careful; the High Gods were rumoured capricious and spiteful when teased.

  “Have a care, Corin an Fol! That Aralais wizard is not in My league, and you are not in his league. You are a flea on a dog’s back.”

  “Fleas bite.”

  “They do that.” The old man’s ravaged face hinted humour. “I have enjoyed working with you, boy. You’ve a certain way about you, as had your forefather when I knew him long ago. But he at least showed me some respect. You are a tad arrogant.”

  Corin ignored that. Instead he stood up and faced the old man, eyes level and ale mug spilling its contents in hand. “So why choose tonight for a cosy natter? Do you like spoiling feasts with your sunny charms?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do like feasts. And you mortals—the northerners anyway—know how to throw one. I’ve attended many in my time. You’d be surprised who I’ve shared cups with over the centuries.”