The Saints Of The Sword (Tyrants & Kings)

by John Marco

  The next morning, Alazrian rode from Aramoor castle. With him were Shinn and four Talistanian horsemen, all part of Dinsmore’s brigade, and all dressed in plain clothing; they had doffed their green and gold uniforms in favor of bland riding garb. Shinn rode at the head of the little column, his bow slung over his shoulder, nodding at Elrad Leth as the governor bid them success. Leth said nothing to Alazrian as he watched his son depart, but merely stood like an intractable statue in the courtyard, his face unreadable. Alazrian said nothing either. He was going away, maybe for the rest of his life, and if he ever did see his bastard father again, it would be under vastly different circumstances. The soldiers he rode with were all lightly armed with swords and daggers and bows, all casually bouncing in their saddles as they headed for the mountains. Alazrian wondered why they weren’t afraid. His own stomach was in knots and his head swam with fearful ideas of what he might find in the hills. But the others were seasoned veterans and showed not a hint of Alazrian’s nervousness. To Alazrian, they seemed remarkably brave.

  But Shinn was quieter than usual. The Dorian bodyguard gave orders with gestures and hand signals, hardly opening his mouth at all. He seemed distant, preoccupied with something more than their mission. His hand dropped to his side occasionally, fingering the dagger tucked into his belt, and while the others talked among themselves, Shinn stayed a pace ahead, keeping to himself as he pointed the party forward. Alazrian kept up with Shinn, never straying too far. He hoped that his father had given Shinn orders to protect him, to keep him safe if any trouble erupted. There was no safer place than under the cover of Shinn’s bow, so Alazrian was determined to stay close to the Dorian. He was not an accomplished rider like the others, but Alazrian knew enough about horses to keep up. His mother had insisted he learn to ride at a very early age, a prerequisite for every Talistanian male, no matter how frail or intellectual. And Alazrian liked horses. They were easy to predict, mostly, and they seemed to respond to his touch. In fact, he had chosen a particularly docile horse for this ride, a cream-colored gelding he called Flier.

  But although Alazrian could ride, he couldn’t really use a weapon. He had never trained with a bow or sword, and so carried only the dagger Elrad Leth had given him for his sixteenth birthday. Hoping he wouldn’t have to use it, Alazrian nevertheless checked it periodically. As they trotted off into the rising sun, Alazrian’s every thought was of the mountains ahead. Soon he would discover if Biagio’s errand was worth it. Carefully he slid his hand beneath his riding jacket, feeling around for the note. The sharp paper edge of the envelope touched his finger, putting him at ease.

  After three hours of riding, they came at last to the outskirts of the Iron Mountains. Shinn reined in his horse, ordering his company to a halt. Alazrian pulled up alongside the Dorian, staring at the range of silent monoliths. There was only one way into the mountains, a craggy path called the Saccenne Run. The snaking run was an ancient route cutting through the rocks and leading to the distant land of Lucel-Lor. Since the end of the last Triin war, no one but Jahl Rob and his Saints had ventured into the run, because it was guarded by lion riders, Triin warriors determined to seal off Lucel-Lor from Naren invaders. Alazrian felt a small thrill at the legendary sight. It was like a bridge to another world.

  ‘We’ll rest here,’ said Shinn. ‘Give the horses a break before heading in.’

  The Dorian dismounted and took some food out of his saddlebags. He sat down on the grass contemplating the nearby mountains as he tore off chunks of dried sausage with his teeth. Alazrian and the others did the same, dropping off their horses for a much needed rest. The leader of the soldiers, a ruddy, round-faced Talistanian named Brex, directed his men to sit and relax, gathering them around him in a semicircle. Alazrian noticed immediately how they didn’t include Shinn. The Dorian sat apart from them, leaning back on an elbow as he spied the mountains. Even this close to danger, Shinn didn’t appear at all afraid. Alazrian grabbed his water skin and approached Shinn, sitting down beside him. He saw the bodyguard give him a peripheral glare, but only for a moment.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Alazrian. ‘You think we’ll find them?’

  Shinn hesitated before replying, then answered only with a nod. Alazrian took it as a good sign.

  ‘What then?’ he asked. ‘What will we do when you locate them?’

  ‘We will do nothing,’ said Shinn. ‘I will try to find out where their stronghold is without being seen.’

  ‘That’s it?’

  ‘That’s our mission. We are too few to do anything else. When we find their stronghold, we can return with an army, if that’s what Governor Leth wants.’

  ‘If the Triin don’t find us first,’ said Alazrian. He watched Shinn carefully for any trace of fear. Still there was none.

  ‘Jahl Rob and his Saints have survived somehow,’ said Shinn. ‘If there are Triin in the mountains, they are far from here, guarding the Lucel-Lor side. Otherwise Rob would not be safe. The Triin would not tolerate him if they knew he was in there.’ The bodyguard looked at Alazrian sternly. ‘But there may be danger. You must stay close to me. I promised your father I would take care of you, understand?’

  Alazrian brightened. ‘Yes, I will.’ Maybe there was some humanity in Leth after all. A pang of guilt suddenly surged up in Alazrian, making him look away. Shinn saw his pained expression and mistook it for fear.

  ‘You’re scared,’ said the Dorian, grinning wickedly. ‘Do not be. I will protect you.’

  ‘It’s not that. I’m just . . .’

  ‘What?’

  Alazrian shook his head. ‘Nothing.’ He took a drink from his water skin to distract himself. Shinn took hold of his arm and roughly pulled the skin from his lips.

  ‘Don’t drink so much. It’s a long way back and forth, and I don’t know where there’s any water in the mountains. If you waste it no one will give you more.’

  Alazrian lowered the water skin and studied the mountains. They were gigantic. He had always seen them from his window in the castle, but they had seemed so distant then, like a landscape painted with soft brush strokes. Now they were behemoths, their shadows engulfing the earth. Despite the spring warmth, Alazrian shivered. He wanted to be like Shinn and the others, but he was not. He fiddled with the stopper of his water skin, realizing that everything he was doing might be a big mistake.

  ‘When do we ride again?’ he asked Shinn.

  The bodyguard regarded him with surprise. ‘Eager to get going?’

  ‘Yes,’ declared Alazrian. ‘I’ve rested enough.’

  ‘Well I haven’t,’ said Shinn.

  But within five minutes Shinn had eaten his fill and had ordered his company onto horseback again. Alazrian was the first to mount. He waited impatiently for Brex and the others to mount up, then followed Shinn toward the Iron Mountains, plunging into the menacing folds of the Saccenne Run.

  Del Lotts sat at the edge of a cliff, his eyes closed, his face turned toward heaven, drinking up the sun. It was a perfect morning in the Iron Mountains, full of fresh air and peace, and Del felt wonderfully good. Next to him sat his brother Alain, watching the run far below, taking to heart the job Jahl Rob had given them: to look out for any trouble that might be coming. Since the murder of Dinsmore, Jahl Rob had been edgy, always suspecting an attack that never came and he constantly posted lookouts on the high ridges along the run, wary of Elrad Leth’s retribution. So far, though, there had been no response, and Del no longer shared Jahl’s cautiousness. Convinced that Leth still feared the nonexistent Triin guardians, he took his mission as lookout with far less weight than his brother, satisfied to relax on the ledge and wait for time to pass.

  ‘Del?’ probed Alain. ‘You awake?’

  ‘Of course I’m awake.’ Though he was groggy, Del didn’t admit it. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  Del opened his eyes. ‘Alain, you don’t always have to talk, you know. A lookout should be silent.’

  ‘They should also keep th
eir eyes open.’

  ‘Just tell me if you see anything.’ Del closed his eyes again and laid down against the ground. The bright sun splattered crimson patterns on the back of his eyelids. He yawned, loving the warmth and stretching like a cat until his shoulders popped. ‘Remember what Jahl said. They could come anytime.’

  That should keep him quiet, he added mentally. Alain was always chirping, never giving him a moment’s rest. He was a good boy and a fine brother, but sometimes . . .

  ‘Del?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘When we get back will you practice with me some more?’

  ‘Tomorrow.’

  ‘You promised!’

  ‘All right, later then,’ Del agreed. Helping his brother with his archery was becoming tiresome, mostly because Alain never got any better. For two years now he’d been practicing, doing his best to master the bow like their brother Dinadin had done, but Alain didn’t have Dinadin’s dexterity, and he didn’t have Jahl Rob’s patience either. He wanted to improve. He just never did.

  ‘Dinadin would help me,’ grumbled Alain. It was the comparison Alain always made. Del opened his eyes and sat up, pulling at his brother’s collar and dragging him backward.

  ‘I’m not Dinadin, you little beast,’ he said, driving a knuckle into the crown of Alain’s head. Alain shouted loudly, then quickly covered his mouth.

  ‘Sorry,’ he offered sheepishly.

  ‘Yes, great lookout,’ scoffed Del. ‘Why don’t you just send up smoke signals?’

  Alain shuffled away on his hands, stopping short at the edge of the cliff. It was a long way down but the height afforded them a perfect view of the Saccenne Run. The narrow road cut a jagged knife-edge through the mountains, meandering off to the east and west. With the sun overhead and the clear sky, Del and Alain could see for miles. Anyone coming into the run would be clearly visible. Of course, Del never expected anyone to enter the mountains. Which was why it was so peculiar to see something moving off in the west.

  Alain noticed it first. ‘What’s that?’ he asked, pointing down at the run.

  Del hurried to the edge, squinting for a better view. ‘Horses,’ he said. ‘I don’t believe it . . .’

  ‘How many?’ asked Alain. ‘Can you tell?’

  Del shook his head. ‘I can’t see for sure. Not many, I don’t think. Could be a first patrol, though.’

  Alain turned white. ‘What do we do?’

  Del grabbed hold of his brother’s arm and hauled him away from the ledge.

  ‘We have to warn the others,’ he said, then guided his brother hastily down the hillside to the base of the mountains where their horses waited.

  Alazrian ran a sweaty palm over his forehead, studying the canyon rising up around him. They had entered the run over an hour ago, and now the sun was high overhead, burning down oppressively. Their horses trotted at a cautious pace, their ears perking up at every sound. A warm breeze coursed through the tunnel. Alazrian’s gaze darted about anxiously, carefully tracing the towering cliffs. He saw no one up in the thousand hiding places, yet the uneasy feeling of unwanted eyes would not leave him.

  They were out in the open and he wanted Shinn to see the stupidity of their advance, but he knew the Dorian wouldn’t listen, and the plain truth was that there was no other way into the mountains. They would have to be quiet, Shinn had warned, and that was all. If they could find evidence of Jahl Rob’s hideout, they could turn around and head home. To Alazrian, who had always loathed life with his father, home suddenly seemed a surprisingly inviting place. He realized that there would be no way for him to run off and find the Triin, because there were only a few other paths and all of them appeared to lead to dead ends. Only this main route, this single artery of the run, could take him to Lucel-Lor. Unless the Triin dropped down out of the mountains, Alazrian knew he would never find them.

  Easy, he told himself, trying to stay calm. He needed to think, to find a way to the Triin without Shinn and the others spotting him, but as far as he could tell there were no Triin in the mountains, at least not this close to Aramoor. The most awful feeling overcame him and he slumped in his saddle, wishing he hadn’t come on this patrol. Now he would have to go back to Aramoor with the others and try to sneak away some other time. Biagio’s urgent note to Vantran would get older and older, and Tassis Gayle would launch his inevitable attack on the Black City, and Alazrian would have failed.

  ‘Goddamn it,’ he muttered. He hadn’t wanted anyone to hear him, but Shinn’s sharp ears picked up his swearing. The Dorian swivelled in his saddle.

  ‘What was that, boy?’

  Alazrian blanched. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Keep quiet, then,’ ordered Shinn. He brought his horse to a sudden stop, spying their surroundings. Brex trotted up alongside him.

  ‘I don’t know,’ observed the Talistanian. He licked his lips as he thought, the skin on his chubby face wrinkling. ‘They could be anywhere.’

  ‘No,’ mused Shinn. The sharpness had returned to his expression, giving him the look of a scholar. ‘Let’s think about this. If you were Jahl Rob, where would you hide?’ His head turned as he spoke, studying everything in view. ‘Where?’

  ‘There,’ said Alazrian. He pointed to the most obvious place, a set of high peaks to the southeast. ‘That’s where I’d hide.’

  Shinn almost smiled. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you can see everything from there,’ said Alazrian. ‘It’s high enough to give a view of the run, and it’s easy to defend, too. All you would need is a small band, and you could probably keep back an army.’

  ‘Yes,’ echoed Brex, nodding. ‘The boy’s right. Why not there?’

  ‘Why not indeed?’ agreed Shinn. ‘I was thinking the same thing myself. Well done, young Leth.’

  Alazrian flushed with pride. He’d never known Shinn to offer a compliment. ‘Should we ride for those peaks?’ he asked. ‘If so we’ll have to be careful. Much closer and they might see us.’

  ‘Assuming they’re up there,’ piped in one of Brex’s men. ‘Maybe they’re even closer. Maybe they’ve seen us already.’

  Brex frowned. ‘What do you think, Shinn?’

  Shinn didn’t answer. Again he had fallen into his preoccupied silence. His eyes flicked around the run, obviously looking for something. But what? What was making Shinn so pensive?

  ‘Well?’ pressed Brex. ‘Do we go on?’

  ‘A little farther,’ Shinn said finally. ‘We need to be sure that’s where the stronghold is hidden.’

  ‘But we’re out in the open,’ Brex protested. ‘If we go any farther they might see us.’ He glanced around dubiously, his voice dropping to a whisper. ‘We may have gone too far already.’

  For some reason, that logic didn’t satisfy Shinn. ‘We’ll go a little farther,’ he said, then snapped his reins to propel his horse forward.

  Jahl Rob rode from his mountain stronghold like the wind, his cape billowing out behind him in a snapping comet’s tail. Behind him rode Ricken, Taylour, Parry, and Del, all with bows and arrow-stuffed quivers on their backs. Their horses’ hooves rumbled through the canyons, echoing off the high rocky walls, but Jahl didn’t care about the noise. The only thing on his mind was defense.

  Even his recent paranoia hadn’t prepared him for Del’s news. Riders were approaching, men from Talistan. They might be heralds of an army, or they might just be a foolishly brave patrol, but whoever they were, their arrival meant trouble. More, it meant that he had finally pushed Elrad Leth too far. Jahl tucked himself against the neck of his horse as he rode, his mind a whirlwind of possibilities. He had already put his Saints on alert and their mountain home was now crawling with swordsmen and archers, all ready to repel an attack. But Jahl hadn’t wanted to wait for his hideout to be discovered. He needed to see what Leth had sent against him and, if at all possible, keep them from discovering his lair.

  ‘Slow down!’ cried Del. ‘It’s not much farther. They’ll hear us!’

  It was the word Jahl
had been awaiting. Instantly he drew his horse to a whinnying stop, letting it rear up in sudden surprise as he canvassed the run. Ahead of them, the path snaked around a bend and out of view. Behind them lay miles of empty road, all unguarded on the way to their stronghold. Their horses breathed with effort, dangerously lathered, but Jahl hardly noticed their condition.

  ‘Here?’ he asked.

  Del looked around. ‘Hard to tell. We need to get some height, climb one of these ridges to see where they are. I don’t want to go any farther lest they see us.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Jahl. ‘But if they’re on their way, I don’t see why we should wait for them to pass.’ He looked up and around, spying the rocks for a suitable perch. ‘We’ll ambush them here, take positions on both sides of the road. I don’t want any of them getting away alive.’