And yes, Tarn was a warrior. He was the Outlaw King. He was the Warrior King. He was his friend.
Roskel nodded, once. He drew the blade back, and with a grunt thrust the sword through armour as though the armour was not there at all, through to the other side.
With a sigh, like a man falling to his death with happiness, Tarn's corpse fell to the floor.
And on the unnatural fog, the Outlaw King met Tulathia before Madal's Gates, and later, beyond.
*
Chapter Ninety-Eight
Days of war pass and come again. Islands rise and fall in the sea. Mountains themselves strain toward the sky as each year, each century, each millenium, passes by. Time dwarfs the petty battles of men, but man stands, still, against the darkness.
Men like Tarn, the Outlaw King. Roskel, The Thief King, and women, too. Rena, and Selana, and the Witches' Covenant.
Those remaining after the War of the Kings waited outside the gates of the castle, before the assembled people of the city of Naeth. The highborn, the peasant, the mean and the beautiful alike.
They had come to see the two Queens and the heir to the throne that could never be. Rumour spread. People knew. Peasant and noble, people knew. This was Sturma. This was the end of the era, and history was made, would be remembered. For how long history would be remembered did not matter. What mattered was that it had been made, and made by heroes and heroines, Kings and Lords and men and women of low birth. Sturma was the crux, and Sturma had won.
Rena shook, unaccustomed to such attention, to so many people. She wore her bright red silk band around her missing eyes. The baby, the King that would never see a throne, stood on his own two feet beside her. She held his hand to stop him running off, because though he might have been a king, he was still but a babe.
The air of anticipation, of joy at being a survivor, the very celebration of life hard won, was a heavy weight upon the air, but one that brought tears and smiles unbidden to the faces of those assembled before the Queen that would have been.
Cheers rang out around the streets as Rena took baby Tarn in her arms and held him high for all to see.
'One day...one day...' she choked on her words, imagining Tarn as he had been. Her beautiful friend and lover. She saw Gard and Molly and her mother, Mia, as they had been - great souls, all.
She saw Tulathia, and knew, somehow, that she still waited in the mists before Madal's Gates, a tireless servant of Sturma and Rythe, and yes, Carious and Dow, too...those twin suns that were life to this land.
Roskel Farinder, King of Thieves, touched Rena's arm tenderly, then shouted above the roaring of the crowd. He knew she felt the heavy weight of expectation and could not go on.
But he was the troubadour, was he not? He could perform. He had performed along with his friend, Ruan, once. He had performed along with his friend Tarn, too. Both were lost. But never forgotten. Never forgotten.
Their song lived on.
'Cheer, people, and celebrate a great victory...and know this...one day a King will come again! One day a King will come again!'
The crowd roared louder still.
'Celebrate today. Celebrate tonight. Remember the fallen and your loves. Live your lives. Tomorrow we rebuild. For now, celebrate life! Celebrate life. For the fallen! For the fallen! For the fallen!'
The crowd shouted, nearly screamed the refrain.
For the fallen, he thought. For the legends. For heroes gone and to come.
Roskel nodded to the assemblage. The Thanes of eight Thanedoms, Redalane among them. The Lord Protectors - Wexel, Asram and Roskel himself.
But one was missing. The Queen of Thieves.
He stepped down from the great table in the centre of the square and took his leave. The crowds revelled and cheered and he walked through the throng to great congratulations, but he knew that this day was not done.
*
Chapter Ninety-Nine
Asram sat beside Rena at the grand table for the feast of victory. Everything on this day was about celebration. Food and drink was in abundance. He had taken none.
His heart beat too fast in his chest...he had barely had time these last few days to say two words to Rena.
But he felt he must. He felt...he had no choice. He needed to know. He burned within in a way that almost hurt.
She turned to him and smiled. He remembered when he thought her cold, but no longer. She was not cold. She was damaged, perhaps, but then, he, a killer of men, a gambler, a thrall to the Queen of Thieves...
Could they be saved? Was there such a thing as a happy ending in this hard, hard world?
She was beautiful, and he knew she saw him well enough. Maybe well enough to know that his knees shook beneath the table.
'My Lady...' he began.
'I know what you would ask, Asram. You are dear to me...could be dearer, still, I think...but it is not the right time. Nor can I stay.'
'Then I cannot stay as Steward, Rena, for I am sworn to protect you and Tarn. If you will not stay, then I will leave.'
'Your place is here,' she said, but she was not cold. Not any longer, because she wore a tight, small smile. The kind of smile that begins small, yet holds within it greatness.
'My place is with you and your son.'
Rena took Asram's hand beneath the table.
Asram clamped his teeth shut for fear of his teeth clattering.
Sometimes, he thought, things are best left unsaid.
*
Epilogue
Roskel entered the docks district, thinking hard, but in a kind of drifting manner, letting his thoughts flow and ebb as they were wont to do.
He entered the tavern named 'The Bearded Dragon' and passed to the back room unhindered, though it was a den of thieves. It did not matter. He was one of their kind. They knew him well enough, because he visited upon many an occasion. He was well loved, though such rough men as watched him descend the long stairway downward to the underworld did not envy his fate.
Roskel followed the twists and turns of the underworld of Naeth, down to the Queen's rooms...downward, ever downward, to the Queen's lair.
He thought, perhaps for the first time, of all he knew of her. His mind ticked, and tocked, and all manner of machinations in between.
The Thief King, as he had become to be known, thought how one woman, witch or not, could know so much, be so powerful...whether she was mortal or not...
And realised one thing that he's never noticed before. The one thing that should have raised his hackles but never had.
Did he want her still, knowing now what she truly was?
Of course he did. He wanted her by his side. He wanted her more than any mortal could want...an immortal?
Yes, he realised. It was true. Of course she was immortal. Not just long lived, but a creature that could not die, unless, perhaps, that death were hard fought and hard won indeed.
Was he man enough to take the Thieves’ crown and rules in the shadows with Selana? Become an immortal himself, or would he be doomed to live out his short life, aging, seeing his bride ever beautiful?
His terrible bride. The only woman he had ever loved. Roskel, dandy, once, had known many women. And yet there was only one who could take his breath away, make him flounder. Only one that he had eyes for.
For eternity? Until the suns burned out and Rythe herself froze in death's embrace?
Yes, he thought.
Yes, and forever.
He did not knock, but pushed open the door and found her standing before him. As always, she took his breath away.
'Tell me, Selana. Tell me all. For I am yours, but I must know. I must.'
Selana stroked his cheek with her deadly nails. He took her hand and held it there. If she drew his blood, then he would not care, because he knew without doubt that he was hers and ever would be.
'I am an old one, Roskel,' she said with her soft, effervescent voice. A voice to drown it. 'People called us the Sun Destroyers, once, when my people ruled Rythe. But a cre
ature came and sinned against us...my brother. Caeus.'
Roskel closed his eyes and listened to the tale. It was long, and he loved her more with each word she spoke, though just how terrible and immense and powerful and amazing she was brought tears to his eyes.
'Some old ones had the power over death, yet death held no dominion over them. But they wanted to test their powers, so they created servants from the spirit of the sun. We sinned greatly.'
'Your kind created the Hierarchs, didn't they?'
Selana nodded, sadly.
'They overwhelmed the old ones long ago, so the old ones fled to their strongholds, vast edifices of magical black stone that sustained them in their slumber. Sometimes they came out to feed on death, but now Madal had arisen and they could not feed. I...adapted. I am long lived, Roskel. Longer than any creature upon this world and many others. I saw the fall of my kind, the rise of our bastard children and the birth of mankind. I have seen creatures you would not believe existed, things that are long gone from Rythe and may never return. I have seen dragon's flight in the setting suns. I have seen the leaving of my kind. I have seen the Hath'Ku'Atch born in a bolt of lightning...
'But my kind...my kind will come again. The battle we fought was not solely for Sturma, but for the fate of this world. I love this world and humankind, Roskel. Do you believe that a creature such as I can love?'
'I do. I know it,' said Roskel. He knew he was lost to her, and to the world of men with the realisation.
'One day, a thousand years from now, three will come. Three alone. The Sacrifice. The Saviour. The Watcher. Sturma will see a king again. The time of the Return seems distant, but for my kind it is but a moment.'
'A thousand years?'
Selana nodded again and took Roskel's hand. She held it to her neck. He felt no pulse.
'Don't you want to see how it turns out?' she said.
'With you?' said Roskel, his throat dry.
'Yes,' she said, and bared her throat to him, to his love.
'Then yes, I do,' said Roskel. And he knew his words were true. Nothing truer had ever been spoken. He was lost in her, and she in him.
With a nod, but no further word, the Queen slashed her own throat with one of her razor nails. Roskel watched, for a second only, as that dark ichor ran down her slender neck. Then, without thought, without regret or doubt, he drank.
The Queen of Thieves held him in her embrace, and just like her, he would never see the sun again, but live forever in the shadows.
And in all that time, in the millenium of peace and growth of mankind, the slumber of the Hierarchy, the rise of the Protectorate, they would wait.
They would wait for the return of the Sun Destroyers.
The End
Bonus Material: The Island Archives
The Witch War: The Two Queens
Cast (Major)
(Not in order of appearance. Not in alphabetical order. In fact, there is no semblance of order. Entirely chaotic, just like life. Learning and growing, eh?)
Rena - Flaxen haired beauty. Previously owner of one pair of blue eyes. Missing. Believed lost to the blight. If spotted, please return to owner. Would have been Queen, but for a living husband. Or a horse shoe. Or a pea...there's some kind of fairy tale in there somewhere...
Tarn - The Outlaw King. A man who fought heroically to avenge injustice, became a bandit. Did what it took, which was responsibility and stoicism in the face of overwhelming odd. Then he kicked the bucket and it was all for nought. So, probably a bit miffed about all that, which might explain why he was quite violent when he was dragged from beyond Madal's Gates to become the Lich King and thus the evil Heirophant's undoing. Still, got to feel for him. Never ends well for old Tarn, does it?
Mia - Well, she didn't last long, did she? I'm beginning to think that maybe Rena's the problem here...everyone she touches turns to dust. Doesn't bode well for Asram Fell. And I liked him.
Tulathia - Old witch. Hey, I'm not being derogatory. She really is an old witch. Oh, and dead. A bit dead. Well, fairly dead, but spritely, nonetheless...there's a lot of it going around. Must be the weather. But you have to be realistic, like Ninefingers, eh? She's deader'n a door knob.
Roskel Farinder - The Thief King and the Lord Protector of Sturma, First Steward of the Crown. Baldy.
Shawford Crale - A Lord among vampires, but still falls foul of that eternal trial that befalls many of us - parenthood.
Asram Fell - Beardy-weirdy. Good man in a pinch. Fancies Rena a fair bit. Bowman par excellence.
The Hierophant - Evil bugger. Smells of brie.
The Skald - Rualanon Mar’ganathis Mar’ganathor Am’belain, Blade Singer of the Draymar nation, First Knight of Sturma. Died in the last battle of the Bladesingers...his death will not go unsung...because, you know. They like a good sing-song, the Draymen. Known by his mates as Ruan because it's really difficult to shoehorn ' Rualanon Mar’ganathis Mar’ganathor Am’belain' into the lyrics.
The Queen of Thieves - Selana, the head of the Witches' and Thieves' Covenants...doesn't believe in power sharing. Possibly the most attractive woman in the universe, which might make things awkward should her brother Caeus meet her consort...in, oh, a thousand years or so...but you'll have to read the Rythe Trilogy to find out more! (Ha, sales pitch in the glossary? Sweet.)
Cast (Minor)
Tarn - A true minor role, being a baby and all. Pretty pointless character, to be fair. Almost a MacGuffin, but a small one so as you wouldn't notice.
Ellisindre - Shawford Crale's insatiable Lady wife. Often introduced at dinner parties as 'The Late and Present Mrs. Crale'. Sarcastic bastards, those dinner party types.
Lowan Haggard - He didn't last long, either. Nevermind, eh? Worse things happen at sea...
Rohir - Former Steward of the Crown. Unfortunately, and rather meanly, perhaps, got exploded, like, KABOOM! Shame, really. Liked him.
Wexel - Steward of the Crown. Still alive, which is certainly something to boast about for a fairly minor character in a trilogy.
Durmont - Cool old secretary type fella.
Redalane - Wily campaigner and warrior. Veteran of the War of Reconciliation, Thane of Spar.
Shana Lowboy - A.K.A. The widow Lowboy.
Mange - Manky fella in a pub.
Terithan - Old bugger. Yeah, another one. Seems you can't spit without hitting one. Hathra was his ship mate, but such a ridiculously lowly character he's not even worth his own entry in the glossary. His mum never liked him, either. Hathra, not Terithan. Terithan never knew his mother. She left him in the care of his uncle, a vicious Seafaring man and a mean drunk. But just because you can think of a bit of back story doesn't mean you have to put it in, eh? EH? Not naming names, though. People in glass houses and all that.
Klan Freynard - Seer. Wily, a survivor, perhaps...perhaps the predecessor of a whole Klan...perhaps irrelevant. Truth be told, I haven't decided yet!
Filcher - Sneaky bastard, devious scallywag and short.
Garenhill - Improbable moustachioed thief and confident of the Queen of Thieves.
Beatrain - Might have had something to do with Rena's blindness...also, wicked with a mortar and pestle.
Savan Retrice - So dead even I can't remember who he was.
Orvane Wense, the Thane of Kar - not really a character in this book, but 'The Thief King'...mind you, a little plug won't hurt, will it?
Societies and Nations
Sturma - A small nation, pivotal in the events of both The Line of Kings trilogy and the Rythe Trilogy. Big things to come for the nation of Sturma.
Draymar - Sturma's much larger, aggressive and somewhat invasive neighbour.
The Feewar - A.K.A. The Seafarers...denied landfall for the sins of their forebears.
Lianthre - The largest Continent on Rythe, home of the Lianthran people and also the Hierarchy and the Protectorate.
The Thieves' Covenant - A loose association of thieves, brigands and cutthroats overseen and ruled by Selana.
The Witches' Covenant - The most powerful witches of the nation of Sturma.
The Hierarchy - Dark-hearted devils from Lianthre, bastard sons and daughters of the Sun Destroyers, the original people of the world of Rythe. Their magic feeds on pain and suffering. They fight to bring about the return of the Sun Destroyers.
The Bladesingers - An old order of magically gifted skalds, but also Judges of the Drayman people.
The Stewards of the Crown - Roskel, Rohir and Wexel. Rohir was replaced by Asram upon Rohir's unfortunate demise.
The Protectorate - Close kin to the Hierarchy...they are not possessed of magic, but are warriors born.
The Sun Destroyers - The original people of Rythe...long ago banished from Rythe by Caeus...but destined to return one day. Also known by their true name, the Elethyn.
Vampires - Honourable mention.
Miscellaneous
Botany
Kun Grass/Seer's Weed.
Carmillion
Other stuff, too. Like grass, and trees and seaweed. But really, no one in their right mind cares about this entry at all.
Taverns
The Badger
The Bearded Dragon
The Pickled Hare Tavern
The Wild Man
Ships (in alphabetical order)
Yargar
Maladies
Collywobbles and snivel-toed pith-mites, shingles, syndactyly (rampant among seafaring types - the successful ones, anyway). The Blight.
Artefacts
The Crown of Kings
Mountains
Thaxamalan's Saw
Culthorn Mountains
Celestial Bodies
Carious and Dow
The Queen of Thieves: The Line of Kings Trilogy Book Three Page 18