‘“Go unto my people and teach them The Word of Jarudha and you shall be eternally blessed”,’ Diamond quoted. ‘A Seer who doesn’t live by the scriptures has no place in Paradise.’
Onyx glared at Diamond’s carefully selected reference, but he had no answer, so he bowed his head slightly and said diplomatically, ‘Your Eminence is ever the one who knows best the work of Jarudha.’
Diamond smiled, but he recognised his colleague’s bitterness and noted that he would have to watch Onyx.
King Ironfist refused to meet King Future on common ground to negotiate. Instead he sent an ambassador, a surly-faced individual named Barter Longhands, to accompany Warlord Bloodsword to a meeting with Future and his people at a farmhouse north of Port of Joy. Sensing treachery in Ironfist’s absence, Future also chose not to attend, sending as his mediators Royal Intermediary Goodman, Seer Gold and a reluctant, freshly healed, but limping, Warmaster Cutter according to King Ironfist’s alternative request. ‘I’m not a negotiator,’ Cutter argued as he rode beside Goodman. ‘I don’t trust the Kerwyn. What if they attack in our absence?’
‘Without their Warlord?’ asked Goodman. ‘Bloodsword has agreed to be there.’
‘You don’t need a Warlord to wage a war,’ said Cutter. ‘And what if we get to this farmhouse and Bloodsword’s not there?’
‘They could be thinking the same thing. Bloodsword will be there.’
‘But you have no guarantee.’
‘I have King Ironfist’s word.’
Cutter laughed ironically. ‘A trustworthy king.’
The Shessian entourage cantered out of the Northern Quarter outskirts and angled away from the main road along a track that wound past abandoned and ruined farms for a short distance before approaching a stand of gum trees surrounding a big farmhouse. A flock of pink galahs scattered from their path as they reached the main building. Cutter counted twenty-three Kerwyn horses as they slowed to a walk and he searched for his military opposite, curious as to what Bloodsword would be like face to face. A Kerwyn rider in red robes detached from the others and trotted to meet them. The riders reined in and the Kerwyn spoke in fluent Shessian. ‘I am pleased you have come. I am the King’s Royal Ambassador, Barter Longhands.’ He looked at Goodman in his black robes and said, ‘I assume that you are the King’s Intermediary.’
‘Kneel Goodman,’ Goodman replied.
‘Greetings, Kneel Goodman,’ Longhands said cordially. ‘It is good that we can meet on common ground.’
‘This is Western Shess,’ Cutter said.
Longhands looked at the Warmaster, noting the man’s strength and aggressive demeanour. ‘Ah yes,’ he acknowledged, ‘and you are the great Warmaster Cutter.’ He bowed his head courteously, saying, ‘It is a pleasure to meet so honourable an adversary.’ He also nodded to Seer Gold. ‘I hope Jarudha has blessed your morning’s journey.’
‘Jarudha protects as always,’ Gold replied.
Longhands readdressed Goodman. ‘We have surveyed the farmhouse and it is safe for us to discuss what is on the table. If you would be kind enough to instruct your company to wait here and only yourself, the Warmaster and the priest will come with me.’
‘And the soldiers?’ asked Cutter.
Longhands smiled. ‘The soldiers will withdraw to the same distance as your men.’
‘Who among you will come to the table?’ asked Goodman.
‘Myself, of course, Warlord Bloodsword as promised, and the King’s scribe.’
‘And who is that?’ asked Goodman.
Longhands’s horse shuffled and he reined it in before he explained. ‘Scribe Recordskeeper writes down what is spoken between men in negotiations with King Ironfist and they are kept to show others what has been promised.’
‘So where was this Recordskeeper when your king made his promises to King Future?’ Cutter asked pointedly.
Longhands glanced at the belligerent warrior, but to Goodman he said, ‘I will head back to the house to begin preparations. Join us at your leisure.’ He wheeled his horse and trotted back to the Kerwyn ranks.
‘This stinks of a Kerwyn trap,’ said Cutter angrily, and he shifted warily in his saddle, surveying the surrounding bushland, noting the places where the Kerwyn could hide a small force. ‘We should scout the countryside carefully before we walk into that house.’
‘The Kerwyn have agreed to withdraw to the same distance as us,’ Goodman reminded the Warmaster. ‘This may be the only opportunity we have left to negotiate a respectable peace.’
‘I agree,’ said Seer Gold. ‘The Kerwyn have been caught off-guard by our tactics. We should seize the chance to negotiate before they can test our defences further.’
Cutter mumbled a sarcastic remark as he turned to issue orders to the accompanying cavalry to withdraw two hundred paces to the south. ‘The Kerwyn are required to do the same,’ he explained, ‘but I don’t trust them. The moment you see any threat, or suspect treachery, warn us in the house. Without fail.’ The twenty riders nodded and turned to take up their station, while Cutter and his companions started the steady walk on their horses to the farmhouse.
Longhands waited at the door, smiling and nodding acknowledgement to each person in the traditional Kerwyn manner as they entered. Cutter surveyed the room. There were three windows and another door to the right. He noted with dismay that the positioning of the chipped wooden table and stools in the centre and the choice of seats by the Kerwyn standing behind them meant the Shessian delegation would have their backs to the door. He locked gazes with a tall, broad-shouldered individual who had long dark hair braided in thin lines at the sides and narrow, dark piercing eyes, and guessed that he was Warlord Bloodsword. Bloodsword was studying him with the objective expression of a warrior assessing an opponent he was expecting to fight in an arena. Cutter’s fingers touched the pommel of his sword and he saw Bloodsword’s eyes flicker recognition and the man’s hand also dropped against his sword.
‘Please be seated,’ Longhands invited, indicating the chairs. Gold and Goodman sat as requested, but Cutter angled his chair so that he was sideways to the table, with an eye on the entrance. Longhands gave him a look of displeasure, but Cutter ignored it. ‘I welcome our friends,’ Longhands said as he sat beside the man Cutter assumed was Bloodsword. ‘We have water for whoever is thirsty,’ he said, indicating a red pitcher and six mugs, ‘and nuts and fruits in the adjoining room when we have finished our meeting.’
Beside Bloodsword was a thin individual in a red cloak with the hood shadowing his eyes, and the unfeigned secrecy alerted Cutter to more danger. ‘How come your friend has to cover his face?’ he asked bluntly.
Longhands looked at Cutter as if surprised by the question. ‘This is the King’s scribe,’ he said in explanation.
‘So what?’ Cutter asked. ‘He takes down the hood or we leave.’
Goodman turned to Cutter with a querying expression that carried his dismay at the Warmaster’s rudeness, but Longhands replied calmly, ‘In our lands it is customary for the King’s scribe to keep his face hidden. The scribe is the only one who knows the King’s mind and he is not a person but the keeper of the King’s wisdom.’
‘In my experience,’ said Cutter, ‘the only people who hide their faces are those with something to hide who cannot be trusted.’
Longhands glared at the Warmaster for what seemed a long time, until he finally spoke in Kerwyn to his companions. The mysterious individual lowered his red hood to reveal a gaunt, pale clean-shaven face with haunting ice-blue eyes that stared straight at Cutter. The man said something to Longhands without taking his cold stare from the Shessian Warmaster. ‘Scribe Recordskeeper asks that he be allowed to replace his hood,’ said Longhands firmly.
‘As he wishes,’ Goodman replied, without looking at Cutter.
Longhands nodded to the Kerwyn scribe who lifted his hood into place so that his eyes vanished into shadow again, leaving Cutter even less easy about the situation. ‘My companions are not well-versed
in your language,’ Longhands explained to Goodman, ‘so you and I will have to patiently translate what transpires here.’
‘I speak Kerwyn,’ said Goodman.
Longhands smiled. ‘Good. Then we can commence the negotiations.’
Cutter half-listened to the ambassadors as they stated their respective kings’ positions and began laboriously establishing negotiable and non-negotiable issues, but he was more intent on listening to the sounds beyond the room, searching for aberrations to confirm his suspicions that this was an elaborate Kerwyn trap. Across the table, he saw his counterpart staring at him. Bloodsword was still measuring him and to any experienced warrior that type of persistence meant Bloodsword was not going to be content with words across a table. He also noticed that the scribe wasn’t writing down what was being said.
‘What do you think of that proposition?’
Cutter became aware of Goodman’s face in his field of vision and realised that the Intermediary was awaiting an answer. ‘What proposition?’ Cutter asked.
‘The Kerwyn are offering to withdraw five thousand men at a time over a period of—’
Shouting outside the room broke the Intermediary’s explanation and Cutter was on his feet, sword drawn. His eyes were on Bloodsword, who was still seated, but he sensed movement and whirled as the scribe’s hands flashed in a throwing motion. Spinning metal glinted as three thin murderous objects flew at him. One embedded in his left arm, into the padding covering the thundermaker wound received on his heroic charge a cycle past. The second sliced across his neck. He swatted the third aside with his blade. With a roar he strode around the table as the scribe scrambled from his stool and Warlord Bloodsword rose with his sword free of its scabbard. The scribe wrenched open the second door as Bloodsword’s blade broke Cutter’s swing and stopped the advancing Warmaster. Cutter’s anger melted into discipline in the face of the new opponent who was staring him down with fierce determination. Bloodsword had measured him and was certain that he would prevail. Your mistake, Cutter bitterly thought.
‘Give up,’ Longhands warned, also holding a short sword that he produced from beneath his red cloak. ‘Your waiting guards are already dead. There are two hundred men surrounding the farmhouse.’
‘You treacherous bastard!’ Goodman snapped.
‘And you are a dumb bastard,’ Longhands snidely replied. ‘Tell your war dog to drop his weapon. He might be a hero to your people, but he’s no match for our Warlord and he can’t single-handedly defeat two hundred soldiers. If he’s lucky, your King will pay for his release.’
Cutter’s response was to lunge at Bloodsword. The Kerwyn Warlord turned Cutter’s blade deftly aside and shaped up again. He said something brutally short in his Kerwyn tongue and stared grimly. ‘Give it up, Blade,’ Goodman advised quietly. Cutter did not move. He was measuring the Kerwyn Warlord. The interior door opened and Cutter saw the red armour of Kerwyn soldiers. With a grunt of rage he attacked Bloodsword, furiously beating the bigger man back several steps to the doorway. None of his sweeps, lunges or thrusts scored on the Kerwyn, but his speed and initiative forced Bloodsword to take defensive action and retreat.
Seeing the Warmaster’s refusal to surrender, Longhands approached the Seer and Intermediary, raising his sword menacingly. ‘Don’t make me have to kill one of your friends,’ he warned, but then he grunted as Goodman lashed out and kicked him in the groin. As he bent double, Goodman brought an elbow down across Longhands’ neck and dropped him to the floor. Gold grabbed the short sword and pressed it against the groaning victim’s neck.
Seeing the unexpected change in fortune, Bloodsword struck viciously, trying to push Cutter back and let the men enter whose doorway he blocked, but Cutter held his ground, parrying the Kerwyn’s strokes. From behind, Cutter heard someone yelling in Kerwyn and another person calling him to stop. Bloodsword’s weapon lowered, but Cutter was wary. The big Kerwyn leader grunted a reply to what was being spoken and his sword rose slightly as if he was ready to recommence, but a voice babbled again in Kerwyn and from its tone Cutter recognised the sound of pleading. Bloodsword glared at Cutter, his bearded visage glowing with hatred as he stepped back cautiously into the adjoining room.
‘Check that they’re leaving the house,’ Goodman said. Noting that Gold had the Kerwyn ambassador pinned with the short sword and Goodman was urging him to check beyond the door, Cutter wiped the seeping blood from his neck with his left hand, saw the shining Kerwyn blade still wedged in his armour and wrenched it free, before he stepped warily through the door to dog the Kerwyn retreat from the farmhouse.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
You are dead men,’ Longhands murmured. ‘You don’t need—’
‘Gag him,’ Cutter snarled.
‘Gagging me won’t stop your death,’ Longhands argued as Seer Gold fashioned a gag from cloth and rope.
‘He’s right,’ said Cutter angrily. ‘Perhaps it’s better to slit your throat and be done with. Isn’t that what Bloodsword said?’
The reminder of Bloodsword’s parting words, that the ambassador was expendable, before he withdrew from the farmhouse silenced Longhands. Gold slid the gag over the Kerwyn’s mouth. ‘If I had to listen to him any longer I would have cheerfully surrendered,’ said Cutter.
‘Now what?’ Goodman asked. ‘Three of us in a farmhouse against two hundred Kerwyn and their army leader?’
Cutter nodded. ‘I agree it’s not the best of military situations, but I saw how you disarmed that piece of scum. Impressive for someone who’s not a soldier.’
‘I was trained to protect the Queen,’ Goodman replied. ‘I don’t just oversee the Elite Guards. I am one.’
‘Clearly.’
Gold stood beside him. ‘May I see that wound on your neck?’
Cutter acquiesced and Gold studied it carefully. ‘Well?’ Cutter asked.
‘It’s already swelling and red. There was poison on that blade.’
Cutter met the Seer’s gaze. ‘How serious?’
‘I need to try some healing.’
‘And?’
‘And you’ll need to pray to Jarudha for His forgiveness.’
Cutter pushed away from Gold. ‘I don’t need prayer. I need a plan to get us out of here.’
‘We need a miracle,’ said Goodman. ‘Perhaps you better pray.’
Cutter looked at the Intermediary and smiled for the first time that day. To Gold he said, ‘Heal me.’
A stone thudded against the farmhouse wall and a man shouted. Goodman peered carefully through a window. ‘Bloodsword is saying something.’
‘Translate it,’ said Cutter. The big voice outside yelled again. ‘Well?’ Cutter demanded. ‘What’s the Kerwyn Warlord saying?’
‘He says we have only this one chance to surrender. If we don’t come out now, his archers will set fire to the building and we will either die in the fire or be slaughtered when we crawl out.’
Cutter grinned and looked down at Longhands. ‘He doesn’t like you, does he?’ Longhands scowled and swore under his breath.
‘What do we do?’ asked Gold.
‘Some of Jarudha’s protection would be useful about now,’ said Cutter.
‘Or a Blessing,’ said Gold.
‘A Blessing, a prayer, something useful,’ Cutter muttered.
Gold straightened and reached inside his blue robe to retrieve a phial of purple powder. Goodman raised his eyebrows. ‘Euphoria?’ he asked.
Cutter glared at the phial. ‘That’s your answer?’
Gold smiled as he uncorked the phial. ‘I need some water to make a solution.’
Cutter gasped in amazement. ‘Are you serious? You’re going to take a drug to face the enemy?’
‘It might make dying easier,’ Goodman acknowledged, shrugging.
Gold shook his head as he found the pitcher of water that had been placed on the table for the negotiators and poured a measure in a mug. ‘Euphoria calms my nerves,’ he explained, ‘and makes casting my Blessing easier.’
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br /> ‘And what exactly is your Blessing?’ Cutter asked, sceptical of the priest’s explanation for his unexpected drug use.
Gold shook a quantity of euphoria into the mug and stirred the contents with his finger until the purple powder dissolved to become a honey-coloured liquid with a reddish tinge. ‘I have a small healing gift,’ he said, and tasted the liquid. ‘You’ll need that very soon,’ he reminded Cutter. ‘I can also amplify sound.’ He lifted the mug and drank.
‘Amplify sound?’ Cutter asked. ‘Is that all?’ He turned to Goodman. ‘I don’t surrender to an enemy. Take the priest and yourself and save yourselves.’
‘I need one of you to lead me outside and describe things to me,’ Gold said, as if he hadn’t heard Cutter, ‘but you both have to put rags in your ears, bind them tightly until you can’t hear, and then I can do what must be done.’ His speech slowed and slurred as he reached the end of his instructions and was silent.
Goodman approached the motionless Seer, stared into his sightless eyes and expressionless face and shivered. He turned to Cutter and said, ‘He’s gone.’
Cutter swore. ‘I don’t believe that!’ he snarled. ‘I’ve seen soldiers take the drug before battle to numb their fear and the pain of wounds. I’ve even been told that there are men who are so afraid of dying that they dose themselves like this so they can die without knowing about it.’ He kicked over a stool and stomped to the window to look out at the encircling Kerwyn. The enemy were not close enough to see their faces clearly, but he saw the red robes of the scribe who he knew now was an assassin sent to kill him in the name of war expediency and he saw Bloodsword’s imposing figure. The Kerwyn wanted blood. Even if he surrendered, they would kill him. Now I will never see my family, he brooded, as his fingers wrapped about his sword grip. My instincts are never wrong. And I didn’t trust them.
‘I think we do as Gold requested,’ said Goodman. Cutter turned to the Intermediary. ‘What have we got to lose?’ he asked. ‘We walk out as if we are going to surrender. If Gold wasn’t making an excuse for taking the drug he’ll use his Blessing to help us.’
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