by David Hair
But this expedition has cost me two of my sons – maybe three, ’cause no one knows where Banno is – and it’ll probably be the death of me.
Raythe Vyre wanted a meeting, but he needed the thoughts of his two lieutenants before that. He picked a random gate into a courtyard and waved in grey-bearded, calculating Crowfoot and swarthy, belligerent Bloody Thom.
‘How’re the lads?’ he asked the pair.
‘Truth, boss, their heads are spinning,’ Crowfoot replied. ‘Floating castles, lost tribes, Aldar ruins? It’s like we’ve fallen off the edge of the world.’
‘But most of all, the lads don’ know what side we’re on,’ Bloody Thom added. ‘Last night, we were about to help the damned Bolgies, then we kragged ’em instead. Deo knows we hate them bastards, but Vyre needs to go down. So damned right, our heads are spinning.’
That was all fair, but Elgus had been right beside that Bolgie commander when the attack fell apart. Changing sides twice in one night was a first for him, but it had been a crazy situation – and as it turned out, the right choice.
‘You were there: Jesco Duretto and his lot had the Bolgies cold – and then those savages hit their rear. We’d have gone down with them if I hadn’t two-stepped us out.’
Crowfoot scowled. ‘You didn’t know that was coming, Elgus. You made that call purely on gut.’
‘And my gut got it right,’ Elgus retorted, slapping his ample girth. ‘Sometimes it ain’t the logic but the feel, and that attack din’t feel right. Those Bolgies were messing up and Vyre’s people had the high ground. They wanted us to go into the teeth of their guns, uphill in the dark. So damn right I pivoted, and I was right to.’
Thom got it – he understood that while large battles were decided by numbers and firepower, skirmishes like last night got settled by luck and cosmic energy. And three times now, Vyre had led his caravan out of the empire’s jaws.
The gods are with him, my Pa would’ve said.
Focusing on Crowfoot, who was all about numbers and tactics, Elgus said, ‘Vyre has the upper hand and Duretto suspects us. We play along and wait our moment.’
Crowfoot snarled in frustration. ‘Elgus, even if that Bolgie force was wiped out last night, they must’ve told their superiors where they were going. We have to be gone – with a shitload of istariol – before the empire returns.’
‘Maybe – but it’s just as likely they were operating in the dark, and who’s to know if they left adequate directions? Verdessa is a new settlement and things are loose in such places. And in case you’ve not noticed, there’s an army out there – so until we know what we face, we play along. Got it?’
His men grumbled into their beards, but they grunted assent.
‘Look, I’m chewed up over this too,’ he told them, ‘but I’ll see us right, lads. I always have.’
With that he headed for Vyre’s meeting, readying the lies he’d need to hide what he’d done last night – but his thoughts constantly returned to his one remaining son.
Banno was last seen with Zarelda Vyre. If she’s a prisoner, where’s my boy?
*
‘Well?’ Crowfoot growled.
Bloody Thom hunched over, seething. ‘Elgus is deluding himself. We’ve got two, maybe three months before the empire arrives, I reckon. By then, we’ve gotta be gone.’
Crowfoot considered. ‘A month for anyone who escaped to reach Rodonoi, a month to get their shit together – I reckon they emptied the garrison, so they’ll need reinforcements – then a month to return. So aye, three months.’
Thom leaned in and whispered, ‘You reckon Elgus’s still got the balls for this?’
‘I don’t know,’ Crowfoot said, and that was painful to admit. They’d all been through so much together, all the chaos of the imperial conquests and the rebellions. ‘He’s got to assert himself with Vyre or that slimy Otravian will sell us all out, you watch. When we strike, they’ve all got to fall, Vyre and his ringleaders.’ He enumerated their enemies, finger by finger. ‘Jesco Duretto. Vidar Vidarsson. Kemara Solus. Mater Varahana. Cal Foaley. Vyre himself. Six backs, six knives.’
‘And maybe seven, if Elgus don’t see us right,’ Thom growled after a moment.