At this news a murmuring went up among the gathered men. Belush hesitated. “I did not, my lord.”
“You, Farn. Did you not consider the lady’s request at least worthy of follow up?” Loethar demanded.
“I was simply following my orders, emperor. It’s been drummed into us never to deviate from an order,” the younger man stammered.
Loethar drew his sword and a tight silence bound the gathered men. “I applaud that you think in this manner, Farn, but, you see I gave very strict orders that the King of Penraven was to be found at any cost. Those were everyone’s orders. And you dismissed that edict in favor of a simple command to fetch the Princess Valya. All you would have had to do was mention her concern to your superior and something could have been done about it. Now their trail is already hours cold.”
“I had no idea, my lord,” Farn bleated. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Privately, Loethar hoped Farn never knew it was coming. And the way his eyelids curiously fluttered a few times once his head rolled to a stop by Valya’s boot, he assumed that the young warrior was taken by surprise. Loethar watched the Blue’s body slump forward, knowing the Mears now had a grudge against Valya. He would have to watch that. To her credit she was stoic in ignoring how her clothes were spattered with the Blue’s blood but he did notice her nudge Farn’s heavy head away, no doubt trying to avoid the way his eyes stared with accusation at her from near her boots.
Belush had not moved position, not so much as flinched. Loethar admired his courage because the Green would know he was next.
“Anything you want to say, Belush?”
“Only an apology on behalf of the Drevin tribe for letting you down, my lord. My pride got in the way of good sense.”
“Your pettiness has allowed the Valisar boy to escape our clutches.”
Belush said nothing, but he hung his head in shame. Loethar waited. Wondered what Valya might say or do. He was sure he had her measure. Nevertheless, even though she did not, could not know it, he had privately handed her control. In the space of a breathless moment he watched Valya take in Stracker’s disgust that a good man was about to die and he assumed that she accepted she was being blamed. If he could feel it, then she must surely feel the fresh hate emanating from the men and directed at her…she could, if she was quick and her pride could be set aside for a second, earn their respect but it would take a magnanimous gesture. He would not offer it or it would make a mockery of the Blue warrior’s death and would compromise him. He watched his knuckles whiten around the hilt of the blade just before he raised it. He gave it another second’s pause at the top of its arc before he reluctantly began its descent.
“Stop!” Valya cried.
“What is it?” he deliberately growled, hiding his relief.
“I want him,” Valya said.
“For what?”
“To humiliate. Make him my servant. Let him run after my every bid, my every call. He can run my errands and run my baths.” She tinkled a laugh at her own jest. “Why lose a good warrior when you can teach him the lesson you want over and over again by giving him to me?”
“Kill me, my lord,” Belush urged.
Loethar’s gaze narrowed as he looked from Belush’s now raised and pleading eyes to Valya’s hard look.
“Make him obey me, the object of his disdain,” Valya urged. “I shall teach him not to dismiss me and you can make use of his fighting skills whenever you need. I don’t believe you need more bloodshed to make your point. We’re better off sending out trackers right now than wasting another moment.” She glanced briefly at the men. “This would please me, Loethar. Perhaps we can teach Belush some respect,” she added.
Loethar stepped back and lowered his sword. “As you wish, Valya. Belush, you now belong to her. You will obey her every command. I know you don’t value your own life but I promise you that I will kill a member of your tribe each time you disobey the soon-to-be empress’s orders.”
“Yes, my lord,” Belush answered. Loethar could hear the forlornness in his voice.
“From now on Valya is to be known as Princess Valya. When we marry she is to be empress. Do you hear?”
As the men assented—Stracker included—Valya glanced at Loethar. Her expression was composed but he could sense her delight. “Come, Belush,” she said sweetly. “I have some chores for you.”
Eighteen
They had stopped for a rest twice more and each time Vyk had landed to regard them in his silent, sinister manner.
Gavriel had found some wild roeberries, which he’d spread out on a makeshift bed of leaves together with the sweet nut that was abundant in this part of the realm.
“I never thought I’d be dining on crabnut,” Leo said, cracking the brittle shell with his teeth and digging out the distinctive purplish flesh.
“Tastes good though, doesn’t it?” Gavriel replied absently, his gaze focused on the raven.
“Anything does when you’re as hungry as I am,” Leo grumbled, but it was a hollow whinge with no heat. If anything Leo was calmer, more in control than ever before.
Although they were in unfamiliar territory and under threat from the marauders, Gavriel believed being on the run and out of Brighthelm was the best set of circumstances for the young king. The ingress had become oppressive, more like a prison than a haven, and he had had very little way of protecting Leo from the cruel scenes that would no doubt continue to unfold before them. “Eat plenty of the berries to help keep you refreshed,” he encouraged. “My father always told us they are as good as drinking a cup of water.”
“I’m done. If I eat any more I think I’ll get belly cramp,” Leo said, wiping the blood-red juice of the berries on his trousers. “Mother would screech if she saw me do this,” he said and Gavriel heard the soft sorrow in his voice.
“I think she’d forgive you under the circumstances,” he replied, pushing himself off the ground. “We need to keep going.”
“I could lie down and sleep right now. We’ve got to have covered ten miles.”
“I know. But we must gain more distance from Brighthelm. We’ll stop as soon as it gets dark, which won’t be long now. If we get lucky I can shoot us a rabbit.”
Leo sighed and hauled himself to his feet. “Come on, Vyk,” he murmured, and Gavriel grimaced.
“Don’t encourage him.”
“It seems to me he does exactly what he wants anyway.”
As Gavriel reached for his bow, Vyk began to clack his beak, and then gave voice to what was clearly alarm. The boys turned to see Vyk lift his heavy body up into the trees, where he quietened but continued to stare at them intently.
“What was that about?” Leo wondered aloud.
“Daft bird,” Gavriel muttered. He pulled his bow across him. “Come on, L—”
“And who have we got here?” a voice said.
Gavriel spun, instinctively reaching for Leo, intensely angry with himself for unbuckling his sword. He could see it on the ground just a few paces from reach, and yet it might as well have been a hundred miles away.
“Boys?” said the man. He looked behind him as a companion appeared. “Look, Jok, poachers.”
“We’re not poachers,” Gavriel said, indignantly.
“What are you doing here, then?” the first man asked.
“Travelling,” Gavriel answered, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. “You look like Penravians, so presumably you’re aware of what’s happening in our own realm.”
The man’s gaze narrowed. “No smart lip from you, lad. And, just as an observation, that sword looks far too fine to belong to someone as scruffy as you appear.”
Gavriel felt a surge of relief. At least his precaution of roughing up their clothes and removing as much finery as possible had stood up to a cursory glance. The ruse wouldn’t bear intense scrutiny but hopefully it wouldn’t have to.
“That sword belonged to my father,” he lied. “And he gave it to me.”
“Who gave it to him, I wonder?”
Gavriel shrugged. “My father travelled a lot. I have no idea. Probably won it at darts.”
“He must have been good,” the man commented.
“The best,” Gavriel replied.
“And does the skill run in the family?”
Gavriel nodded, unsure of where the man was going with this. “I’ve a good eye, if that’s what you mean.”
Both men laughed.
“Is this your brother?”
Gavriel gripped Leo’s shoulder more tightly. “Yes, this is Lewk. My name’s Gaven. And you?”
“Jok and Alfric. Al to my friends.”
Gavriel tried to give a friendly nod although he felt trapped. He could hear the damn raven clacking high in the trees now.
“Where have you come from?” Alfric asked.
“The city’s too dangerous. We were going there to work the leaf-fall with my uncle. He’s a smith who does a lot of jobs for the palace.”
“I would have thought there would be plenty of work around.”
“There is but the marauders are still in a killing frame of mind. It’s early days.”
“Still got the smell of blood in their nostrils, eh?”
Gavriel nodded. “Still capable of much cruelty, yes. It’s not a place for my brother. I promised our mother I’d keep him safe.”
“Where’s she?”
“Dead. Both our parents are. But I gave that promise years ago.”
“So where are you headed?”
“North.”
“Why?”
Gavriel was tired of being polite but knew he must not be impetuous, not now. “What does it matter?”
“I’m interested.”
“Well, I don’t tell everyone our business.”
“Why so reluctant, boy? Something to hide?”
“No. But we’re tired and hungry. I have to find a place for Lewk to sleep that’s not out in the open like this. You obviously know the forest well. Wolves must know it too.”
“You don’t look like brothers, you know?” Jok piped up.
Gavriel deliberately showed all the exasperation he was feeling. “That’s because he’s adopted. Much as I’d enjoy sharing our entire life history with you both—perhaps over a mug of tea and quiet night by the fire—we need to be on our way.”
Alfric laughed. “How well can you use that sword, boy?”
“Well enough,” Gavriel replied, his anger rising. He knew where this was going now; had hoped to avoid it. “But I don’t want to use it.”
“I like your confidence.”
“You don’t want to do this. We have no argument with you.”
“But I don’t believe your story. I think you’re poachers and we don’t take kindly to poachers in our forest.”
Gavriel looked at them, aghast, but was shocked when Leo spoke. “You don’t own these lands, sir.”
“The hell I don’t!” Alfric said. “I don’t care what’s happening out there,” he said, pointing back toward Penraven, “but I sure care about what goes on in the forest, especially with whippersnappers like you thinking you can join the game.”
“Game?” Gavriel spat. “You should care about what’s going on back there because it’s going to spill into the forest soon enough. Do you honestly believe the barbarians aren’t just as at home in the woods as they are on their plains? They prefer the wilderness to the city. Loethar’s men will be swarming through here soon enough. I say again, we are not poachers. You carry on with whatever you do. We’ll just carry on our journey north. We have no argument.”
But Gavriel could see in the dull-eyed look of these men that an argument was precisely what they wanted. He’d seen it before. They were probably not yet frightened of Loethar’s presence because it played into their own pleasure of anarchy. He knew these men followed the laws of Penraven about as closely as any one of the barbarians. They had obviously stayed clear of the fighting thus far, but in doing so they had become bored. Now they had two seemingly helpless youngsters on whom they could take out their boredom. He noted that they had a sword each, and both were heavy-set men—the taller, Alfric, was much plumper, perhaps not so fast on his feet.
“Ever killed anyone, boy?”
“No.”
Alfric laughed. “Always a first time, eh?”
“I didn’t say that. I don’t want to fight you, Alfric.”
“You sound scared.”
“You should be scared,” Leo hurled at the men. “Don’t say we haven’t warned you.”
Even Jok joined in the mirth now. “Cor, I’m really shaking in my boots now, Al.”
“Why are you doing this?” Gavriel asked, unembarrassed by the plea even he could hear in his voice.
“Because we don’t like the look of you, because we think you’re lying, because you’re on our land, because I hate the refined way you speak, boy, and because your brother looks at us as though he’s important. I see hate in his eyes.”
“Can you blame him?” Gavriel demanded. “You’re frightening him.”
“I’ll frighten him a lot more once I get my hands on him,” Alfric said and to Gavriel’s revulsion Jok actually licked his lips in a deliberately lascivious manner.
So that was it! They’d probably had no women in an age. Gavriel moved quickly, reaching for the hilt of his sword. With his movement came a rush of fury. “You’ll not lay a finger on him,” he snarled. “Run!” he urged Leo and in a sweeping move not only lifted his sword but instantly lunged to cut off Jok as the man moved to give chase to Leo. “Oh, no you don’t!” he baited. “You deal with me first.” He feinted at Jok again, who backed up a step or two.
“Oh for Lo’s sake, what are you frightened of? He’s half your age!” Alfric scorned as he drew his weapon. Gavriel could see it had rust spots and was not a well cared for sword. He had to hope it was not as sharp as his own.
The two men tried to encircle him but Gavriel deliberately lunged, keeping them herded together. It was easier to keep them crowded and fighting shoulder to shoulder than it would be if one got out of his line of vision.
“I thought you said you weren’t any good?” Jok whinged.
“I said I used it well enough. I also told you I didn’t want to use it. You’ve started this; now you pay the consequences.”
Jok made a rush at him and Gavriel parried, getting his first taste of their skill. Though Jok was strong, he was flatfooted, and his short stature meant that he didn’t have much reach. Gavriel stepped back but kept his fighting stance.
“Looks like we have a jolly one here, Jok. When this is done, we’ll hang his body from this tree here so no one else gets the idea that this forest belongs to everyone.”
“You’re mad. I’m not your enemy. The real enemy may be yet to arrive in the woods, but he’s coming, trust me. In fact I suspect he’s already on his way.”
“The barbarian is not interested in the forest, you fool. He’s after riches that only the city can offer.”
“Which makes me realize you’re even more stupid than you look, Al!” Gavriel taunted, hoping to provoke the man into a move.
The big man moved fast—much faster than Gavriel had given him credit for being able to. He felt the blade swipe through the top of his arm and if he hadn’t spun in that second, the wound would have gone deep to the bone. As it was, blood bloomed, soaking his shirt sleeve.
“How does that make you feel?” Alfric baited.
Gavriel was used to drills; he’d never really had to fight in a genuine situation. Never had to make the decision of kill or be killed. How did it feel? It hurt, like a flame burning on his skin. “Angry,” Gavriel growled and lurched first left before rapidly launching himself to the right to avoid Jok trying to sneak around him. Within moments he was frantically engaged in a battle with both men, desperate to keep them occupied so that neither could break away and run after Leo. His non-fighting arm was bleeding profusely; the wound needed to be staunched which meant he would have to deal with these two amateurs swiftly. Still angry wi
th himself for opening himself up to the early cut, he began backing away from where Leo had run, drawing Alfric and Jok toward him.
“You obviously want to die, boy,” Alfric sneered.
“Not really. Just wanted to reassure myself that you are genuinely two fat, incapable fighters with limited sword skills,” he hurled back, swiping at Jok, who yelled as his knee opened and he fell forward.
Alfric paused in surprise to glance at his felled friend. Gavriel darted into the sudden stillness, hacking away Alfric’s sword and kicking away Jok’s weapon. He pressed his sword into the big man’s throat, a line of blood already beginning to dribble down his neck.
“Don’t do it, Jok,” Gavriel warned. “I know what you’re thinking but Alfric here is already out of breath and it will take very little effort for me to dispatch both of you.”
Jok withdrew the hand he had been reaching toward Gavriel’s leg. Gavriel stepped away from both men. “Now what’s it to be? Alfric, you can help your friend and flee together—without your weapons or food, of course—or I can kill you both now and save the realm your ugliness. I am impatient; you would do better to choose quickly.” He looked into the distance. “Lewk!” he yelled and was relieved to see the king step out from behind a tree.
He returned his attention to the men. “Remove your belts and sacks. Leave them on the ground and go. You’ll have to pick him up, Al. Jok’s not going anywhere without your shoulder to lean against.”
Alfric reluctantly untied his sword belt and pulled off the rucksack on his back. Jok followed suit, pulling the small sack slung across his body over his head and casting it behind him. “Hope you choke on the food in there,” he said.
“I’ll think of you when I’m dining tonight,” Gavriel replied. “Now lift your trouser legs, both of you,” he ordered, his sword still hovering near Alfric. “Ah, there we are,” he said, a note of triumph in his voice. “There’s always a concealed blade, isn’t there? Uh-uh, don’t reach for them. I’ll get them.” Carefully he retrieved both daggers and hooked them into his own belt. “Now go.”
“What are we supposed to eat?” Alfric bleated.
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