“Was he really that bad?”
“No, probably not, but I’m delving into memories from when I was seventeen. My judgment was different then. Anyway, we got separated, I got captured, you know the rest.”
“How do you mean to find your brother?”
“I have no idea, not a clue where he went and so no inkling of where to begin. I’m going to start from where I left off and hope things will begin to piece themselves together from there. Perhaps Corbel is looking for me.”
“How do you know the king is still here? It seems highly unlikely,” she said, pulling a face of doubt.
“I agree but, Elka, I have to start somewhere. Faris’s hideout was the last place I was seen. At least if I can find Faris, he can tell me what’s become of Leo.”
She nodded. “Right. So we have a plan. Let’s go. Can we skirt Francham?”
“No. We will take the direct route and ride heads high. If Francham has grown up so much, seeing you is not going to be the novelty it once was. I think you’re overestimating just how interesting you are, my lady.”
She gave him an audible sneer and kicked her horse forward. “Come on then, runt. Let’s go. We should have found our spot to camp by sundown.”
He grinned, and gestured with his hand for her to lead. “Height before beauty.”
When Loethar arrived at the two-mile marker, the sun had set and the forest canopy ensured it already felt like night had fallen fully. As the moon’s light was nearly absent due to thick cloud cover, Loethar had to depend on a single thick candle to illuminate the path. He’d left his horse tied to a tree at the end of the forest and had walked in, carrying only the small chest.
This was madness. He knew it in his heart. He was alone, vulnerable and very likely walking into a trap. He had to hope his half-brother still held enough respect for the memory of their mother to wait until her remains were properly dealt with before springing any attack.
Stracker was waiting for him. He was seated on a tree stump, pouring out a second goblet of wine. His own was half full. “I can’t remember the last time we did this, alone, in the wild. Here,” he said, offering the full goblet.
Loethar gave a wry smile and took it.
Stracker held up his goblet. “To us!”
Loethar had never known Stracker to be sentimental but now was not the time to be churlish, he decided. He took the goblet and raised it, nodding. They sipped.
“Did anyone recognize you?” Stracker asked, standing.
“Not a soul.”
“Are you at The Lookout?”
Loethar nodded. “I’ll head back tomorrow.” The wine was decent and he drank deeply again.
His half-brother drained his own cup, sighed, and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Such a swift visit. So tell me what is so urgent, so private.”
Loethar followed suit and drained his wine. He fixed Stracker with a dark gaze. There was no easy way to say it. “Our mother is dead.”
Loethar watched his half-brother’s confident expression falter momentarily. The tatua twisted before it relaxed again.
“And that’s her, I suppose,” Stracker said, nodding at the chest.
“Her ashes.”
“She was old but she wasn’t ailing when I left.”
“She was poisoned, Stracker.”
Now the man showed some emotion. He stood and strode forward, looming over Loethar, his lips pulling back to reveal small, uncared-for teeth. The several rings hanging from one ear jangled angrily. “Accidental?”
Loethar had not shifted stance nor expression. It was important to hold his ground here as he knew this was a watershed moment for him and his violent sibling. “I believe she was murdered.”
“Who?”
“Valya.”
Stracker growled in an animal-like sound of despair. “And you banished her, you didn’t kill her!”
“I have no proof. Only my suspicions.”
“Why now?”
“I think Valya got wind that our mother suggested she was a useless wife if she couldn’t produce an heir. I can’t imagine how, but perhaps Valya was spying on us that day in the chapel. Mother suggested then that Valya should be disposed of if she didn’t give me a son.”
Stracker stabbed a finger at Loethar, just stopping short of hitting his chest. “Our mother was right! Valya failed again and gave you a daughter—a dead one at that. Why a convent when a grave would be so much more appropriate?” Loethar blinked. Stracker continued. “She should be hunted down and answer for her sin. How can you permit our mother to die under these circumstances and not make someone pay?”
“I told you, no proof.”
“You’re weak, brother. You’ve become so soft you can’t even control the Denovian slut you married.”
“Valya is many things, Stracker, but she is not a slut. I think you should study the Set language before you use it. Perhaps you are better off back in the Steppes, speaking our tribal tongue?”
The tatua stretched as Stracker grinned with menace in the low candlelight. “And there I was thinking it was probably you who should go back.”
At last. They had arrived at the point that Loethar knew had been coming for years. His mother had warned him. Her intuition had become fact. And he had misjudged Stracker’s sense of honor.
It was Loethar’s turn to smile. “Is that a challenge, Stracker?” He blinked a few times, suddenly feeling a warm blurriness in his head.
“Certainly sounds like one. Are you surprised?”
Loethar shook his head in answer but also to clear his mind. “Not really. I just thought you might wait until our mother was properly committed to her god. But, Stracker, nothing’s changed, or have you been practicing with that weapon at your side?” His tongue felt suddenly thick in his mouth.
Stracker laughed. “I’m not that stupid, brother. I am well aware of your almost otherworldly sword skills.”
Loethar understood, decided to steal Stracker’s surprise. “And so it has come to this. Not even a fair contest but an ambush? Not very noble.”
“I never claimed to be noble like you, brother. I am of the Steppes. We use cunning. There is no room for honor.”
He shook his head again to clear it. “That’s what makes you so unfit for leadership. Honor is something your father tried very hard to impress upon you. What ever you think of me, Stracker, honor is my code. It always has been.”
“I’m glad you have finally admitted that he was my father.”
“He was a father to me all the same. And he was an honorable man.”
“If he saw you now, I think he would be ashamed.”
“I doubt it. I think his only shame for me is that I let you live.” Loethar shifted balance and staggered slightly.
Stracker’s expression changed from smug enjoyment to genuine menace. He didn’t reach to help his kin. “Perhaps you should have killed me when you had your chance.”
“I’ve had many chances, but for our mother’s sake I refused them all.”
“And now you have no more.”
“So you don’t plan to draw your sword on me?” Loethar baited, listening for the inevitable sound he had been anticipating since he realized the trap had been laid. He could feel the drugged wine spreading its dulling, soporific effect far too quickly for him to do much to help himself.
Stracker shook his head and a malevolent grin returned to his face. “I just want you compliant and unable to draw your own. You’ll be conscious for a while yet I’m assured by the physic who prepared the brew for me. You’ll even be able to answer back!” He laughed. They both looked over at the stump behind which another flask of wine had been hidden and clearly the one Stracker had used to pour his own goblet. “And now you’re going to endure the punishment that you have earned for many years.” He nodded, glancing over Loethar’s shoulder. Loethar didn’t bother to even turn at the sound of the first twig snapping underfoot.
Neither of them had been hungry enough to go to the trou
ble of lighting a fire, let alone trapping a rabbit. Instead, they had munched on their plentiful supplies from the convent, happy to eat on the move as they looked for an appropriate spot to camp for the night.
They’d led the horses in and up about a mile past the-two mile marker when Gavriel had proclaimed himself spent and suggested they not even bother to light a fire. “I just want to sleep. It’s a mild night,” he admitted.
She’d smiled at him. “Short and weak.”
“What ever you say,” he’d muttered as he yawned, quickly tethering the horses. They’d taken the precaution of watering them at Francham. “We’ll have to leave the animals tomorrow and proceed on foot.”
“Nothing changes in the forest,” she replied. “I know a good spot where they’ll be safe and protected.”
Gavriel nodded, yawned again. “Faris will find us first, most likely.”
“What if you are not ‘found’ immediately?”
“Then we’ll have to return to Francham, perhaps leave the horses and I’ll try again in a few days.”
“You don’t think people in town will begin to be suspicious of all the going backward and forward?”
“If I have to return, I won’t be leaving until I find him,” he warned. “There will be no going backward and forward.”
She sighed. “This is it for me, my friend. If we leave the forest empty-handed tomorrow, I’ll be making my way back east.”
He nodded in the dark. “I understand, Elka. I’m grateful you’ve accompanied me this far.”
Nothing more had been said. They’d drifted into silence on that mournful note, the haunting sound of an owl and the chirrup of crickets accompanying them into sleep. Gavriel rolled into his sleeping pack and was snoring gently before Elka had even lowered herself to the ground to unravel her pack. As she turned to settle down, a light in the far distance, down the incline, caught her attention. She squinted, at it, concentrating. There it was again, and it was moving. Who would be coming into the forest at this time of the evening and why with such a low light? She clambered agilely over to Gavriel and shook him. He mumbled something unintelligible as he turned onto his back. Elka pinched him. “I said wake up!” she urged.
Gavriel’s eyes flew awake, and he would have yelped if she hadn’t been fast enough to clamp her hand across his mouth. “Sssh!” she cautioned. “We’ve got company.”
He nodded and she removed her hand.
“Ouch!” he muttered angrily.
She smiled in the dark. “Over there.” She pointed.
“I see it. What is that, a single candle?”
“Looks like it.”
“Bit of an odd time to be coming up into the forest,” he mused.
“My thoughts exactly—and clearly wanting to be kept secret. Anyone meaning to be here and not worried about being seen would use a lantern or two.”
“It could be Faris’s men,” Gavriel suggested.
“Yes, that’s what I reckoned. Let’s go take a look and make sure they’re not about to stumble upon our horses.”
“If it’s Faris—”
“And if it’s not, we don’t want that sort of company. Come on, Gavriel, try to move as silently as we’ve taught you.”
“Shut up, Elka. I move like a cat and you know it.”
She laughed softly and he realized he couldn’t hear her tread at all.
Loethar was gripped between two Greens, their strong fingers digging into the muscle at the top of his arm, a trick used by the warriors to deliberately numb a man’s body and his ability to fight back. He could already feel the telltale tingling in his fingers.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked them. “I am your emperor but before that I am your tribal ruler. Your death warrant aside, are you happy to go to your god as a traitor to the Steppes tribal law?”
The man to his right faltered. Loethar knew it was not because he feared death—none of his warriors feared death—but because he feared the recrimination of the gods beyond death.
“Aludane will never forgive your treachery,” he continued. “You know the creed—”
“We all do, brother,” Stracker interrupted. “But even Aludane will forgive us this. You are no longer a leader we respect. As I say, you are more Set than you are Steppes. You bear no proud tatua. You never wanted to be a true tribal leader. You used us to take the Denovian Set because ruling here, in the western sovereign’s way, was always your desire.” He nodded. “Look at him,” he ordered his men. “Our tribal leader looks more Valisar than Brennus ever did!” He laughed maliciously. “Although, brother, I was impressed with your early ruthlessness. And while you have become complacent over the last ten anni, I am also impressed with your ridding yourself of your ghastly encumbrance of a wife. I will enjoy killing her on behalf of Dara Negev.”
“You can’t see beyond the immediate, can you?” Loethar replied calmly. “Did you honestly believe my intention was to slaughter everyone and simply take over the land?”
“Yes.”
“Then you are even more stupid than you look.”
Stracker’s eyes turned to slits as his mouth thinned with fury. “We have achieved nothing!”
“That’s because you will always see yourself as a tribal yob, Stracker. You haven’t evolved. Many of our people have matured and grown, they’ve become educated and eloquent. They speak two languages, sometimes three. It’s not about us; it never was. It was always about generations to come. We have taken this land and infiltrated its people so that all people will benefit. Many of our children are half Set, half Steppes. A whole new generation is growing up, Stracker, and they are going to be stronger, cleverer, better than any of us could dream. They will do us proud. They will sail to new continents and discover amazing new cultures and practices that they will bring back here. That’s how an empire and its people evolve and grow. But your idea of rule is to stay the same, to kill anyone who steps out of our primitive ways. Unhand me, you fools. This man will lead you and your families down the path to destruction. He has no plan. He is only happy with the smell of blood in his nostrils.”
Stracker punched his half-brother. His expression showed how much he enjoyed the sensation. Loethar slipped to his knees, breathing hard.
“You were once happy with the smell of blood. I can remember when you ate kings,” Stracker accused.
Loethar struggled to talk. He’d misread the fire in Stracker’s belly to be rid of him; had thought that Stracker wouldn’t even think of overthrow until Dara Negev no longer stood between them. But his half-brother had obviously been plotting for a long time. “I was happy for blood when the spilling of blood was necessary. We are in more sophisticated times, Stracker, that require diplomacy and tact and intelligence, all of which you sadly lack.” He felt Stracker’s fist connect with his jaw, a well-judged blow to make him black out only momentarily. When he regained his wits he could hear Stracker’s jeers.
“You have turned us into soft-bellied, soft-witted Denovians. I think you want to be a Valisar, Loethar—is that why you ate Brennus?”
“No, you sad fool. I ate him for his magic, but I realize now that the Valisar magic doesn’t work that way. You see, Stracker, I am capable of learning. You are not. Why don’t you fight fairly? Let me draw my sword and we’ll sort this out in the tribal way.”
“No, I already accept your supremacy as a swordsman. We fought for kingship once before the tribal way and you won. Now I’m fighting for leadership the cowardly Valisar way…I’m using cunning. And it seems I’ve won.”
“Do you truly believe people will follow you?”
“If they don’t—”
“They’ll die?” Loethar finished for him.
And Stracker laughed. “The Denovians will become our slaves, our workers.”
“And what of the people who are tribal but have intermarried, have children who are half and half?”
“They can choose to die or become slaves too. There will be no mixed blood. The tribes must rem
ain pure.”
“You are mad.”
“This was always my creed. I haven’t changed.”
“What would our father think?”
“My father hated that you pitied me.”
Loethar knew this to be true. “And what would our mother think of your ambushing me as I bring you her ashes?”
“She always knew I would kill you. Surely she tried to warn you?”
Loethar spat blood out. “In her way, yes. But I never thought you would try anything with our mother still present,” he said, glancing at the chest containing her ashes.
Stracker shrugged. “I’m not as sentimental as you are.”
“I can tell.”
The general grinned. “It’s good to see you humbled like this, on your knees before me.”
“Stracker, I’m not humbled. My mortal body crumples as anyone’s would, but in my mind I laugh in your face at your pathetic intentions. The army follows you because it follows orders. But when misery takes a hold and you begin to lose control, that same army, these very men who do your bidding now, will rise up against you. You don’t understand leadership; you only understand the blind obedience of a dumb dog. Oh yes, you feel you’re taking initiative now but it is purely the snapping of that dumb dog railing against its master. A dumb animal doesn’t survive very long without someone to control it, feed it, water it, train it. You—”
Loether never got any further; Stracker hit him so hard he bit off a piece of his own tongue, his mouth filling with blood as he hit the ground, unconscious. He never felt the beating he took.
“String him up,” Stracker commanded finally. “He can die in the forest, hanging by his neck. No honorable tribal sword will tarnish its blade with his blood.”
Watching, hidden, Gavriel swung around, looking stunned. Elka turned to him, equally shocked.
“The emperor?” she mouthed.
Gavriel nodded. “I can’t believe it.”
Tyrant’s Blood Page 38