Return of the Crimson Guard (86 page)

‘Talian is a common tongue here,’ Ereko answered.

The man paused, inclined his head fractionally. ‘Very well … I had lost hope, Ereko. Yet here you are. Seems we've played the longest waiting game in history, you and I.’

‘I play no games, Kallor.’

‘Coy to the end, then. Come,’ he gestured Ereko forward impatiently, ‘let me complete my last remaining vow.’

‘Let me take him,’ Stalker said, straightening.

Ereko shot out a hand. ‘No! No one must interfere. This is between him and me.’

‘You aren't armed, Ereko,’ Kyle called.

The giant turned a wistful smile to Kyle. ‘It is all right. Don't worry, Kyle. This is what I have chosen.’ He took a long ragged breath. ‘I'll not meet you with a weapon in my hand, Kallor. That would dishonour the memory of why I am here.’

The man shrugged. ‘As you will. It would make no difference, in any case.’

‘Traveller, do something!’ Kyle begged.

The swordsman did not answer. Kyle was shaken to see tears staining the man's face. He gripped and regripped the hilts of his sword. ‘I'm sorry, Kyle,’ he ground out, almost gasping. ‘This was our agreement.’

‘Well, I made no such Hood-damned agreement…’ Kyle climbed from the pit, went for his tulwar. Traveller grabbed his arm, twisted it behind him. Pain flamed in his shoulder. ‘Damn you!’ he gasped.

‘I sometimes think that is so,’ the man answered in a voice almost broken in emotion.

Ereko stepped forward, arms open. ‘Come then yourself, High King. I know no fear.’

Despite facing an unarmed opponent, the one named Kallor retreated. Perhaps he wondered if this were some sort of elaborate trap. Or was incapable of understanding what was unfolding. After a few steps back he scowled anew, drew his sword. ‘Do not think that I will be moved by such a display.’

‘Be assured that in your case I am under no such misapprehension.’

Badlands and Coots jumped atop the piled sands, weapons out. ‘Hold!’ Traveller barked.

‘He's gonna get killed!’ Badlands called.

‘It is his decision.’

‘No,’ Kallor snarled, shifting forward. ‘It is mine!’

For all his apparent age, this ‘High King’ moved with stunning speed. The bastard sword's long blade thrust high then was quickly withdrawn to slash down Ereko's front. The giant clenched his arms around himself and fell to his knees. Kallor thrust a second time. The blade pierced the back of Ereko's shirt then withdrew. Silent, Ereko toppled to his side.

Kyle covered his face, horrified. Yet he knew he should bear witness and so he forced himself to look up again, his eyes searing.

Kallor drew his blade across the fallen giant's clothes to clean it. He looked down for a time, musingly. ‘Too easy by far. Though oddly satisfying all the same. But—’ he leant forward. ‘What's this – breathing still?’ He shifted to stand closer to Ereko's shoulders. ‘I think I will take the head.’

‘No, you will not,’ Traveller announced.

The High King straightened, blade rising. ‘A little late for your friend, don't you think? Pangs of delayed guilt? Then again,’ and the man struck a ready stance, ‘please do. I came for a fight. Perhaps
you
can provide me one.’

Traveller edged forward carefully. ‘I speak now because the terms of my agreement with my friend have been observed.’

‘And now you wish revenge. Yes, yes. It's all so drearily predictable.’

Traveller flinched as if stabbed. He raised a hand, pointing. ‘Speak not to me of vengeance, Kallor.’ Kyle was shaken, hearing in Traveller's words echoes of the night before. ‘The one who lies before you made me swear off any vengeance in his name and I respect his wishes. And so I say to you – go now! You have struck mortal blows. Ereko will die of them soon enough.’

Kallor drew himself up tall. His mouth curled his contempt and disbelief. ‘You dare dismiss
me!
Had you the least idea of who and what I am you would run now and not stop until beneath the waves!’

Traveller eased his blade in its scabbard. ‘There are those who would say the same of me …’

A smile broke through the man's glower and he stepped free of Ereko, sweeping his blade wide in an invitation. ‘Then by all means, come. I will take both your heads.’

‘Flee now, High King, or I will act.’

The man made a show of peering first to the right and then the left. ‘I appear not to have fled.’

Traveller drew his blade. ‘That is good enough for me.’

The two closed, feet shuffling slowly and carefully, blades extended. Kyle was worried, for the High King had just demonstrated amazing speed and his bastard sword was a much heavier blade than Traveller's. Not to mention that the man was more heavily armoured.

The blades touched, scraping. Both held two-handed grips. They clashed once, iron snarling. They clashed again, parrying, then Traveller was somehow before Kallor, his fists at the man's chest, blade thrust completely through to the hilt. Kyle gaped and Kallor stared as well, just as astonished. One of his mailed hands went to Traveller's grip while the other swung his weapon. Traveller snapped up a hand to clasp the man's forearm. They held like that for a time, circling and straining, Kallor's blade held high while Traveller's slim dark blade thrust straight from Kallor's back. Kyle was chilled to see no blood upon that blade.

Fury changed to consternation to disbelief on the High King's lined face as his eyes widened and his lips peeled back from grey teeth. ‘Who … are … you?’ he ground out. Edging his head closer, Traveller spoke, his words lost beneath Kallor's gasped breaths. The High King blanched, flinching away.
‘No!
Chained One, aid me!’

A wind gathered around the two. The High King glanced behind himself where darkness blossomed. He gave Traveller a mocking smile. ‘As you can see, apostate, though you have the better of me this time, I am just as difficult to overcome as you. And my Patron is very strong here. In this place, especially …’ He threw himself backwards, sliding off Traveller's blade into the darkness of a gap that cracked open that instant. Traveller appeared ready to throw himself in, but Stalker, leaping forward, pushed him aside.

The gateway disappeared with a sharp explosion of air. Traveller stood motionless for a time, staring at where the portal had been. Beside him, it was Stalker who was gasping for breath, his face sweaty. ‘I thought you weren't going to strike him,’ he said. Traveller sheathed his sword. ‘That was long overdue for another friend.’

Kyle ran to Ereko, threw himself down at his side. The Thel Akai was conscious, panting shallowly. Traveller knelt with Kyle. ‘He is gone,’ he told Ereko.

The giant gave a curt jerk of his head. ‘I go too,‘ he said, laboured, ‘to join my people. I have been a long time from them. I have missed them. Thank you, my friend.’ Glancing to Kyle, he offered a weak
smile. ‘Do not mourn me. And do not give in to sorrow. I will always be with you, yes? This is necessary, here and now. Necessary …’

Traveller stood. ‘Farewell.’

Kyle remained on his knees, thinking, someone ought to do something.
Why wasn't someone doing something?
The Thel Akai's skin took on a grey pallor, roughening. Before Kyle's eyes the flesh transformed to gritty grey stone. The stone cracked, crumbled and flaked. Kyle could not help but pull away, unnerved. ‘What's happening?’

‘He's returning to the Earth. To his mother,’ Traveller said softly, reverently. ‘As it should be …’ and he scanned the horizons, hand on his sword grip.

Even as Traveller spoke Ereko's flesh crumbled to a dust that the wind pulled away. In moments nothing remained. Traveller whispered something that sounded to Kyle like a prayer.

Behind them, the brothers spoke with Stalker who then approached. ‘We'd best go,’ he said, his voice low.

Traveller nodded, ‘Yes.’ He moved to take Kyle's arm but Kyle flinched away.

‘How can you just leave him here!’

‘He's gone, Kyle. The wind has taken him and he will be of the earth once more. It is what he wished.’

The burning in Kyle's chest flared at those words. ‘And how could you have let this happen! You could have stopped it!’

The swordsman's dark-blue eyes widened in shock, then he lowered them and turned away. ‘We should go,’ he said, his voice thick.

Stalker took Kyle's arm. ‘Don't be angry with the man,’ he mumured. But Kyle pulled his arm free.

‘He might as well have killed Ereko himself!’

‘Kyle – that's not …’ but the scout could say no more. He shook his head and walked away, signalling something to his brothers.

Kyle fell to his knees next to where the giant had lain. He reached out to pass his hands over the sands. Gone. He felt as if his heart had been torn from his chest. He'd sworn never to feel this way again, yet somehow this affected him so much more than that day atop the Spur. Someone so kind and wise – how could this have happened? It was not right. Drops of tears wet the sands. His hands found a leather thong and a stone, the necklace he'd seen on Ereko. The stone had a hole through which the thong ran and was smooth and translucent, like amber. He clenched it in his fist and stood.

Feeling oddly as if he were sleepwalking, he headed back, retracing their steps. Distantly, he was aware of Coots and Badlands keeping
an eye on him. Reaching the shore and the
Kite
pulled up on the strand only pained Kyle further. The Lost brothers worked together with Traveller to ready it. Kyle sat and watched them, the ocean and the steady surf. An old man came walking up the beach from the direction of the village. ‘Greetings,’ he called in Talian.

Kyle looked to Traveller who merely returned to his work. Shrugging, Kyle faced the man. ‘Yes? You speak Talian?’

‘Yes. I'm of Gris. Was shipwrecked here years ago.’ His long, straight, greying hair whipped in the off-shore wind. His beard and moustache were a startling white against his lean, sun-darkened features. He wore the ragged, bleached remains of a shirt, leather vest and trousers. His feet were bare and cracked.

‘And?’

The man's eyes narrowed to slits and he glanced away. ‘Was hoping you'd offer a berth – passage anywhere but here.’

‘I don't think so. We're not really—’

‘I know these waters well. I could guide you through them. Been fishing here for years. Where are you headed?’

Kyle was at a loss. Yes, where were they headed? He looked to Traveller; the man's back was turned as he was stowing the bundles and refilled water casks. ‘Quon Tali,’ the man finally said.

‘Quon! Then please, Lady's Mercy! You must take me.’

Kyle glanced sharply to the man –
Lady's Mercy?
But no, why read anything into that. No doubt it was a common enough Talian oath. ‘It's not really for me to say …’ he looked again, a little sullenly, to Traveller.

The man was coiling rope. His back to them, he hung his head then raised it as if entreating the sky. ‘It's your decision, Kyle.’

‘Then I suppose so. What's your name?’

‘Jan.’

Kyle made the introductions. The Lost brothers greeted the man but Traveller did not turn around. ‘We should catch the night tide,’ was all he said.

Jan gestured to the village. ‘I'll just get some supplies.’

‘Be quick about it,’ Traveller called after him.

They had the
Kite
out in the shallows when Jan returned burdened by skins of water, bundles of fruits and pale root tubers. Pushing his way out into the surf he tossed the goods over the side then climbed in. Stalker yielded the tiller. Kyle and the brothers handled the sail. Traveller sat at the bow, arms crossed over his knees. Jan turned them north.