The Tattered Banner (Society of the Sword Volume 1) (20 page)

Emeric pulled a wide bladed dagger from his belt and reached into the mass of cloth once more. There was a sickening squelching sound and then a crunch. Emeric stood, pulling the man’s head out from the cloth with him. He held it up above his head by the hair and stared out into the darkness.

‘If any of you fuckers want the same, you know where to get it!’ he yelled.

He hurled the head out into the darkness, a dull thud returning from the darkness a moment later. It was only now that Soren realised the howling had stopped. When they turned back to deal with the headless corpse, it was gone.

They stoked up the fire and allotted watches, but none of them slept that night.

C h a p t e r   2 0

THE JEWEL OF THE NORTH

I
t took another day’s ride to get them out of the dead zone surrounding Rurip. They remained vigilant and stopped only when they had to. None of them wanted to spend another night there. They didn’t encounter any more trouble, but Soren breathed a sigh of relief when finally they emerged from the ruin back into open countryside.

It took nearly a full day after that to get to the Brixensea, the great lake by which the city of Brixen sat. The lake’s surface was like a mirror, perfectly reflecting the cloud scudded sky and the steel coloured, white-capped mountains that loomed on the horizon.

The sun seemed to be touching the surface of the lake as the city of Brixen came into view. Immediately Soren could see why the city had earned its name, the Jewel of the North. The crystal blue waters that stretched out in front of it mirrored its high towers and great domed roofs and in places it was hard to tell where the city ended and the water began.

They rode along the shore of the lake, with the city on the other side getting larger all the time for the remainder of the lighted hours. They reached an impressive gatehouse on the south bank of the river that fed the lake, which guarded the bridge across and into the city shortly after darkness fell.

The guards eyed them warily, but after reading a letter of safe passage that Emeric showed to them, they allowed them through, muttering directions to the Palace. It seemed southerners were not a regular, or welcome presence in Brixen. They rode slowly over the arched bridge. It was made of white stone and it was a magnificent piece of artistry, with a rail of perfectly shaped columns capped with an intricately carved lintel of twisting vines. Every five columns the lintel was topped with a magnificent statue holding a mage lamp up over the bridge. Once they had crossed the bridge and passed through another gatehouse, they arrived on a wide boulevard that ran along the shore of the lake. It was lined with trees and statues and paved with the white stone. Every building in view was constructed from this pure white stone. The stonework of the buildings was decorated with square columns that were topped with ornate carvings of foliage. The windows had triangular arches that lent the buildings an austere but elegant beauty. The verdigris roofs provided a strong contrast with the white walls. Everything about the city shouted out its wealth.

The boulevard was quiet, but much like Highgarden there were finely dressed couples walking along the bank enjoying the serene and peaceful surroundings. Soren and his two companions drew some curious glances, but not quite the same suspicion that Soren had felt the first time he had entered Highgarden. It seemed their clothes marked them out quite clearly as not being local, but also as not being undesirables.

As they rode along the boulevard toward the Palace, Soren could not help but admit that the city was the most beautiful place he had seen. He knew that he had only seen its exquisite façade and not the underbelly that he was sure was hidden away behind it, as was the case in Ostenheim, but still it truly was something to behold. The Palace itself was built on an island a short distance from the shore and was connected to the mainland by a bridge that was even more ornate than the one they had crossed to get into the city. Out on its own in the lake, it was mirrored perfectly by the still water and grabbed one’s attention completely and utterly.

On the journey north Amero had told him that while Ostenheim had made its wealth as the trade hub between the empires in the east and all of the cities of the old Saludorian Empire that surrounded the Middle Sea, Ruripathia’s wealth was solely based on the fortune in gems and precious metals that were extracted from the Telastrian Mountains to the east. Diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, telastars and the ore from which Telastrian steel was made, as well as platinum and silver were all mined in large quantities and exported around the Middle Sea.

Telastrian steel swords were one thing that Soren very much wanted to see while he was there. They were a rarity in the rest of the world, and fetched a king’s ransom but Soren thought, perhaps naively, that there would be far more of them in Ruripathia, being as it was the source of Telastrian steel. Amero had one, but said it was far too valuable to bring on a dangerous mission such as this. The blade would be kept safely and passed on down the generations of his family. Soren had thought it a shame that such a sword would never be used for its intended purpose, and resolved that if he was ever lucky enough to own one he would use it properly.

The most famous of them were named, usually by the man that had first wielded it but sometimes with the older ones, the name had come afterward as the deeds that were carried out with it drifted from history to legend. The steel was said to be unbreakable, flexible yet also hard enough to retain a razor edge. It didn’t rust and there were few things hard enough to chip the blade. The combined qualities created a peerless sword that would last for generations. Once it was forged however, it could never be re-forged, and the steel was notoriously difficult to work. Only the most skilled smiths would even attempt it.

While the city was magnificent, the Palace was truly awe-inspiring and ever more so the closer one got. It was constructed of white stone and its roof was a mix of blue-grey slate turrets and verdigris domes. It was beautiful, imposing and a firm statement of power and wealth.

‘They certainly have a flair for the dramatic, these northerners,’ said Amero disdainfully. ‘And architecture,’ he added, grudgingly. They trotted out onto the causeway leading to the Palace after again showing their letters of safe passage to the guards stationed at its shore end.

As they drew closer Soren could see that the walls were decorated with alcoves between the columns that contained bronze statues, looking grand and ancient, weathered as they were to a faded blue-green colour. Added to what was already an impressive building was the fact that there were lights on behind many of the windows. Their warm glow was also reflected in the water. In the centre of the front of the building was a great arch supported by massive ornate pillars. Recessed into this was a double door that entirely filled the space created by the arch.

A guard hidden in the shadow of the arch issued a challenge. He stepped forward out of the gloom to take the letters of safe passage from Emeric. He nodded to a second guard, who like the first was dressed in a livery of dark grey.

‘Dismount and come with me please,’ he said, in heavily accented Imperial. Language was conveniently the one remaining common feature in all of the states of the former Empire, although differences in accent and slang could on occasion make comprehension a little more difficult.

He banged three times on the door. A small hatch opened and then closed, and the door was opened. The arch continued underneath the building, opening onto a courtyard at its centre, flanked on all sides by the Palace itself. Their horses were taken by a stable boy and led away.

They waited there for a few minutes, Soren taking the opportunity to absorb his surroundings. The courtyard was paved with slabs slightly darker than the walls of the building. In the centre there was a magnificent marble fountain surrounded by neatly trimmed ornamental bushes and small, carefully shaped trees. Opposite the archway through which they had entered was the main door into the Palace itself, a grand affair at the top of several steps set amidst a mass of stone carvings of battle scenes. The walls were lined with windows and smaller doorways, and it was to one of these smaller doors that they were led.

A grey haired man in very fine clothes exited a door on the opposite side of the courtyard and walked briskly toward them.

‘The city gate sent word of your arrival, but it came as something of a surprise as we weren’t expecting you for another couple of days! I hope you had a safe journey,’ said the man.

‘We took a shortcut through the ruins of Rurip, not altogether the safest choice, but it saved us some time,’ replied Amero.

‘No, that road is very dangerous. Clearing the ruins of looters is high on the Prince’s agenda, but with so many stories about the place it is difficult to generate any enthusiasm for the job, but that is neither here nor there. I am Varo, the Royal Steward. Allow me to formally welcome you to the court of Prince Siegar the Fourth. I shall take you to your apartments and the Prince will receive you in the morning.’

The step from a street corner to his small attic room in the Academy had been monumental. The step from there to the room he was presented with in the Palace was equally big. The accommodation assigned to him in the Palace was opulent, and, he noted with some slight embarrassment, far better than that assigned to Emeric, who had been given one of the several servant’s rooms attached to Amero’s apartment. He was a pupil at the Academy though, and it was one of the first occasions that he began to realise what this really meant.

There was a bedroom, a water closet with both hot and cold running water on tap, which was something he had never seen before, a lounge and a dressing room. There was also a small servant’s room attached, although this would remain vacant. The whole apartment shouted a luxury that was entirely alien to Soren. He had thought his room in River House to be the height of luxury. Compared to this it was little better appointed than a stable.

The household had dined already that night, so a meal was served for the three in Amero’s apartments. The food was not in the same quantity as Soren had experienced at the Academy, but the quality was far higher, something he had not believed possible. As he tucked into his second helping of a sweet, fluffy meringue, he decided that should he ever be wealthy enough, he would very much like a personal chef who could make them. He chuckled to himself at the thought. It certainly was a far cry from stolen, stale bread.

‘As the diplomatic gifts aren’t here yet, I expect the formalities will be dispensed with and we will cut straight to business. The Duke desires that the peace treaty between Ostia and Ruripathia be extended. He seems to think that the people do not have the stomach for another war so soon after the last one, but I wonder if perhaps it is he that does not have the stomach for such matters,’ said Amero. He watched Soren closely as he made his comment about the Duke, but when Soren did not react in any way, he continued. ‘Soren, you will join me for most of the meetings, it will be good for you to learn some diplomacy by seeing it rather than reading about it in a book. Some of the sessions will be closed however. I will let you know when you need to leave.’