Tyrant's Blood (36 page)

Piven stared. ‘Sit!’ he commanded.

Sergius struggled down, and Piven also lowered himself to the ground. Vyk swooped over him.
Will you tell me what you fear? I will lay those fears to rest.

I fear nothing
.

Then why are you showing such aggression towards Sergius? He is an old man. I can explain everything you want to know
…

Piven’s eyes snapped over to the bird.
No, Vyk, you can’t. He has kept secrets from you. Listen and learn
. He returned his attention to Sergius.

‘Tell me about the serpent.’

The old man flinched, shaking his head slightly as if he didn’t understand what was being asked.

‘Do not play games. I see a serpent in your mind. You are calling to it now, pleading with it for help. Who is this serpent?’

‘Cyrena,’ Sergius replied, his voice thick with resignation. ‘A goddess. She watches over the Valisars.’

‘And what is she to you?’

‘My mistress. She created me…and Ravan.’

‘Ravan? That’s your real name,’ Piven declared, glancing over at the bird. ‘It suits you.’ He looked again at Sergius. ‘Tell me his purpose.’

‘Simply to watch. Originally he was given to Loethar. More recently he has kept an eye on all the happenings surrounding the Valisars.’

‘He is a spy.’

‘You could call him that. But I notice he has a genuine attachment to you.’

Piven nodded. ‘I have looked into the bird’s heart. He is honest in his friendships, unlike you.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He is your friend, is he not?’

Sergius nodded. ‘For decades we have been inseparable.’

‘That does not answer my question. Ravan thinks you are his friend. Are you?’

‘Of course!’

‘Then tell him.’

‘Tell him? What?’

Piven smiled. ‘You are shielding well, Sergius. I’m impressed. But you cannot hide my sister from me. Tell your great friend of decades what you have hidden from him.’

The raven hopped up to Sergius.
Sister? What is he talking about, Sergius? He is mad, Ravan. We were right all along. The magic is eating away at what little sense he has left
.

No, that’s the problem
, Piven intervened, making Sergius flinch with shock.
Did you believe I couldn’t hear you? Sergius, privacy is no longer yours. I am far from mad. The madness of my childhood has deserted me and left me with a brutal sanity that is dark at its heart and wants revenge. It will not be sated by placations. It demands action. I will bring down all the Valisars
…
all of them!
he repeated, tittering.

‘Your sister has done nothing to you,’ Sergius railed, raising his bony hand, extending a finger of accusation.

‘Oh, but she will if you have any say in it. Tell Ravan, Sergius. Tell him about my sister.’

Leo and Jewd were on opposite sides of the road. Leo watched Jewd working rapidly, tying a near invisible line across two trees that flanked the road.

‘That’s not going to achieve much.’

‘It will when they’re galloping, trust me,’ Jewd murmured. ‘How much time have we got?’

‘I can’t see them yet,’ Leo replied, rising in the saddle to stare down the slight gradient in the road. ‘But you know we’ve only won ourselves minutes.’

‘Nearly there. Now, the best bit,’ Jewd said, winking. He ran further down the road. Leo followed at his side. He’d never seen the trick that the outlaw band called witchflame. Kilt had once explained that they rarely used it, saving it only for times of extreme emergency.
When one of our own is in trouble
, he had counselled Leo when the king had first stumbled upon the stash of tiny blue paper packets, each formed into a small pyramid.

Jewd seemed to sense that Leo needed an explanation. He gave it as he worked. ‘We got these from our travels through the northernmost part of Cremond. Kilt and I were returning from a trip to Skardlag. We were still young, you know, and far too reckless for our own good. We came upon an old woman accused of poisoning the local livestock. The people were desperate. Their cattle and sheep were dying daily. They blamed this woman, Meg,
because someone had seen her walking through a flock of sheep, and he claimed that three of them fell over and died in her wake. Meg looked like Kilt’s dear old mum so he decided we would save the old girl. It was madness; two of us against a mob. The mayor was a bad sort and had already determined that Meg should hang; we sensed he had a previous grudge with her and this was his revenge. I was terrified but Kilt just marched into the throng, found the mayor and persuaded him that Meg was nothing but a harmless herbalist.’

‘And they just forgot about it, just like that?’

Jewd frowned as he put his final blue packet into place. ‘It was very strange. Kilt explained that it was probably the sheep’s food. Strange blue flowers—a weed—had begun spreading across the north, growing at an alarming rate across the fields and paddocks. Kilt suggested they should put their efforts into helping old Meg find a way to kill the flowers and make the grasses safe again, rather than killing her and watching their animals continue to die, and beggaring themselves.’

‘What happened?’

Jewd grinned. ‘We watched them release Meg. Kilt had suffered the most vicious nosebleed and she offered to staunch it. That’s when we discovered her amazing firepowder. She gave us a sackload of these packets in thanks for rescuing her. We never saw her again. There, we’re ready.’

‘How do we light these things?’ Leo asked. ‘There’s no time to start a fire or—’

Jewd grinned. ‘That’s the beauty of them. Look closely at the taper. Do you see the red end?’

‘Yes.’

‘When I give the signal, you scratch that. You’ll ignite a tiny flame that will then burn through the taper. Get out of the way as soon as you see it lit. Understand?’

‘Right,’ Leo said, enjoying himself immensely despite the danger of what they were about to do.

‘Leo.’ The king looked up, grinning, but hesitated at Jewd’s serious expression. ‘If anything goes wrong, you run, all right? No heroics, no settling old scores. We haven’t got you this far to lose you to some lowlife warrior’s blade, do you understand me? These are orders from your elder. King’s rank doesn’t count here.’

‘I promise.’ Leo glanced down the road as a flash of colour caught his eye. ‘Jewd, they’re coming.’

His friend gave a thumbs-up and put his finger to his lips. ‘The horses are secured and hidden?’ he murmured. Leo nodded. ‘When it all erupts, you make those arrows sink home. I don’t care if you can’t get a clear shot to kill but we don’t want those soldiers getting up. Remember, aim for the soldiers. The others are not fighters and less of a danger. As soon as you can, grab one of the horses. I’ll get Kilt. I’ll have no time for anything but picking him up. Got it?’

Again Leo nodded. Jewd looked worried but he still found a smile. ‘Good luck, your majesty. Have fun with your first real chance to strike back at the empire.’

Kilt’s mind was in turmoil. This was the first time since they turned outlaw that he and Jewd had not been together on a task, and he was rueing the decision not to have Jewd at least tail him. He’d been bull-headed, his thoughts so blurred with fear for Lily and his pride so wounded, that he had lost his senses. Working alone like this was madness. It was little wonder he’d found himself in this perilous situation. He had no one to blame but himself for his petulant, arrogant behaviour. He was no better than Gavriel de Vis had been long ago, when he’d stomped off away from the group in much the same mood and got himself not only injured but also imprisoned.

Kilt had privately never forgiven himself for losing the young man. In his heart he had admired de Vis for keeping his head through a situation that most well-trained men would have quailed at. Gavriel de Vis had witnessed his own father’s brutal death, had
lost his twin brother to who knows what, had also had to live through the ghoulish murders of his king and queen—and all the while he had been responsible for keeping a twelve-anni-old calm and safe. Kilt had never underestimated what Gavriel de Vis had done for the crown; getting the boy-king away from the palace into the relative safety of the forest and then somehow navigating him to the security of Kilt’s camp was a real test of anyone’s mettle, let alone a seventeen anni old.
And then you do something petulant and totally stupid
, he thought.
Over a woman!

Kilt felt an inner voice accuse him of hypocrisy. He felt a spike of humiliation. Not only had he taken the same petulant, stupid course of de Vis, running away from those who kept him safe, but he had also done so over a woman.
The same woman!
the inner voice reminded him.

‘What are you grinning at so wryly, priest?’ Stracker asked, interrupting his thoughts.

‘Myself.’

‘Why?’

‘How stupid I’ve been to end up here…with you.’ It didn’t sound like something a man of Lo might say but Kilt no longer cared. And it seemed neither did Stracker, who smiled back at him.

‘Not enjoying the ride, eh?’ Stracker baited.

‘Not one bit of it, least of all the company.’

‘Look at it this way, priest. Your mother’s probably dead by now so your sister’s presence is no longer essential. Plus, as you haven’t seen her in anni, it wouldn’t matter if she were dead too.’ His green tatua moved on one side of his face as he lifted a lip in a cruel smirk.

Kilt stared at the general. ‘One day I’ll make you regret saying that.’

Stracker made a tutting sound. ‘Threats of violence. And from a man of Lo. Shame on you, priest.’

Kilt knew Stracker had probably seen through his disguise right away, but at least the general had no idea of his true identity. The
problem was, he couldn’t use his advantage because none of his own men knew where he was. And on top of that, his secret was in danger of being discovered…he couldn’t risk that again, not yet. He was so out of practice, too; using his gift felt clumsy and cumbersome. He never thought he would have to consider its presence again, but now, in the space of a day, he had called on it twice. Would it ever leave again?

Kilt twisted in the saddle, trying to distance himself from the still sneering general, when a sound like a thousand thunderclaps exploded on his right, blue flames erupting from the trees. The horses screamed and reared. Kilt was aware of Vulpan falling off his horse, and an arrow striking a nearby soldier in the chest. He was struggling to wrestle his horse under control when a second explosion sounded to the left and this time all the horses panicked as one. Kilt definitely saw a second guard go down, an arrow pointing out of his chest, and suddenly everything fell into place.
Jewd was here
! Lo bless his disobedient but loyal heart. And Jewd would need his horse.

Pandemonium ensued and he lost his sense of direction as the horse twisted beneath him, smoke all around them. As Kilt struggled to maintain his grip on the reins, Stracker’s ugly face leered out of the smoke. He was growling something unintelligible and then he was grabbing for Kilt’s reins. Kilt tried to fight him off but the general was much stronger and a far more able horseman, than he. Leaning forward, Straker slapped Kilt’s horse’s rump and the animal leapt forward in a freshly panicked gallop. Kilt could see Stracker in front of him as they cleared the smoke, the general dragging Kilt’s horse by its reins. It was all Kilt could do to keep his seat.

‘You’re coming with me, priest!’ Stracker howled.

Kilt could hear Vulpan’s high pitched-shrieks and hoped one of the arrows would hit home, into his throat, and end the vile man’s life. He could see nothing over his shoulder, bent low like this as he gripped the horse’s mane. Without reins he felt helpless. He looked
towards the general and was surprised to see that Stracker was suddenly no longer in front of him. And then he too was falling.

Leo’s heart was hammering but he was proud that although internally he was churning, his arms and legs still obeyed him calmly. Jewd’s witchflame had been ignited first and Leo had counted dutifully to twenty before he ignited his own. Without pausing to watch its effects, he had emerged from behind the large tree and loosed his arrows with calm efficiency. The smoke had hampered his aim but he knew one guard had taken a shot high in his chest and would be unlikely to live to tell the tale. Another had got an arrow embedded in his leg and he hoped that the third might have been fatally wounded, though he couldn’t be sure.

He despised himself for not aiming for General Stracker—but he couldn’t see the general and Jewd had urged him to get as many soldiers out of contention as possible. Now he was running towards one of the loose horses. From the corner of his eye he saw two people bolting, and although one was definitely Stracker, he couldn’t tell if the other was Kilt.

He could hear his own breath, was aware of his steps thumping over the grass. He crashed through the low hedgerow and grasped for the panicked horse’s reins. Its eyes were wide and terrified.

Suddenly the Wikken stumbled through the clearing smoke, blinking and cursing. Without thinking, Leo dragged Faeroe from its scabbard and slashed the sword across the helpless man. The raised purple tatua on the man’s face twisted in a snarl of pain and disbelief as blood spurted, hitting Leo. He watched the man go down, threw Faeroe back into the scabbard and then fled, pulling the horse behind. He didn’t look back, didn’t dare glance at the carnage.

In the woodland, his and Jewd’s horses were waiting for him, dragging against their bindings, equally panicked. Leo sucked in gasps of air and finally turned, three beasts in tow, casting a prayer to Lo that Jewd was right behind him with Kilt.

Jewd had desperately wanted to finish off Stracker. The general was pinned beneath his horse, struggling and cursing; the line they’d tied across the road had worked perfectly. Jewd’s sword was ready, itching to hack at the prone man’s throat before he could release himself from the thrashing animal, but another man emerged from the smoke, running hard at him, ignoring the arrow sticking out of his leg, not even pausing to break it in half.

Jewd cursed the strength and resilience of the Steppes people but had no alternative but to deal with the wounded guard. He caught a glimpse of Leo in the background, leaping into the fray of men, horses and smoke, but had to give his attention to his own attacker. Kilt was somewhere on the ground near his feet, unmoving.

‘Kill him!’ Stracker screeched at his soldier. ‘Or I’ll kill you!’

Jewd had no intention to fight honourably—this was battle in the least noble sense. Kicking out with his long leg he connected expertly with the arrow sticking out of the man’s flesh and the guard predictably doubled in surprised pain.

‘Brave but stupid!’ Jewd roared and brought his sword down in a vicious hack, killing the man instantly.

He looked up and though he couldn’t see Leo he could see Vulpan emerging from the stinging smoke. Stracker had nearly pulled himself free of the dead or dying beast that lay on top of him. Jewd knew he had only seconds. ‘You’ll keep for another day, Stracker,’ he warned, yanking Kilt’s body up and heaving it onto his shoulders.

‘And I know you now, big man. Consider yourself marked!’

Vulpan had collapsed to his knees, coughing and spluttering. Jewd risked a solid kick to Stracker’s temple and felt satisfaction at the thud. Stracker’s eyes glazed over. Settling Kilt’s body into a better position across his shoulders, Jewd took off running towards the meeting place.

He caught sight of Leo’s back disappearing into the woodland and sent a quick thanks to Lo that the king had been spared; as it was, Kilt would be furious that he had put the king’s life in jeopardy. He couldn’t think about that now, though; not until he knew whether his best friend had survived.

‘Here!’ Leo yelled as they approached, holding out the reins. ‘Thank Lo you got him.’

‘After all that, he can’t even sit a horse! Get on your saddle and ride!’ Jewd yelled, slinging Kilt across his own horse. He climbed up behind him and urged his beast on its way. ‘We go as high as we can on horseback, Leo, then on foot. They’ll never catch us if we can make it deep into the forest.’

He could hear voices shouting in the distance.

‘Ride, your majesty! Just go north. Don’t look back!’