Valour

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

FIDELE

Fidele walked out of the shade of Ripa’s hall into the sunshine. It was autumn now, but here in the south of Tenebral summer lingered. Only a chill to the sea breeze hinted at the changing seasons. She strode down the steps and through a courtyard, beneath wide wooden gates and onto the plain beyond, her shieldman Orcus at her heels. It was here that Krelis trained his warband in the shield wall.

Men were lined up on the field, gripping their great round shields, while a small clump of men yelled orders at them. Krelis stood tall amongst them. The warriors raised their shields, interlocking them so that they became a solid wall. Other men ran and battered against the shields. A horn blast and the shield wall was moving forwards, those before it falling or giving way. Some fled to the flanks of the wall, where they renewed their assault. Another horn blast rang out and the shield wall rippled as men from the back reinforced the flanks. It worked well enough, repulsing the attackers, though something about the movement looked ragged.

She approached Krelis as horns signalled the end of the session. The rows of men in the shield wall breaking up, dissolving into individual sparring sessions.

‘My lady,’ Krelis said as she drew near. Peritus was there, talking with a white-haired man, Alben, the sword-master of Ripa. He was old, but had a sprightly energy about him. Fidele had spoken with him and found him to be humble and intelligent. He had even made her smile, something in short supply of late. Two younger men were there. One of them had a large tooth tied by a strip of leather about his neck. A draig’s tooth. She recognized him — Maris — as having served in Nathair’s warband and returned with him from his campaign to Tarbesh. These are the two Nathair sent to teach Krelis the shield wall.

‘It looks very impressive,’ she said to Krelis. ‘Well done,’ she added to the two behind him. ‘I am sure my son will be pleased with you and the work you do here.’

The two warriors bowed.

‘Their hearts are not in it,’ Krelis said, looking at the field of warriors. ‘This is the way men should fight. Looking into each other’s eyes. Skill and courage deciding the victor. It is honourable.’

Fidele sighed. ‘We’ve been over this. It is unlikely that Asroth, the Fallen One, will be concentrating on honour upon the battlefield. The priority is to win. I do not intend to discuss it again. I came to tell you I will be travelling to the Vin Thalun shipyards today. I will leave at highsun.’

‘Are you sure that’s wise?’ Krelis said, a frown creasing his large head.

‘Yes, I am. I will have my own honour guard with me, obviously, but I thought you might wish to accompany me. To see and hear for yourself.’

‘Yes. Of course. I will be ready to ride by highsun.’

The road through the forest was dappled with sunshine, but it was cooler under the swaying branches, the smell of autumn, of decay, much stronger. Peritus rode one side of Fidele, Krelis the other, but there had been little conversation since they had left Ripa. She had too many warring thoughts swirling around her mind. Foremost of those were the hints and suggestions discovered in the underground library back at Ripa, with the help of Ektor. He is a rare find indeed, such a mind.

Fidele had left him in his library, determined to sift through every single one of the myriad scrolls in search of the briefest mention of Halvor’s writings. Just the memory of her time there unsettled her. One Ben-Elim, one Kadoshim walking this earth. And the reference to high king’s counsel. She felt worried, scared for Nathair, had thought of writing to him, warning him. Had even reached the point of putting quill to parchment, but the words had dried up in her mind, with any warning that she would write sounding even to her like the mad ramblings of someone struggling for their sanity.

Warning him of what? A riddle in a parchment written before our kin even set foot upon these Banished Lands. It is too unclear, the riddles bewildering. Perhaps Ektor will find more, something clearer.

Her thoughts turned to Meical — Who is he? An ally? An enemy? Part of her could not bring herself to believe that. She had never liked him, exactly, but there had been an honesty to him, even if it had been cold, sometimes even cruel. Something clean. And Aquilus trusted him. Could he have been so easily fooled? The answer to that came back quick and sharp. Of course he could be fooled. He was murdered in his own chamber by a king that he trusted. She pushed away the pain that threatened to rise in her at that thought.

I have more pressing concerns to focus upon.

The Vin Thalun.

What was she to do with them, now that their fighting pit had been discovered? Nathair had great plans for the Vin Thalun. She knew that much relied upon them, and yet Lykos had deliberately disobeyed her — worse, lied to her. Far worse than that: some of those she had found in the pits had been her own subjects, stolen in raids. And how many were dead?

They rode out of the shadow of the forest and soon turned south, following the river on its journey to the sea. It was not long before she saw the Vin Thalun’s settlement — large storehouses and barns, a ramshackle village made mostly of timber and reed; the skeletons of half-formed ships lay along a flat sandy beach, looking like a leviathans’ graveyard.

Fidele had been here before, the day after they had raided the fighting pit at the ruins of Balara. They had come with carts full of the dead: Vin Thalun who had been killed during the raid and corpses that they had found in the labyrinth of fighting pits. Fidele had questioned the leaders here. They had been sullen and denied the existence of any other pits in Tenebral. Of course Fidele did not trust them, and that was why she was back.

She kicked her horse into a canter, wanting to give the Vin Thalun as little time to react as possible. Those with her kept pace, and she saw Krelis loosening his great sword in its scabbard.

‘No killing, unless we are attacked,’ she yelled at him.

They swept through the makeshift village and boatyards, warriors spreading out and searching the place as people poured out of buildings — men, women, children. Bony dogs chased the horses through the streets, yapping and nipping at hooves.

Fidele reined her horse in close to the beach, in the shadow of one of the ships standing upright in its timber frame. Orcus and a handful of eagle-guard stayed with her; the rest spread out to search the buildings.

A group of Vin Thalun approached them, mostly warriors by the number of rings tied in their beards. One led them, a bow-legged older man.

‘What’s the meaning of this?’ he demanded.

‘I am searching,’ Fidele said.

‘For what?’

‘You’re talking to the Queen of Tenebral,’ Orcus snapped. ‘Show some manners.’

‘Tenebral has a king, but no queen, last time I heard,’ the Vin Thalun said.

He’s right, Fidele thought. ‘My son is King. I am regent in his absence,’ Fidele said coldly. ‘The result is the same. I rule here.’

The Vin Thalun glared at them. ‘Searching for what, my Queen?’ he said.

‘For evidence of your fighting pits.’

‘There was only one, and you’ve destroyed it.’

‘We shall see. What is your name?’

‘Alazon. I am chief shipwright here.’

‘Wait with us, Alazon.’

It was not long before Krelis and Peritus appeared, leading a line of ragged men. Krelis’ warriors were holding back the Vin Thalun crowd that followed them. Fidele saw that the men were chained together, their clothes threadbare. Most of them were covered in wounds of some description, from clean cuts to scratches and bite marks.

‘Will you insult me with an explanation?’ Fidele said to Alazon.

‘They are rowers. A ship came in from one of the islands last night,’ Alazon said. He spoke boldly, holding Fidele’s gaze, but she did not believe a word of it.

‘You.’ She pointed to the first in line, a young man, surely younger than her Nathair. He had a scabbed cut that ran the length of his forearm. ‘How did you get that cut on your arm?’

‘They are slaves — taken from foreign lands. They often come damaged,’ Alazon said. He stared at the captive as he spoke.

‘You have nothing to fear,’ Fidele said. ‘As of this moment you are all free men. We shall escort you to Ripa, feed you, and then your future is yours. So — tell me, with fear of no repercussions: how did you come by that wound?’

‘In the pits,’ the lad said, looking at his feet, as if a deep shame had been revealed.

‘He lies,’ Alazon said, stepping forwards. Krelis moved in front of him.

‘Find some wains for these men, then continue your search,’ Fidele said. ‘And, Krelis, make sure you have searched under every rock in this rats’ lair.’

She looked at the captives, and saw harrowed looks sweeping them, some silently weeping, others just utterly wretched. It turned her stomach and brought the sting of tears to her eyes. She turned away and rode onto the beach a little way, looking out to sea. Orcus followed her, staying a short distance behind. He had learned to read her moods.

Where are you, Lykos? In some distant land? Dead? I hope that you are, you swine, for if you ever return to my homeland I shall see your head struck from your body.