Valour

CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO

FIDELE

Fidele stood on the battlements of Jerolin. It was cold, snow from the mountains carpeting much of the slopes and plains to the north. The lake glistened beneath a pale sun. Looking east, she saw at last the sight she had been waiting for. Riders, eagle-guard cantering past the stockaded walls of the lake town and onto the road that wound up to Jerolin. As they drew closer she saw that they circled another figure.

Lykos. She felt a flare of anger, saw in her mind the faces of those she had rescued from his fighting pit, as well as a pile of the dead.

Her eyes drifted to the lake, settling again on the ships that had arrived yesterday, half a dozen at least, rowing out of a river into the lake’s waters. Vin Thalun ships.

Lykos is not stupid enough to attack me, surely. To attack Jerolin. A good portion of Tenebral’s warriors may be on the other side of the Banished Lands, but there are still enough here to defend Jerolin. He must know that. Still, she wondered why a few hundred of his warriors were now anchored only half a league away.

She turned and strode down a stairwell, Orcus behind her, and made her way to her chambers in Jerolin’s black tower.

Does Lykos bring news of Nathair? She felt a weightlessness in her belly at that thought. My brave son. Elyon above, let him be well and safe, if safe is still possible in this dark world. And what of the war — the God-War? I have arrested the only man that may actually have knowledge of developments in the Banished Lands.

In silence Fidele climbed the spiral stair of Jerolin’s tower, where two eagle-guard stood outside the doors of her chamber. Once inside, Orcus poured her a cup of wine and assumed his position behind her chair. It was not long before there was a knock at the door and Lykos was admitted.

He strode in confidently, his gait rolling as if he still walked a ship’s deck. An easy smile stretched across his face.

‘Please, sit,’ Fidele said politely.

He poured himself a cup of wine and took a long draught.

‘I hate riding,’ he said as he wiped wine from his beard.

‘I am sorry for that, but it was important that I saw you.’

He leaned back in his chair and smiled at her. ‘You are as beautiful as ever.’

She blinked at that. She had seen the way he looked at her but he had never been so bold as to comment on the thoughts behind his eyes. Something was different. .

‘You have done a terrible thing,’ she said.

He laughed at that, a short bark. ‘I have done many terrible things, my lady. To which one do you refer?’

‘I refer to the fighting pit at Balara. Don’t play games, Lykos. I am sure that you know why I have brought you here.’

He leaned forward, serious now. ‘Yes, I am aware.’

‘You have committed murder. That poor boy, Jace. His body was dragged up from the lakebed by fishermen. And all those others at Balara, forced to fight for your entertainment. And you have disobeyed and lied to me. I cannot and will not let these things go unpunished.’

‘I see. Well, before this conversation takes us into unpleasant waters, let me give you my news. Your son was well, the last time I saw him.’

‘Where?’ she asked, for a moment her other priorities swept aside.

‘Ardan. Dun Carreg. He was mired deeply in the politics of the west, strengthening the alliance.’

‘Has he found Meical? I know that he was keen to track down my husband’s counsellor.’

I pray he hasn’t found him. Not before I tell him of what Ektor and I have discovered.

‘Meical has been seen in Dun Carreg, but he left long before Nathair arrived.’

Good.

‘And Nathair, he was well?’

‘Yes, although he was troubled, concerned. For you. He thinks perhaps he has placed too much responsibility upon your shoulders, too soon after the death of your husband.’

What? Am I really hearing this? Lykos is lying.

‘He regrets his decision making you regent in his absence, thinks you do not have the strength that is required in these difficult times.’ Lykos reached inside his weather-stained cloak and pulled out a crumpled scroll. ‘He proposes that I take over the regency, for the time being.’

She snatched the scroll and tore it open. It was as Lykos said, written in her son’s hand. This cannot be. Something is wrong; he would not do this. She looked over the scroll at Lykos. He was studying her intently.

She ripped up the scroll and tossed its pieces to the ground.

‘I will never allow you to rule Tenebral,’ she said.

Lykos sighed, long and deep. ‘I was afraid you would say that.’

He burst explosively from his chair, launching across the table, and Fidele instinctively flinched backwards. She was not his target, though.

Orcus had his sword drawn by the time Lykos reached him, but Lykos was inside his guard, something in his hand. He punched hard upwards, under Orcus’ chin. Blood erupted from Orcus’ mouth. Lykos held him close, then lowered him to the ground, where he twitched a few times, then was still.

Fidele stood, opening her mouth to scream.

‘Don’t do that,’ Lykos said, turning to face her. He reached into his cloak and pulled something out, something small. ‘Don’t make a sound,’ he said.

Fidele felt a hand clamp around her throat, fingers squeezing. She tried to scream but nothing came out. She reached to her throat to pull away the choking grip, but nothing was there, only her own flesh.

‘Amazing,’ Lykos said, holding the thing in his hand up. It looked like a lump of clay, a few hairs sticking from it. ‘Come back here.’

She felt her feet moving, tried to stop them, but could not, just walked, haltingly at first, back towards Lykos. She saw blood pooling behind him, almost black, spreading like spilt ink.

‘Stop.’

She stopped.

‘Lift your right hand.’

She lifted it.

Lykos laughed. ‘This is wonderful. Calidus, I owe you greatly.’ His brow furrowed in thought. ‘Tell me that we shall rule Tenebral together. And be polite.’

Never. I will see you dead. .

‘We shall govern Tenebral together, my lord.’ She could not believe the words were her own, the voice her own. She formed a sentence in her mind, mostly curses. ‘Your will shall guide me.’ She wailed inside.

What? She stared at the lump that Lykos held in his hand. This close she could see that the hairs in it were black. Lines were scrawled across the clay. Runes?

‘Yes,’ he said, following her eyes. ‘It is a lock of your hair.’ He looked behind him, at Orcus sprawled on the stone floor. ‘We’ll arrange for my men to clean this up; don’t want rumours spreading through your eagle-guard. I shall leave shortly and send Deinon and a few others up here. Later today you shall announce that I am forgiven all previous misunderstandings and that the people of Tenebral are about to enter a new age of kinship with the Vin Thalun.’

‘I shall do as you say, my lord.’

He grinned, then looked at her, up and down.

‘Perhaps we should seal this new beginning while we are alone.’ He reached out, ran a hand up her thigh, over her hip and onto her waist.

Get off. Don’t touch me. She spasmed inside, willed her limbs to move, to kick, to shove, her voice to cry out. Nothing happened.

‘Lie back on the table,’ he commanded.

In her mind she screamed.