The Faithful and the Fallen: Ruin Part 88

He felt shame and self-loathing rise up like a wave, threatening to engulf him. With an act of will he forced it back down.

But can I kill him, standing before me without a weapon in his hands? It may be murder . . . but in this case I'm willing to make an exception. Maybe then Nathair will see sense.

After leaving Nathair, Veradis had found an abandoned stairwell and sat in solitary silence, thinking over, reliving every moment since he'd met Nathair. Their first meeting with Calidus and Alcyon, when he'd leaped through a wall of fire to defend Nathair, the council of Aquilus, the ants, sailing to Tarbesh and fighting giants and draigs, Tela.s.sar and Calidus' unveiling . . .

And all of it is lies. I have been such a fool. And what more has been done without me by his side that I am unaware of?

And then the hunt for Mandros, Veradis leading a warband into Carnutan to hunt its King. He remembered Mandros' words in the glade, just before Veradis had slain him.

Nathair killed your King, not I.

'I understand that all is not black and white, that difficult choices must be made in war. I am no infant to expect anything other.' He drew in a deep breath. 'However, there is one thing I must know.' He looked up now and met Calidus' eyes. 'Truth now is all I ask. Did Nathair slay Aquilus?'

'Of course he did.' Calidus snorted. 'He had no choice. It was-'

'For the greater good,' Veradis finished for him, nodding. 'As is this.' He threw his cup of wine at Calidus' face, at the same time leaping forwards and drawing a knife from his belt. Calidus staggered back a step, right before the roaring fire, his arms raised, flailing. Veradis heard Alcyon moving, the table between them being overturned in Alcyon's rush, but he was too late. Veradis stepped in close to Calidus, ducked his flailing arms and buried his knife to the hilt in Calidus' belly, twisted and ripped, blood slicking his fist.

Then Alcyon's huge hand clamped upon his arm. Veradis kicked Calidus in the chest, sent the Kados.h.i.+m stumbling backwards, tripping over the chest and falling into the huge fireplace.

Calidus screamed as flames exploded in a roar about him, engulfing him. Alcyon hauled Veradis back a pace, twisting his arm, forcing him to his knees, pain screaming through his arm as tendons tore and sinew ripped, the shoulder close to dislocating.

'Do what you will to me,' Veradis snarled. 'Your master is dead.'

Alcyon just stared grimly at the fireplace and blazing flames.

A figure appeared amongst the roaring flames, man-like, for a moment the likeness of dark, shadowy wings unfurling about him. Then Calidus staggered out from the fire's embrace, stepped onto the cold stone of his chamber. His cloak was ablaze, his silver hair scorched black or burned away, and the flesh on his face was peeling and charred.

He undid the brooch of his cloak, let it slip to the ground, swatted at a flame on his sleeve. Annoyed and almost amused.

'As you can see, I am quite hard to kill,' Calidus said, voice deeper, harsher.

Veradis just stared at him in horror, his eyes drawn to his knife still buried deep in Calidus' belly. Calidus wrapped blistered fingers around the hilt and pulled it out, growling with pain like a wounded animal. He held the blade up between two fingers, grimaced and threw it over his shoulder.

'Well done,' Calidus said. 'It takes a rare man to get past my guard and my guardian.' He shot a black look at Alcyon.

Veradis glowered at him, felt a surge of pure hatred for this man, this creature before him. The one who had corrupted everything, his friend, his whole world.

Calidus met his gaze and sighed.

'I can see we're not going to get anywhere with you,' he said. 'A shame.' He shrugged. 'Alcyon, kill him.'

Veradis stared into the giant's eyes, part of him wanting death, welcoming it.

I deserve it. The wise man lives a long life, the fool dies a thousand deaths.

'I am sorry, True-Heart,' Alcyon whispered and slowly raised his war-hammer.

'Who were those giants to you?' Veradis asked him.

Alcyon paused.

'Kill him,' Calidus hissed.

'What?' Alcyon rumbled.

'Those giants during the trial. Who were they to you?'

Alcyon's face twitched, muscles spasming. His lip trembled. A tear rolled from one dark eye.

'My wife. My son.'

'They are free,' Veradis whispered.

'You lie,' Calidus sneered, though an edge of doubt showed in his voice.

'I set them free,' Veradis said, fixing Alcyon with his gaze. 'Saw them walk out through Brikan's gates.'

'Alcyon, kill him.'

Alcyon's arm hovered over Veradis. It shook, as if caught by an invisible force.

'No,' the giant whispered.

'No?' Calidus frowned. He and Alcyon glared at one another, beads of sweat breaking out upon both of their brows. Time pa.s.sed a dozen heartbeats, a hundred, Veradis did not know. Eventually Calidus turned away, threw open the lid to the chest before the fire and reached inside. Veradis saw more of the clay figures contained within and suddenly remembered Fidele's explanation of Lykos' enchantment.

All I know is that he had a doll, a clay figure, a strand of my hair set within it, she had said. When Maquin fought Lykos at the arena it was crushed underfoot, destroyed, and immediately the chains within my mind were broken.

Veradis swept a leg out and kicked the chest into the fire. The flames flared about it, smoke billowing, the smell of burning hair wafting about them.

'You fool,' Calidus snarled, a feral rage twisting his face, and he drew his sword.

Alcyon swung his hammer into Calidus' chest, hurling him back against a wall. He slid to the ground, the wall cracked, fragments of stone falling about him. Slowly Calidus stood, shook his head.

'Legion,' he roared, his voice like a storm wind, and the door burst open, the two Jehar surging in. Veradis heard the buzzing of flies.

Veradis stood on shaky legs, the pain in his shoulder still screaming at him. He reached for his sword hilt.

Then a huge arm was wrapping about his waist, lifting him and carrying him across the room in great bounding strides. Towards the open window, Alcyon's foot on the sill, launching them out into open air and darkness. Then they were falling, tumbling, wind s.n.a.t.c.hing his breath away, still held tight in Alcyon's iron grip, the black waters of the river below rus.h.i.+ng up to meet him.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN.

EVNIS.

Evnis sat in the tower on the northern border of the marshlands and brooded.

There had been no sign of Braith.

He left over a moon ago, and still no word. Yet Evnis trusted Braith when it came to hunting, anyway. It was not the finding of Edana and her little band of rebels that concerned him, it was what he would do once he knew where they were. Once he had them.

Edana's easy, of course. She has to die. And apparently the b.i.t.c.h-wife of Eremon is with her, and her idiot son, who has a claim to the throne of Domhain. Rhin won't like the thought of him still breathing, so he'll have to die as well.

No, they were all simple.

All of it is simple, in fact. Kill everyone. Except . . .

Except his son.

What will I do with Vonn?

He loved his son, of that there was no doubt. And if there ever had been any doubt of that he had resolved the situation when against all judgement he'd stood up in a field full of enemies and called out his son's name.

But now men were talking about him. He knew by the looks as he pa.s.sed, the whispers. They are saying I am weak. That my love for my son is a vulnerability, that I am a risk, a danger. What if it happens again, they say, and our position is revealed?

I must prove them wrong. Show them my strength. A ruler's power is his reputation. I cannot afford to be considered weak. Rhin hears all, and if she hears that . . .

He sipped from a small cup of usque, the liquor smooth and sweet, warming his belly, the glow spreading.

There was a knock at his door, it was Glyn his s.h.i.+eldman. 'Someone comes from the marsh, my lord.' About b.l.o.o.d.y time. Braith at last.

It was Rafe.

Evnis stood on the wall above the gates, watching a boat slip through the marsh waters, a man inside leaping ash.o.r.e and tying the boat off. A bag was slung across his back, which he set on the ground while he saw to the boat. Two hounds ran along the riverbank.

Why is he alone?

Evnis decided that he no longer liked waiting it feels as if I have been waiting my whole life.

Evnis was almost at the riverbank when Rafe started walking towards him. The lad had been squatting beside his boat, patting his two hounds.

Sentimental boy. Not like his father.

Rafe's expression sent different signals to Evnis. He was feeling too impatient to work them out himself.

'Tell me,' he said simply.

'Braith's dead,' the young huntsman said, 'and all the others. We were hunted down by that Camlin.'

Evnis felt a muscle twitch in his cheek.

'So, a complete disaster, then.'

'Not exactly. I escaped, then followed them back to Dun Crin. I know where it is, can guide you there.'

Evnis grinned. 'That, my lad, is wonderful news. You said them. You followed them.'

'I did,' Rafe said. 'Camlin had help. Vonn.'

'Vonn helped hunt Braith down and kill him?'

'Aye. But he let me go. He could have killed me, always been better with a blade than me. He let me go.'

'Why?'

'He asked me to give you a message.' Rafe looked at Glyn.

'Go on, lad, Glyn's good at keeping secrets.'

'Said when you come for Dun Crin, and he knows you will, that he wants to talk to you.'

Evnis felt a rising hope.

'Did he now? Did he say what about?'

'He said he wants to talk to you about the G.o.d-War, the Seven Treasures, and the necklace of Nemain.'

Evnis was stunned to silence, almost took a step back at that.

'Someone is coming,' Glyn said into the silence, looking back up the hill. 'I think it's Morcant.'

It was, the young warrior striding with his usual grace and arrogance, a handful of warriors behind him.

More peac.o.c.ks, like their master, though with lesser plumage.

'What news?' Morcant asked as he approached.

How is it that he even makes a question sound arrogant?

'Edana and her rabble have been found. We will set out on the morrow,' Evnis said, trying to sound as indifferent as possible.

'Good,' Morcant said, rubbing his hands together. 'I'm overdue a good fight.'

Evnis sat near the head of a long barge, thirty warriors about him. It was early, the sun not yet burning off morning's mist, wisps of it curling about the river, coiling up and over the side of the barge. Evnis s.h.i.+vered.

Morcant sat in the boat behind him, looking every bit the hero in his black and gold war-gear.