The Bloodstained God (Book 2) (35 page)

“Deus, we are honoured by your presence,” he said, and bowed deeply.

Narak had been prepared to fight his way to the castle gates, but he was pleased by this unexpected civility. “Good day to you, major,” he looked around at the tents and the squat, threatening bulk of the castle behind them. “What are you doing here?”

“Obeying the orders of my lord,” Enhanis replied.

“Your men are promised to the army of Avilian,” Narak said. “When will you march to join them? The winter is fading, Major.”

“When I have orders to do so, Deus,” the major replied. From his tone and his look Narak judged that the major was eager for those orders.

“And what does your lord fear that he holds you back from war?”

“I cannot say, Deus. But he has told us to prevent any from passing along this road to High Stone.”

“Will you prevent me from passing?” Narak asked, but his tone said will you try. The major glanced sideways at his officers and licked his lips.

“How could any loyal Avilian lord object to a visit from the god of wolves, Deus?” he asked. “You may pass, of course.”

Narak smiled at that. The major knew the game that his lord was playing, or suspected it at least, and was not prepared to get his men killed in such a foolish cause. Or maybe he was just not prepared to see his men die. The employment of the word
loyal
was evidence enough for Narak, though.

“You await orders. I bring you my command and that of Bas Erinor. You are to break camp at once and march to join the army with all prudent speed. Do you need your lord to confirm this?”

“Your word is good enough for me, Deus.”

“I wish you life and victory, Major.”

“Life and victory, Deus.” Enhanis saluted and stepped carefully aside as Narak walked past. The Wolf could hear him beginning to issue orders as he walked on. These soldiers would be on the road within an hour, and they would be glad to be gone.

He walked across the open ground until he came to the gates of High Stone. They were strong gates, slabs of iron-studded oak behind a thick portcullis, and the wall radiated obstinacy. He watched the men on the wall watching him approach, but by the time he stood before the gate it was still closed.

He stepped back so that he could see the heads of the men looking down.

“You know who I am,” he called up. “Open the gates.”

There was an exchange of low voices up above him. They were trying to decide what to do, and perhaps they needed a little pointer. If Carillon himself was not on the wall the decision to open the gates or not would lie with an officer who might be swayed. Narak took another few steps back until he was certain that he was in plain view. He looked up at them.

“Your lord needs to answer a charge of treason,” he called up. “I am here to lay that charge. I admire your loyalty, but if you are steadfast you will stand or fall with your lord. Is that clear?” To add emphasis he reached back and griped the pommels of his swords.

The whispered conversation was momentarily more urgent, but apparently it was quickly resolved.

“We will open the gates, Deus,” a voice called down. Orders were called, and there was a sound of ropes creaking with tension and the metal grille rose slowly from the ground, retreating into the wall above. When it was fully lifted he heard a bar being slid out of its brackets on the other side of the gate, which swung slowly open. It took about two minutes to open the whole thing. Looking at it Narak wondered if he could have forced such a gate. He thought not. He would have had to climb to wall, which looked difficult indeed.

He walked through.

This was a simple but effective fortress. There was a single curtain wall, a single gate, protected, he now saw by a triple layer of portcullis, gate, and portcullis. The walls were thick, perhaps eight feet front to back, and apart from a few stick and straw lean-tos in the bailey, there was only the squat and menacing keep within. The keep door proper was at the top of a wooden stair that could be cut away or burned in a siege, leaving it isolated twenty feet above ground level.

There was another door set in the keep wall at ground level, and it was from this door that he saw Carillon hurrying towards him. He stood and waited for the duke. Technically the duke of Carillon was the third most important figure in the realm of Avilian after the king and the Duke of Bas Erinor. He had fought well at Finchbeak road, standing alongside his men when other great lords urged them on from behind. Carillon was no coward, but now he looked scared, though he did his best to hide it. He strode with his head up, meeting Narak’s gaze, but his thumbs twisted in his belt and his back was a little too stiff.

“Deus, you are welcome here,” he said.

“Where is she?” Narak was not prepared to play the game. There were other things that he should be doing.

“The Lady Sheyani? She is below, she is quite unharmed.”

“Show me.”

The duke nodded and led the way back across the bailey to the lower door. They went down the steps. It was a dungeon. There was no other word to describe the place, even if the doors were open. Everything was over made and the doors wore bolts inside and out. Like the rest of High Stone it was perfectly suited to its function.

Carillon pointed to a closed door.

“Open it,” Narak said.

“We cannot, Deus. It is sealed from within.”

Narak stepped close to the door. “Sheyani?” he called. “I am here. You may release the door.” He could smell the magic that held it shut, but what surprised him more than anything was the condition of the wood. One of the hinges was shattered and the thick planks were cracked and bowed. He put his hand against the wood. There was the faintest trace of blood silver in the air, as though it had been there not long ago, but now was gone away. This door could not have held a child captive in its current condition, so this had been done since Sheyani had been placed there, by something keen to reach her.

“How do I know that it is really you?” Sheyani sounded frightened, but Narak knew that he needed to move quickly if he was going to keep his promises. He seized the door by the small grille in its upper quarter and pulled on it. The wood split, and part of the door came away in his hand, the rest collapsing loudly onto the stone flags.

“Because you can see me,” he said, peering into the gloom.

She stepped out into the brighter light of the guard chamber, spared a glance at Carillon, and then turned to face Narak. She dropped to one knee, bowing her head.

“I thank you for my life, god of wolves,” she said. Narak touched her on the shoulder. It was rare that someone showed the proper gratitude these days, and he was moved. He felt an unexpected rush of warmth towards the tiny Durander. Cain had chosen well with this one. She was special. She reminded him a little of Narala in the early years when the Isler had struggled to shed her more formal ways.

“Sheyani, what happened here?” He indicated the shattered door.

“There was another here,” Sheyani said, looking again at Carillon. “He went by the name of Lord Hesham, but he was no man. He was this one’s master.” There was a faint bluster from Carillon, but they ignored him.

“No man? What do you mean?”

“He was like you, Deus, but also not like you.”

“Benetheon?”

Sheyani shook her head. “I do not think so, Deus.”

Narak turned to Carillon. “What is Lord Hesham?” he demanded.

“A man, Deus,” the duke replied. “Or I thought so until he struck at the door. I have never seen the like. He had the strength of a hundred men.”

“And what was he to you?”

“An ally. One who believed as I do that the noble blood of Avilian should hold the reins of power and govern our armies in times of crisis.”

“You have been played for a fool, Carillon,” Narak said. “This is a Seth Yarra plot.”

“It is not,” the duke countered. “It is a movement to rescue Avilian from the folly of the low born.”

Narak sighed. “You sent a message to colonel Arbak to draw him to Bergan Rise.”

“I did. It was to draw him away so that we could capture his betrothed. Then he would bend to our will.”

“He was ambushed by Seth Yarra cleansers on the road. It is only thanks to his luck and wit that he still lives.”

Carillon blanched. “A coincidence…” He said the words, but Narak could see that he did not believe them.

“No. He was meant to die, as was the lady Sheyani. This door is proof enough if you are stupid enough to doubt my word. Hesham meant to kill her, and I’ll wager that he told you to do so.”

“He suggested it, said that it did not matter if she was alive, that Arbak would not know, and that the dead could not escape. But I would not.” His eyes strayed to Sheyani. “A man of honour does not simply kill for convenience.”

“Carillon, you are alive because I believe you are a fool. If I thought you had played a full hand in this then I would have cut out your heart and fed it to the dogs. What else you are, traitor or not, I will leave to the duke of Bas Erinor to judge. You are no longer my concern.”

Narak felt better about that. Aidon would be given the chance to judge his fellow Avilian and besides, Narak now had bigger game to catch. He knew the estates of Lord Hesham’s family, and he would go there, but first he had to keep his promise to Cain. He would escort Sheyani to Cain in person.

They went outside, and Narak found the commander of the garrison, a thin, fair haired captain with a thick moustache above his lip and sharp, blue eyes. The captain was not altogether pleased to be in the Wolf’s presence, Narak could smell the fear on him, but that was good.

He ordered the captain, and a contingent of his men, to escort Carillon to Bas Erinor and hand him over to the keeping of Lord Quinnial where he would await the duke’s pleasure. He told them that if they failed in this he would hunt each and every one of them down and reward them with the traitor’s death that they had earned.

The captain nodded.

“Carillon is no longer your master,” he told them. “His stewardship of this duchy is suspended. You are Bas Erinor’s men now.”

That done, he considered his business with High Stone concluded. He picked out two fine horses from the stables and rode away from the place with Sheyani, determined to catch up with Cain as soon as possible. He was keen to be after Hesham, the lord who was not a man, the lord who left a scent of blood silver behind him and broke stout doors with his bare hands.

He suspected that Hesham and the metal headed assassin were one and the same, and there was some vengeance to be taken in that direction.

They rode across the plain and entered the woods alongside the last of Major Enhanis’ troops, quickly passing the column and riding on towards the great north south highway on which the Seventh Friend marched.

They had not reached the road when he heard a voice, seemingly in his ear. He recognised Pascha and the mechanism of the calling ring at once.

“Narak, I am in Wolfguard,” she said. “But I have been about the land on the wings of sparrows and some things have happened in Telas that you need to know.”

Narak stopped his horse and held up a hand to silence Sheyani’s questions. He bent his head and listened to what she said. It was a remarkable tale, but it raised more questions than it answered. The heart of it was that Queen Hestia was going to raise the Telans in revolt against their allies, and she needed troops to aid them at Fal Verdan. She proposed to use the reserve, Skal Hebberd’s Second Seventh Friend, to weigh the outcome in Hestia’s favour.

There were some things about the story that made him uneasy. He was reluctant to see his reserve cross the Dragon’s Back to aid Hestia, whose record of duplicity hinted that there may be further treachery afoot. Also there were aspects of Pascha’s story that she had not explained; how she had freed the king, how she had agreed with Hestia on a course of action. As far as he knew the Queen of Telas had not suddenly learned the language of birds.