Tyrant's Blood (35 page)

Greven could taste the salt on his lips. The coast was close now. They had been walking non-stop, but he needed no sustenance or rest. And he would remain in this state of non-life until Piven died…and Piven was a young man.

‘I feel you drawing it,’ Greven said into the long silence that had stretched since leaving Tomlyn.

‘I don’t have your seemingly-immortal status. Did you think I would be capable of walking without rest for days on end?’ Piven snapped.

‘No, nor did I ask you to.’

‘How does it feel?’ Piven asked, clearly intrigued.

‘I suppose a bit like I’m bleeding. I can’t think of a more appropriate way to describe it.’

‘Does it hurt?’

‘It’s not comfortable, if that’s what you mean.’

‘And is your power limitless?’

‘I have no idea. I don’t care.’

Piven remained quiet for a moment. Greven couldn’t tell whether he was considering Greven’s attitude or working out how to insist he make all of his power accessible to him. He didn’t care either way.

‘We’re nearly there,’ Piven announced. ‘Or so Vyk tells me.’

‘Where?’

‘He wants us to meet someone.’

‘Why?’ Sergius asked.

Ravan hopped, irritated.
I thought you’d like to see Piven and I also thought you’d like to meet an aegis
.

‘But here? Ravan, this is dangerous. Who am I to them?’

You are someone who can answer questions
.

‘But that’s—’

Piven deserves to talk to someone who knows something about this strange life of his. I know you know more than you have told me. I think you’re as bad as the Valisars you watch over with your secret-keeping. But I am worried about Piven. He escaped his prison of madness only to be plunged into a new sort of madness. I think it is claiming him, Sergius
.

‘I cannot help him.’

Perhaps not. But you can explain things to him
.

‘I know so little—’

I think you’re underestimating what you know—either that or you’re lying. And I deserve better than lies. You will meet Piven and you will tell him what he needs to know
…
and you will be honest.

‘Or what?’ the old man asked, dismayed.

It’s not a threat. I am no warrior, I have no weapons and I cannot punish you in any way but this: I promise you that if you are not true with him I will leave you and I will never return. I will no longer be your ears and eyes. I will forget I ever knew you. You have used me and I can forgive that, but I will not forgive you if you do not give Piven this chance to understand himself. He is so young and there was always so much goodness in him
.

‘But, Ravan, you yourself said he’s turning bad.’

I don’t really understand what’s happening. The point is, neither does he. He needs a guide.

Sergius shook his head. ‘I will answer his questions as best I can.’

Sergius was being typically evasive, Ravan realised. He felt
disappointment spike through him, but he had no intention of letting Sergius avoid this meeting. He allowed his mind to reach out to the youngster, and sensed that Piven was calm, almost happy.

Piven felt his touch.
Vyk. Hello. We can smell the sea.

Then you are almost here. I shall come now
. Re-opening the seam to Sergius, he alerted the old man.

Sergius looked deeply unhappy but he said nothing, grabbing only a cloak and his staff, and mumbling about not wanting to climb the cliff steps again. Ravan ignored him, swooping ahead to fly high, hoping to catch sight of the approaching pair. He picked them out with ease, the forest as a backdrop to their arrival, the sea facing them. Piven looked glad to be alive but he could see Greven wore the expression of a condemned man.

Piven saw him first and waved, his face breaking into that beautiful smile of his. Ravan wondered how long it would last. How much more time did Piven have? He hoped Sergius would provide some enlightenment.

Jewd’s gaze narrowed. ‘Well, if they follow the road, I reckon they’re headed to Francham. If they turn off it at Four Points, then your guess is as good as mine.’

They had already entered the sparse woodland and were using it as a hiding place from which to watch the small party of riders. They held their breath and waited, both holding their horses’ reins close to the beasts’ chins, their hands each cupping the muzzles. Not even a shake of the animals’ heads or a whinny could alert Stracker to their presence.

‘Here we go,’ Leo breathed, watching anxiously.

Both men were silent, the horses were silent and it seemed even the birds had stopped their chittering. In the near-distance they could hear the men’s quiet talk. Kilt was wordless, looking down. Stracker led.

‘I could take him, Jewd,’ Leo whispered, pointing at his bow.

‘And they’ll be on us in moments. Be patient, lad.’

Leo sighed inwardly. It would give him enormous satisfaction to end Stracker’s life. He didn’t know when he’d become so ghoulish, or so capable of violence, but even now, though he was still openly ashamed of his decision regarding Freath, privately he praised himself. He knew his father would have been proud of him—not of the consequences of his actions, of course—but he could imagine his father nodding his head in ackowledgement that Leo had made an oath and seen it through.

‘It’s Francham,’ Jewd murmured.

‘So what do we do now?’

‘We’re heading up as far as we can and then we’re on foot, dragging the horses behind us. We’ll need them tethered and ready to flee. We’ll go across the woods while they take the longer route on road. Come on.’

‘But what are we actually going to do?’

Jewd grinned tightly, mirthlessly. ‘Ambush,’ he replied. ‘It’s our only chance.’

Loethar arrived into Woodingdene not long after dawn. He was weary and he was glad the town was relatively quiet, yet to fully wake. He could smell food on the wind as people’s morning fires were stoked, and oats being cooked and bread being baked. His belly rumbled in answer but he ignored it. He walked the equally tired horse up to the gates of the old mayor’s residence.

‘Stop,’ a guard said. ‘State your name and business.’

Loethar knew his expression was one of bemusement. Had he really changed so much? This was a relatively young soldier, though, proudly bearing the blue tatua. Perhaps he’d never seen his ruler.

He slid off the horse and handed the young man the reins. ‘I am your emperor, boy. Where is General Stracker?’

The guard looked astonished, his expression coalescing into fright as his mouth opened and closed twice. It was obvious that he couldn’t be sure of what was best to do, torn between following his
orders but also not wishing to risk his emperor’s wrath. Words failed him.

Loethar sighed. ‘Find your superior and be quick about it!’

The young guard yelled for his captain over his shoulder and Loethar was impressed that he hadn’t turned tail to run and find someone. The young guard, finding his voice, apologised. ‘Forgive me, my lord, I shall have to ask you to wait here. May I take your horse, though?’

‘What is your name?’

‘Darly, my lord.’

‘I know I frighten you, Darly, and that’s a good thing. But even better is your composure. I shall mention you to the head of the Blues.’

The younger man bowed his head slightly, trying not to beam. ‘Thank you, my lord. Forgive us for keeping you waiting. I can tell you, though, that General Stracker is not here.’

Loethar frowned. ‘Not here?’

Darly shook his head. ‘He left at first light, my lord.’

‘Headed where?’

‘Er, perhaps you should talk to Captain Ison.’

As if on cue, an older man approached, a senior member of the Greens, and Loethar saw the flare of recognition just a blink before the man halted and dropped a low bow. ‘Emperor Loethar, forgive us for not being ready to—’

‘Captain Ison. It is no one’s fault but my own for arriving unannounced.’ He could see Darly was even more surprised to have confirmation of his status and he was privately amused to realise that the youngster, despite his gracious approach, hadn’t really trusted him. Good. ‘I’m here on urgent business with General Stracker but Darly here tells me I’ve missed him.’

‘He rode out at dawn, my lord, for Francham. He took Master Vulpan, Shorgan, three of our men and a stranger who arrived in town yesterday.’

Loethar frowned. ‘Who is this stranger?’

Ison gave an expression of apology. ‘He was a priest. I’m sorry but I don’t know anything more about him. I don’t think he wanted to spend the night here, my lord, but Master Vulpan detained him.’

‘Is he Vested?’

‘Most likely, my lord, although I don’t know for sure. Can we offer some—’

‘No, I must reach my brother quickly. I’ll need a fresh horse, and perhaps some food in a small sack.’

‘Come, my lord, I will organise both. Darly, remain at your post.’

Darly bowed. ‘Emperor,’ he murmured as Loethar walked by him.

A fresh horse, food, a long draught from the well and a chance to refresh his face from a pail of water and Loethar was on his way again, his hair still dripping from the dousing. His clothes remained dusty and he knew he looked dishevelled but that had never troubled him; his tidy appearance was reserved for his palace. Suddenly he felt free again.

With a sense of anticipation, not dissimilar to how he had felt when he’d first set out with his marauding army towards the Denovian Set ten anni previous, he spurred his horse into a gallop towards the inevitable confrontation with his half-brother.

‘This must be who he wants us to meet,’ Piven said, and Greven was obliged to catch up with him. He immediately strengthened the power surrounding Piven, even though his heart desperately wanted to let it drain completely. ‘I feel your despair, Greven. Stop fighting me. There is nothing you can do. Remember all the talk of love and loyalty? Now’s your chance to show it.’

‘I want to give you both, but freely,’ Greven replied.

‘Well, pretend,’ Piven said, raising a hand towards the man who waited for them at the cliff’s edge.

The man who greeted them was old, with a narrow, lined face. He was clean-shaven but his hair was long, tied back and mostly silver. He wore simple robes, leaned on a gnarled stick, and as they drew closer Greven saw that his eyes were rheumy.

‘You’ll have to come closer, my sight is misty at best,’ the man admitted amiably.

‘Who are you?’ Greven asked, when Piven said nothing.

‘I’m Sergius. Welcome.’

Greven nodded. ‘I’m Greven, this is Pi—’

‘Piven, yes. I’ve heard a lot about you, young man.’

Greven turned, expecting Piven to respond, but the youth said nothing. His expression had become shadowed; in fact, all of his previous happy disposition had given way to an ominous expression. Greven realised, distressed, that he could finally feel the darkness emanating from his charge, like a tangible mass.

He swung back. He had no defence if Piven gave any orders. ‘Sergius, whoever you are, Piven means to hurt you.’

He glanced at his companion. Piven didn’t seem troubled by either the admission or the seeming betrayal. And why would he be, Greven thought bitterly, hating the power simmering and awakened within himself, ready to be commanded by the youth.

Sergius looked appropriately taken aback. ‘Hurt me? Why? He doesn’t even know me.’

‘I know you,’ Piven answered for himself. ‘You are a man of old magic. I feel it, I see it, I smell it, I think I can all but taste it, and it’s raging around you. And there I was, concerning my thoughts with my brother, when my true enemy awaited me here.’

Enemy?
Vyk spoke into their minds, echoing Greven’s own question.

Piven ignored the query. He pointed at Sergius. ‘You lie, you manipulate, you use people.’ He stabbed his finger again. ‘You have used Vyk. That’s not even his name, is it? Old man, I can see straight into you. I can hear your fear rattling around your ancient mind. How long have you walked this land?’

Vyk again broke into their minds.
What are you talking about, Piven? Sergius is no threat to you. He is a friend
.

He is no friend to me! He is a liar. He means to hurt me if I don’t deal with him
.

Greven
, Vyk said anxiously.
What is happening?

Who can say what he’s thinking anymore? You’ve brought this upon yourself, bird. You should never have led him here.

Don’t talk as though I can’t hear
, Piven admonished them conversationally.
Ask me, don’t ask Greven
.

Vyk hopped over to Piven.
Sergius has been my friend for a long time. As you can gather, I am no ordinary raven. I have lived a long life
.

You are my friend. I believe you are true to me. But he can never be my friend. He supports my enemies
.

What? Piven, you do not know what you say.

Don’t I? He can shield some but not all of his thoughts from me. He hasn’t grasped that my magic is so tainted, it is beyond the bounds of control.

‘What is happening?’ Sergius asked, looking between them all, suddenly realising they were talking amongst themselves.

Piven snapped the link to Vyk and to Greven, turning to talk aloud to Sergius. ‘I was just explaining to Vyk that you are my enemy.’

Sergius blanched. ‘Enemy?’ He repeated the word as though he did not understand its concept. ‘But why do you say that, child? I—’

‘I was telling Vyk that my magic does not follow the rules you are used to. It has no constraint, other than the limitations I put on myself.’ Piven suddenly balled his fists. ‘I was a good person! I wanted to use this magic to help, not destroy.’

Sergius looked around. Vyk could do nothing and it was obvious that Greven could not interfere. Greven looked up from the ground where he had been staring.

‘I cannot help you,’ he explained to Sergius. ‘I cannot defy him. I’m sure you understand that now,’ he offered sadly. ‘I am sorry for this.’

Sergius looked worriedly towards Piven, who was glaring at him. ‘What have I done to wrong you?’