Tyrant's Blood (37 page)

Loethar galloped up and leapt off his horse as soon as he could make out the prone bodies in the distance. As he arrived he counted three soldiers dead alongside Shorgan. His fury rose. Ahead, Vulpan and Stracker sat at the side of the road. Loethar almost wished that whomever was responsible for this killing had included his half-brother in the body count.

Vulpan struggled to his feet and then bowed. Stracker sighed. ‘What are you doing here, brother?’

‘Lucky for you I am. What occurred?’

‘An ambush,’ Stracker growled. ‘They were after the priest.’

‘Get up, Vulpan,’ Loethar said. ‘Are you injured?’

‘My eyes sting and I’ve hurt a shoulder,’ the Vested replied.

‘How about you, Stracker?’

‘Don’t worry about me. I’ve just got a sore head from a giant’s boot. I’ll see his big body swing from the gallows soon.’

‘Tell me what occurred,’ Loethar said, reaching for his water bag and offering it. ‘How long ago?’

‘Long enough,’ Stracker said, gulping water, ‘that it’s pointless giving chase.’

‘Where are your horses?’

‘Bolted, my lord,’ Vulpan replied, clearly desperate to be part of the dialogue. He looked longingly at the water bag that Stracker hogged. ‘The explosions caused them to panic.’

‘Explosions?’

Stracker nodded. ‘Our attackers set off fire and loud noise on either side of the road, causing lots of stinging smoke. An archer took out the soldiers. I presume the same man killed Shorgan, though he died from a sword cut. I managed to get away with the prisoner but only as far as here. See the twine over there?’ he asked, pointing.

Loethar squinted at the tree. ‘Another old trick.’

‘I was pinned beneath my horse long enough that they could get the priest. I hope he’s dead. He certainly looked to be.’

‘Who is this priest? Who would set up an ambush to retrieve him from you?’

‘I’m asking myself the same thing,’ Stracker growled. ‘There were only two of them by my reckoning but they were good. Fast, ruthless. These were not peasants trying to rescue a priest. These were well-trained men, adept at ambush. They headed straight for the woods, even though it would have been much faster for them to ride straight down here and lose themselves at the next parting of the roads.’

‘But they chose the harder, slower route. Because it could hide them, presumably,’ Loethar finished.

‘One of them is carrying a man on his back. Granted, he was a big fellow but he’s going to be moving slowly all the same once they get off those horses. The animals won’t be able to go very much higher.’

Loethar looked up, his gaze narrowing. ‘Tell me about the priest.’

‘Vulpan knows him better than I do.’

Vulpan straightened. Rubbing gingerly at his shoulder he told his emperor all he knew of Pastor Jeves.

‘A man of magic?’ Loethar queried.

‘That’s what I tasted, my lord,’ Vulpan replied, slightly defensively.

‘So he is Vested, chasing his sister who is Vested, who is married to the man we know as Kirin, who is also Vested and just happened to be travelling with Freath, who is now dead.’

‘That’s the sum of it, brother,’ Stracker said, hauling himself shakily to his feet. ‘We have to find the horses. Bah, but my head hurts.’

Loethar began to pace. Vulpan licked his parched lips, reaching for the cast-aside water sack, while Stracker ignored them both.

‘This was no priest,’ Loethar said.

Stracker laughed. ‘Why do you think I was taking him north? I didn’t trust him for a moment.’

Vulpan suddenly spat out water.

Both men turned. ‘What’s got into you?’ Stracker demanded.

‘Oh, Lo! My lord, forgive me.’

Loethar frowned. ‘Well, speak up, man. What’s wrong?’

‘I…’ Vulpan hesitated, wide-eyed and clearly frightened.

Loethar took a step forward and Vulpan cringed. ‘Please, my lord, I’m sorry. It all happened so fast. I fell off my horse, men were being killed. It’s only now I…Forgive me.’

Loethar grabbed Vulpan by the shirtfront and hauled him forward. ‘What do you need to tell me?’ he said slowly, quietly.

Vulpan’s fear intensified; his face slackened and drained of colour. ‘The taste of a man’s blood has just come back to me.’

Loethar gripped him tighter. Vulpan was clearly struggling to breathe. ‘Whose?’ he demanded.

Vulpan pointed at his throat and Loethar flung him away. The Vested yelped as he hit the ground.

‘Whose?’ Loethar asked again, looming over the man.

‘The archer. He was the man whose blood was found on the boulder.’

The half-brothers stared at each other. ‘That was Kilt Faris?’ Stracker queried. ‘I never saw him properly, curse him!’

‘We can’t be sure,’ Loethar warned. ‘But it seems the priest was valuable to him or his men. The archer, describe him.’

‘I can’t, my lord, I really didn’t get a look at him,’ Vulpan quailed. ‘My magic is not about vision. It’s about presence. The man whose blood I tasted was definitely here.’

Stracker looked away from Vulpan with disgust. ‘He was young, I know that much. Sandy-haired. Clean shaven.’

Loethar scowled. ‘Too young for Faris, then, by our estimates. So he was one of Faris’s band. Do we have any descriptions of Faris?’

Stracker shook his head. ‘People whose palms we’ve laid money into, who claim to have met him, describe him differently. One minute dark-haired, the next he’s fair or bald. The man’s a starren.’

At the mention of the colour-changing six-legged reptile from the plains Stracker’s and Loethar’s gazes met and locked. ‘Perhaps you actually had the infamous Kilt Faris in your grasp, Stracker,’ Loethar said.

The big man nodded, his dirt-stained tatua twisted with disappointment. ‘Perhaps I did. Has there ever been mention that Faris is Vested?’

‘Not to my knowledge,’ Loethar admitted. ‘But we know the Vested like to keep their powers secret. What was his skill?’

Vulpan spoke up. ‘He claimed to predict the weather.’

Loethar smiled grimly. ‘We know that’s a lie.’

Vulpan seemed to agree, his expression thoughtful. ‘He tasted a lot like a woman I have tasted. I can’t remember who, but she will come to me. You know, the more I taste—and my list is still fledgling, my lord—the more I’m beginning to realise I can discern the level of power. Everyone’s blood tastes different, of course, but I am noticing a pattern in the tastes of people with closely aligned powers. Master Kirin, for example, is rich with power.’ Vulpan hesitated as he saw Loethar and Stracker exchange a glance. ‘The majority of people I have tasted can fit into perhaps,’ he continued, making a tutting sound as he considered, ‘perhaps three other levels. Pastor Jeves and Kirin Felt sit well away from the others, on a scale of their own. Very potent powers.’

‘I see. And the woman?’

‘Lily Felt?’

‘If she is his wife. He certainly had no wife at the palace.’

Vulpan shrugged. ‘She’s a mystery. I tasted nothing that connected her to any of the other Vested and yet I felt the touch of her magic. It was very strange, almost…’ He paused, licking his lips. ‘She showed no discernible taste at all of magic, curiously, but I know she was empowered because I felt the touch of her magic.’ He raised a hand. ‘She healed a terrible scald, taking away the pain immediately. I told her I’d be mentioning her to you.’

‘We are hunting Felt now, so presumably we will pick up this curious wife alongside him,’ Loethar confirmed. He gave a grimace. ‘And he’s been around us for anni with us thinking he had so little magic.’

‘I have a personal score to settle with Faris and his men now,’ Stracker said.

‘You two can take turns on the horse. Let’s head for Francham. We’ll make a decision there.’

‘You haven’t told us why you’re here,’ Stracker commented. ‘And all alone?’

‘I have plenty to tell you,’ Loethar said, glancing at Vulpan. ‘It can wait. Let’s go.’

They’d ridden as high as they could possibly go with the two horses.

‘Stop here, Leo. I need to see to Kilt.’

‘At least he’s groaning. We know he’s alive,’ Leo said, halting his horse. ‘Shall I let the horses go?’

‘Aye. They’re no good to us here. Let them amble back down and find some water. I’m sure whoever finds them will be very glad to give them a home.’

Leo helped Jewd lower Kilt to the ground, then began unpacking the horses. Without being asked, he handed Jewd a water sack.

Jewd took out the stopper and held it to Kilt’s mouth. ‘Here, drink. Slowly. That’s it.’ He dribbled water between his friend’s
lips. Immediately, Kilt began to cough and Jewd gingerly lifted his head.

‘Oh, Lo, my head!’ Kilt groaned, but he drank thirstily.

‘Slowly, Kilt,’ Jewd warned again, ‘or you’ll choke. Anywhere else hurt?’

‘Ribs, shoulder. I came down on one side.’ Kilt opened his eyes to slits. ‘Are my orders worth nothing anymore?’ he demanded.

‘A pinch of salt when I think they’re stupid,’ Jewd replied.

‘You risked his life?’

‘Aye, to save your scrawny neck!’

‘Jewd, so help me…’

Leo knelt down beside Kilt. ‘I’m my own man now. You’ve got me this far but now I’m going to be making my own decisions, so stop talking about me as though I’m either not here or some sort of child you can push around. Remember who you talk to.’ He glared at them both, defying them to challenge him.

The king looked annoyed when both men started laughing. Kilt immediately clutched at his shoulder, wincing. ‘Got to get something to tie my shoulder up, your majesty. Don’t crowd me.’

‘You know, this isn’t funny. I killed a couple of men back there.’

‘Do you want a medal, your highness?’ Kilt asked, his voice still dry and raspy.

‘You can’t have it both ways, your majesty,’ Jewd added.

Leo’s lips thinned. ‘I just want you both to accept that I am now old enough to carve my own path. I am also a Valisar.’

‘And Valisars don’t take orders?’ Kilt queried.

Leo gave him a look of disdain. ‘Valisars are kings. I have to start acting like one if you want us to rule again one day.’

Kilt struggled to sit up, aided by Jewd. ‘I am grateful to you—both of you—but it was stupid to risk your life,’ he said, staring at Leo.

‘Kilt, we have to be prepared to risk my life if we’re serious
about me claiming back the throne. You’ve got to stop believing you can protect me from all danger. Jewd understands, or he wouldn’t have let me come.’

Jewd put both hands against his chest in defence. ‘I couldn’t stop you. You blackmailed me.’

‘And lucky I did or we wouldn’t have achieved what we have.’

‘I’d have thought of something,’ Kilt said.

Now it was Jewd’s and Leo’s turn to laugh. ‘Get over yourself, Faris,’ Jewd said, ‘or I’ll break your other shoulder. Now let’s take a look and see how bad this is.’

‘Don’t touch it,’ Kilt warned.

Jewd laughed. ‘Have I told you, Leo, what a baby our trusted leader is when it comes to pain?’

‘I just don’t want you to touch it, all right?’ Kilt sneered. Leo grinned. ‘Shall I hold him down, Jewd?’

‘Looks like you’ll have to,’ Jewd said archly.

‘I mean it,’ Kilt threatened. ‘Just let it be and…’

‘Kilt!’ Jewd reprimanded. ‘Am I going to have to knock you out again myself? It won’t be good for your fat head if I do. That shoulder needs to be bound. If the joint has slipped, it has to be put back into place. If the—’

‘All right, all right! Do it!’ Kilt grumbled. ‘Tell me you’ve got some bermine in that wretched satchel of yours, though.’

‘You’re lucky. I never go anywhere without it.’

‘Is that the stuff you used for my leg?’ Leo asked.

‘That’s it. We used to buy it but now Lily makes up her own version, which is far more potent. Here, drink it.’ Jewd pulled the tiny stopper from a small bottle and handed it to Kilt.

Leo winced. ‘Horrible stuff.’

‘Better than the pain,’ Kilt said and took a draught, his face wrinkling at the taste. ‘Like a thousand farts,’ he groaned.

‘Go and check we’re still all clear,’ Jewd said, sensing Kilt wanted the king gone for a minute. Still grinning at Kilt’s fart comment, Leo nodded and set off.

‘Thanks,’ Kilt said. ‘I don’t need him seeing me at my shrieking best.’

‘Has it worked yet?’

‘I want to say no.’

‘All right then, let’s see.’ Jewd removed Kilt’s shirt, glancing only briefly at the familiar birthmark beneath his shoulder blade as he focused on the injury. ‘Good news or bad news first?’

‘Get on with it!’

‘We have to put right your shoulder joint.’

Kilt groaned. ‘And the good news?’

Without warning Jewd manipulated his friend’s arm and Kilt yelped as his shoulder slipped back into its correct position.

‘The good news is, it’s back in,’ Jewd said, grinning.

‘Oh, very funny,’ Kilt choked out, breathing hard and wincing.

‘Here, keep the bermine. I reckon you’ll need it. We have to make up a sling.’

Leo returned. ‘All clear. What’s happened?’

‘His shoulder was out,’ Jewd replied.

‘And now it’s back,’ Kilt finished.

Jewd winked at Leo. ‘And he didn’t even scream. How’s your leg?’

‘I hate the limp but at least I don’t need the stick anymore.’

‘Told you it would get better. Is there pain?’

‘Nothing to scream about,’ Leo replied.

‘Get that sling onto me,’ Kilt demanded, seeing that Jewd had finished turning a large kerchief into a workable hammock. ‘And let’s get out of here.’

Later, as they rested briefly for Kilt’s sake, he spoke to them both in a grave tone. ‘I haven’t said thank you.’

‘For disobeying you?’ Jewd said.

‘For action that probably saved my life.’

‘They didn’t know who you were, Kilt,’ Jewd assured.

Kilt nodded. ‘They can add things up, though, my friend. A limping archer, a huge man? Why would they appear out of nowhere
to ambush the emperor’s men in order to rescue a clergyman? No, we’ll have pricked their curiosity. And we can’t discount the fact that Vulpan was present. According to what Freath told us, once he’s tasted your blood, he can recognise you again without having to taste you. Do you understand?’

Leo and Jewd shook their heads, after glancing, confused, at each other.