into Ruhen’s service?’
‘Govin? He lacks the brains to do anything without orders.’
‘But if he is an acolyte of the Hidden Tower he must be skilled.’
Larim curled his lip. ‘His talents are sufficient to follow orders, but expect no greatness from the man. If I should find another acolyte in the Circle City, or a sufficiently intelligent mule, his worth is greatly diminished.’
‘I could use him,’ Venn said, thoughtfully. ‘Our mages are limted, but an expendable one on my journey could prove useful.’
‘As you wish.’ Larim turned and raised his voice to his acolyte.
‘Govin, you will accompany Master Venn here; obey him as you would me.’
He didn’t wait for a response but returned his attention to Venn, who refilled their cups and raised one in toast. ‘Our first bargain,’ he said with a smile. ‘Let us drink to many more.’
King Emin signalled the halt before they reached the northernmost defensive works and went on ahead, accompanied only by a small body of guards. He looked tall beside his companions, the diminutive Dashain, who was second-in-command of the Brotherhood, and High Mage Endine. Behind them were a messenger and two more Brothers, Endine’s favourite thief, Tremal, and a pock-faced young Brother called Ame Forrow who now served as the king’s personal bodyguard.
For reasons best known to Forrow, he had foregone the Brotherhood’s usual anonymous black and instead wore scarlet sleeves and pauldrons. While he lacked his predecessor’s size, he apparently wanted it made clear that he had taken Coran’s place in more than just name. Given he shared the man’s thuggish lack of humour, no one was inclined to argue. There was a grim air around the young Brother that was a stark contrast to the Land around him.
The sun had remained consistently warm on their faces as they skirted the Blue Hills and travelled southwest through the unspoiled heartland of the Kingdom of Narkang. At the roadside fruit was ripening amidst a bustle of bees and butterflies, and birds chattered constantly around them, filling the air with song, but Forrow took his new position seriously, and he saw nothing but potential dangers.
‘Where’s Suzerain Cotterin?’ the king wondered aloud as he surveyed the ring of defences surrounding the town of Farrister.
All looked peaceful there, just as they’d been told, but he knew the sight of his standard might change that very quickly. The town was surrounded by a wooden fence, more a barrier to stop untaxed goods than attacking forces. This deep into the kingdom there had never been a need for anything more.
The Menin army currently occupying Farrister hadn’t had time to be picky about where to make their stand. They had been sent to harry the south of the kingdom and lure troops away from the main invasion, but they had fought only one minor battle before the decisive battle of Moorview. When they had realised their lord was defeated they had taken Farrister and barricaded themselves in while their allies from Thotel and Tor Salan fled home. They’d been there for the last few weeks, sending scouts out in search of news and fortifying their position as much as they could as they realised how far from home and supply-lines they now were.
‘Riders, sire,’ Dashain said, pointing east. She was as serene as a standing stone, and nearly as immovable. It had taken a while for the men to get past her beauty and realise they couldn’t dominate her; several had suffered in the process.
While the king waited for the cavalrymen he sent the messenger to order the troops to make camp within the spiked earthworks that protected the besieging army.
‘Your Majesty,’ called Suzerain Cotterin as soon as he came within hailing distance, ‘I’m relieved to see you fit and well. The reports we’ve had from Moorview have been most grave.’
‘Good to see you too, Cotterin,’ the king replied, adding gravely, ‘Unfortunately your reports were no exaggeration. The kingdom mourns many heroes.’
‘Truly? I heard thirty thousand Narkang men marched to the Herald’s Hall.’
‘A shade over,’ Emin confirmed as Cotterin reined in and dropped from his horse to kneel before the king. ‘We took as many as we lost. A few Menin regiments escaped, but none surrendered.’
Cotterin rose but didn’t immediately reply as he looked over to the town he had been besieging. He was a broad man with long fair hair, and only a winter or two older than the king. His accent betrayed the fact he’d not been born into nobility; to many in Narkang that was a sign that he was not a man to trifle with: the king remembered his friends, and many of them greeted the men of the Brotherhood by name.
‘That’s a poor omen for what this lot will do then, your Majesty.’
‘We must hope they’ve had time for their blood to cool. How many do you estimate are in there?’
‘Approaching ten legions-worth, now their allies have abandoned them.’
‘So it’s rather cramped in there now.’
‘Must be. Half the townsfolk had already fled, but the local lord says there’s never been more than four thousand living there at the most.’
Emin looked around at the fortifications before walking up the earth bank the army had thrown up, the suzerain and the bodyguard following closely behind. A river cut through the city, running southwest off the Blue Hills, and the surrounding ground was parcelled into fields growing a whole range of crops. From what he could see, the Menin had not been able to harvest most of it: Cotterin’s troops had arrived too soon for that.
‘But we’re still not going to starve them out in a hurry,’ he commented.
‘No, your Majesty: the town is the wheat market for the whole area. The grain stores will most likely have enough left to keep them fed a good while longer. They’ll be ripe for disease, being confined like that, but there are reports of that from the east anyway, so we might not do much better outside. The common folk are saying a plague followed in their wake. That might not be too far from the truth.’
King Emin looked down at the group waiting for him on the ground. ‘Dashain, go and fetch out an envoy,’ he called. As she hurried to her horse and started off towards the town, Emin caught his mage’s eye. ‘Endine, if they fire on her or anything else, I want a hole ripped in that fence, understand?’
The scrawny mage bowed, one hand on the Skull at his belt. He knew Emin was keen to avoid a fight, so magic would be the best way to persuade the Menin. They might have nowhere to go, but they were largely heavy infantry, the brutal mainstay of the Menin Army, the troops who’d almost slaughtered Emin and his entire Kingsguard at Moorview. Narkang had to march on Byora; they didn’t need to fight any more Menin elite to the death first.
Dashain returned untroubled half an hour later, in the company of two Menin officers. Both were bearded, their long black curls neatly tied back. Most tellingly, Emin decided, their grey uniforms were clean and in good repair. Grief-stricken madmen were unlikely to take pride in their appearance. Though their invasion had been destroyed, these men maintained their military order.
‘King Emin,’ Dashain called, jumping down from her horse, ‘may I present General Arek and Colonel Dorom?’
‘Gentlemen,’ the king said coolly, inclining his head to the soldiers. With their clipped beards the pair looked similar-enough to be brothers. ‘May I offer you some wine?’
Aside from dismounting, the officers made no gestures of respect, and they ignored the wine that had been brought out. The discourtesy started Forrow growling, until the king stopped him, as he often had Coran. A twitch of the finger proved sufficient.
‘You summoned us, King Emin.’ Arek said at last. ‘Do you offer your surrender?’
‘Not quite,’ the king said calmly. ‘I assume some of your scouts made it back, so you will know of the events at Moorview.’
Arek’s eyes narrowed. ‘Every one of us felt our lord’s name being torn from our minds. A scout found some retreating Byoran soldiers, who spoke of thousands dead and our army broken.’
‘They did not lie,’ Emin said. ‘Your lord is dead; your conquest of the West is ended. What you felt will also have been experienced throughout all the cities you had taken. Most likely your garrisons are all dead.’
‘This much we can guess.’
‘So what now for you? Where does your allegiance now lie?’
Arek looked insulted by the question. ‘To my tribe and my God, as they always have.’ The Menin’s fingers twitched.
Emin reminded himself how fanatically loyal the Menin soldiers had reportedly been to their lord; no doubt they hated him with a passion for what he had done. ‘And to your men?’ he asked.
