The king’s head was shaking fractionally to each side, gaping eyes accented by his brow. “We are not ready for another invasion, my dear Bellamus. We shan’t be for a year.”
“The longer we leave them, the graver this threat becomes. Please, Majesty,” Bellamus shuffled closer, still on his knees which were now shaking slightly. “Hear me now. The Anakim live more than two centuries, but their numbers are kept under control by war. If we leave them, if we allow them to multiply unchecked, then it will not be long before they are quite as numerous as us. Now that we have started this war, we must finish it. Every season that we delay makes our task more difficult. Though they were victorious, they have been weakened. Do not give them the opportunity to gather their full strength and unleash it on us. Attack; as soon as the roads reopen. Let us assemble an army.”
“You are a man of action, Master Bellamus,” said the king. “But to reinforce failure would be the worst we could do.” Bellamus almost rolled his eyes at that. “We cannot defeat them.”
“We can, Majesty. I can.”
King Osbert gazed sympathetically at Bellamus for a moment and then picked up his own sword which leaned against his throne. He heaved onto his feet and hefted the weapon in his hands, beginning a shuffle back and forth across the dais, taking care always to step high over Bright-Shock, which still lay where Bellamus had presented it.
The king paused, looking down at Bellamus still kneeling beneath him. “Rise,” he ordered. Bellamus stood slowly, his knees cracking as they straightened. “My dear queen,” said the king, “counsels that you are our best hope against the Anakim. She is a wonderful woman. Blessed with a great many virtues and graces. An example to us all.” He nodded humbly at Bellamus. “But I cannot place an army of nobles under the command of an upstart. You are a sudden blaze, Master Bellamus. You have no name to protect and so I have no assurances of your conduct. I need assurances.”
“You have my word, Majesty.”
“Your word, your word …” The king flapped the phrase away with his free hand. “I need more, as you very well know. You are cleverer than you allow, I think, but you shan’t wriggle your way out of this. Garrett?” The enormous shadow on the king’s left stirred and then stepped up onto the platform. It was the huge retainer; the one Bellamus had stared at as he approached the dais, who now knelt before the king. King Osbert motioned him up quickly. “Rise, Garrett. Will you watch Bellamus for me, as he returns north?”
Garrett stood and Bellamus’s eyes followed as he straightened up, his form towering above the upstart. This man would have looked down on most Anakim, Bellamus was sure. He had a breadth and solidity about him that lent his flesh the cold nature of stone. His hair was a bright-blond shock and his countenance dominated by the skull-like cross-section of a severed nose, which left two tall nostrils stranded in the middle of his face. But of his shocking appearance, it was the eyes which disturbed Bellamus most.
A febrile, sulphurous yellow.
Garrett nodded at the words of the king, who turned back to Bellamus. “There, Bellamus. You shall go north again, this time with the Eoten-Draefend as my representative. He will guide your conduct.” Osbert gave Bellamus a satisfied nod, the matter settled.
Bellamus was dumbstruck for a moment, appalled at the proposition of campaigning with Garrett at his back. He could hardly believe that anyone had allowed a hybrid to become a warrior, let alone one with such close access to the king. But this was not just any warrior: Garrett Eoten-Draefend was famous across Erebos, though Bellamus had thought he was a Sutherner. He had faced the Unhieru: the savage and giant race of men that inhabited the hills in the west of Albion. There he was said to have lost his nose in the process of killing Fathochta, an Unhieru warrior-prince. He had hunted Anakim in the borderlands below the Abus, and was famed as a warrior of surpassing skill and uncontrollable violence. “Majesty,” said Bellamus carefully, “perhaps I have been unwise. I would accept—”
The king interrupted Bellamus with a jocular laugh, causing the upstart to take a breath and almost a pace backwards. “No, Bellamus, it is I who have been unwise and you who have been correct. You warned us before our last invasion. You said that Earl William was not up to the job. I should have listened to you.” The king smiled down at him. “You want to go north and finish this war? Very well. My kingdom will gather what forces remain to her; we will seek help from the continent and raise another heregeld. You will gather the army together in the north, and be ready to go beyond the Abus as soon as the snows have melted. But, when you pass into the Black Kingdom, you will be watched by my Eoten-Draefend. And should you fail, your luck will have at last run out.”
You mean you’ll tell him to cut my head off. “I won’t fail, Majesty,” insisted Bellamus. “There is no need for supervision. I have the measure of the Anakim.”
The king shrugged sadly. “If you won’t fail, then there is nothing to worry about. And you have gained a valuable warrior.”
Bellamus cast around, speechless for a moment. But he thought he would rather risk the wrath of the king than a campaign with Garrett at his back. “I won’t return with him, Majesty,” he said at last, indicating
