‘We cannot just wait here all day,’ said Skilgannon. ‘Either they have gone, or they are waiting. We need to know which.’
‘What are you thinking?’ asked Jared.
‘I’m going to take a stroll to the reeds.’
‘We’ll keep you company.’
Skilgannon glanced past Jared, at his brother. ‘Might be best if Nian remains behind — to look after the women and children.’
Jared shook his head. ‘He couldn’t do that, my friend. He needs to be close to me.’
‘Then you both remain here,’ said Skilgannon. With that he sheathed his swords and strolled away towards the northwest.
Braygan watched him go, and felt his heart sink. A murmur began among other people in the circle, as they watched Skilgannon move away towards the reeds. ‘Hold the circle!’ shouted Jared, moving away from Braygan. ‘He’s just scouting. He’ll be back. Stay watchful!’
A flicker of resentment flared in Braygan, and he was immediately ashamed. How swiftly Skilgannon had become important in these people’s lives. He was their saviour and their hope. What am I, wondered Braygan?
I am nothing. If these people survive they will not remember the chubby little priest who cowered at the centre of the circle, begging the Source to keep him alive. They will recall the dark-haired warrior with the twin swords who took command, forming the circle that saved them. They will remember him to the ends of their lives.
‘There’s one!’ The shout was full of terror, and a wail went up from the children.
Braygan swung round, eyes wide and fearful. A dark shape emerged from the tall grass. It was a golden- haired woman in a dark cloak.
Braygan’s relief was immense.
‘It’s Garianne! It’s Garianne!’ shouted the simpleton, Nian. Still holding to his brother’s sash he walked towards the woman. Jared grabbed his arm.
‘Don’t pull me,’ he said gently. ‘She’s coming here.’
Nian waved. ‘Over here, Garianne. We’re over here.’
The woman was beautiful, her eyes a soft flecked grey, her braided hair gleaming in the sunlight. She approached the two brothers. Nian moved towards her, and, dropping his sword, lifted her into a hug. She kissed his cheek lightly. ‘Put me down,’ she said, ‘and be calm.’ Then she swung towards Jared. ‘We are glad to see you alive,’ she said, her voice flat and emotionless. She did not smile.
‘It is good to see you, Garianne,’ Jared told her. ‘Did…?’ He cleared his throat. ‘We were wondering if the beasts were still close by.’
‘Some moved northeast in the night. We killed one. Old Uncle and his friend killed three more.’
‘I cut the head off one,’ said Nian. ‘Tell her, Jared.’
‘He did. He was very brave, Garianne. It would be good if you could stay awhile and help us fight off the creatures. There are many children here.’
‘We are going to Mellicane. Old Uncle is buying us a meal.’ ‘We are all heading to Mellicane, Garianne. Nian would be happy if you came with us.’
‘Yes, yes, come with us, Garianne,’ insisted Nian. Suddenly the woman smiled. Braygan found the moment breathtaking. In that instant she moved from attractive to stunningly beautiful. Stepping towards Nian, she reached up and curled her arm round his shoulder.
‘I wish I had seen you cut its head off,’ she said, kissing his cheek. ‘Three whacks it took. Is Old Uncle coming too?’
Her smile faded and she stepped away from Nian.
‘No questions, Nian,’ said Jared softly. ‘Remember?’
‘I’m sorry, Garianne,’ muttered Nian. Her smile returned briefly, and she seemed to relax.
‘Old Uncle is coming. Maybe an hour. Maybe less,’ she told them. Jared swung to Braygan. ‘Old Uncle is a warrior named Druss.
You have heard the name?’ Braygan shook his head. ‘He is Drenai, and, like your friend, he is deadly. With Garianne and Druss we have more than a chance against any beasts.’
Skilgannon walked towards the swaying bank of reeds, his movements smooth and unhurried, scanning the stalks for any sign of movement not caused by the breeze. He was exactly as he seemed to those who watched him from the circle, relaxed and strolling, his swords sheathed.
Malanek had called it the
He thought of Malanek, and the tortuous training, the endless exercises and the harsh regime of physical stress. He remembered Greavas and Sperian, and the increasing tension of the days after Bokram’s coronation.
Arrests were sudden. Houses were raided, the occupants dragged away.
No-one spoke of the departed. Known followers of the dead Emperor disappeared, or were publicly executed in Leopard Square.
Fear descended on the capital. People watched each other with suspicious eyes, never knowing who might inform on them for a hasty word, or a suggested criticism. Skilgannon worried about Greavas, and his connections to the royal family, and, indeed, the former actor often went missing for days before returning without a word as to his previous whereabouts. Skilgannon asked him one evening where he had been.
Greavas sighed. ‘Best you don’t know, my friend,’ was all he would say.
One night, around three weeks after the coronation, armed soldiers arrived at the house. Molaire was beside herself with fear, and even the normally resolute Sperian was ashen and afraid. Skilgannon was sitting in the garden when the officer marched out. It was the golden-haired former athlete, Boranius. Skilgannon rose from his chair. ‘Good to see you,’ he said, and meant it.
‘And you,’ answered Boranius coolly. ‘However, I am here on official business.’
‘I shall have refreshments served for you,’ said Skilgannon, gesturing towards the pale-faced Sperian. The man gratefully withdrew. Skilgannon glanced at the two soldiers standing in the garden doorway. ‘Please make yourselves comfortable,’ he told them. ‘There are chairs for all.’
‘My men will stand,’ said Boranius, lifting his scabbard, and seating himself on a wicker chair. He still looked every inch the athlete Skilgannon had so admired.
‘Do you still run, Boranius?’
‘No, I have little time for such pursuits. You?’
Skilgannon laughed. ‘I do, but it is not the fun it was, for I have no-one to test me. You were my inspiration. You set the standard.’
‘And you beat me.’
‘You had an injured ankle, Boranius. However, I did enjoy getting the medal.’
‘The days of school medals are behind me now — and you too soon. Have you considered your future?’
‘I shall be a soldier like my father.’
‘That is pleasing to hear. We need good soldiers. Loyal soldiers.’ The blond officer leaned back in his chair. ‘These are difficult times, Olek.
There are traitors everywhere. They must be hunted down and exterminated. Do you know any traitors?’
‘How would I recognize them, Boranius? Do they wear odd hats?’
‘This is not a subject for jests, Olek. Even now someone is sheltering the Emperor’s concubine and her bastard daughter. Bokram is king by right and by blood. Those who speak or act against him are traitors.’
‘I have heard no-one speak against him,’ said Skilgannon. There was a tightness around Boranius’s blue eyes, and the man seemed constantly on edge.
‘What about the pervert who lives here? Is he loyal?’
Skilgannon felt a coldness settle in his belly. ‘You are a guest in my home, Boranius. Do not speak ill of any of my friends.’
