The Kings Man (20 page)
‘How can you ask?’ She waited, but he didn’t have a reply, so she took another bite, chewed and swallowed.
His head buzzed with exhaustion.
‘They took turns raping the women. I hid in the wood heap.’
‘Very wise.’
‘But not very brave.’ Tears spilled over her cheeks. ‘Ilonja is not brave.’
He lifted one arm and pulled her close. As she sobbed on his chest, the heat of her damp tears seeping through the material, he wished he could have held Piro at the end.
‘Sometimes it is wiser to run away,’ he whispered. ‘Ilonja?’
But she’d fallen asleep, so he settled her on the floor next to him in the pile of furs.
He took the apple from her hand, finished both and curled up beside her. Dimly he was aware of the Utlanders organising things. Then he was aware of nothing.
Then the dreams started. The fire, running, fighting for his life. He woke several times. From the moans around him, others were also troubled by nightmares.
Chapter Fourteen
T
HREE DAYS LATER
Jost returned with his depleted party and the chitin of three manticores. He returned without Polonika, but Danja wasn’t there to mourn for her. She had died the second night after the attack.
Jost strode into the settlement expecting to be hailed a hero. Instead, he found everyone in mourning. They’d lost cows, goats, many provisions, the precious lives of defenders, mothers and children and, what’s worse, they’d lost their oracles.
When Jost heard the full story, he and his group were all for going after Vultar, sailing to the Isle of the Dead and attacking.
As far as Garzik could tell, Iron-hair ran the settlement, but each captain ran his ship. Jost had no ship. It took half a night of argument but finally, the one-eared Utlander accepted Rusan’s decision with poor grace.
They would go raiding for now. Their people needed more supplies. The settlement’s other four ships’ captains would return. Then they would mount an attack on Vultar.
Garzik hardly listened.
He wouldn’t be here. He was going to escape when they sailed south.
He would find Byren, tell him about the spy, Mitrovan, and become a courier, but he no longer felt he had to make up for failing Byren.
In battle you could make a plan but, once the battle started, plans were just scribbles on paper. The trick was to survive. He was a survivor. He wished he’d realised this back in Rolencia.
T
HE NEXT MORNING,
Rusan ordered his ship stocked. By evening, they were ready to sail with the dawn tide.
That evening, Iron-hair consulted with Rusan and Olbin, deciding who would remain behind to defend the settlement. They’d lost nearly half their beardless. A couple of the older raiders volunteered to stay, not that they thought Vultar would return. He’d gotten what he wanted, but there were still the Affinity beasts.
All this went on while Garzik sat at the table, being served like one of Rusan’s crew.
‘Wynn, over here,’ Olbin called.
As he came to his feet and turned around, he saw Iron-hair and Rusan standing in front of the fireplace. Rusan held a sword, Iron-hair held a bundle of furs and skins.
By the time he’d crossed the paving, everyone was silent.
Garzik glanced over his shoulder to Olbin, not sure what he should do. The big Utlander grinned and gestured him on.
Rusan stepped forward, lifted the short sword and cut the Merofynian sailor’s vest and breeches from him. They were too small now anyway. While he did this, Rusan said, ‘Wynn earned his place at the table during Vultar’s raid.’ He picked up the threadbare breaches and vest and tossed them onto the fire. ‘I say he belongs-to-us on my ship.’
His crew cheered, thumping the table.
A rush of shame made Garzik’s face burn. He was going to betray them and desert Captain Rusan’s ship first chance he got.
As Rusan stepped back, Iron-hair stepped forward. ‘This one works hard. He will be an asset to our island. I say he belongs-to-us on our island.’
As she handed him the bundle, the women and beardless cheered then fell silent.
He ducked his head, speechless.
‘Well, get dressed. Stop flashing your arse at us,’ Olbin told him.
There was general laughter as he pulled on the leather breaches and laced them up. The fur-lined boots were soft and roomy. When he unrolled a raider’s bad-weather sealskin, an Utlander smock fell out. It was red, made of goat’s wool and decorated with elaborate braid around the neck and the hem. He’d seen the women and men sitting around the fire, working this beautiful braid, and he felt a fraud.
Still, he pulled it on and brushed hair from his eyes.
Rusan handed him a belt with a sheath and raider’s short sword. Laughing at his expression, Rusan buckled the belt up and pushed him down to his knees.
‘Now you give your oath of allegiance to me. Repeat after me.’ And he told Garzik the right words.
As he swore to protect his brother raiders and die for them, the words tasted bitter on his lips. As far as he was concerned, he’d already sworn to serve Byren back when the kingson was accepting his honour guard. This made him foresworn.
Rusan helped him to his feet and turned him around to face the hall.
They cheered.
Garzik noticed Trafyn. His nose was swollen and both eyes were black, but there was no mistaking his expression. His mouth twisted with contempt.
Rusan slung an arm around Garzik’s shoulder. ‘Wynn sails with us tomorrow.’
‘You can take him, too.’ The old woman who was in charge of the kitchen dragged Trafyn forward by his ear. ‘This belongs-to-no-one’s more trouble than he’s worth.’ She shoved the squire so that he almost fell at Rusan and Garzik’s feet.
‘Out of the way, belongs-to-no-one,’ Rusan aimed a kick at Trafyn’s thigh and the squire scrambled to one side, joining the dogs as they gnawed on bones.
The raiders mocked Trafyn, even as Olbin welcomed Garzik back to the bench by the table. But the ceremonies weren’t over yet; everyone fell silent.
‘What now?’ Garzik whispered.
‘Swearing in the new beardless,’ Olbin said. ‘They’ll be trained up so our raiders can return to sea.’
One by one the girls of twelve and thirteen stepped forward. Rusan had moved away to give Iron-hair pride of place before the fireplace, and she took their vows as the girls swore to take the beardless path.
No men and babies for them. They’d fight to the death to protect their island home.
Garzik was not surprised to see the last one was Ilonja. She spoke up, her voice strong and clear; no doubts now.
Ilonja turned and grinned at him, before going to join the beardless at the table. He felt it was a waste, but he understood.
Conversation resumed.
‘Wait.’ It was the singer, Sarijana, who stepped forward. ‘I want to give my vow.’
Olbin gasped and looked to Rusan, who’d clearly had no idea this was going to happen. Face stony, Rusan watched as Sarijana took the solemn oath. Garzik could feel the tension in Olbin’s massive body.
When she’d finished and joined the beardless on their bench, Olbin left the table and went over to join Rusan by the door. Both of them stepped outside. Garzik wasn’t going to follow them, but he noticed Jost and his two friends leave the table, then drift out.
Garzik stepped over the bench. As he darted across the hall, he felt Trafyn’s eyes on him. Ignoring the squire, he slipped out the door.
Where he found Jost and his friends confronting Rusan and Olbin. They’d taken off their weapons and tossed them aside. Garzik spotted the surgeon’s beautifully worked sword and dagger.
‘Now no-one will have her, and you know what?’ Jost leered. ‘I’m glad they raped her. If I can’t have her, I don’t –’
Rusan struck him. Then it was on. A flurry of blows, two against three, with Garzik ready to jump in if it looked like Rusan and Olbin needed help.
It was all about solid thumps, grunts. The whoosh of air being driven from the chest. At one point the door opened and Iron-hair looked out. She took in the fighting, glanced to Garzik, then went back inside.
By the time Garzik looked back, Rusan and Olbin were occupied with Jost’s two friends, while the one-eared Utlander reached for his sword.
Garzik rapped him over the head with the flat of his own sword. Furious, Jost would have gone for him, but a glance over his shoulder revealed his two companions were out cold and Rusan was pulling Olbin to his feet.
Jost went to help his friends, while Rusan and Olbin retrieved their weapons and Garzik sheathed his sword. The look Jost sent Garzik told him his interference would not be forgotten.
There was no laughter and slapping of backs, no invitation inside for a drink.
‘This isn’t over,’ Jost told Rusan, when they were all on their feet.The captain lifted his hands as if to say,
come on
.
But Jost and his two friends turned and strode inside. As they passed Garzik, Jost gave him a filthy look.
Rusan and Olbin came up to Garzik. Both were flushed, bleeding and dishevelled.
‘Watching our backs, Wynn?’ Rusan asked.
He nodded.
But it didn’t make any difference. He was escaping, first chance got. He had to break his oath to Rusan. Byren needed him.
THE
KING ROLEN’S KIN
TRILOGY:
The King's Bastard
,
The Uncrowned King
, and
The Usurper
Only seven minutes younger than Rolencia’s heir, Byren has never hungered for the throne; he laughs when a seer predicts that he will kill his twin. But the royal heir resents Byren’s growing popularity. Across the land the untamed magic of the gods wells up out of the earth’s heart, sending exotic creatures to stalk the wintry nights and twisting men’s minds, granting them terrible visions. Those so touched are sent to the Abbey, to learn to control their gift, or die.
At King Rolen’s court, enemies plot to take his throne, even as secrets within his own household threaten to tear his family apart.
Political intrigue and magic combine in this explosive new fantasy trilogy.
“Pacy and full of action and intrigue.”
– Trudi Canavan, author of
The Black Magician Trilogy
.
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