CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

LYKOS

Lykos ran a hand along the strakes of one of his new-built boats, eyes closed, savouring the lines, the smell of pitch. He swore he could almost hear the crying of gulls. Then an image of Fidele swam into his mind.

Ach, why can’t I get that bitch out of my head? It’s because I know she’s so close. It’ll be good to get away and feel the roll and sway of water beneath my feet, even if it will only be river-water, and not the swell and the salt spray of the ocean. I’ll forget about her then.

He opened his eyes to see Calidus staring at him, mouth a thin line.

“I said, when will they be ready?”

Lykos inspected the boats more closely, saw the oar locks were being fitted by Alazon, his best shipwright.

Not that these are ships. Just rowing-boats, but they are best equipped for a long journey upriver.

Short masts, rigging, sails woven from wool, and sets of oars were all close by.

“As long as it takes for the pitch to dry. We could leave on the morrow. Or tonight?”

“Good. Ensure that all is ready. You’ve chosen your men?”

“Aye,” Lykos grunted.

A harder, nastier bunch of cut-throats you’re not likely to see. Legion’ll fit right in.

“And all else is ready?”

“Aye. A bit of last-minute packing,” Lykos shrugged.

I need to find enough mead to last me to Arcona.

“Leave tonight, then. If you can get away from Drassil without being seen, then all the better. We don’t want any interference from those brigands in the forest.”

Unless Fidele wants to come and try stabbing me again. No doubt she’d bring her faithful Old Wolf with her. He lifted a hand to his cheek, felt the uneven puckered scar where Maquin had bitten a chunk of flesh from his face. For a moment he was lost in his imagining of that encounter. Always Maquin died first. Screaming.

Calidus tutted.

“I hope I can rely on you to complete this task,” Calidus said.

“Of course,” Lykos grunted.

“Your lack of focus is unsettling. Need I remind you what hangs upon this mission?”

“You can trust me. I’ll return with the starstone torc, of that you need not doubt. And yes, leaving under cover of dark is a good idea. Not so many eyes. Our enemies in the forest are likely to be watching our walls.”

“Aye, they are. And, talking of those blackguards in the forest, Trigg, come here.”

The half-breed took a hesitant step forwards, out from the shadows.

“Have you found them?”

There was a silence, too long for Lykos’ liking.

“Yes,” Trigg said, head bowed, hood up.

“Well?” Calidus said into the silence. “Where are they?”

“They move regularly, so as not to be caught. I will need to go back out there.”

“I see,” Calidus said, stroking the stubbly whiskers on his chin—they were finally growing back. “But it would be possible to track their movements from the camp you discovered?”

Another long silence.

“Most likely,” Trigg said.

“And where is this camp? The one that you found, before they moved?”

“North-west,” Trigg said with a jerk of her chin, sounding sullen, reluctant.

She knows more than she’s telling.

“Is there a problem?” Calidus asked, stepping closer to Trigg, staring into her eyes. Legion moved up behind her, flies buzzing irritably.

“No,” Trigg answered. “Forn is dangerous. I prefer it here.”

“Aye, well, you can stay here as long as you like once those irritants in the forest are dealt with. You will be rewarded well.”

“My thanks,” Trigg grunted.

“Well, things are starting to work out rather well,” Calidus said. “I will prepare a force for you to guide into the forest. On the morrow. Don’t wander too far. If I cannot find you when I need you, I shall be vexed. You won’t like me when I’m vexed.”

The master of understatement.

“I’ll stay close,” Trigg said.

“Good,” Calidus clapped his hands together. “Everyone away, then, and do what you need to do. Lykos, be here at midnight with your men and your mead.”

Lykos snorted and then they were all marching away, Legion accompanying Calidus, Trigg striding ahead and veering right at the first opportunity, away from the Kadoshim. Lykos watched them all go, his eyes finally fixing upon Trigg.

I’ve a lot to do, but something about her is not right.

He followed her.

At first she seemed to wander randomly through the wide streets, Lykos keeping well back, clinging to alcoves and shadows, but eventually he saw a pattern to it.

She’s doing a wide loop, ever tighter. She’s going to the great hall.

Soon they were there. The gates were wide open, with eagle-guard before them. The guards watched Trigg suspiciously as she walked into the huge chamber, and stood straighter when Lykos appeared.

Inside the chamber the Treasures and doorway to the ancient forge were roped off, the boundary patrolled by a score of Kadoshim. Between them, along the perimeter, a unit of eagle-guard were stationed. Trigg stopped on the stairs and stared down at the cauldron. Lykos sidled off to one side and stood in the shadows of one of the many stairwells that wound up to towers and chambers above.

What the hell is she up to? If she’s come here to steal the Treasures she’s not doing a very good job of it.

Abruptly Trigg moved, climbing a stairwell up into the cavernous heights of the chamber, then disappeared. Lykos followed, moving as quietly as he could manage.

He reached an archway that opened onto a corridor, the stairwell continuing to spiral upwards. Trigg was there, at the far end, standing before another doorway, staring at it. She reached out and lifted the latch, then stepped inside.

Lykos frowned.

What is she doing here?

This corridor was not used by them. Most of the troops had been barracked in buildings spread in a loose half-circle between the great tree and Drassil’s gates. Only Calidus actually slept within the tree’s chambers to stay close to the Treasures. Moving as quietly as was possible, Lykos crept down the corridor, finally stopping just before the open doorway.

He peered inside.

It was a chamber that had been lived in. The cot had a rumpled blanket on it, the mattress of straw was slashed and scattered, the room in disarray. After the main part of the battle for Drassil had ended, many of Calidus’ forces had run amok throughout the fortress. From the looks of it, it was the Kadoshim that had torn through here. There were too many things remaining that the Vin Thalun would have found of worth. Lykos saw the shine of a chainmail shirt, a fine-made shield, iron-rimmed, with battle-scars testifying to sword strokes across it. A well-made pair of boots, iron greaves stitched into them.

Someone high up, with war gear like that. A captain, a leader.

Trigg was walking slowly around the room, examining. She saw the chainmail shirt, lifted it, shook it out, and then rolled it up, stuffing it inside her cloak. Moving on, she bent and picked up an empty bowl, what looked like mildewed porridge dripping from it in lumps. She dropped it and walked on.

What is she doing?

She carried on, then stopped again, bent and picked something up from the floor. Iron glinted amongst the leather. At first Lykos thought it was a belt of knives, but then Trigg slipped the leather over her fist, up her forearm, and Lykos saw it was a leather gauntlet with three curved iron claws extending from the knuckles. Trigg tugged on the leather thongs that tightened it, then gave an experimental swipe.

That could do a lot of damage. Wouldn’t like to be on the receiving end of those.

She took it off, rolled it up and secreted it away within the folds of her cloak.

Enough’s enough.

“What are you doing?” He asked as he stepped into the room, casually drawing his short sword.

Trigg took a step back, startled.

“Nothing,” she blinked.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Lykos said, picking his way through the debris. “Looks like you’re collecting. Question is, why?”

The half-breed shrugged, Lykos noticing the breadth of her shoulders, the length of her arms.

Don’t underestimate this one. She’s strong, and fast.

He twitched the tip of his sword, pointing at her now.

“You’ve pocketed some fine keepsakes—not sure the chainmail shirt’ll fit you. Looked a bit short for you.” He shrugged. “Wonder what Calidus will think of it?”

A twitch of her jaw, small eyes widening.

She doesn’t like the thought of that.

“Don’t tell him,” Trigg hissed.

“Why not?”

“He wouldn’t understand,” Trigg said, “he suspects betrayals, conspiracies where there are none. I just liked the shirt. It’s…shiny.” Her eyes flickered between Lykos and the door, judging.

She’s thinking about taking me on, he realized with a jolt. I want information, not her blood.

“Where’s the enemy camp?” he asked. “You’ve seen it. I want to know exactly where it is.”

“I told you, they move, regularly.”

“When did you see it?” he asked.

“Day before yesterday,” she muttered.

“Tell me where it is,” he hissed, taking a step towards her, sword rising.

“North-west,” she said.

“You already told us that. It’s a forest, I need something more specific.”

She looked at him a long moment.

“From the first trapdoor on the north-western tunnel, travel north, to the river, then west. Over Jael’s road, and half a league further there’s a hill, at its base the corpse of a great bear. Another half-league west.” She shrugged. “That’s where it was.”

“My thanks,” Lykos said, half-bowing.

“There are scouts, it’s well protected. And they’ve probably moved.”

“No matter,” he said, backing to the door.

“Why do you want to know where their camp is?” Trigg called after him as he reached the doorway and backed through.

“Got an old friend who’s been on my mind of late,” he said, and slipped away down the corridor.