CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

VERADIS

Veradis stamped his boot onto the Vin Thalun’s chest, pinning him to the ground, and stabbed down, his attacker gasping, choking, dying. Looking up, he saw the shield wall his men had formed was still standing strong, a tide of dead Vin Thalun about it.

It appears that there are no more Vin Thalun left to fight.

He wiped his sword clean and sheathed it, listening to the crashing, thuds and screams that still echoed from the fortress’ walls, a sign that Balur, Alcyon and their kin were still causing chaos.

Can’t last much longer.

“We are here to get you out of Drassil,” Veradis yelled, striding to the cuirass, cloak, helm and sword that he’d emptied earlier from his pack, lifting the disguise up for all to see.

“Every prisoner, find one of my men, they’ll have one of these for you, and more.” He looked around at the faces, shadowed and bloody. “Quickly,” he shouted, and the courtyard burst into motion. While he waited, his heartbeat counting time, he looked eastward, in the direction that Cywen had disappeared.

Come on, girl, he willed.

“We’re ready to go,” Ilta told him.

Only five of Veradis’ men had fallen in the melee, and there were one hundred and eighty-eight prisoners now standing with them.

One hundred and eighty-eight who will not die screaming on stakes. One hundred and eighty-eight who will fight alongside us in Forn.

If we can get out of here.

Veradis marched in front of them.

“You’ll be leaving here as eagle-guard. We are going through the gates to sally forth and fight off the enemy attacking Drassil’s walls,” Veradis said with a fierce grin. “Keep your heads down and wits about you, and you’ll soon be sitting around a fire with your kin and comrades.” There was a ragged cheer and then they were moving, forming a rough square, the prisoners enclosed at its heart, in the hope of hiding the fact that they didn’t know how to march in formation.

The streets were less crowded than they had been on the journey to the hospice, Veradis seeing small bands of warriors, mostly Vin Thalun. He strode past them as if he had more right to be there than they did, all the while his heart in his mouth.

Where are you, Cywen? he thought, scanning the shadows of the buildings ahead of him, checking back over his shoulder, but there was no sign of her.

There were more warriors on the road now, a score of eagle-guard passing them, the crack of their shoes on stone a familiar, almost nostalgic sound to Veradis. Windows in buildings were lit, the fire of forges, a host of barracks, then the whinny of horses and the huge courtyard inside the gates of Drassil opened before them.

Veradis held his fist up, barking an order, the warriors behind him stumbling to a halt. He paused there, on the edge of the courtyard, searching the shadows for Cywen and her companions.

Where is she? How can I leave without her?

“We can’t just stand here,” Ilta hissed at him. “We are like a goose putting its head on the chopping block.”

Veradis sucked in a deep breath, tugged on the chin-strap of his helm, then marched straight through the courtyard’s heart, ordering any too slow to get out of his way.

A man strode towards Veradis, one of the officers he’d seen earlier.

“Open the gates,” Veradis said as they drew near to one another.

“For what purpose?” the warrior asked, surprised.

“A sally against the enemy, to push them back from the walls.”

“I’ve had no orders,” the young captain frowned.

“I’m giving them to you, now,” Veradis said, the habit of command rising up to help him along with his fear.

The captain hesitated, looking from Veradis to his men. “This is unusual,” he said. “Orders to open the gates are always delivered by the Jehar.”

You mean Kadoshim. You are as unwitting as I was. I wonder, if you knew the truth, what would you do?

“These are not usual circumstances,” Veradis snapped, “and if I don’t get out there soon the enemy may well be breaching our walls.”

“You have only just returned to Drassil,” the captain said, still frowning. “Why would you be leading this sortie?”

“I volunteered,” Veradis said. He tapped his pack. “And I have fresh orders for King Nathair. Darkness offers good cover, as the fortress is watched closely.”

Veradis’ words were having an effect: he could see the captain teetering, but still he hesitated.

“I do not have time for this,” Veradis snapped. “Send a runner for Calidus, let him explain to you the workings of his plans.” He looked pointedly at the skewered corpses that lined the courtyard.

One last long stare and then the captain was turning on his heel, shouting for the gates to be opened.

“Onwards,” Veradis yelled, stepping into the archway beneath the thick wall of Drassil. Half of his warband was through the gates now, Veradis standing in the archway’s shadow, looking back into the courtyard, hoping to see Cywen appear.

But she did not come.

The last lines were passing him by now, and still he did not move.

A thought struck him.

The gates are open. I have warriors about me, giants out there in the darkness. Will we ever have an opportunity like this again?

Could we win?

A thousand against three, maybe four thousand?

Kadoshim appeared out of the half-lit darkness of a wide street and at their head strode Calidus, a dark cloak billowing behind him like smoke.

He was much changed, his long silver hair and short beard gone, his ageless skin and smile now cracked and ruined, the skin charred and peeling, hair burned away, only tufts here and there.

You may be hard to kill, but at the very least you can be hurt, you bastard.

As if he heard his thoughts, Calidus’ eyes fell upon Veradis. Recognition and hatred suddenly flared.

Calidus snarled.

“Run,” Veradis whispered. Then, louder. “RUN.”

Behind him the Kadoshim bounded forwards on Calidus’ orders, sprinting faster than Veradis thought possible, smashing people out of their way, leaping over them.

Veradis’ feet thudded, echoing in the archway of Drassil’s walls, out onto the plain, urging his men on. Shouts were rising up from the courtyard, screeches from the Kadoshim, yells from the battlements of Drassil, and spears began to hiss down from above. Some of Veradis’ people fell, skewered, but most ran on, the darkness enveloping them. Veradis looked back over his shoulder, saw the first line of the Kadoshim come hurtling through the gates. They sprinted across the open ground, dark blurs, curved swords glinting in moonlight as some drew their blades.

They’re going to catch us. No point running. Maybe some of us can hold them, let the others get to the trees.

Veradis yelled an order and turned, drawing his sword and hefting his shield, a dozen others turning with him. Ilta was one of them.

The Kadoshim were almost upon them, five well ahead of the rest of the pack. Veradis could see the dark glint of their teeth as they smiled gleeful, grisly smiles.

“You have to take their heads,” he yelled.

Then shadows were rising from the grass around him, taking shape: giants and men wielding war-hammers and battle-axes. Veradis recognized one of the figures.

Krelis.

“Didn’t think I’d let you win all this glory for yourself,” Krelis called to him with a wide grin, and then they all fell howling upon the Kadoshim.

He saw Balur One-Eye swing an axe and take a Kadoshim head with his first blow, a hiss of vapour forming an inky shadow in the air, punctuated by two red coals for eyes. It shrieked its fury at them, the sound torn and frayed by the breeze a lingering moment, then it was gone. One giant fell as two Kadoshim leaped upon her, but they were soon dispatched by Alcyon and his son, swinging their axes as if they were felling trees.

Horn blasts echoed and a voice rang out across the plain; Calidus, calling his demons home.

The first wave of the Kadoshim were down, but those that followed were surprisingly disciplined, wheeling and fleeing back towards the walls of Drassil like a colony of bats. Veradis punched his sword in the air and gave a fierce victory howl, grinning fiercely.

We did it.