‘WHAT a pile of stinking horseshit!’ Ctenka said.
Or at least that was what he wanted to say. It was on the tip of his tongue, the words threatening to spill out like puke after a heavy night on the grog, but he managed to keep his mouth shut. It would have been stupid to question Randal, despite how ridiculous he sounded. And not just because he was an unnerving character. More because that boy, Hestan, was the weirdest child Ctenka had ever come across. If there was any chance he possessed the powers Randal claimed, then Ctenka was in no mood to get on his wrong side.
Even now the boy was staring curiously in Ctenka’s direction, like he was looking through his soul. He would never admit it, but Ctenka was more scared of that boy than anyone he’d ever met.
Randal might have spared their lives but he was a difficult man to trust. And not just from the story he’d told. There was something about him, a single-minded ruthlessness to his bearing. That much of his tale must have been true.
Randal waited for them to respond, but it was clear neither was too keen to start. If Ermund doubted anything Randal had said he was in no mood to pick the man up on it. He simply stood there like a guard on parade, refusing to call Randal out on his tall tale. Ctenka supposed it would be down to him.
‘How do you know those children weren’t just having a nightmare?’ he asked. ‘They said the gods are coming. That could mean anything.’
Randal placed a hand on Hestan’s head. The boy didn’t react to the man’s touch, continuing to stare right at Ctenka.
‘These children have proven themselves to me time and again. I would be foolish to ignore their warnings. More of their ilk are revealing themselves throughout the Suderfeld. Those I can find I take into my care. I would expect there are more throughout the lands of the Cordral and Ramadi. Signs are everywhere that things are changing. If what I witnessed in the Ramadi Wastes wasn’t enough to convince me that the gods have returned, I have seen enough since to make me certain.’
‘Signs of what?’ asked Ctenka. ‘Some kind of apocalypse? We only came to warn of a warlord rising in the east. Not the end of life as we know it.’
Randal smiled. It was wry and humourless and looked out of place on his face. ‘This is just the beginning,’ he replied. ‘There is a war brewing beyond this realm. One that is set to spill over into the lands of men and reduce its nations to ruin. It has to be stopped.’
‘So you’ll help us?’ asked Ctenka.
Before Randal could answer, Ermund stepped forward. ‘Where is King Stellan?’ he demanded.
If Ermund was trying to intimidate, Randal looked unimpressed. If his story was true, he had faced more imposing men than Ermund.
‘He is in his palace, no doubt,’ Randal replied. ‘You shouldn’t concern yourself with the king.’
‘I must see him.’ If Ermund had heard and believed that Hestan could make a man eat his own eyeballs with a thought, he clearly wasn’t rattled by it.
‘You will find your old friend is much changed, Harlaw. Are you sure you want to walk this road?’
‘Take me to Stellan,’ Ermund demanded. He didn’t look like he was about to ask again.
When Randal said, ‘Of course,’ Ctenka heaved an audible sigh of relief. As Randal and the boy led the way through the palace grounds, Ctenka leaned in to Ermund.
‘Try and keep your head,’ he whispered. ‘We’ve just been spared the gallows. Try not to get us killed. This man communes with the gods, for fuck’s sake. Why don’t you just be nice?’
‘You believe his stories of gods and magic, Ctenka?’ Ermund replied. ‘Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought.’
‘Firstly, that hurts. Secondly, whether that boy can make a man mad just by looking at him is irrelevant. It’s obvious Randal holds the power in this place now. Let’s try not to upset him.’
Ermund did not answer. His fists were bunched, his jaw clenched. Ctenka could only hope his friend could keep that temper in check.
As they made their way through the palace Ctenka could see signs of opulence hidden behind the decay. Intricate tapestries hung limply from the walls and ancient gilded weapons were set in skewed sconces, but rats still lurked in the shadows, leaving their tracks in the dust. If Randal truly controlled the throne of Suderfeld it was clear he paid no mind to the upkeep of its palace.
When they drew close to the throne room, Ctenka could hear the sound of a dull and lifeless tune being played on a lute. Like the rest of this place it could have been rousing, but instead sounded like someone was playing a funeral dirge at their own burial.
Randal and the boy led the way, twisting through the corridors of the palace until they reached the throne room. Ctenka glanced around, expecting at least a cursory bodyguard, but there were no towering warriors in their lion livery, just a drunk man on a throne and an even drunker musician at the foot of it.
Ctenka had never met a king before, and if Stellan was anything to go by he wasn’t missing much. The man’s beard was a matted mess, clothes dishevelled, eyes heavy. He wasn’t even wearing a crown.
‘May I present Stellan of Canbria, King of the Suderfeld,’ said Randal with a sweep of his arm.
The lute player stopped his tune, glancing around groggily. As though sensing he was somewhat out of place he stood on unsteady feet and stumbled away into the recesses of the throne room, bowing all the while.
Ermund took a step towards the throne. ‘Stellan?’ he said.
The king frowned back at him with little recognition. ‘Who seeks… audience with the king?’ he replied, the words coming out in a slurred mess.
‘Stellan, it’s me. Harlaw.’
‘Harlaw?’ answered the king. ‘What would you ask of the King of Suderfeld?’
‘Stellan.’ Ermund made to move forward but stopped himself. ‘It’s Ermund Harlaw. Don’t you recognise me?’
The king shook his head lazily as though they’d never met. Ctenka moved forward, about to tell his friend he was wasting his breath, when Ermund turned on Randal.
‘What have you done to him?’ He spat the words, clearly caring little for the stories Randal had told about his sorcerous children. ‘What have you done to my king?’
Randal merely shrugged. ‘I can assure you, this is none of my doing.’
‘None of your doing? Look at him.’ He pointed at Stellan, barely containing his fury. ‘The king is bewitched.’
Randal pursed his lips as though considering the notion. ‘You’re right,’ he said finally. ‘But not by me.’
‘What are you talking about?’ asked Ermund.
‘Did Selene not cast her spell on you?’ Randal said.
Ermund looked up at the king, slouched in his throne. ‘Selene? She did this? But how…’
‘Stellan was always a fighting man,’ said Randal. ‘The many battles have taken their toll on his body. The queen has seen fit to treat his many ailments with a steady diet of wine liberally laced with essence of the poppy.’
Ermund turned on Randal. ‘And you have allowed—’
‘Yes, I have allowed it.’ There was a hint of irritation in Randal’s tone, as though he had been humouring them both till now and his patience was running thin. ‘Would you rather he were bedridden? Racked by pain? This land has finally been united under one king after years of war. I will not allow it to fall into chaos now.’
Ermund turned back to his king, a man who had betrayed him. Who had stolen his lands and wife and forced him into exile. Ctenka could see he was torn between loyalty and anger as he took a step towards Stellan, but then stopped.
‘Then it looks like you’ve got your wish,’ Ermund said.
It seemed that was all that needed to be said. All the fight drained from Ermund. Whatever he had wanted from his former king was gone now, he had seen enough.
‘Now, to business,’ said Randal, gesturing for them to follow him from the throne room.
Again they dutifully followed, but then what alternative did Ctenka and Ermund have? Randal appeared peaceable enough, and he had spared their lives, but it was clear he held a position of power here. If it was due to the reasons he had suggested then they’d be fools to do anything but obey him.
They made their way down through the palace and out into a wide courtyard. The smell of a stable hit Ctenka as they made their way outside, but despite the smell of manure and animal, this place seemed to be in a better-kept state than much of the palace interior.
A groom was brushing down a horse. Three saddled mounts waited for them along with two children, who stood holding hands, a boy and a girl, heads inclined towards one another. Ctenka remembered Randal’s story. Remembered two children with strange gifts, and a sense of foreboding began to grow in his gut as he watched them standing there with little conception of what was going on.
‘Meet Lena and Castiel,’ said Randal as they crossed the courtyard. ‘They are my parting gift to you.’ He looked down at them with a slight expression of disappointment. ‘I cannot speak for their usefulness, but who knows, you might find them indispensable.’
‘Cannot speak for their usefulness?’ said Ctenka. ‘They’re children, how much use could they be?’
Randal shook his head. ‘Have you not heard a word I’ve said? These children are gifted. I believe.’
‘You believe?’ Ctenka stared at the two children, who stared back blankly.
‘They haven’t manifested any… powers, as yet. But I know there is potential there.’
‘We came here to entreat aid,’ said Ctenka. ‘We need fighting men. Not… whatever these are.’
‘I need all the men I have. The Suderfeld is still in transition. We have peace, but it is an uneasy one. Besides, you’ll find these children more useful than an entire cohort… probably.’
Ctenka looked at the two children, no more than fifteen summers between them. The boy, Castiel, chewed the inside of his cheek and the girl pulled at the fringe of her dress. Ctenka was doubtful either of them could even speak. What use they’d be against an invading army was beyond him.
‘We’ll take them,’ said Ermund. ‘Let’s just get out of here.’
‘I have provided fresh mounts,’ said Randal. ‘And supplies for the—’
‘Appreciated,’ said Ermund, grasping the reins of the nearest horse and checking the tackle was fastened right.
It seemed that was that.
Ctenka lifted the two children into the saddle of the last mount. The girl Lena was cold to the touch, and the boy Castiel was warm and clammy. They both had a strange, ripe smell to them but they looked washed and well tended to, which only added to their oddness. Once they were saddled up, Randal bid the children farewell, then turned to Ctenka.
‘Remember, I am passing these children into your care,’ he said. ‘They’re your responsibility now. When they have served their purpose I want them returned home in one piece.’
Ctenka suddenly felt uncomfortable under Randal’s gaze. ‘You want them returned home?’
‘In one piece. Promise it.’
Ctenka glanced at Ermund for help, but he was too busy checking his saddle was set right to care. ‘You want me to promise—’
‘Make the vow.’
‘All right,’ said Ctenka, ‘I promise. Home in one piece.’
‘Mean it,’ said Randal. ‘These children are precious to me.’
Ctenka shook his head. ‘If they’re so precious, then why not grant us a cohort of knights instead?’
‘With the foe you face these children will be more value than a hundred men-at-arms. Now…’
‘All right.’ Ctenka was done with arguing. ‘I give you my word. I’ll protect these children as though they were my own.’
That was enough for Randal, and he took a step back and watched as Ctenka mounted his horse.
As they made their way from the grounds of Northold’s palace, Randal raised a hand in farewell. Ctenka made to lift his own in reply, but all of a sudden it felt a foolish thing to do.
Ermund didn’t even look back as they left. Ctenka watched as he rode through the gates of Northold and back onto the road. He wanted to say something comforting, but what did he know about comforting people. How did you comfort a man who had lost everything? What words could make up for a life of loyalty wasted?