A Draw of Kings

14

GIBBET’S TALE





ADORA’S STOMACH CONTRACTED in fear, leaving her middle empty with panic. The spawn veered away from Liam, its eyes raging, burning at the sight of the horses. It circled, devouring the distance with a loping gait, using its legs and one arm. The other arm lifted the scythe, the long moon-shaped arc of steel ready to strike.

Rokha cursed, her voice tight, and drew her sword. The watchmen tried to drop back to intercept it, but the spawn outflanked them. Their mounts reared and bolted, scattering. With a leap that carried it ten paces the creature landed on the slowest and the horse went down screaming. The scythe cut through the horse’s belly and the animal’s scream became a shriek of pain.

The thing stooped to feed, and the watchmen closed in, swords out. On Adora’s left, Rula uttered prayers and warnings like imprecations. “It’s too fast. Foolish watchmen, thinking with their swords.” He set an arrow, drew the string to his cheek, and let fly.

The broadhead slammed into the spawn with a meaty chunk, and its muzzle opened in a roar of pain. The red eyes focused on the watchmen surrounding it, and for the briefest moment, they might have been lucid. Then it charged, the scythe swinging, moving so quickly the hiss of displaced air became a whine.

Lieutenant Falco caught the first blow, tried to twist to catch the weapon in a bind, but the spawn jerked the scythe free and seized the watchman’s throat. Lieutenant Jens leapt, launching an overhand cut for the spawn’s arm. A stroke that should have severed the limb opened a mere gash, but the creature dropped Falco and turned to face the new threat. Soldiers Kith, Spania, and Mast attacked from behind, each thrusting while Jens pulled Falco away.

The spawn screamed in pain and anger as sword points punched through its hide. It bolted away from the blades back toward the village, its maw covered in blood and slavering.

Toward Liam. The sight of a single man diverted the creature, and it veered toward him.

The creature’s first blow whistled and blurred toward Liam’s neck. Adora watched in the space between heartbeats as the spawn swung, and Liam’s sword appeared as if by magic to parry, but the blow shook him. His sword quivered and his arm threatened to buckle as the spawn pushed, striving to force the hook of steel into the watchman’s throat.

The creature’s eyes widened in shock, but instead of attacking, Liam broke the bind and stepped back, his feet twitching to secure his footing. Enraged, the spawn launched a series of blows that should never have been parried yet were.

When the thing launched itself at Liam, trying to overwhelm him with its greater mass, he stepped aside and brought his sword up, the point catching the creature in the chest. Its weight forced the point through its spine, and a foot-long length of steel emerged from the thing’s back.

They all moved forward to gather around the corpse as Liam placed one booted foot on its chest to yank his sword free.

Rula elbowed his way through, his tanned face livid and his mustache quivering in anger. “What, by everything that makes sense, did you think you were doing?”

Liam dipped his head in acknowledgment. “I needed to know what we face, Master Rula.”

“What we face?” Rula yelled. “It’s a spawn. You’re cursed lucky to be alive!”

Liam shook his head. “Not so. I had an opportunity to observe the creature before it attacked me. I knew the thing to be stronger than I, but not faster.” He shook his sword arm. “Though, I confess, I wouldn’t want to fight one of those things every day. I appreciate your concern, but if I cannot defeat the offspring, then how will I defeat the sire? The spawn afforded an opportunity for me to gauge the strength of our enemy.”

Rula spluttered, chewing through curses that slid from Liam’s calm demeanor like so many feeble attacks. At last he turned to Adora. “Is he always like this?”

Adora’s heart still skipped like a calf within her chest, but she managed a nod. “I’m afraid so.”

The count rolled his shoulders. “Humph. Talians and Basquons are freer with their feelings. This unflappable logic is disconcerting.”

Liam turned to her. “Your Highness, this kind of spawn has never been seen in Illustra before, and I doubt the creature swam the Forbidden Strait to get here.”

Adora nodded. “Perhaps it traveled along the coast from the steppes.”

This earned her a shake of the head. “That’s doubtful. There would be no reason for it to choose to come inland here rather than farther east in Lugaria. Someone brought it here by ship and released it into the swamp.”


Rula squinted but gave a brief nod. “To what end?”

Liam pointed at the surrounding buildings. “To clear out everyone who might witness what came after the creature.”

Rula’s hand found his mustache. “You think the Merakhi are coming through here?”

Liam nodded. “If they establish a foothold now, they’ll flood through the passes of the Arryth and into Gascony as soon as the snow melts.”

Adora noted the look on Liam’s face just before he turned to gaze south. She interposed herself between him and Rula. “Our mission lies in the shadow lands. Any delay is unacceptable.”

Liam averred. “Your Highness, we must determine whether or not the Merakhi intend to make a thrust here.” He shifted to address the watchmen. “Gather the horses. We’ll move south as soon as everyone has a mount.”

Heat filled Adora’s face. “Lieutenant Jens,” she snapped, “you will disregard the captain’s last instruction. Designate a man to ride to the garrison at Falia and bring them here with all haste. After that, he is to ride east to rejoin us.”

She spun on her heel toward Liam. “Captain, I would have a word.” Without waiting for an answer or checking to see if he followed, she strode away from the group. Inside, her heart beat like a smith’s hammer. The mission to the shadow lands had been given into her hands, but if Liam stood his ground and refused to recognize her authority, she would be little more than decoration for the rest of the journey.

She couldn’t hear footsteps behind her, but she forced herself to continue walking, head up and back straight, until she reached a count of twenty. She exhaled, her sigh whispering as she released the tension between her brows. When she turned, Liam stood waiting no more than two feet away, his face unreadable.

The sense of his presence almost weakened her resolve. Even though he waited for her to speak, it seemed more as if he granted her permission than followed her direction.

“Captain Liam, the mission is in my charge. Please refrain from countermanding my orders. We will leave as soon as we retrieve the horses.”

She stepped to the side to slip past him, but he shifted to block her without appearing to move. “Your Highness, it is necessary to gauge this threat. There may be other spawn in the area. The opportunity to face the weapons of the enemy before we meet in pitched battle is invaluable and should not be lost.”

Adora tried not to growl. “Allow me to interpret your statement, Captain: ‘There might be other opponents for me to practice on, and I would hate to miss the chance to do that.’”

Liam shrugged. “I think that’s what I just said.”

She shook her head. “No, Captain. We are going east.” She held up a finger. “One, I am not going to risk delay of the mission.” Then she added a second finger. “Two, I will not jeopardize you or allow you to jeopardize yourself. For all you know the spawn might be part of a trap.”

His face hardened. “I must be able to practice against them. I must!”

Darts pierced her heart, but she could not afford to be soft, not now. “I know why you are so determined, Captain, but the herbwomen said one of you must die.” She pulled a shuddering breath into her lungs. “And it might not be you. You may end up being the one who lives.”

His chiseled face softened, and she could see in those blue eyes he knew what saying those words cost her. With a nod he turned and strode to stand before the watchmen.

“I need a man to ride and notify the garrison, lead them here, and then rejoin us,” Liam said.

When Lieutenant Falco raised a trembling hand, Liam came as close to anger as she had ever seen. “Lieutenant, you will ride in the cart until I am satisfied you’re healed from your wounds.”

He pointed to a rangy Lugarian named Gibbet. “If the Merakhi have breached our shores, we must know it. Stay with the garrison troops only long enough to bring us a report. Do you understand, soldier? No heroics.”

Gibbet saluted, his deep-set eyes grim in his swarthy face, before mounting his horse and thundering away. The rest continued the mission at the pace set by the quartermaster’s wagon.

Rokha rode with Adora at the head of the train, and for a while neither spoke. “You took a huge gamble back there, Your Highness.”

Adora noted she hadn’t called her Princess. “For all we know it could have been a trap.”

“It’s doubtful the Merakhi would have thought to need one. This portion of Talia is sparsely populated.”

Adora nodded, felt the unasked question hanging in the air. “The mission was given to me. I will not turn it over simply because Captain Liam wants to practice his swordplay in the swamp.”

This brought a warm laugh. “You become more worthy of Errol every day.”

Heat flushed her cheeks and flowed across her skin like a plunge into a hot bath. “I like the sound of that.”

“If you keep this up, he will have to do something even more heroic to deserve you.”

The jest chilled her laughter. It came too close to her conversation with Liam. A brief pounding of hoofbeats sounded before he appeared at her side and rode with them, his face as beautiful and closed as always.

Or nearly so. It seemed he had lost some of his customary stoicism, but when he spoke, he stared straight ahead, as if he were addressing the Talian landscape. “Your uncle did me a great honor when he raised me to a captain of the watch.” He stopped, as if needing her permission to continue.

His hesitancy made her nervous. In her experience, men only spoke in this fashion when the weight of their secrets became too much to carry. She wasn’t sure she wanted to share Liam’s burden, but the tension in his face compelled her.

“I understand, Captain, that the heads of the watch were anxious to promote you. If my uncle hadn’t done it, I am sure someone else would have.”

He nodded, mere acknowledgment. “He insisted on making me captain of his guard and took me into his confidence. In the days before his death, when he still possessed the strength to conduct the affairs of the court, he had me stand beside him. After each audience he would ask me my opinion.

“At first I refused to offer it, but he prompted me with some very direct language.” Liam’s eyes widened at the memory. “I told him how I would have conducted it differently. Then he would either agree or educate me.”

He turned to meet her gaze at last. “I’ve had many teachers, Your Highness, but only two took me into their confidence in such a way, my father and your uncle. Do you know why he would do such a thing?”

Adora shook her head, unable to discern his meaning.

He nodded without expression and made no further attempt at conversation but continued to ride at her side as if expecting more of an answer. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, pieces of information shifted, trying to connect . . . and failed.

She wanted to take Liam’s question at face value, to believe Rodran’s insistence on his promotion was merely the king’s desire to show his gratitude before he died, but such a display of sentimentality didn’t fit the uncle and king she knew.

After a lengthy silence, with a sigh and a bow, Liam turned his horse to return to his place with Lieutenant Jens.

“What do you make of that?” Rokha asked.

She bit her lip. “I’ve spent my entire life at court. My uncle trained me to read people the way scholars read books.” She nodded toward Liam’s retreating back. “That one is closed to me. He was raised by the solis, and those two herbwomen knew more about the kingdom’s need than anyone else, yet Liam rarely mentions them. It’s as if they never existed, and he’s never spoken of what they taught him. I can’t shake the feeling he’s searching for something, but doesn’t want to say what.”


Rokha nodded. “If it were any other man, I wouldn’t trust him.”

Adora waved the implied question away. “His character is above reproach.” She exhaled a long, slow breath. “But I must admit, his actions scare me.”

They rode north out of the Talian delta and then turned northeast to skirt Gyarlo Sound, the deep inlet that separated the southern regions of Talia and Lugaria. They ascended into the foothills, and as the climate chilled, their horses struggled through a mix of slush and mud on the roads. They slogged from village to village, their progress measured in miles instead of leagues, but the worse the roads grew, the lighter the watchmen’s spirits became.

Jens’s smile split his craggy face into a happy leer. “If a small party like ours makes such slow progress, think of what this would do to an army.”

Falco nodded and coughed. Lurid bruises still ringed his neck from his encounter with the spawn. “It’s a shame we can’t keep the roads like this. The Merakhi would run out of food before they made it out of Talia or Lugaria.”

Adora puzzled at this. “What makes you so sure they will land there, Sergeant?”

Falco nodded. “West of Madera, the Basqu coast is cliffs, Your Highness. There are a few beaches on the west coast where ships could land, and the kingdom keeps garrisons at each. The pathways from there up to the land make any assault a suicide mission. Ten men could hold off a hundred.”

Adora reflected on everything she’d heard about the populace of the river kingdom—ten men might have to.



Two weeks later, at an inn located in the village of Banat halfway through Lugaria, Adora clutched her side and shook with laughter as Count Rula regaled them with the tale of two foolish lovers, complete with gestures and improvised dance steps. As his audience roared over a particularly frivolous caper, Rokha’s tense hand on her shoulder pulled Adora’s gaze from the count’s foolery, and when she saw Gibbet, the laughter drained from her.

The big watchman, nearly as broad across the shoulders as Liam, swayed on his feet where he stood by the entrance, his eyes scanning the interior. Rents in his clothing showed dried and fresh blood, and his dark beard highlighted the ashen pallor of his skin. Gibbet came to the large trestle table, walking with the stiff-kneed gait of a man weary to the point of unconsciousness. Jens and Falco escorted him, not touching him, but half a step behind in case he should fall.

Liam stood as they approached, pulling an empty bench from a nearby table. “Falco, escort the villagers to the door. Say nothing. There are too many ears here.”

Rokha snorted. “He has a funny idea of ‘too many.’ Every village in the southern provinces is emptying out.”

Adora couldn’t help but agree. Besides themselves, there were no more than half a dozen people in the large common room. At a word from Liam, Rokha left to retrieve her kit.

Gibbet sat with a thump and stared at the tabletop until Rokha returned. When he started to speak, Liam forestalled him, nodding instead to Ru’s daughter, who probed the extent of his injuries. Gibbet endured the examination, his face impassive.

“He needs a few feet worth of stitches and a couple weeks’ rest, but there’s nothing life threatening,” Rokha said.

Gibbet winced as if he’d been rebuked.

Liam gave one sharp nod. “Report. Leave nothing out.”

The watchman flinched under Liam’s gaze and paused to squeeze his eyes shut before fixing his stare to a spot over Liam’s shoulder. “As ordered, I rode back to Falia to alert the garrison to a possible Merakhi incursion. The weather turned rainy, but my mount was surefooted, and I arrived at the garrison in two and a half days. The commander was hesitant to believe we had encountered spawn, but after I showed him what had been done to Falco’s weapon, he marshaled two-thirds of his men and we descended back into the Talian delta.

“The road into the next village north of our first encounter was littered with the belongings of villagers, as if their haste had become urgent. Though we saw no hint of an enemy, the commander ordered the garrison to dismount and form lines. We advanced with a squadron of pikemen backed by archers.”

Gibbet paused, swallowed thickly. “I stayed on horseback considering the need to bring news back to the mission.”

The light outside faded to pitch and the tavern lanterns suddenly seemed insufficient.

“The pikes entered the village in a semicircle, with the archers enclosed within. Nothing stirred except flies on the remains of farm animals, so we prepared to pass through to investigate the swamps. The commander ordered the horses brought forward so the men could remount at need.” Gibbet stopped, his eyes losing focus and his mouth working as if he’d forgotten how to speak.

Liam’s voice cracked like a whip. “Soldier, you will finish your report.”

When Gibbet didn’t respond, Liam struck him open handed across the face.

The blow cleared his gaze, and he swallowed. “The attack came before the horses arrived. If the Merakhi commander had waited until the men were in the process of mounting, we would have been wiped out in minutes. Spawn, like the one we fought before, swarmed out of the buildings, though we heard no signal.”

“How many?” Liam asked.

“I estimated a score, though their speed made counting difficult. The haste of the attack took the archers off guard, and the first flight failed to slow them. The pikemen stood their ground as the spawn closed. They braced the pikes against the ground with one foot to take the impact, but most of the spawn jumped over the lines at the last second, and the foul creatures were loose in our midst.

“Arrows fell on us from the edge of the village. The archers drew short swords to defend, but the spawn cut through them. The garrison commander ordered half the horses forward into the hail of arrows to try and give the archers and the pikes enough room to fall back and reform the lines.

“Our losses mounted, but the men maintained order. One pike would engage the spawn, keeping it from leaping while the rest would surround it. In that way the battle began to turn, though we lost a third of the men before we could fall back. Then the Merakhi charged into the village to keep us engaged.”

“They couldn’t afford to let any of you escape,” Rula said.

Gibbet nodded without making eye contact. “The garrison commander sent the light horse in slashing attacks to free the archers and pikes that survived, but the charges kept coming, preventing the men from regaining their mounts.

“The Merakhi broke through our flank, and we were cut off from the road back.” Gibbet paused. “The battle became desperate on both sides. The Merakhi outnumbered us, but the garrison was better trained. We . . .” Gibbet panted, lost in his memory. “We might have won. We were surrounded and numbered no more than three score by then, but the tide might have been turned. A single sword could have swung the balance.”

Gibbet looked Liam in the face. “The commander formed us into a wedge, even the archers that remained. Arrows fell among us like hail as we punched through the northern end of their line. At the commander’s order, the men wheeled to each side to buy me enough space to ride away.”

Gibbet swallowed and his eyes became haunted. “I rode from the battle with the commander’s dying shout in my ears. A squad of Merakhi horsemen pursued me. My mount showed signs of coming up lame, putting my ability to make the safety of the Gyarlo garrison in doubt, so I staked the horse when night fell and walked back to their camp.”


His face became grim and eager. “Their lookout was not prepared for me to circle around and come at him from the west. No alarm was raised, and I killed the rest of the squad as they slept. I notified the next garrison of the incursion and caught up to you as quickly as I could.”

His eyes focused, and he looked at Liam with accusation in them. “I should have stayed. One man could have meant the difference between victory and defeat.”

The muscles in Liam’s jaw clenched at the unspoken rebuke.

“Battles may be won through heroics, lad,” Rula said, “but wars are won through wisdom.”

Gibbet squeezed his eyes shut. “They were wiped out to a man because I fled.” He glared at his superior. “Would you have left, Captain?”

A muscle in Liam’s neck twitched, but he did not turn to Adora as she expected. He merely sat, withstanding Gibbet’s accusation.

Adora nodded to Rokha, who poured a vial of blue liquid into a tankard of ale and placed it in Gibbet’s hands.