Queen of Fire

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They came upon the horse breeder’s villa the next day, finding it far richer in spoils but also much better protected, boasting a complement of over thirty house Varitai. It sat atop a wide hill surrounded by enclosed fields where horses were set to grazing and mounted Varitai moved in well-organised patrols.

 

“Not an easy prospect, brother,” Draker said. They had crawled to the top of a rise a half mile away. “If I was looking for a likely place to steal, I’d pass this by.”

 

“We fight our way in,” Lekran said with a shrug.

 

“It’ll cost us,” Draker warned. “And we’ve scant swords to lose.”

 

Frentis suppressed a groan. He had resumed taking Brother Kehlan’s sleeping draught the night before and the resultant headache left him impatient to get on and tempted to accede to Lekran’s desire for a fight. He was about to order them to their mounts when Illian dropped down beside him, the Alpiran girl from the villa crouching at her side. “Brother,” Illian said. “I believe our new recruit has some intelligence to impart, but my Volarian is too poor to discern her meaning.”

 

The girl blanched a little as Frentis and the two men turned to her, looking down and stumbling over her first words. “What is your name?” Frentis asked her in his broken Alpiran.

 

She lifted her gaze, a faint smile playing over her lips and making him wonder how long it had been since she heard her own language. “Lemera.”

 

“Your words have value, Lemera,” he told her, switching back to Volarian. “Speak on.”

 

“I have been to this place.” She pointed at the villa. “The master sent me and two others. We were . . . amusements for the owner’s son on his birthday. That was almost a year ago.”

 

Frentis turned to Lekran who grinned and nodded. “We kept the Varitai’s armour.”

 

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In the event they suffered but one casualty, one of the newly freed Realm folk displaying an over-abundance of courage when Illian led them over the wall that shielded the villa’s southern side. The main house had already fallen and the remaining Varitai were being forced back into the central courtyard, formed in a tight ring around their master and his family. He had made the mistake of coming to greet them at the main entrance, his broad grin disappearing as Tekrav’s black silk mask fell away from his face and Lekran’s axe hacked down the nearest Varitai. Despite his shock, the master’s wits were quick enough to organise a hasty defence as he fled back inside, though not quick enough to organise an escape, which should have been his first priority.

 

Frentis had pulled his fighters back from the dense knot of Varitai and set the archers to work when Illian’s recruits came over the wall. The young man had run at the Varitai unarmoured and armed with only a small wood-axe, his face betraying a depth of hatred nurtured over the months of his captivity. He managed to bury the axe in the skull of a Varitai before a dozen rapid sword strokes cut him down. However, he had disordered their ranks sufficiently for the following recruits to pile in and break their formation apart, the men hacking away with clubs and axes and the girls stabbing with the daggers Illian had distributed. Cursing, Frentis raised his sword and led his fighters into the fray, Lekran voicing a joyful whoop as he leapt and bore a Varitai to the ground, both feet planted on his breastplate and axe sweeping down.

 

It was over in a few moments, all the Varitai slain along with the master and his family. The master lay across the bodies of his wife and son, a boy who couldn’t have been more than fifteen, his father’s black silks rent in a dozen places and soaked with blood.

 

“I tried to hold them, brother,” Illian said, face lowered in contrition. “But the Realm folk are full of rage and the others can’t understand a word I say.”

 

His rebuke died on his lips in the face of her evident dismay. “Gather the weapons and armour,” he told her. “Then search the villa. Take any documents you find to Thirty-Four.”

 

Draker called to him from atop the west-facing wall, waving his club. “Riders coming in, brother.”

 

Frentis ran outside where Rensial waited, mounted with sword drawn. Frentis mounted his own horse and unhitched his bow from the saddle. “Master,” he said, trotting his mount to Rensial’s side. “Shall we?”

 

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