He stood aside to let Al Telnar board and waved to Caenis as the gangplank was hauled aboard and the ship began to pull away from the quay. Caenis answered with a brief and distracted wave of his own before turning away. “Goodbye brother,” Vaelin whispered.
Barkus was next to go, urging his men aboard with a hearty bluster that failed to mask the haunted look his eyes had taken on since his return from Marbellis. “Come on, step faster you lot. Whores and inn keepers won’t wait forever.” His mask almost slipped completely when Vaelin approached, his face tense as he fought to suppress tears. “You’re not coming are you?”
Vaelin smiled and shook his head. “I can’t, brother.”
“Sister Sherin?”
He nodded. “There’s a ship waiting to take us to the Far West. Ahm Lin knows of a quiet corner of the world where we can live in peace.”
“Peace. Wonder what that’s like. Think you’ll like it?”
Vaelin laughed. “I have no idea.” He extended his hand but Barkus ignored it to enfold him in a crushing embrace.
“Any message for the Aspect?” he asked, stepping back.
“Only that I’ve decided to leave the Order. He can keep the coins.”
Barkus nodded, hefted his hateful axe and strode up the gangplank without a backward glance. He stood unmoving on the foredeck as the ship pulled away, like one of Ahm Lin’s statues, a great and noble warrior frozen in stone. Vaelin would always prefer to think of him like this in the years that followed.
He stayed on the quay to watch them all leave, Lord Al Trendil hounding his regiment onto the ships with a flurry of waspish insults, offering Vaelin the most cursory of bows before boarding. It seemed he had never quite forgiven him for taking away the chance of profiting from the war. Count Marven’s Nilsaelins scrambled aboard the ships with unabashed eagerness, a few calling jocular farewells to Vaelin as they sailed away. The Count himself seemed unusually cheerful, now all chance of glory had evaporated it seemed he had no more cause for enmity. “I lost more men to brawls than to battle,” he said, offering Vaelin his hand. “For which I think my fief owes you its thanks, my lord.”
Vaelin shook his hand. “What will you do now?”
Marven shrugged. “Go back to hunting outlaws and wait for the next war.”
“You’ll forgive me if I hope you have a long wait.”
The Count grunted a laugh and strolled onto his ship, accepting a bottle of wine from his men who sang heartily as the ship drew away,
“Desert winds blow hard at me
Till we reach the shining sea.
And borne away across the waves
My lover’s life I’ll sail to save.”
Baron Banders and his knights laboured onto the ships under the weight of their disassembled armour. Of all the contingents their mood was the most varied, a few weeping openly over the loss of the great warhorses which had had to be left behind, others clearly drunk and laughing uproariously.
“A sorry spectacle they make without armour and horses, eh?” Banders asked, his own faux-rusted plate balanced on the shoulders of an unfortunate squire who stumbled several times before successfully heaving it onto the ship.
“They’re fine men,” Vaelin told him. “Without them this city would have fallen and there would be no homecoming for any of us.”
“True enough. When you return to the Realm I hope you’ll visit me. Always a full table in my manor.”
“I shall, and gladly.” He shook the Baron’s hand. “You should know Al Telnar brought details of events at Marbellis. It seems the Battle Lord and a few others managed to fight their way to the docks when the walls fell. About fifty men managed to escape in all, Fief Lord Theros was not among them but his son was.”
The Baron’s laugh was harsh and his face grim. “Vermin always find a way to survive, it seems.”
“Forgive me, Baron, but what happened at Marbellis to cause the Fief Lord to dismiss you? You’ve never told me.”
“When we finally fought our way in the slaughter was terrible, and not confined to Alpiran soldiery. Women and children…” He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. “I found Darnel and two of his knights raping a girl next to the bodies of her parents. She couldn’t have been more than thirteen. I killed the two others and was trying to geld Darnel when the Fief Lord’s mace laid me low. ‘He’s scum, right enough,’ he told me the next day. ‘But he’s also the only son I have.’ So he sent me to you.”
“Have a care when you return to your lands. Lord Darnel doesn’t strike me as a forgiving soul.”
Banders replied with a grim smile, “Neither am I, brother.”
Sergeants Krelnik, Gallis and Janril Noren were the last of the Wolfrunners to leave. He shook hands with each of them and thanked them for their service. “It’s been less than ten years,” he told Gallis. “But if you wish to be released, it is within my discretion.”