Brandos said, ‘That’s one hell of a tale, General.’ He looked down, shook his head slowly and said, ‘You hear stories . . . the entire world destroyed?’ His expression told Kaspar the old fighter didn’t want to believe this.
Kaspar just nodded, remaining silent.
Amirantha looked away for a moment then turned and looked Kaspar in the eyes. The pain and regret had been replaced with a clear-eyed certainty, it doesn’t change anything. I must stress this: whatever troubles Sidi caused you, are nothing compared to what Belasco is capable of.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked the General.
‘Absolutely. Belasco had a prodigious curiosity; he would pursue his interest with single-mindedness until he mastered it. And while Sidi was insane, Belasco is insane and brilliant. Of the two, he’s far more dangerous.’
Kaspar was silent while he weighed the warning. He sighed.
‘Leso was the most dangerous I’ve met, so to hear you say your other brother is more so . . .’ He fell silent for a moment. Finally he said, ‘I’ll have you escorted to your quarters. We leave at first light.’ He walked out of the room, leaving Amirantha and Brandos sitting in their chairs.
After a moment a court page appeared, flanked by two soldiers-at-arms. Brandos rose and looked at his friend. ‘Well, I guess we’re going on another journey’
‘Apparently so,’ said Amirantha.
CHAPTER TEN - Threat
Sandreena swung her mace.
The massive weapon took the other rider in the stomach - he had been coming in high and she had ducked under his blow and struck him hard - lifting him out of his saddle. She knew her art well enough to know he was done for the time being. If he hadn’t passed out from lack of breath, he was likely to be lying on the ground stunned from the fall.
She had happened on a wagon being attacked by bandits, four roughly-dressed thugs with surprisingly good weapons. The merchant and his two sons battled the more experienced brigands with a poor assortment of weapons; one battered shield and an old sword, two clubs and a lot of determination. Still, they gave a good account of themselves and had held the bandits at bay for a few minutes before Sandreena had ridden over the rise and seen the conflict.
The three remaining riders saw one of their own drop suddenly and a fully armoured knight riding at them. Without a word they turned their horses and put heels to their sides, galloping off. Sandreena weighed giving chase, then decided the struggle was over; they were heading into the hills and her heavier mount would soon fall behind. They knew the terrain and she didn’t; while she had no doubt that she could best the three of them, given what she saw of their fighting skills, but she didn’t relish fighting her way out of an ambush.
She paused for a minute to ensure the bandits hadn’t doubled back on her, then turned to see the two boys strip the bandit on the ground. She judged that meant he was dead.
She rode over to the wagon, where the man sat regarding her suspiciously, holding his very old and battered sword at the ready, in case one brigand had merely driven off others. Raising the visor of her full helm she said, ‘Stay your weapon, sir. I am a Knight-Adamant of the Order of the Shield of the Weak.’
His suspicious expression didn’t change. ‘So you say,’ he said in strangely accented Keshian. He turned to the boys and shouted something in a language she didn’t understand, then turned back to her. ‘Well, if you expect thanks or reward, you’re mistaken. My boys and I already had things well in hand.’ The boys had taken everything, including the robber’s filthy small clothes, and now left him lying nude in the road as they ran off after the brigand’s horse, which was cropping grass a short distance from the road.
‘Looks like a good horse,’ said the man on the wagon and Sandreena couldn’t tell if he was addressing her or talking to himself. He seemed intent on inspecting the contents of his wagon, against the remote possibility that one of the bandits had somehow managed to pilfer an item or two while the conflict was underway.
Finally happy that nothing was missing, he shouted to the boys who were having a little trouble corralling the horse, which seemed to like cropping grass better than the idea of having another rider on her back. Finally one of the boys grabbed up a long clump of grass and held it out for the horse to sniff while his brother gently reached out and snagged the reins. If the horse objected, she hid her disappointment well and came along quietly.
The driver shouted more instructions to the boys in their strange language. When they had at last tied the horse’s reins to the back of the wagon, and climbed in, the driver turned and sat down to find a patient Sandreena still looking directly at him.
‘What?’ he demanded. ‘I’m not going to pay you.’
‘I’m not asking for payment.’
‘Good, then get out of my way. I have business.’
Sighing at the man’s impossible rudeness, Sandreena said, ‘One question. Do you know the village of Akrakon?’