He was near the top of the hill they had been camped upon since the battle, two days gone now. It was early, and the smell of the sea wafted on a cold breeze, salty and sharp. There was a slight chill in the air, the first hint that summer was retreating, autumn encroaching. In the valley at the foot of the hill the only movement Veradis could see was the Jehar gathered together, going through their sword dance. It had been an impressive sight on the journey to Forn Forest, performed by a few hundred. Now over two thousand warriors stood in regimented lines, moving through the forms with precisely the same timing. It was inspiring. I would almost like to join them.
The valley was emptier today, a large force of Rhin’s army having left the day before, tasked with keeping order in Narvon. Veradis had watched them leave, a few thousand men disappearing into the distance. Strange that out of all those warriors Braith’s face stood in his memory – leaving before the main bulk of Rhin’s force, almost definitely leading a scouting party ahead, a pack of hounds with him, as well as a score or so of hard-looking men.
‘What’s the plan?’ Bos asked as he came and stood beside Veradis.
‘We’ll break camp today, march back to Dun Carreg, then spend a few days on a ship to Cambren, and help Queen Rhin win some more land.’
‘We are getting good at that,’ Bos said, ‘winning land for others.’
‘Aye. But it suits Nathair. Besides, we’re just soldiers; we go where we’re pointed.’
‘That we do.’
‘We’ll put the lads through some moves before we leave, though. Go make sure they’re on the field. I’ll be along soon.’
Veradis did not want his warband to miss any training in the shield wall. After the meeting with Nathair and Rhin he was sure they would be seeing battle again soon. Veradis walked towards the ramshackle tents that had sprouted on the outskirts of the warband’s camp, containing all those who went hand-in-hand with a warband on the move. Wives, lovers, children, blacksmiths, tanners, weapons-smiths, brewers, whores: all manner of trades made a living from an army. He made his way through the tents, weaving amongst the rope lines and makeshift walkways until he found what he was looking for. The heat hit him first. A tall wiry man was working a bellows, each pull causing a fire to flare and crackle. He stood and watched the man work a little while, enjoying it.
‘Here you go,’ the blacksmith said when he saw Veradis, throwing him a pair of boots. ‘How do they suit?’
Veradis inspected one closely. Long strips of iron, thin enough to keep the weight down but thick enough to turn a blade, were sewn in a half-circle about the front of the boot’s leg.
‘I think that’ll do the job,’ Veradis said. The leg wounds on his fallen warriors had troubled him for a while, and this seemed the obvious option. ‘I want two thousand pairs like it.’
The smith’s eyes bulged. ‘That’s a lot of boots, and iron.’ He was silent, working things out. ‘You supply the boots, I’ll come up with the iron, for the right price.’
That shouldn’t be a problem. Owain’s dead were all wearing good boots. ‘And how long will it take you?’ Veradis said. ‘I need them all within a ten-night.’
Veradis made his way to Nathair’s tent. They had been on the road for two days now, and Dun Carreg was a faint smudge on the horizon. He felt slow, tired, his sleep disturbed by dreams. More accurately: dream. Always the same one, the dead King Mandros looking at him accusingly. Murderer, the man called him.
It was not murder.
And always the accusations about Nathair, blaming him for Aquilus’ death. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
Nathair’s tent was situated in the shelter of a wooded cove, towards the paddocks and pen that had been erected for Nathair’s draig. Not close enough to smell it though, thank Elyon, thought Veradis.
It was early, so he was surprised to find the tent empty, although two Jehar still stood guard outside it.
‘Where is the King?’ Veradis asked, but they gave no response. Veradis began to pace, thinking of where Nathair could be, when the King of Tenebral appeared, Sumur walking a few paces behind him.
‘You’re up early,’ Veradis said as Nathair ushered him into his tent. Nathair just grunted something unintelligible.
‘Something important?’
‘Yes,’ Nathair said.
Veradis looked at him inquiringly.
‘I’ve just come from Rhin’s tent,’ Nathair said.
‘It must be urgent for her to summon you so early.’
Nathair stared at Veradis. He looked embarrassed. ‘I’ve been in her tent all night, Veradis.’
‘Oh.’ A silence fell between them. That’s disgusting.
‘We were toasting our alliance,’ Nathair said, rubbing his temples. ‘And one thing led to another. She can be very persuasive.’
‘You don’t need to explain to me,’ Veradis said quickly.
Nathair looked up, blushing. ‘I’m never drinking that mead again. I don’t even like it.’
‘Never mind,’ Veradis said. ‘As you’re fond of saying, I’m sure it was for the greater good.’
Nathair laughed, a little sheepishly, Veradis thought.
‘What was it you wanted to see me about?’ Nathair asked.
‘I wanted to talk to you about things that have been on my mind.’
‘Sit, then,’ Nathair said, reclining and gesturing Veradis to a chair. ‘What things?’
Now that it came to it, Veradis was unsure. There were few specifics; it was more of a general feeling, a sense of foreboding that had settled upon him, ever since the battle in Forn Forest.
‘I’m worried,’ Veradis said.