Coralen ran to the doorway and shouted after him. Only her echoes answered her. Then she turned and stared at Corban and Farrell. Corban saw tears like pale claw marks streaking her face. She crossed the room, stepped over Farrell and hugged Corban tight, burying her face in the arch of his neck and shoulder. He felt sobs shaking her.
Farrell shifted on the ground and Coralen stepped away, eyes downcast. Then Corban’s mam was there, clutching her spear. She filled Coralen’s place, squeezing him tight, stroking his face. Farrell climbed to his feet, a frown on his face.
‘The keys?’ his mam asked as she let go of him and began searching for a way to set him free.
‘I don’t know.’ Corban said.
Coralen was back at the smashed doorway, her hands at the belt of the dead guardsman.
‘Keys,’ she said, taking a bundle from his belt and jangling them.
They tried them, and the third key clicked in the lock, the shackles about his wrists opening. He slumped down and Farrell caught him. Another click and his feet were free.
‘Where are the others?’ Corban asked.
‘Brina and Dath are guarding the rope we climbed in on. Storm’s with them,’ his mam said. ‘Gar. We need to get back to him – we were chased. He dropped back.’ The fear in her eyes said more than her words.
‘To Gar, then,’ Corban said.
‘No need,’ a voice said from the doorway.
Gar stood there, a mass of shapes filling the corridor behind. There was something strange about him, then Corban realized what it was.
He’s smiling.
A man stood beside him, of similar build, holding a sword the same as Gar’s. The similarities did not end there. They shared the same nose, the same serious gaze, this man’s dark hair streaked with grey at the temples.
‘This is my father, Tukul, lord of the Jehar,’ Gar said.
They all stared at him. Tukul crossed the room to Corban and dropped to one knee, taking Corban’s hand in his.
‘I pledge my sword, my heart, my strength to you,’ he said.
Corban gaped, too dumbfounded for words. Then another figure stepped past Gar into the room. He was taller, with black hair pulled tight from fine, chiselled features. Silver scars layered his face.
‘I know you,’ Corban said. ‘Who are you?’
‘A friend in a dark place,’ the man said, and smiled.
CHAPTER NINETY-THREE
LYKOS
Lykos stood on the battlements of Jerolin, looking out over the lake, which glistened under a wan winter sun.
The lake bristled with ships. His ships. They were full of warriors, their families, slaves for rowing, merchants and traders from the Three Islands, all gathering to him.
Over two thousand warriors. They had arrived slowly, over a matter of moons, so as not to arouse suspicion or panic. And during the same time he had ordered Fidele to send off the bulk of the eagle-guard that had been stationed at Jerolin to various distant locations in Tenebral, where they could be of little threat to his plans. Now only a few hundred remained here at Tenebral’s capital, so his Vin Thalun warriors outnumbered them almost ten to one. And that was not all that he had brought to Tenebral.
Housed on the ships in the lake were his pit-fighters, as well. On the plain between the fortress and the lake a wooden construct was taking shape, circular tiers rising high, supported by huge timber beams. A new type of fighting pit. He smiled to himself.
Finally, after so many years, it is happening. He turned to look over the dark stone buildings of Jerolin, the sharp spike of the tower overshadowing them all.
This is all mine now, he thought. Jerolin is the heart of Tenebral, and it belongs to me. By proxy. His fingers dipped inside his cloak, seeking the effigy of Fidele. He felt a moment of fear, a weightlessness in his gut as his fingers searched. Then he felt it, smooth clay and brittle hair. Such power. With Fidele a puppet in my hand I rule Jerolin, and with it, all of Tenebral.
Riders appeared on the road to the north, eight or ten of them. Lykos watched them draw closer, until he could see the white eagles embossed on their cuirasses and shields.
Peritus has returned, then. And the first thing he will do is seek an audience with Fidele.
A chill wind blew out of the north along with them. He shivered and pulled his cloak tighter. It is warmer on the Islands. But I have Fidele to keep me warm here.
He felt a stirring in his blood, just at the thought of her. He closed his eyes and drew in a long breath, could still smell her, a residue on his beard of rose petals and sweat. With the thought of her fresh in his mind he turned and made his way towards Jerolin’s tower.