Forge of Darkness (The Kharkanas Trilogy #1)

Forge of Darkness (The Kharkanas Trilogy #1) Page 282

‘How many days? Five? Ten?’

Rusk sat forward, forearms on the knees of his crossed legs, and offered Galak that same, hard smile. ‘We have kin, scouting your lands. They move at night and remain hidden. We have seen armies on this side of the river. One rode into Abara Delack. Another gathers in the hills of House Dracons-’

‘That one is the Lord’s own,’ said Galak. ‘You evade answering, Rusk.’

‘I am indifferent to your need, Bordersword. I tell you what I choose to tell you. Your civil war has begun. We rejoice and sniff the wind for smoke, and look to the skies for the carrion birds. You killed us before, but now you kill each other and this pleases us.’

It was not long before the carcass was stripped down to the bones. Galak rolled up the antelope’s hide and offered it to Rusk, along with the antlers and the long bones. Grunting, the Jhelarkan leader gestured to his hunters and as one they rose.

‘Your company is bitter,’ he announced. ‘We return to the night. Remember our generosity, Borderswords, and tell the tale of this meeting to your hunters, so that they may at last understand courtesy.’

‘It is a thought,’ Rint allowed, ‘that we might work best together. To hunt the great herds and to share in the bounty.’

‘Rint, there are no great herds.’

The figures withdrew from the fire’s light, and in moments were gone.

Ville spat into the flames. ‘I think he lied,’ he said in a growl. ‘About those armies. He would stir us to alarm and fear.’

Galak said, ‘We well know that there is an army at House Dracons, Ville, just as he described. He may have thrown more than a few truths into his words to us.’

‘And Abara Delack? Why would any army, rebel or otherwise, occupy Abara Delack?’

‘We don’t know,’ Rint said, wanting to end this debate. ‘We’ve been away for too long. There is no point in speculating. Listen, our bellies are full for the first time in months. Let us sleep now, with the aim of riding hard on the morrow.’

‘I hope,’ said Ville, ‘the hunt went well.’

Lieutenant Risp studied the blockish silhouette that was Riven Keep. The solitary tower, which rose from a clutter of lower buildings huddled around it, showed a single, faint light, coming from a room on the top floor, just beneath the peaked roof. There was a low wall, she had been told, surrounding this ancient fort, marked by banked revetments. To assault Riven Keep an army would find itself descending steep ditches forming a treacherous maze beyond the walls, all under arrow fire from the revetments, and crowding into chokepoints where the ground underfoot would be uneven and even retreat would prove impossible. It was well, she concluded, that they were not facing an enemy aware of the threat drawing close.

The village below Riven Keep formed a half-circle round the hill, and these houses sprawled to the very edges of community pastureland. Risp could smell the smoke in the cool night air. Twisting in her saddle, she squinted at the waiting soldiers of her own troop. Weapons were drawn but held at rest across saddles and thighs. No one spoke and the only sound came from the occasional shift or snort from a horse. Beyond her unit waited others, all equally silent, gathered in mounted squares in the basins to either side of the road.

Upon the road itself, Captain Esthala led the centre unit, with her husband further along to the woman’s right. The thought of that still left a bitter taste in Risp’s mouth, but she told herself that Silann was not her problem, and if Esthala continued to refuse to do what was needed, well, she would answer to Hunn Raal. For once, Risp was relieved to find herself outranked. Better still, Esthala’s ambitions were now doomed: she would never be promoted, or welcomed among the higher ranks in the Legion.

Stupid woman. All for the sake of love. All for a fool better suited to hoeing vegetables than swinging a sword. Not only didn’t you execute him; you didn’t even demote him, or throw him out. Instead, we must all suffer his incompetence and pray to the Abyss that it doesn’t kill us. When she took over command here…

The sergeant cleared his throat and edged his mount up to her side. ‘Sir, this doesn’t sit well with some of us.’

And I know which, too. Your days are numbered, sergeant. You and your old cronies. ‘We must divide our enemies,’ she said, shrugging. ‘Deceit is an essential component of military tactics. Furthermore, what creditable commander does not take advantage of surprise, or the miscalculations of the enemy?’

‘The enemy, sir? I am sure that they are unaware that they are anyone’s enemy. Is this the miscalculation to which you are referring?’