Lord of the West

Chapter 12

AN: I know its been a while, but writers block is now over and so on with L' show! Any feed back is appriciated, and if anyone has any questions email me on alexpudge@gmail.com.

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Let it never be said that Veione dwelled on a female. And so like in his youth when he had on the rare occasion been jilted, he sought to forget the memory of one woman by drowning her out in the presence of others, like losing the perfume of one bloom in a garden of flowers.
The woman before him was like all mountain women, pale as milk, with hair like honey. She lay before him, all willingness and soft curves, like some sweet desert.
Why did it feel so empty this time?

She did not feel right. She did not taste right. Under his hands her flesh felt wrong, too soft. And when he breached her, though his body worked as it should he felt curiously numb. The pleasure was empty. Pointless. The thought that he had fought to ignore sneaked in to his head, an annoying fly bussing in his ear demanding his attention. “The woman was not Vespa.”

When Veione finished it was a relief. He kissed the woman’s forehead absently, and turned from her seeking solace the in oblivion of sleep. But sleep would not come, and he got up, pulling on his breaches, and went to stand on his small balcony that looked over the stable blocks. He brought with him a bottle of mountain vodka. It tasted of little, but the heat of it was comforting as the cool night air chilled his bare chest.

The woman in his bed stirred and pushed back her heavy fall of hair, still wavy from the plats that he had unbound. “Veione. Are you coming back to bed?”
“In a minuet.”

He watched as she lay back down, a welcoming smile curving her mouth. Veione sighed. He could have this woman should he chose. And she was a wonderful woman, she would make someone a great wife, she was sweet, gentle, and beautiful. Not that Veione deserved any woman as a wife. What could he offer them.

He came back to where the woman lay and he ran his hand over the soft skin of her naked back, cold now from his opening the shutters. “I’m sorry.” He said and pulled the quilt up over her body.

“What for?” She murmured, drowsy.

“I’m no good.”

“You were plenty good enough earlier. Come sleep.” She beamed up at him misunderstanding the reason for his melancholy. He took another gulp of his drink, snarling at it’s taste before he lay back down, suddenly very tired.

“She’s just a woman.” He told himself. But he knew that it was a lie before he even uttered the words. The voice in his mind a whisper. “No she is not just a woman, she is the woman.”


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Captain Sebastian Kathix heaved a vast sigh of relief as the lights of the Imperial camp came in to view. He was tired, exhausted,and too old for such adventures he told himself. The smell of the pottage stew on the camp fires, spiced to disguise the bad meat was so welcome that his belly growled like a bare. His ordeal would soon be over. He was a very lucky man. He was safe now, but what of the fate of his men?

It had been early, dawn having just broke when Captain Sebastian Kathix was woke and told to wash and dress given clean clothes and a light cloak, he was escorted from the gaol (which was by far the cleanest and most comfortable, if a little cramped, that he had ever seen) and through a number of courtyards and passages until he was lead in to the vast white halls of the palace.

The Duke’s castle was as vast as any of the great houses in the Imperium, but lacked the decedent ornamentation of the Imperial palaces. This was a functional building, and despite the elegant vaulted ceilings the walls were thick. And the windows narrow all save those that were too high for ladder or grapple to reach. He walked smartly along side the guards men who accompanied him, explaining in fluent Imperial that he was to have an audience with the Duke.

Sebastian had been in enough palaces to recognise when they were drawing closer to the great hall. And he was not disappointed by the huge room that he entered. Grace full stone work twined carved to resemble vines across the ceiling, Sebastian thought that they looked like frost touched branches. The hall was a vast space, large vaulted windows let in plenty of daylight, but chadelabroughs and braziers waited to be lit when darkness fell. There was no dais as Sebastian had expected. But sat at the table was the Duke, his glacial gaze and the cultured baritone voice was unmistakable.

Contrary to Imperial traditions the duke was mask less, his bare face was perhaps a little younger then Sebastian had expected the duke to be, not a youth but he was not yet in his thirtieth year; nether the less his expression spoke of experience far beyond his years. But what else could be expected of the man who had maintained an iron rule over the vast dukedom from the tender age of fourteen, and lead the campaign against the Chydras hordes from the Hys-b- dri before his twentith year?

“Please, breakfast with us.” The duke offered indicating to the table. His smile was charming, though it did not reach his glacial eyes.

Warily the Captain sat but touched nothing looking about for a serving woman or boy though he feared to take his eyes of the man who sat at the head of the table. The duke noticed his dilemma. “In Marchadia people rarely wait upon another. Help yourself or go hungry.”

A military man, Captain Kathix knew better then to pass up a good meal when one was offered and since the Duke did not seem to want to stand on ceremony he gratefully did just as the duke had told him, and helped himself just as everyone else around the table did.

“It looks like you are not feeding them enough if this ones apatite is anything to go by.” Darcia teased Captain Tann softly in Chade.

“It could just be he’s a pig.” Kef snorted. “They get plenty. I will not have our own men go hungry to feed them. They get what we can spare.”

Sebastian calmed a little, from what he had seen of the Duke the man was honourable and he doubted that he meant to kill him if he was sharing a meal with him. He cast his attention around the table; there were thirty men or so, all of which were dressed in light armour ready to ride, each with their cloaks secured by a badge baring Darcia’s arms, a black raven on a red back ground. The men around him talked softly in the mountain tongue and Sebastian could make no sense of it. After a while he gave up trying to work out what was going on and instead concentrated on filling his belly.

The Duke said something and his men even if they had not finished their plates stood away from the table and left the room. One of the Knights who sat beside Captain Katerix murmured something in that unfamiliar language to him, but he understood the hand gestures well enough, he was to stay. And Sebastian found himself alone with Lord Darcia.

“Captain Kathix, I have a message for you to deliver to the Emperor.” The duke said calmly passing a scroll across to the man.

“But surely you have messengers who….” The Captain’s words had died on his lips as the Duke stared at him coldly.

“I have my reasons for it being you who delivers the scroll.” Darcia replied. “You will travel with us for a day and then you will be free to make your way back to his force. It lies at the present a weeks march from my borders. Close to the town of Rowen’s cross.”

There was a sudden flurry of noise at the other end of the hall and a young woman appeared with the flounce of skirts. The Duke looked up and his lips quivered through in amusement or ire the Captain would not hazard to guess.

“You were going to leave without saying goodbye?” The young woman scolded in the Imperial tongue, tossing her wild red mane Sebastian suddenly realised that it was the woman child who had lead the defence leading to his humiliating defeat. She was even younger then he had first thought.

“I did say goodbye little one, twice in fact this morning.” Lord Darcia answered with a smile that one would not exactly call nice.

“That’s not what I meant you lecherous ….” The young woman looked at Sebastian apparently only just noticing him and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Oh dear……”

“Yes it is as you perceive little one I have a guest and your attempts at being discreet by not speaking Imperial were rendered a little futile.” Darcia replied. “But I appreciate the attempt.” The duke stood and took the flushing woman’s hand, as his other arm snuck about her waist possessively. “Captain Katerix of the Imperial army may I present my bride to be.”


So that is how it is in Marchadia. At court the old Duke’s motives for abducting the Emperor’s sister had been long argued; most felt that it was his hunger fro power or to spite his overlord. But an apple never falls far from the tree or so the saying went. And Lord Darcia was as much in love with that woman as he had ever seen a man in love.

Well Sebastian understood about love. All he desired was to return home to his wife and their quiet hearth now that the children were all grown and married. His wife often complained that it felt lonely when he was away despite being busy helping their daughter with her first born. He promised her that this would be his last tour of duty before he retired.

He rode out with the Duke’s force. Marchadian men were nearly all a good head taller then he was. And upon their great dark coated war horses he felt surrounded by mountains. That is until he was expected to ride one of the beasts, then he felt like he was riding on a mountain. And he fought to hold the wilful animal as the knights laughed at his struggles.

They rode three days to the south before the Duke sent him on his way. “Follow this road, it will lead you out of Marchadia and through the forest you should reach the Imperial camp in three days.” Lord Darcia said his voice seemed strange and disembodied with his helmet covering his face.

It had not been comfortable travailing with the Marchadian army but the thought of leaving the safety of the armed men and going alone through the unfamiliar land was an uncomfortable one. “You are not sending anyone with me?” Sebastian asked incredulously. “You said yourself this area is in revolt!”

“And for that reason I can not spare the men.” Darcia replied uninterested. “You bare my letter of protection. My people will not harm you. Let’s hope that your fair better then the scouts that have being going missing in the woods.”

“What do you mean?” Sebastian sputtered looking in to the deep dark woodland before him.

“I hoped that you might tell me.” The Duke said cryptically. He sighed in a bored fashion. “The road will be safe enough. The fighting is further to the south.”


Sebastian had not been particularly reassured by the Dukes words. The Duke was a man who seemed to reck not what anyone thought of him. Not even the Emperor by holding his men to ransom and to add insult to injury marrying an unknown girl. It was a dangerous move, the Duke was not supposed to marry without the Emperor’s permission. The news of Darcia’s unscheduled nuptials was going to create waves. And it made the Captain wonder what else the scroll held.


The horse he had been gifted by the duke shook its harness, as if asking what the pause was for. Kathix shook himself from his daze, and let his horse go forward once again to deliver the worst news that the empire had received for some considerable time. But Captain Kathix had no care for that, below him he believed was safety.



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Koto was stuck in a nightmare. It was a dream that seemed to wait and ambush him whenever he sought rest. It was the two twin slave girls from back in the Imperial city. They were trembling violently despite the sweltering atmosphere. They were only slips of things, just in to woman hood with large pansy brown eyes. The man grabbed the quieter of the pair, handling her with the casual roughness of a farmer about to shear a sheep. She was pinned to the large wooden block and strapped in place. Her sister was shouting and crying, as if she were her sister’s voice.

The red hot brand was then applied to the young woman’s pale, unblemished skin. The smell of scorching flesh made him gag. The young woman now screamed out in agony. But when she looked up, her pleading eyes were now emerald green and her hair a rich mahogany brown. “Daenarys.”

“Koto.” She pleaded with him desperately.

The young warrior jerked awake, his body covered in sweat. “Daen.” He breathed, as if afraid that by speaking her name he would summon her forth like in the old legends. He stretched and though he still had a few more precious minuets to rest he knew that he would find no piece in his bed role and instead sought out his partner. Lanare was still on watch, and Koto would be glad to exchange some words in his native tongue, the night brining on home sickness.

“Brother are you well?” Lanare asked as he approached. “You look like you have seen a ghost.”

“A dream nothing more.” Koto explained.

“The slave girls again?” His friend asked.

Koto nodded, “Yes, but not just them. I saw Daen to.”

Lanare said nothing, but Koto knew that his cousin understood, he to had once been fond of his female cousin. For all his pride Lanare was a good friend. They were now serving as the Emperor’s close bodyguard, Koto knew that it was chafing his cousin who was the prince of the Helge court. He had been a little surprised at how well his cousin had managed to swallow his own pride and serve the Young Emperor, who was little more then a simpering whelp with no more spine then an earthworm. Still it was a trail, their masters would tell them no more of their plans, but the two young apprentices felt their scrutiny upon them always.

“How long do you think we will stay here?” Koto asked his elder cousin.

Lanare shrugged. “I heard talk of a week. I don’t think that the Emperor really wants war with the duke.”

“Then why are we here?” Koto asked. Lanare only shook his head. “I had hoped that they might have told you?”

“No.” Lanare replied. “Our masters have said they will tell us what we need to know when we need to know it. We will just have to trust them.”

“Yes.” Koto nodded though surprised that his masters would not even tell a prince of the blood. “Go on my brother. Get some rest.”

Lanare thanked him gratefully. “This place is strange, the people are strange, I will glad to be return home and be amongst our own people.”

Koto could only agree to that sentiment. The young warrior took his place by the Emperor’s door, his sword at his back ready for use at a moments notice, though he settled himself for a long boring watch. He heard footsteps down the hall, and he looked up. It was Terent Edouard, the nobles face was taught, a deep scowl marring it. “Open up man.” He ordered. “Well what are you waiting for?” He demanded when Koto did not move. “Dam you man, you are in my pay!”

“I am the Emperor’s bodyguard my lord. You will have to wait and have an audience with his highness in the morning.”

Terent laughed bitterly. “Yes, very good. Your very well trained. But this is an emergency.”

“I can pass a message on.”

“I need to see him now.”

“That is not possible.”

“This is an emergency. There has been a messenger from the west.” Terent said pointedly.

“Then have it reported to the Captains, they will deal with it.” Koto answered.

“Obstinate boy. You know nothing. The war council can not know of this first! I have to get this news to the Emperor before any one else does, to spin it the right way other wise it could be a disaster for my cause. I had heard that Nehmians were intelegant, but you seem to be no better then the rest of the clodd hoppers around here.” Koto held the man's glare, returning it dispassionately.


After a minuet the Imperil noble pulled up his sleeves and revelled a ring, engraved upon it a dagger on a chain. Koto clenched his fist; the equivalent mark still itched on his right wrist as it healed. It was a mark of service, a signature of sorts. This was the man who had hired them. “I will see what I can do.”

“That’s better.” The Imperial responded smugly as he pulled his glove back on.

Koto knocked on the door of the Emperor’s chamber. There was no answer, so he rapped again. After a moment Koto shouldered the door open, worried at his charges lack of response. “My Lord?”

The Holy emperor looked up at him suddenly, before furtively wiping tears away with the sleeves of his silk robe. Koto stopped in his tracks.

“Get out!” The Emperor tried to order, but it ended up coming out as a choked croak as he turned around and stalked across the room.

Koto sighed and spotting a small bowl of water and cloth on the wash stand he carried it over to the young Emperor.

“I told you to get ….. What is this?”

“Use the cloth to wash your face.” Koto offered softly. The Emperor turned his dark eyes to look up at the young warrior, surprise in his troubled gaze. Koto offers him the cool damp cloth which the other man took with a trembling hand pressing it to his eyes.

“Thank you. I am truly grateful.”

Koto wondered why such a small act of kindness was so unexpected by a man who was waited upon hand and foot. His orders were strictly to watch the Emperor, nothing more, which when it came to Peredur and Gier that meant nothing more. He found himself spurred on against his better judgement. “Everyone cries sometimes.”

“It is unmanly, I have shamed myself.”

Koto shrugged and laughed softly. “Then by that definition I am no man.”

“You have….” The Emperor was perhaps a few years younger then he, on the cusp of manhood, yet the decadence of his lifestyle within the Imperial Plaice had left his body as soft as a young woman’s so he appeared at first younger, too young to have the rule of the whole Empire. The youthful face was now turned towards him with an expression so earnest that Koto suddenly realised that the Emperor would instantly trust anyone who treated him with a little kindness.

The young warrior allowed himself a woeful smile, as open as his generous face. “My father was killed a few months ago My Lord.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” The young emperor replied honestly. “How did it happen?”

Koto found himself liking the young man a little more. “In the line of his duty.” He found himself falling silent, the next part of his explanation was hard to admit. “In the pursuit of a witch.”

"I thought that they no longer egsisted. Magic of the old kind was wiped out?"

“So it did."

"My father died too.” The Emperor replied. “I did not cry. The first time I can remember my father ever speaking to me I had got lost In the halls, I could not find my mother or my nurse and their were so many people. I thought that I would never find them. I cried. And my father approached me, he said that emperor’s never showed weakness, and to never show such a womanish emotion ever again. I did not mean to ever again. But I have been so tired. It is very lonely here, and I have upset so may people.”


Koto decided that it was time to end this tet e tet with the Emperor and deliver the message now that the young man had composed himself but before he could Terent Edourad burst through the door. He glared at the young warrior as he straightened out the lace at his cuffs after a brief bow to the Emperor. “My Lord there is grave news from the west. We have suffered a defeat. I thought that I should be the first to tell you. ”

At that moment Captain Pereguine burst through the doors his words echoing that of Terent. “My lord there is grave news from the west.”

“Where came your news?” Terent asked swiftly, his eyes like a serpents.

The Captain was panting and it took him a moment to catch his breath. “Some wounded men have found their way back here…… Darcia attacked them…….those that stayed have been captured…..the men they…..they have fevers from infection….. I have called the war council together they are gathering in the town hall.”

“We will be with you in a moment.” Sargon said to his Captain, and waited for him to leave before he turned to Terent. “What is going on?”

“I came to warn you.” Terent explained.

“That they have failed?” Sargon’s face paled. “Oh this is a disaster. This will be such an embarrassment. The Imperial army has not failed once in four hundred years!”

“No, no.” Terent soothed, putting his arm about the Emperor. “This is not a disaster in fact when you see the message that Darcia has sent you will see that he is playing in to our hands. His arrogance knows no bounds.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t worry. I have something to take care of and all will be well trust me. Go down to the council, remember you know nothing of the attack we planed.”

“But.”

“It’s still our secret. Your men will think that Darcia attacked your men, and not the other way around in an unprovoked attack. We can go to war with him still. Trust me the Duke has been given enough rope to hang himself on this time.”

“The other men, and your messenger?”

“I will take care of them.” Terent smiled. From where he was standing Koto could see the malice in the noble’s eyes.



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Terent found the Nehmian assassins already waiting in his room when he got back the palms of his hands sweating as he closed the door. “I need you to silence some men for me. They have just come from battle with Darcia.”

“More of them?”

“Some deserters no one of any importance, could you kill them quietly? You were very messy about the Captain.”

“You said you wanted it to look like he bleed to death from a wound.” Gier pointed out. “Like the Duke had slain him were your words.”

“Yes well. If you could poison the others or something, they have fevers as it is. But I want to be sure that there are no lose ends.”

“Paladin’s are not assassins.” Peredur replied.

“No?” Terent said with faint surprise. Had they not just killed the Captain for him, what was the definition of an assassin then? He almost laughed at them until looked up at the Nehmian’s serious expressions. They were still dangerous, and it was perhaps best to remind them of why they were here. “Perhaps your not. But you do want to kill that girl of Darcia’s.”

“Daenarys is not Darcia’s.” Peredur hissed. “She belongs to the Helge, her life and death.”

“And you will have her, and Darcia’s demon sword you wanted that too didn’t you.” He watched as both men nodded gravely. “But we can’t capture a man like Darcia on our own. We have both sent assassins to no avail. While they are in his lands with his army close by we will never harm them. He must come to us.”

“There is a powder I can make.” Gier said after a moment.




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“Market Tideford.” Vas read out as the three young men approached the sizable town that lined the banks of the broad lowland river.

“Does it really matter what this place is called?” Blake pointed out and shot a resentful glance at Leoff. “S n’t like we are staying here. We don’t need supplies; we would be better off crossing the bridge further on down the road.”

“Blake; It’s not like you to want to skip a town.” Vas replied with a smile.

“There’s no point in going somewhere just to look at the inns we won’t stay in, or the taverns we won’t drink in, the food we can’t afford to buy, or the woman I haven’t the time to bed. Over a week we have been on the road, living like peddlers, and I for one am sick of it! ” Vas’s cousin grumbled.

Leoff didn’t pay him any heed but picked up his pack and continued on his way in to the town. “Come on lefts go find somewhere to refill our skins.”

Vas shot Blake an apologetic look before following Leoff their unofficial leader, Blake cursed long and low but once more shouldered his burden and joined his companions wondering once again what fit of madness had prompted him to agree to tagging along in the first place.

The streets of Market Tideford were wide and cobbled, wide enough for carts to pass two abreast easily, even with two rows of market stalls on either side. The open-faced, easy going people of the Lowlands bartered and chattered an air of festival about them, as the spring sunshine seemed to infect everyone’s mood. Despite it being a good month until the spring dances people were already up ladders hanging garlands of flowers and colourful banners. Leoff lead the way in to a empty square with a fountain burbling at its centre, away from the towns main bustle, a perfect place for a moment of quiet after a long morning on the road.

Vas ducked his head in to the water, slicking back his jet black hair before sitting beside his cousin on the broad ledge of the fountain. He sighed in contentment, it was pleasant here with the sun creating water like patterns on his closed eye lids, his thrust quenched, and the sound of a mid-day bell drifting through the air like the sent of spring flowers.

“Vas; Gwan ar obry yan ail e’ badmawr yr un o’l gart.” Blake commented enthusiastically in Clodden, the dialect of their home land.

“Ah, F’ Gweld.” Vas said after turning his attention down the hill to where the river could be seen between the buildings. Men worked at the rivers edge, loading and unloading the shallow drafted river boats.


“What did he say?” Leoff asked Vas. “I only understood look there.”

“He said that the barges down there are like the ones in our homeland.” Vas explained. “They are used to carry the ore down the rivers, canals and even along the coast eventually right to the Imperial city.”

Leoff made a noise of agreement. “Such barges are used all over the empire to carry goods along the waterways. This river is a tributary of the Nargessia. With the coin we have left we should be able to barter our way on to one of the cargo boats, they often carry passengers for nothing more then a few slivers when they are not to laden.” The Nhemian smiled down at his friends, Vas glanced at Blake who looked up at Leoff with surprise and sudden comprehension. “My sister and I travelled from Porth to the Imperial city by the river barge, it’s not the most comfortable journey, but it was cheep, and easier then by road. Swifter too by far.”

Blake sat up and stuttered. “We will go by boat!?” He looked at Vas and sighed. “Why didn’t we think of that? How many times have we been by the barges to sell the swords at Stonewall?”

Vas shrugged. “You would have worked it out eventually.”

“You knew as well!” Blake demanded. Leoff and Vas exchanged a look and laughed. Blake shook his head, but he to saw the funny side. “A fine joke you played on me. I never knew the big man had a sense of humour.”


Leoff patted his purse, it was worryingly light, and he knew that his friends were bearing up little better. Not that it would make much difference as so far none of the river barges were willing to take them, coin or no, not even as far as the next town. Still with the sun shining even this problem did not seem insurmountable and they continued to make their enquiries.

“It’s because you would sink them with your extra weight fat boy.” Blake had teased when the last barge man had refused them.

“Your no feather weight either lardy.” Leoff had responded.

“Well if you didn’t look so dammed scary…”

“I will show you scary.” Leoff warned jokingly.

“Bring it on big boy!”

Vas ignored them and continued talking to the people at the next barge. Leoff sighed he could see the barge man shake his flat featured face already, shrugging his shoulders apologetically. His heart sank.

Leoff was pulled from his thoughts when Vas tugged at his shirt. “Is it just me or is this town suddenly very quiet. Look only the vendors are at the stalls.” Leoff looked around and saw that indeed his friend was right. “Perhaps they have all gone in for lunch.”

“Perhaps they know something we don’t know.” Blake answered.

They made their way down the shallow hill that lead to the river but stopped when the sound of a crowed of voiced echoed through the streets around them.

“Where is that coming from?” Vas asked.

“The main square.” Leoff answered.

“Should we go look?”

Leoff nodded and lead the way through a narrower side street emerging at a wide open square where the ground levelled out, surrounded on all sides by tall artisan buildings the houses of the most affluent and the town’s official buildings. A bell tower loomed over the square casting a shadow across it like a giant sundial. Congregating around it were the towns folk, man, woman, and child.

“This would explain where all the people had gone.” Blake commented.

Leoff could just about see over their heads to where a man in armour stood on the steps reading out a decree from a scroll.

“That bell we heard earlier must have been the town bell then.” Vas observed. “He looks like he is the Captain in charge of the town’s watch. I wonder what they are all talking about. ”

“Stop talking Vas and we will find out.” Leoff chided.

Vas apologised hastily before falling silent. The crowed itself was far from reverently quiet and Vas and Blake had to strain to hear what the man was saying over the chatter of the towns folk.

“Did you catch any of that?” Blake asked his cousin.

“Something about the Emperor’s army being defeated by dark sorcery….” Vas said. “It sounds like he’s reading out a propaganda pamphlet, like they used to read out back in Rhonnda.”

Leoff broke in the conversation suddenly his voice low and grave. “We need to leave now. Before someone sees us.”

“What?”

“The decree, it says that all deserters from the army are to be arrested and hung.” Leoff explained.

“You heard all of it Leoff?”

“Every word. And right now we are in grave danger.”

“But we are no deserters, we aren’t even in the Imperial army?” Vas asked as Leoff dragged them both back in to the shadows of the narrow street that they had emerged from.

Blake tugged on Vas’s cruisers. “Gwan ar Vas, pa ti trin dillydyn?”

“Blake has it.” Leoff agreed. “It looks bad. We are wearing the armour of the Imperial army. There are but three of us and we have obviously been on the road for some time. We haven’t even got horses to lend credence to leading people to believe that we are messengers on our way back to the Imperial city.”

“Then let us be rid of it! It’s not like we need the warmth of it any more, not that it was warm anyway!” Blake was looking at his armour as if it was some nasty serpent that had slithered about his body.

Vas began to pull at his own armour but Leoff stilled his hands, catching them in his own. Vas looked up and the other young man shook his head. “No, we still need it. Once we get to the Imperial city we will need the armour to gain access to the Forbidden City. And even if we got rid of it our hair is shorn off. That alone is a obvious give away.”

“Then what will we do?” Vas asked.

Leoff looked in to both men’s faces. He sighed and hung his head. “There is no helping it.” He offered as a form of apology.

“Leoff what do you mean no helping it?” Blake demanded slowly not liking the sound of it. For every time that Leoff had used that tone of voice more unpleasantness and danger inevitably seemed to follow.

The Nhemian looked down at the purse that was in his hand. “We need to get cloaks, large plain ones, home spun, and wide brimmed hats. We can pass as pilgrims that way. We can bundle some of the armour up in our other cloaks that way and then…”

“Will their be enough coin left for passage down river once we buy the cloaks?”

“I doubt it. And even if there was they are going to be checking the boast for men hiding. They are even checking people’s houses for any family members they might be harbouring.”

“No.” Blake moaned. “We were going to go by boat. We have been walking for weeks and we were going to have two days to simply sit on a boat and.......gods piss!”

“So we are walking then?” Vas asked.

Leoff nodded. “I don’t want to take any chances; we will stay off the main road. They will have people looking on them, and not just towns folk who wouldn’t know a warrior from a brewer.”

“It might be easier if you did not look and walk so much like, well you.” Vas teased.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Even if you were dressed in a pretty frock, with long curly hair, and called yourself Kate everyone who saw you would still know that a sword belonged in your hand, just as you can’t take a lion and turn it in to a sheep.”

“Oh.” Leoff chuckled. He turned to his two companions after a few moments of thought. “If we go north towards Bree we can go by the small roads, and then go east to the Negessia when we reach the Corical River. It will take us just over a week.”

Blake looked suitably depressed but he nodded reluctantly. Leoff looked at Vas who reflected his cousins grim face, he looked up at Leoff his eyes earnest and determined. “On one condition Leoff, I get to choose the cloaks. You have no sense of style.”

With the requisite cloaks purchased along with cloth bags in which to bundle some of the armour the young men in their disguises wondered down to the water front to dangle their feet in the river and eat the apples a young woman had gifted Blake with before they set back out on the road, in no particular hurry to start walking again. It was a pleasant half hour they spent watching the town and river folk’s comings and goings on the other bank, with Blake pointing out the various merits of the females that they spied.

Mid conversation Leoff paused, the feeling that someone was watching them, and had been for some time. He looked over his broad shoulder and sure enough an old lady stood not far from them, her dark eyes unashamed as he met her gaze.

“There’s someone been watching us.” Leoff murmured softly.

“Who?”

“No don’t look!” Leoff hissed at Blake.

“That old crone?”

Leoff nodded. Vas now looked. “Perhaps we should see what she wants?”

“Perhaps we would be better moving on and holding our tongues before it gets us in trouble.” Leoff chided the others.

But as they went to go the old lady approached them, intercepting their escape. Leoff seeing no way to avoid the confrontation with her without rising some kind of suspicion turned to face her, trying to work out whether she might be a threat. Her cloths were simple, but oddly rather than wearing a skirt she wore the lose short linen trousers, apron, and hob boots of the barge men. She adjusted the kerchief that bound her peppered hair back from her brow and walked boldly over to Leoff’s group with only a slight hobble.

“You lads were looking for work down at the Quays this morning?” She said, her magpie bright eyes darting from one to another of the young men.

Leoff held his tongue, and sent a warning glance to Vas to do the same. The old woman waited for a reply but when none came she asked another question. “You any good with horses?”

“Why?”

“I need some more hands on my barge.” She explained swiftly. “Name’s Gurrny by the way, Mr’s Gurrny.”

Vas doing a fair impression of Leoff crossed his arms and grunted, nodding at him. “He is good with horses.”

Blake was hard pressed not to laugh, and the corners of Vas’s mobile mouth twitched as he repressed a smile. Leoff sighed and nodded at the old woman.

She squinted at him her hands on her hips. “Well your all strapping lads. I’m looking for some hands on my barge. I’m not as young as I once was, and my new horses are brutes. If you can work with the horses, and do some of the loading and unloading saving me pay the warehouse men then you can have passage and pay downriver.”

“How do you know that’s what we were after?” Leoff asked suspiciously.

“I over heard it in talk. Three strong lads from out of town looking for passage down river in return for work.”

“Shut up Leoff, it’s a free ride.” Blake hissed as Leoff opened his mouth to decline.

Leoff sighed, he was not satisfied by the old woman’s answer but what was it they said about gift horses? He agreed like the others to the terms.

“Good.” The old woman nodded. “We will set out in a hour, I have some business in town first. My barge is the Primrose. If I’m not around my daughter and her son will be.”

Vas smiled at Leoff as the old woman stalked back off in to the town as if they had some how offended her. “Good fortune. Perhaps the gods are smiling at us at last.”

“Perhaps.” Leoff replied, but he doubted it.


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Time passed as sluggishly as the silty water that bore the barge. Even though it was still early spring by midday the sun was hot upon their backs, the flood dykes either side of the river protecting them from the wind. Sweat plastered Leoff’s shirt to his back as he walked beside the dray horse that pulled the barge.


Leoff jumped and look behind him when the crack of a whip rang out in the still afternoon. Punch, the horse did not even flinch an ear. Mrs Gurney, standing at the helm, was flicking a whip in the air, cracking it three times before a pause, only to crack it again over and over. Leoff wondered if she was expecting the horse to go any faster.

He heard a laugh behind him. Turning he saw that it was Vas and Mr’s Gurney’s grandson Ned leaning on the bow. The boy jumped off the barge with practiced ease and came to jog alongside Leoff. Vas followed him with considerably less grace.

“Dun worry, the whips just a warning. T’ other boats can ‘ere it’s crack fur over ‘alf a mile.” Ned explained, reaching up to pet the horses neck.

Leoff suddenly comprehended the problem. Horse-boats didn’t have brakes. Once the weight of boat and cargo, which was easily twenty tonnes got moving it took almost the same amount of effort to stop it again in a hurry, and although horse’s walking pace may seem quite slow it becomes frighteningly fast when that weight is approaching an immovable obstruction like a lock gate, or another unstoppable boat coming the other way. But with warning they barge could slow naturally. Forewarned was forearmed, and that was important around a blind corner.

Leoff thought that Ned was an odd boy. For the first day he had all but hidden from the young men. They had discovered that boat people lived in a close community. The river people like their ocean counterparts were born and brought up on the canals, marrying other boat people, and they trusted lands men very little. But the natural curiosity of youth had won out in the end and now he followed one or other of the men about asking questions. “Mama said you were a North man?” He addressed Leoff. The young man did not answer. “I have never been to the North lands. I heard it was cold?”

“ There are colder places.” Leoff answered. “What’s up ahead then?”

“Tunnel.” Ned shrugged disappointed, putting his hands deep in his pockets.

“A Tunnel?”

“S’wot I said.” The young boy sulked.

Vas laughed. “Lad, I wouldn’t worry getting information out of my friend is like getting blood out of a stone. Now how about this tunnel?”

“See the hills there.” The boy pointed. “S’goes through ‘ere. Takes about a hour to get t’ ‘er other side.”

Vas’s smile faltered a little. “An..an… hour.”

“Yer, be faster with more of us.” The boy explained.

“Oh good.” The dark haired man replied quietly. “Perhaps I can take the horse over the hill.”

“Nah, Nan will ride Punch t’ ‘er other side. Walking the boat makes her ache fur days.”

Vas pleaded fatigue and went to sit back on the barge. Leoff thought nothing of it as Vas had walked with the horse during the morning, and they all could do with some much needed rest. The boy however remained skipping along side Leoff, but he held his tongue until Leoff pulled off his shirt, annoyed at how it clung to him the boy exclaimed. “Where did you get that scar?”

Leoff looked down at the star of raised flesh on his shoulder that marked where Captain Faorin had stabbed him back in the Imperial city. He grinned wolfishly at the boy. “From when I was a boy, asking ill-tempered men impotent questions.”

Ned gasped and his eyes went very round. “Yer kidding right?”

Leoff chuckled.

The tunnel now loomed ahead of them now, a dark gaping hole in the hill, like the entrance to a vast rabbit warren. “Hey big man.” It was the boy’s name for him. “Look at yer friend. ‘Es always signing that un, like a canary, gone quiet since I said about ‘er tunnel. ‘es standing at the bow as white as a sheet.”


Leoff glanced back at Vas. The boy was right he had gone pale, and he was worrying his lower lip, an his dark expressive eyes were anxiously fixed on the tunnel entrance.

“Oi, Vas you alright?” Leoff called.

Vas visibly startled and ran his hand through his hair in a gesture Leoff knew to mean nervousness. Vas shouted back that he was fine with a wave. Leoff looked back at the boy and shrugged. Ned raised and inquiring eye brow. “Gona talk to him.”

“He said he was fine.”

“Yer, and I bet you said you were fine when who ever it was stuck a knife in yer.” The boy said sceptically.

“Ah eyes of children.” A disjointed laugh echoed in Leoff’s head. He reached back and touched the Loke’s hilt. Nothing. Relief.

“Your right, But it was a sword not a knife.” Leoff mumbled half distracted. Perhaps it haden't been Loke after all.

“So you are a warrior?”

“No.”

“But you carry a sword.”

“The sword was my fathers.”

The boy nodded digesting this. “The boat was me Pa’s, and my grandpa’s for that. I will be a bargeman when i grow up like them.”

"Do you want to be a bargeman?"

"I would ra' be a soljer and have adventure." He shruged. "But i was born a bargeman, like me pa afore me. What was your pa?"

"He was a Paladin."

"Coo." The boy said apriciativly. "There's no more of those any more."

Once they reached the Tunnel the horse was unhitched and just as Ned had said Mrs Gurney was going to ride it bare back over the hill to meet them at the other side. Leoff came to stand at Vas’s elbow as Ned and his mother set out the wings, fairly wide planks that extend the width of the boat, as the tunnel was wide enough for boats to pass one another. They would have to lie on the planks that hung precariously over the water and then propel the barge along by walking along the tunnel walls.

“You look unwell.”

“I think I have eaten some bad fish.” Vas stammed. “I’m fine.”

“Bullshit. You don’t have to tell me. But it might be better if I knew what was wrong. ”

Vas glanced up at Leoff meeting his concerned gaze. Vas’s voice was soft so that Leoff had to lean in to hear him. “I just don’t like enclosed dark places.” He laughed nervously his hand coming to rest in his hair again. “I know it’s silly. It’s just that it reminds me of mines back at home. I always hated them. Don’t worry compared to what we have been through this is nothing.”

“Ok, If you say that your fine.”

They got back on the barge, Leoff watching his friend like a hawk. Vas was shaking as he approached the precarious looking planks. Leoff clapped a hand on his shoulder, concerned. Vas looked utterly terrified. “I don’t much like water either.” He admitted. "My brother's used to say i was like a cat like that."


“I wish you took that veiw of baths. It will be ok.” Leoff assured him. “Ned said that its quite relaxing after a while.”


Vas smiled wanly and gingerly edged himself down the wing, griping the sides so hard that his knuckles were white. Leoff watched his friend as he closed his eyes tightly and gritted his teeth every time the plank wobbled even the slightest bit. Leoff waited until Vas was settled, he found it oddly painful to watch his friend’s panicked breathing, and yet he also felt oddly proud as he could see the dark haired man mastering his fear.


Leoff slid swiftly in to place opposite Vas, Blake and Ned’s mother doing likewise at the front of the boat. The others began to move forward and Leoff heard Vas utter a quiet noise of panic as the barge began its achingly slow progress. Leoff began to walk his legs along the wall. He could hear Vas’s feet scrabbling as the darkness encroached upon them.

It grew steadily more and more dark, the circle of light becoming like a distant memory. Vas whimperd almost inadably when the light was finaly gone. The dark was blinding and silent save for the sounds of boots on stone. Leoff could practically taste Vas’s rising alarm, it made his heart hammer in his chest matching his freinds, the tension in Vas like an over taught bow string. They hit a slippery patch, and that was when Vas broke. “I cant, it’s to close, its pressing down on me.” He wailed franticly through his panting breaths. “We are going too quickly. I’m slipping!”

“You’re alright Vas!” Leoff called back. “I’m here, stretch your hands back its ok. I have you.”

“I can’t. I will fall in and drown.”

“You fall in I will jump in and drag your sorry ass out of there you know that sheep head! Would i ever let anything hurt you?” Leoff listened as Vas’s panicked breathing calmed little, and then stretched his one hand franticly behind him. Leoff reached out and instinctively clasped Vas’s own fear clammy hand in his own warm strong palm. “And the other.”

The second hand was easier; Vas clasped his wrist, griping on to it as if it was the only thing keeping him from death, letting out a little relived sob. Leoff slowly reached out his other hand so that he was holding both of Vas’s. “I won’t let you go ok?” Leoff said giving him a reassuring squeeze. “We will do this together.”

Leoff listened as the other man’s pants began to slow as he composed himself, his blind panic gradually subsiding. Skin to skin he thought calming thoughts, and he fancied that he could feel Vas’s mind reaching out to his just as surely has his hands clutched at Leoff’s.

Vas could feal Leoff's heart beat in hsi wrists, a steady strong metranome like the beeting of a vast drum, the rythem that he now set his life to. He consentrated on that alone and not the thunder of his own blood trying to defan his ears with nothing but the shrill sound of his own fear.

“I’m so sorry.” Vas babbled. “I’m pathetic. Everyone must..”

“No. No your not. And no one else has heard.” Leoff soothed him. “I know you, your now coward. And everyone gets scared sometimes.”

“Not you.” Vas choked on a laugh.

“You know I get scared.” Leoff denied.

“But you never show it.”

“That’s because I have you to help me.” Leoff admitted. “Its like you said together we can survive anything.”

“Sneaky. Using my own words against me.”

Leoff laughed. “You know me I will use what ever weapons I can to win. You feeling any better?”

“A bit.” Vas admitted, but he was still trembling convulsively, his hands cold and slick with sweat.

Leoff decided that distraction would be the best course of action. “Sing with me Vas.”

“What?”

“That song you sung to me when I was wounded.”

“Davfid’ s reach.” Leoff said.

He heard Vas gasp. “Are…are you sure?”

“Yes, sing that one. Davfid’s reach.”

Vas began hesitatingly at first, his voice quiet. Leoff felt Vas relax, and his fingers stroked at Vas’s skin, small little movements meant to sooth as he too took up the song, even though his pronunciation was poor and he had to hum the parts he did not know. And it was working, even though Vas could not see anything the deep thrum of Leoff’s voice resonated somewhere deep inside him, and his hands were hot, his grip from and the rough calluses on his large hands only served as a reminded or their strengths and capabilities.


“You going to tell me what this was about?” Leoff could hear Vas swallow hard., but knew that Vas would tell him. Vas never held anything back from him. “Softly, and the others wont hear.”

“My father took me down them when I was a nipper, to look about, see where the tools he made ended up and help pick up the small bits of coal – lots of kids did that. There was a cave in, I wasn’t in danger where I was, but I didn’t know that. My dad ran to help like everyone else and I was left alone in that dark cramped place. I called to him but all I could hear was the sound of rocks falling in the distance, because of the echoes it sound like it was happening all over. And there was a man crying out for help. I remember his cries. I ran and got lost. I don’t think I have ever been to terrified. They found me a day later, I didn’t speak for a week when they got me back up to the surface.” Vas let out a small derivative laugh. “I knew from then on I was never going to become a miner.”

“This all reminds me of it. The echoes. The close dark. The sound of water dripping, the chill.”
.”

Leoff did not say anything for a moment. What could he say, he was sorry? He understood. It was unnecessary, sometimes words were unnecessary. Instead he gave Vas’s hands another warm squeeze.

“Thank you Leoff.”

“Don’t you would do the same for me. In fact I probably owed you.”

“Can I tell you something.” Vas ventured tentatively.

“Sure.”

“The song you asked me to sing. You once asked me what it was about.”

“Yer, I remember you said it was a love song right?”

“Davfid was a miner. He fell in love with his friend, another a miner.” Vas whispered, in the darkness it was easier to say somehow.

“Another man?” Leoff said faintly surprised.

“Yes; man named Myrther. But obviously it was a forbidden relationship. And so Davfid could never speak of his love or show it. So he never knew if Myrther loved him back. Until they were going up in the cage. Its like a basket that the miners are winched up the vertical shafts. It can be very dangerous, if the rope should brake, or if there are too many in the basket, many miners have fallen to their deaths that way.” Vas explained, “The rope was worn, and it got stuck in the winch jerking the cage they fell, but Davfid caught hold of Myrther and the bottom of the cage. But he couldn’t save them both, but he refused to let Myrther go.”

Vas grew more fervent with the telling “When he looked deep down in to his friend eyes for the very first time he knew then that his love was returned and that Myrther loved him too. Myrther kissed his hand, and then used his knife to stab Davfid’s hand so he had to let go. Choosing to fall to his own death then let Davfid die with him.”

Vas waited in uneasy anticipation for Leoff’s response. The silence seemed to stretch on forever and he wondered if he had given too much away. Leoff was very easy to spook when it came to emotions. The only way that Vas was sure that the young man was still there was that Leoff’s hands still griped his own.

“That’s a very sad story.” The young warrior said at last.

“Most of the stories sung by minstrels are.” Vas admitted. “It makes for good drama. The most beautiful songs are that way because they are bitter sweet.”

Leoff thought about that for a moment and found that he had to agree. “A minstrel should write a song where there is a happy ending. Vas, you could be the first to do that. Perhaps that’s how you will find your fame.”

Vas’s reply was drowned out by Ned’s exited call. “Look light!”

Vas craned around and saw the small circle of light. He whispered a fervent thank you to Helu the sun god. When they reached the end of the tunnel he was very happy to get on shore and stand in the late afternoon sun feeling like he could breath for the first time in an eternity without the weight of the hillside pressing down on him.

“There I said you could get through it.”

Vas spun around and he suddenly couldn’t catch his breath once again for quite another reason. Leoff was behind him, a warm smile upon his hansom face, the setting sun making his eyes a glowing amber, his hair an autumn flame, it was no wonder the Nhemian’s believed themselves to be the decedents of the Sun god Helu himself.

“What is it?” Leoff asked. “Is my face dirty.”

“No its perfect.”

“Sometimes.” Leoff said with emphasis. “Sometimes you say the strangest things Vas.”


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


“Where is Veione, he did not show up to come on patrol this morning his men said?” Timor asked as he shrugged out of his own armour in the guards wash room.


“He’s been where he has been since we got back, at the bottom of one cup or another.” Kef replied groused as he scrubbed his body with salt and herbs before dumping a bucket of water over himself. “He hasn’t been on patrol for a span of days now.”


Captain Brand frowned. “Does the duke know of this?”


“Who knows what the duke knows.” Kef replied. “But if the lad doesn’t buck his idea up soon, I’m going to tell Darcia myself, and then there will be Cernos to pay!”


Timor began to scrub the day’s grime off himself. It was not often that he heard Kef curse by the old god of war. It was not entirely unheard of for Veione to go AWAL, but never for so long, and he had never before shirked his duties. Timor doubted that the Duke would over look his second’s laxness for long, not after ordering that his men ready themselves for war. “I will go find him and have a word first.”


“You can try.” Kef growled. “Last I went to find him he was laying in a no good slattens bed, and could hardly string a sentence together. I dam near dragged him out by the scruff and threw him in the gaol then to sober up.”


“Why didn’t you?”


“He wasn’t causing any trouble.” Kef mumbled in a quarrelsome tone. “The laws the law. I won’t arrest someone who isn’t breaking it.”


Timor’s mouth lifted in a small smile. Kef had a great respect for the law, or at least Lord Darcia’s laws. He would uphold each one to the very letter. But then he supposed in its way, it was loopholes in the Imperial law that had given Kef the opportunity to save himself. Kef was the son of a tavern keeper, and in a rage he had killed his patron’s son. The burly man would never go in to the details of what had conspired that day other then to say that he had been a wild youth, always to ready with his fists, that the man he had killed had it coming, and that the jury had quite rightly found him guilty. And from there he had carved out his bloody legend in the arena, fighting and killing to regain his freedom. “It’s in the past. It’s who I was not who I am.” Kef then would say. “That’s all that matters.”

And that’s the problem. Timor thought, it doesn’t matter what you were, all that matters is what you did last, that is what defines you. And right that minuet Veione, one of the most brilliant soldiers of the day was a worthless drunk. Timor had known men take to the bottle after battle, but Veione had never been one of them, at least not to this extent, but then Kef had said that Veione had been acting out of character since his route. Could one defeat so change a man?

Timor made his way back in to town, and after a little investigation found Veione in one of the cheaper inns. The kind of inn with sawdust on the floor so that drink, piss and vomit might easily be swept away, the kind of inn with, dogs, chickens and pigs running free. He found Veione at the bar, his stool pulled up to it, even though it was too short, presumably so that he was closer to his source of solace.

The Blond captain welcomed his friend warmly, not the least bit abashed to be found in such a place, or in such a state of inebriation. His blond hair was a mess, through clean it had not been brushed and simply tied back, and now the majority of it seemed to have escaped its confines. His vivid blue eyes were bloodshot. He was often casual in his appearance, but he looked like he had spent in his clothes for days. When Timor mentioned this to him, Veione had laughed him off, his breath smelling like a brewery.


But that fey welcome soon was replaced by deep melancholy and it became apparent that Veione’s thoughts were as bitter as the dregs in his cheep bear. Which he informed Timor was a means to an end when the engineer had tasted the brew and scrunched up his face in disgust.


“Look at yourself man, you’re a mess!”


“I have lived like this for years!”


“No you haven’t!” Timor replied. “Sure you enjoyed yourself. But never like this. You were never blind drunk for days on end!”


“Blind drunk?” In a movement almost to fast to see Veione threw his dagger across the bar.


Timor looked up at the knife embedded in the wood. “A boy’s trick.”


“I would like to see a boy do that.”


Looking closer Timor saw the wings of the fly that Veione had killed with deadly accuracy and he turned to look at Veione who only waggled his golden brows at the engineer. Timor handed Veione back his blade. “That’s not the point Veione. I’m not going to let you ruin your life, drinking it away in a bar, there is only so much of this behaviour that our lord will accept even from you.”


“He doesn’t care.” Veione slurred.


“Dam it man of course he does you’re a Captain. You are his Second!”


“I have been told on good authority…” Veione said standing up, but failed, tripping over the back of his stool and landing on his backside. “… that I am nothing but a failed noble.”


“Veione please buck up!” Timor said and dragged him up. Veione staggered alongside his friend through the town. Timor admonishing him to quiet down, and apologising to the women they passed for the suggestive comments that the blond man was making towards him.


At last they made their way up to the barracks. Kef was waiting, standing with a lamp in one of the stables archways. “He smells like he has been bathing in a barrel.”


“Well he just might have been.”


“Whasay!” Veione interrupted.


“Our Lord wants to see him in the morning, early.” Kef informed Timor.


“There is no way that he can make him presentable by the morning.” Timor replied, readjusting his spectacles. “Not even if we doused him in the horse trough.”


Unsupported Veione stumbled and half laid himself down on the wide stone lip of the afore mentioned tub. Kef caught him by the scruff as he almost fell in. “You hear that you drunken sot, Darcia wants’ to see you at dawn. And what kind of answer are you going to be giving to him!”


“If I’m lucky he will chuck me out and save us all from my….. incompetence.” Veione slurred thickly.


“You’re many things Faorin, but incompetent is not one of them.” Kef said after a moment. “But you are reckless. And irresponsible.”


“I’m a waste of flesh and blood.”


“I never knew him for a crying drunk before.” Kef said, scratching at his beard as tears began to run down Veione’s face.

“I have ruined everything.” Veione choked in to his arm. They tried to assure him that it was not the case, but he knew that they knew that nothing they said would convince him that he had not. Kef left in defeat, Timor encouraging him to go and seek his own bed.


Over and over the blond captain said the same thing. “I have ruined everything.”


“What have you ruined old friend?” Timor asked. “Nothing that is broken can’t be fixed.”


“You don’t understand. I have ruined it with her. Nothing else matters.”


“With her?” Timor repeated stupefied. After a moment he puzzled out the problem. “It’s Vespa, this is all about Vespa.”


“Yes.” Veione cried. “By the gods yes!”


“But she loves you.” Timor said incredulously.


“She hates me. And I don’t even know why!”


“Trust me old friend, she does not hate you.” Timor explained, and then told the blond man the whole tale of his encounter with the female captain thinking that he owed his friend the whole truth.


Veione was sitting on the floor, his blue eyes fixed on Timor’s face. They were strongly childlike in his weather worn face, and very vivid. In retrospect Timor realised that he should have noticed this and been wary. “And so you see.” Timor said jubilantly. “And so you see, she does love you. She will forgive you for anything in time.”


“Draw!”


“What?” This reaction that he received from his drunken friend was not what he had been expecting at this good news.


“Draw your sword Timor!”


“By the gods why?”


“You kissed her!”


“She kissed me!” Timor exclaimed. “But that’s besides the point, nothing happened!”


But Veione was upon him, with Eureyale in his hand. Timor ducked to the side, eternally grateful that Veione was so inebriated, otherwise he had no doubt that he would have been a dead man. Even drunk the lightning captain was formidable.


“I won’t fight you Veione.” Timor reasoned.


“To bad! Because I do. ” Veione growled and ran at him again. To save his head being severed Timor had no other course but to draw his steal and block the blow.

“This is not about me really is it?” Timor asked. “This is about those other men she was with the other day?”


“Shut up!”


“No. Your just taking out your spleen on me! If you want to know why Vespa isn’t talking to you, it’s not because of any other man you idiot. It’s because your behaving like an ass!”

Sparks flew in the night as the blades met and scraped against each other. What followed was a confusing series of lunges and blocks. Timor could remember trying to talk to Veione as he panted for breath, he knew that he was babbling, but he supposed that to a drunken man, bent on killing you it did not matter much what he said to him.

The commotion drew some attention. Confused men, and some town’s folk hearing the disturbance had come to see what was going on. But Timor had all his attention focused not allowing Veione kill him. It was a hard task, he wondered if he could somehow disarm Veione, or at least wound him so that he could no longer fight without damaging him permanently. But Veione was to good a swords man for that. Timor was good in his own right, but that truth was Captain Faorin was a master of the blade. But more then that Timor could not bring himself to harm his friend, not when he deserved his anger.


Veione in a trick that a boy would be proud of brought his hilt up and smashed Timor in the cheek, knocking him down so that his sword went spinning across the cobbles. “Get up.”


Timor did so.


“Pick up your weapon.”


Timor shook his head, his hands on his knees as he panted for breath.


“Dam it fight me!” The blond man demanded, and then cast his own blade aside. “Fine have it your way.” He landed a few punches on the other man who fell to the floor once again. “Fight me!”


“Veione you have to stop this. If you kill me then your life is forfeit as well. You know this.” Timor pleeded, wiping the blood from his nose.


“I don’t care. It doesn’t matter any more!” Veione roared in rage.


Kef who had been watching this battle from the shadows, staying behind when he had heard raised voices had no such compunctions. He had hoped that the two men might work it out between themselves. But their fight was drawing no little attention. And Veione did not show any signs of giving up, or even wanting to listen to reason, he had gone berserk. Typical hot mountain blood. Captain Tann marched in to the court yard deciding that enough was enough.


“Oi, Veione.” He called. And when the man looked up at him, he punched him square in the jaw. The blond man went down like a felled log and lay groaning on the floor.

“Thank you.” Timor panted. “But did you have to knock him out?”


Kef rubbed his sore knuckles. “It was the only way I could think to stop him. What on Daer’s world has got in to him?”


“It’s my fault really.” Timor explained, and told Kef the whole story.


Kef looked sagely at the spectacled man. “Well I can’t say that I blame him then. But all the same he should know better then to brawl like a sailor in the street. If he ha’ killed you then the duke would have had no choice but to see him at trial. ”


“Lets hope in the morning he will be more willing to listen to reason.”


“Yes lets hope.” Kef agreed. “Darcia’s not going to be happy about this mess.”