Blood Song

Vaelin experienced a sudden resurgence of the unease that had gripped him during his first meeting with the King. The unsettling knowledge that he was a small part of a larger unseen design. The wrongness, what Nersus Sil Nin had called the blood-song, was singing faintly at the back of his mind. If he gives me a sword…

“I am a brother of the Sixth Order, Highness,” he said, trying to match the Aspect’s neutral tone. “Royal honours are not for on such as me.”

“Royal honours are precisely for one such as you, young hawk,” the King replied. “Sadly, I’m usually obliged to hand them out to the undeserving. Today will be a welcome change.” He gestured expansively at the collection of swords around them. “Choose.”

Vaelin turned to the Aspect seeking guidance.

Aspect Arlyn’s eyes had narrowed slightly but his expression was otherwise unchanged. He remained silent for a moment and when he spoke his tone was the same as before, void of both deference and defiance. “The King honours you, brother. In so doing he honours the Order. You will accept.”

“But can it be right, Aspect? Can a man be both a brother and a Sword of the Realm?”

“It has happened before. Many years ago.” The Aspect’s gaze shifted from the King to Vaelin and softened somewhat but his voice held no room for further discussion. “You will accept the King’s honour, brother Vaelin.”

I don’t want it! he thought fiercely. It’s payment, payment for a murder. This scheming old man wishes to bind me to him even more.

But he could see no escape. The Aspect had commanded him. The King had honoured him. He had to take the sword.

Swallowing a sigh of frustration he scanned the walls, eyes flicking from one blade to another. He toyed with the idea of choosing one of the golden blades, he could always sell it later, but decided a weapon of some practical use would be the wisest choice. He saw little point in taking an Asraelin sword, it could hardly be better than his own star-silver blade, and the more exotic weapons seemed too unwieldy to his eye. His gaze finally fell on a broad bladed short sword with a simple plain bronze guard and wooden hilt. He took it down from the wall and tried a few experimental swings, finding it well balanced with a comfortable weight. The edge was keen, the steel bright and unscarred.

“Volarian,” the King said. “Not very pretty but a solid weapon, useful in the press of battle when a man can’t raise his arm. A good choice.” He held out his hand and Vaelin passed him the sword. “Normally there would be a ceremony, lots of oaths and kneeling but I think we can dispense with that. Vaelin Al Sorna I name you Sword of the Realm. Do you pledge your sword in service to the Unified Realm?”

“I do, Highness.”

“Then use it well.” The King handed him the sword. “Now, as Sword of the Realm I must find you a commission. I name you commander of the Thirty-Fifth Regiment of Foot. Since the Aspect has been gracious enough to allow the use of the Order house to accommodate my regiment I think it only proper that the Order retain command of it. You will train the soldiers and command them in war, when the time comes.”

Vaelin looked to the Aspect for some reaction but saw nothing but the same rigid lack of expression.

“Forgive me Highness, but if the regiment is to come under Order control then Brother Makril would seem a better choice…”

“The famous denier hunter? Oh, I don’t think so. Could hardly give him a sword could I? Only one ennobled by the Crown can command a regiment of the Realm Guard. How long before they’re ready do you think?”

“Our losses in the Martishe were heavy, Highness. The men are weary and haven’t been paid for weeks.”

“Really?” The King looked at the Aspect with raised eyebrows.

“The Order will meet the cost,” the Aspect said. “It would only be right if the regiment is to be ours to command.”

“Very generous, Arlyn. As for the losses you can have your choice from the dungeons plus any men you can recruit from the streets. I daresay more than a few boys will come seeking service in a regiment commanded by the famous Brother Vaelin.” He chuckled ruefully. “War is always an adventure to those who’ve never seen it.”

Chapter 4

“No rapists, no murderers, no redflower fiends.” Sergeant Krelnik handed the Chief Gaoler the King’s order with the smallest of bows. “No weaklings either. Got to make soldiers out of this lot.”