Blood Song

He remembered the clumsy charge of the man in the white armour, the blind disregard for his own safety as he sped towards death. Had that been greatness? Courage certainly, unless the man had expected the fabled favour of the gods to protect him. In any case, the frenzy of battle left little room for admiration or reflection. The Hope had been just another enemy in need of killing. He regretted it but could still find no room for guilt in the memory, and the blood-song had ever been silent on the subject.

“I began this war with four brothers,” he told Velsus. “Now one is dead and the other lost to the mists of battle. The two that remain…” His voice faded. The two that remain…

“I care nothing for your brothers,” Velsus replied. “The Emperor’s mercy is a great agony to me. If it was within my gift I would see your entire army flayed and driven into the desert as a feast for the vultures.”

Vaelin met his gaze squarely. “If there is the slightest attempt to interfere with the safe passage of my men…”

“The Emperor’s word has been given, written and witnessed. It cannot be broken.”

“To do so would be against the gods’ will?”

“No, the law. We are an Empire of laws, savage. Laws that bind even the greatest of us. The Emperor’s Word is given.”

“Then it seems I have no choice but to trust it. I request it be noted that Governor Aruan gave no assistance to my forces during our tenure here. He has remained a loyal servant of the Emperor throughout.”

“The Governor will give his own testimony, I’m sure.”

Vaelin nodded. “Very well.” He rose from the table. “Tomorrow at dawn then, a mile south of the main gate. I assume there are some Alpiran forces nearby awaiting your word. It would be best if you spent the night with them.”

“If you think I will allow you out of my sight until…”

“Do you want me to flog you from this city?” His tone was mild but he knew the Alpiran could hear its sincerity.

Velsus’s features quivered with a mixture of fury and fear. “Do you know what awaits you, savage? When you are mine…”

“I have to trust your Emperor’s word. You’ll have to trust mine.” Vaelin turned to the door. “There is a Captain of the Imperial Guard in our custody. I’ll ask him to act as your escort. Please be out of the city within the hour. And feel free to take Lord Al Telnar with you.”

He had the men assembled in the main square, Renfaelin knights and squires, Cumbraelin archers, Nilsaelins and Realm Guard all drawn up in ranks awaiting his word. His dislike of speech-making was still undimmed and he saw little point in preamble.

“The war is over!” he told them, standing atop a cart and casting his voice towards the rear ranks so they all heard clearly. “His Highness King Janus agreed a treaty with the Alpiran Emperor three weeks ago. We are ordered to quit the city and return to the Realm. Ships are now berthing in the harbour to take us home. You will proceed to the docks in companies, taking only your packs and weapons. No Alpiran property is to be removed on pain of execution.” He scanned the ranks briefly. There were no cheers, no rejoicing, just surprised relief on nearly every face. “On behalf of King Janus, I thank you for your service. Stand at ease and await orders.”

“It’s really over?” Barkus asked as he stepped down from the cart.

“All over,” he assured him.

“What made the old fool give it up?”

“Prince Malcius lies dead in Untesh, the bulk of the army was destroyed at Marbellis and trouble brews in the Realm. I assume he wants to preserve as much of his army as he can.”

He noticed Caenis standing nearby, possibly the only man not joining his voice to the massed babble of relief. His brother’s slender face showed a mix of mystification and what could only be described as grief. “It seems there’s to be no Greater Unified Realm, brother,” he said, keeping his tone gentle.

Caenis’s gaze was distant, as if deep in shock. “He does not make mistakes,” he said softly. “He never makes mistakes…”

“We’re going home!” Vaelin laid hands on his shoulders, giving him a shake. “You’ll be back at the Order House in a couple of weeks.”

“Bugger the Order House,” Barkus said. “I’ll be making for the nearest dockside tavern where I intend to stay until this whole bloody farce has become a bad dream.”

Vaelin clasped hands with them both. “Caenis, your company will take the first ship. Barkus, take the second. I’ll keep order while the rest of the men embark.”

Lord Al Telnar opted to take the first ship home rather than wait for the climax of this moment in history, his face stiff with resentment when Vaelin delayed him at the gangplank. “Tell my brother nothing of the treaty until you reach the Realm.” He glanced over at where Caenis stood on the prow of the ship, his bearing still so forlorn. They had all lost more than they should in this war, friends and brothers, but Caenis had lost his delusion, his dream of Janus’s greatness. He wondered if his desolation would turn to hate when he heard the full details of the treaty.