Midnight tides

‘I’ll see to the horses,’ Seren said after a moment.

The Avowed nodded. ‘Then come back and eat.’

‘Aye, sir.’

She was pleased at the answering smile, slight though it was.

They were among the ruins well before the village came into view. Most were half buried, rising in humps from the forest floor. Ancient roots gripped the stone, but had clearly failed in forcing cracks into the strange rock. Causeways that had once been raised now formed a crazed web of roads through the forest, littered in dead leaves but otherwise defying intrusion. Reaching the edge of the wood, they could see a scattering of domed buildings in the clearing ahead, and beyond it the palisade wall of Brous, over which woodsmoke hung in a sullen wreath of grey.

The ancient domed buildings possessed formal entrances, a projecting, arched corridor with doorways as wide as they were tall – three times the height of a man.

‘Hood’s breath,’ Corlo hissed, ‘these dwarf even K’Chain Che’Malle tombs.’

‘Can’t say I’ve ever seen those-’ Seren began.

But the mage interrupted. ‘Then I’m surprised, since there are plenty of remnants in these lands. They were something between lizards and dragons, walking on two legs. Lots of sharp teeth – Trate’s markets had the occasional stall selling the old teeth and bones. K’Chain Che’Malle, lass, ruled this entire continent, once. Long before humans arrived. Anyway, their tombs look something like these ones, only smaller.’

‘Oh. It’s been assumed that those were Tarthenal. Nothing was ever found inside them.’

‘The K’Chain Che’Malle never got the chance to use them, that’s why. Most of them, anyway.’

They fell silent as they rode past the first structure, and saw, on the near side of the village, a hundred or more soldiers and workers gathered. It appeared they were excavating into a small, longish hill. A barrow. Capstones had been dragged from the top of the barrow by teams of horses, and crowds of diggers were attacking the sides.

‘Don’t want to be a part of that, sir,’ Corlo said.

They reined in.

‘What’s in there?’ Iron Bars asked.

‘Nothing that has anything to do with these ruins, I don’t think.’

‘Picking up the dock-rat version of our language doesn’t serve you well, you know,’ Seren said.

‘Fine,’ Corlo rasped. ‘What I meant was, the low barrows belong to something else. And the interment was messy. Lots of wards. There’s a mage in that company, Avowed, who’s been busy dismantling them.’

‘All of them?’

‘Almost. Left a couple in place. I think he means to bind whatever’s in there.’

‘We’ve been noticed,’ Seren said.

A troop of mounted soldiers was riding towards them, an officer in the lead.

‘Recognize him?’ the Avowed asked her.

‘Finadd Arlidas Tullid,’ she replied. ‘He commands the Brous garrison.’

Iron Bars glanced at her. ‘And?’

‘He’s not a nice man.’

The Finadd’s troop comprised sixteen riders. They reined in, and Arlidas nodded at Seren. ‘Acquitor. Thought I recognized you. You come from where?’

‘Trate.’

‘That’s a long ride. I take it you left before it fell.’

She did not contradict him.

The Finadd scanned the Crimson Guardsmen, and apparently did not like what he saw. ‘Your arrival is well timed,’ he said. ‘We’re recruiting.’

‘They have already been recruited,’ Seren said, ‘as my escort. I am riding to Letheras, for an audience with the king.’

Arlidas scowled. ‘No point in that, Acquitor. The man just sits there, cowering on his throne. And the Ceda’s lost his mind. That is why I decided to declare our independence. And we intend to defend ourselves against these damned grey-skins.’

Seren’s laugh was sudden, instantly regretted. ‘Independence, Finadd? The village of Brous? With you in charge? As what, its emperor?’

‘You have entered our territory, Acquitor, meaning you and your escort are now subject to me. I am pleased to see you all armed, since I have few spare weapons.’

‘You are not recruiting us,’ Iron Bars said. ‘And I suggest you do not make an issue of it, Finadd, or in a short while you will find yourself with a much smaller army.’

Arlidas sneered. ‘The six of you and an Acquitor-’

‘Finadd.’ A rider nudged his horse from the troop to halt alongside Arlidas. Round, hairy, small-eyed and filthy from crawling tunnels of dirt. ‘That one’s a mage.’ He pointed at Corlo.

‘So are you, you damned Nerek halfling,’ the Finadd snapped. ‘Tell him,’ Corlo said to the other mage. ‘Your name’s Urger, isn’t it? Tell your Finadd, Urger.’

The half-Nerek licked his lips. ‘He’ll kill us all, sir. Every one of us. He won’t even break a sweat. And he’ll start with you, Finadd. He’ll pluck your brain out and drop it in a cauldron of boiling oil.’

Corlo said, ‘You’d best return to that barrow, Urger. Your demon’s trying to get out, and it just might succeed. You’ll lose your chance to bind it.’

The mage twisted round in his saddle. ‘Errant take me, he’s right! Finadd, I must go! No waiting!’ With that he wheeled his horse and drove heels into its flanks.