Read Online Malice (Faithful & the Fallen 1) by John Gwynne - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Gwynne
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subject of interest to me.’
Veradis shrugged. In truth it had been, especially as his father only ever seemed to have eyes, praise, for Krelis. His other brother Ektor had never seemed to care, being content with his
books, but Veradis had felt it like a thin sliver of iron working its way deeper and deeper into his flesh. But he loved Krelis, rarely resented him for it, and then only for a passing moment. If
anyone were at fault, it was his father. He shrugged again. ‘Sometimes,’ he said.
‘I know something of what it is like, growing up in another’s shadow,’ Nathair said quietly.
Looking at the Prince, Veradis noticed his eyes were bloodshot, dark circles beneath them. ‘Are you well?’ he asked.
‘What? Oh, it’s nothing,’ Nathair said. ‘I did not sleep well, that’s all. Bad dreams.’
They rode together in silence for a while, winding their way through open woods, white campion dotting the ground about them. A handful of woodlarks burst from branches ahead and above, startled
by their passing.
‘Did you see the riders that left Jerolin before us?’ the Prince suddenly asked.
‘Aye. I did.’ Over a score of warriors had left the fortress on the day Veradis had been preparing for this journey, all with extra horses, well-provisioned for long journeys.
‘I thought perhaps it was something to do with the return of Meical – he is your father’s counsellor, isn’t he?’
‘Yes, he did play a part.’ The Prince scowled a moment, then carried on. ‘The riders are messengers. My father is calling a council, summoning all of the kings throughout the
Banished Lands.’
‘
All
of them?’
‘Aye. A messenger has been sent to the king of every realm.’
‘Why?’
‘Ah. Of that I should not speak, not yet. It is for my father to tell, at the council.’
‘Will they come, the kings of every realm?’
‘They should, my father is high king,’ Nathair said.
‘Perhaps,’ Veradis pulled a face. Aquilus
was
high king, though more in name than deed. Generations gone, when the Exiles had washed ashore and begun their war against the
giant clans, there had been but one king, Sokar, and after the giants had been thrown down and the Banished Lands populated by men, all had bowed to him. But that had been a long time ago; new
realms had grown, and now there were many kings in the Banished Lands, though they all still recognized the sovereignty of Tenebral’s master, descended from their first king. In theory, at
least.
‘Father says they will come,’ Nathair said with a shrug. ‘Between you and me, I do not really think it matters.’ He leaned closer, spoke more quietly. ‘Did you know
that the giant-stones are
bleeding
?’ He smiled, looking excited. ‘We are living in exceptional times, Veradis, times when we shall have much need of your famed sword-arm, I
think. We are on the edge of something new. So this is a good time to be raising a warband. As I said, I am glad that you are a part of it.’
The Prince glanced back at the column behind them. ‘They are good men – brave, loyal, every one of them. But you are a baron’s son. We are more alike. You understand
me?’
‘Aye, my lo—’ Veradis said. ‘Yes, I understand. And I am glad to be part of this.’ He felt his curiosity rising, his blood stirring at Nathair’s words. Some
part of the Prince’s enthusiasm was infectious. And for the first time in an age he felt a glimmer of something stir deep inside. He felt of value.
The days rolled past as Veradis and the warband headed steadily southwards. For a time they hugged the mountains Veradis had seen in the distance, crossing fast-flowing,
white-foamed rivers that tumbled out of the high places. As the mountains faded behind them, the land began to change: the woods and forests of sycamore and elm disappearing, replaced by leagues of
rolling grassland, which in turn grew steadily thinner, paler, the colour and moisture leached from everything by the
Veradis shrugged. In truth it had been, especially as his father only ever seemed to have eyes, praise, for Krelis. His other brother Ektor had never seemed to care, being content with his
books, but Veradis had felt it like a thin sliver of iron working its way deeper and deeper into his flesh. But he loved Krelis, rarely resented him for it, and then only for a passing moment. If
anyone were at fault, it was his father. He shrugged again. ‘Sometimes,’ he said.
‘I know something of what it is like, growing up in another’s shadow,’ Nathair said quietly.
Looking at the Prince, Veradis noticed his eyes were bloodshot, dark circles beneath them. ‘Are you well?’ he asked.
‘What? Oh, it’s nothing,’ Nathair said. ‘I did not sleep well, that’s all. Bad dreams.’
They rode together in silence for a while, winding their way through open woods, white campion dotting the ground about them. A handful of woodlarks burst from branches ahead and above, startled
by their passing.
‘Did you see the riders that left Jerolin before us?’ the Prince suddenly asked.
‘Aye. I did.’ Over a score of warriors had left the fortress on the day Veradis had been preparing for this journey, all with extra horses, well-provisioned for long journeys.
‘I thought perhaps it was something to do with the return of Meical – he is your father’s counsellor, isn’t he?’
‘Yes, he did play a part.’ The Prince scowled a moment, then carried on. ‘The riders are messengers. My father is calling a council, summoning all of the kings throughout the
Banished Lands.’
‘
All
of them?’
‘Aye. A messenger has been sent to the king of every realm.’
‘Why?’
‘Ah. Of that I should not speak, not yet. It is for my father to tell, at the council.’
‘Will they come, the kings of every realm?’
‘They should, my father is high king,’ Nathair said.
‘Perhaps,’ Veradis pulled a face. Aquilus
was
high king, though more in name than deed. Generations gone, when the Exiles had washed ashore and begun their war against the
giant clans, there had been but one king, Sokar, and after the giants had been thrown down and the Banished Lands populated by men, all had bowed to him. But that had been a long time ago; new
realms had grown, and now there were many kings in the Banished Lands, though they all still recognized the sovereignty of Tenebral’s master, descended from their first king. In theory, at
least.
‘Father says they will come,’ Nathair said with a shrug. ‘Between you and me, I do not really think it matters.’ He leaned closer, spoke more quietly. ‘Did you know
that the giant-stones are
bleeding
?’ He smiled, looking excited. ‘We are living in exceptional times, Veradis, times when we shall have much need of your famed sword-arm, I
think. We are on the edge of something new. So this is a good time to be raising a warband. As I said, I am glad that you are a part of it.’
The Prince glanced back at the column behind them. ‘They are good men – brave, loyal, every one of them. But you are a baron’s son. We are more alike. You understand
me?’
‘Aye, my lo—’ Veradis said. ‘Yes, I understand. And I am glad to be part of this.’ He felt his curiosity rising, his blood stirring at Nathair’s words. Some
part of the Prince’s enthusiasm was infectious. And for the first time in an age he felt a glimmer of something stir deep inside. He felt of value.
The days rolled past as Veradis and the warband headed steadily southwards. For a time they hugged the mountains Veradis had seen in the distance, crossing fast-flowing,
white-foamed rivers that tumbled out of the high places. As the mountains faded behind them, the land began to change: the woods and forests of sycamore and elm disappearing, replaced by leagues of
rolling grassland, which in turn grew steadily thinner, paler, the colour and moisture leached from everything by the
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