Covenant of Blood by H.R. van Adel - HTML preview

EPILOGUE

THE ARMY OF THE AHREN COALITION

SOUTHERN AHRENIA

BORDIS

Riva watched Malyred negotiate the bloody streets of Bordis. She stepped over bodies with casual grace, as if it were something she did often. Any other lady might have lifted the hem of her dress to avoid soiling it, but not her. She didn’t seem to mind getting blood on her clothing.

The Mother of Oracles halted before his dais, on the patchwork of carpets laid out for her. “My lord Riva,” she said. Up close she seemed far older and thinner than he remembered. Hunched, almost crone-like. Her auburn hair was freshly combed, but heavily streaked with grey. That made him wonder. When he’d last met her a year ago there’d been no grey at all.

Riva rose from his seat. “My lady. Welcome to Bordis.”

She held out a withered hand, and he took it. “Thank you,” she said. “And congratulations!” She practically shouted the last word, falling into his arms and embracing him with an enthusiasm he could never have anticipated.

“Thank you, lady,” he said, his cheeks reddening. He wondered what the hundreds of onlookers would have to say about such a spectacle. “It’s an honour to see you again. And you look well.” But in truth her arms felt like vines around his shoulders, and twiggy fingers raked the back of his brigandine. What could have happened to age her so prematurely, to strip so much meat from her bones?

Malyred broke away, her eyes moist and sparkling above her black mask. “This is a truly momentous occasion. I knew my faith in you was not misplaced.”

Riva inclined his head. “Likewise. We’d never have taken the city if not for your… intervention.”

“It cost me, as you can see. This body is failing–I shall need another, and soon.”

He wasn’t sure what she meant by that, exactly, though he heard himself saying, “Indeed, indeed.”

While the rest of Malyred’s bodyguard took up position near the east gate, Wegdan joined his mistress. The monster’s black harness rattled with each lumbering step, and the chain joining his breastplate to his blade jingled against his armoured thighs. Not one to step over corpses, he cleared a path by kicking them aside with his enormous boots.

“Your pet has grown, it seems,” said Riva, doing his best to conceal his unease. Wegdan’s helm swivelled around at the sound of his voice, the slits in his visor aimed directly at him.

“He does that,” said Malyred. “So, where’s Virgilio?”

“Fetch the general,” said Riva, snapping his fingers. His officers brought the man out in shackles. Stripped of his armour and with his head freshly shaved, Virgilio the Lion had been reduced to a frail old man in dirty underclothes.

Malyred regarded Virgilio with interest. She traced a broken fingernail down his jaw, over the encrusted dirt and stubble on his chin. “I’d have stopped you the last time you were in Ahrenia, Lion,” she said. “Alas, I couldn’t. But now I have your standard, and I have you.”

Virgilio didn’t reply. Beyond humiliated, he didn’t even try to make eye contact.

“I know you are wondering about them, so hear this: the remnants who managed to escape this city last night will not get far. The Fifth is no more, and this is just the beginning of my revenge.”

Virgilio didn’t have anything to say to that, either. Riva heard a sound like a shrub being uprooted, and turned to see Wegdan twisting the head off a corpse.

Malyred gave the general her back. “As we agreed,” she said to Riva, “the Ture and the Wehen are yours. Tomorrow you shall be acclaimed High King of the Ahren.” She waved a hand. “Or the next day, perhaps. So, have you decided on a name yet?”

With a jarring pop, Wegdan wrenched the head from another corpse. Riva fingered the pommel of his sword as he watched. “I have, my lady.”

“What is it?”

“Urwolc.”

“Urwolc,” said Malyred, pursing her lips. “A potent name indeed. The last one who chose it was–”

“I know. The Lord of War.”

Malyred’s eye twitched. “Quite.” Evidently she was unused to being interrupted, even by the likes of her future sovereign. “As I was saying, it’s a potent name. Of course, all you have to do now is live up to it.”

Ha! Not exactly a subtle insult. Knowing she would judge him according to how he reacted, he chose to ignore it. “I have gifts for you,” he said mildly.

“Is that so?”

Riva offered his arm. “Baros and Goraric. I’m certain neither are surprises, but I’d still like to present them to you personally. Will you walk with me, lady?”

Malyred looked him over, then placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Naturally,” she said. “Lead on then, Urwolc, Lord of War.”