flights of stairs, across landings, and then up another spiralling staircase. The palace became quieter and quieter until Kirin stood before a door. From around his neck he pulled a thong. And the key that hung from it opened the door, the timber creaking as he pushed it open.
‘Here we are,’ he said, throwing her a sad glance. ‘Welcome to my home of the last ten anni.’
The general threw the reins of his horse at the approaching stableman, barely acknowledging the soldiers around him who stood straighter and touched a hand to one cheek in a sign of recognition of the tribes.
Stracker’s tatua was drawn back by a snarl.
How had Loethar got away?
He’d ridden ahead of his henchmen, too disgusted to travel with them or even look at them right now.
Fires of Aludane! The man had too many lives!
Now he had no ally, only enemies.
Stracker strode through the halls and corridors of Brighthelmstone, startling palace workers, making for the wing reserved strictly for the emperor. His towering, threatening presence brooked no argument and he was permitted to barge into his brother’s chambers unchallenged. Once in Loethar’s salon, he slammed the door shut, yelling that he was to be left undisturbed unless information was forthcoming. Then, standing by one of the tall windows where he had so often seen his brother position himself as he pondered an issue, Stracker now adopted a similar position and brooded.
He had never been the clever son but it angered him that his family constantly underrated his ability, ever since Loethar had beaten him — more than beaten… humiliated him — on the day when the tribe fought for leadership. Yes, Loethar had been amagnificent warrior in his day, although Stracker wondered how fast those lightning quick skills might be today. He had certainly capitulated with ease back in the forest; hadn’t even offered the slightest resistance.
Instead, his brother had spoken about honour and duty. Stracker gave a choked sound of anger as he stared out towards the forest fringe. Loethar had become so naturalised as a Denovian that not only did he no longer look like he was Steppes-born, he didn’t even seem to think like a tribesman any more. His brother had become more and more a stranger to him until now their intentions, their whole outlooks, seemed to be on opposite ends.
Once again Stracker wished he had been able to wheedle out of his mother which of the tribal lords had fathered Loether. Stracker had tried many times but it was one subject she had been entirely closed to. Being her first born he would have thought she’d one day share this detail with him but she took that secret to her death. He wondered if Loethar knew.
But where was he now?
he screamed in his mind.
And who was protecting him?
He had never seen who hurled the stone that struck his temple. He touched the spot now and felt the tenderness, pain shooting across his head. It made him livid to think that anyone would dare take a shot at him. He would find that person and tear him limb from limb with his bare hands.
A knock at the door interrupted his angry thoughts.
‘What?’ he roared.
The door opened slowly, tentatively, and a young messenger peered in.
‘You’d want to have some news to risk interrupting me,’ Stracker snarled.
The young man cleared his throat. He didn’t step inside any further and he didn’t close the door behind him. ‘General Stracker, you asked me to find out if there was any news regarding Kirin Felt. General, Master Felt arrived today.’
‘What?’ Stracker roared and took a pace forward.
The youngster quailed, instantly fell into Steppes language in his fear, and began to gabble. ‘He is in Brighthelmstone. According to the men at the gates, he has a new wife. They… they arrived during the last bell, not that long before you did.’
‘Find them! I wish to speak with them immediately.’
‘I thought you would say that, general, and I have already organised an escort. I
‘Here we are,’ he said, throwing her a sad glance. ‘Welcome to my home of the last ten anni.’
The general threw the reins of his horse at the approaching stableman, barely acknowledging the soldiers around him who stood straighter and touched a hand to one cheek in a sign of recognition of the tribes.
Stracker’s tatua was drawn back by a snarl.
How had Loethar got away?
He’d ridden ahead of his henchmen, too disgusted to travel with them or even look at them right now.
Fires of Aludane! The man had too many lives!
Now he had no ally, only enemies.
Stracker strode through the halls and corridors of Brighthelmstone, startling palace workers, making for the wing reserved strictly for the emperor. His towering, threatening presence brooked no argument and he was permitted to barge into his brother’s chambers unchallenged. Once in Loethar’s salon, he slammed the door shut, yelling that he was to be left undisturbed unless information was forthcoming. Then, standing by one of the tall windows where he had so often seen his brother position himself as he pondered an issue, Stracker now adopted a similar position and brooded.
He had never been the clever son but it angered him that his family constantly underrated his ability, ever since Loethar had beaten him — more than beaten… humiliated him — on the day when the tribe fought for leadership. Yes, Loethar had been amagnificent warrior in his day, although Stracker wondered how fast those lightning quick skills might be today. He had certainly capitulated with ease back in the forest; hadn’t even offered the slightest resistance.
Instead, his brother had spoken about honour and duty. Stracker gave a choked sound of anger as he stared out towards the forest fringe. Loethar had become so naturalised as a Denovian that not only did he no longer look like he was Steppes-born, he didn’t even seem to think like a tribesman any more. His brother had become more and more a stranger to him until now their intentions, their whole outlooks, seemed to be on opposite ends.
Once again Stracker wished he had been able to wheedle out of his mother which of the tribal lords had fathered Loether. Stracker had tried many times but it was one subject she had been entirely closed to. Being her first born he would have thought she’d one day share this detail with him but she took that secret to her death. He wondered if Loethar knew.
But where was he now?
he screamed in his mind.
And who was protecting him?
He had never seen who hurled the stone that struck his temple. He touched the spot now and felt the tenderness, pain shooting across his head. It made him livid to think that anyone would dare take a shot at him. He would find that person and tear him limb from limb with his bare hands.
A knock at the door interrupted his angry thoughts.
‘What?’ he roared.
The door opened slowly, tentatively, and a young messenger peered in.
‘You’d want to have some news to risk interrupting me,’ Stracker snarled.
The young man cleared his throat. He didn’t step inside any further and he didn’t close the door behind him. ‘General Stracker, you asked me to find out if there was any news regarding Kirin Felt. General, Master Felt arrived today.’
‘What?’ Stracker roared and took a pace forward.
The youngster quailed, instantly fell into Steppes language in his fear, and began to gabble. ‘He is in Brighthelmstone. According to the men at the gates, he has a new wife. They… they arrived during the last bell, not that long before you did.’
‘Find them! I wish to speak with them immediately.’
‘I thought you would say that, general, and I have already organised an escort. I
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