The Broken Pieces(54)

“Perfectly clear,” Kaide said, a grin on his face.

“Good.” Arthur stood. “Return to your camp, and make sure the rabble spends all day and night celebrating. Tomorrow, when I move into my brother’s castle, you’ll disband them. You’ve found your revenge. I hope it sates you. Return to your forest. Find a place to call your home. It won’t be Ashvale, either. Step within twenty miles of there and…”

“…and you’ll hang me for a traitor,” Kaide said. “I’m not an imbecile. Is there anything else you’d like to tell me before I go? Any other promises you’d like to break?”

Arthur reared back, and his fist struck him in the face. Tears ran down the lord’s eyes, but the sadness did not reach his voice.

“My brother also punched you before he died. Now get out of my sight.”

Kaide stood, and then struggling to hide the pain he felt, he bent down to retrieve his bloody dirks. Cleaning them off on his shirt, he shoved them into his belt, then bowed low while the rest of the soldiers tensed.

“Such a great day for a party, wouldn’t you say?” Kaide asked before stepping out.

He pushed his way through the guards surrounding the tent, not caring for their glares. Winding his way east, he found Adam and Griff waiting for him at one of the fires, the two burly twins standing with their arms crossed over their beefy chests.

“Whose blood is that on your shirt?” asked Adam.

“Sebastian’s,” Kaide said, and the words put a grin on their faces.

“Hot damn,” Griff said. “Arthur’s got balls after all.”

Kaide drew out a dirk and stabbed it into one of the logs set before the fire, then sat down beside it.

“No,” he said. “He doesn’t. I killed him against his wishes. We’ve been ordered to celebrate today, then disband. Someone will soon come parading around Sebastian’s head, and we’ll toast to his roasting in the Abyss. But come tomorrow…”

“Tomorrow we do nothing,” Bellok said, joining them from the mob. “For what else is there to do?”

Bellok was Kaide’s wizard, though his skill was marginally higher than an apprentice at the craft. He was cranky and bitter, but often Kaide’s most trustworthy advisor. The only person he’d trusted more was his sister, but Luther had taken her from him.

Luther…

“This is my fight now,” Kaide said. “There’s no reason to put any more of you at risk. Luther will march out tomorrow, and wherever he goes, I will follow. I won’t let him escape, not even if he goes to the far ends of the world. But as for you all…”

“Stuff it,” Adam said, interrupting him. “You think you’re the only one who misses Sandra? She was like a sister to me.”

“To both of us,” said Griff.

“You have families to return to,” Kaide argued.

“Well I don’t,” Bellok said, running a hand through his white hair. “Or did you forget why we took up arms with you in the first place?”

Kaide looked to the men, and despite his humiliation at the hands of Arthur, despite his fury at such betrayal, he couldn’t help but feel proud of everything he’d accomplished.

“Thank you,” he said. “But you four only. My feud with Luther has nothing to do with the rest. They wanted a new lord for their farms and villages, and they’ve gotten it. Let them escape without any more bloodshed. As for us…Luther’s not a king or a lord. We need no army to take him down. Just the right moment.”

“He’s powerful,” Bellok said. “And king or not, he still commands a fearsome army. I hope you have something clever in mind.”

“There’s times for brute force, and times for a clever mind,” Kaide said. “I only need to know which one is right for us at the time.”

“All and good, but right now’s a time for neither of those,” Adam said, procuring several mugs of ale that seemed to be magically flooding the eastern half of the camp. “Right now is a time to get completely, fully, thoroughly shit-faced. Sebastian’s dead. May he never rest in peace.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Kaide said.

“To the dead,” said Bellok.

“Both now and yet to come,” Kaide said, and despite the terrible pain of his hands, he lifted the cup and drank.



Redclaw stood in the center of the manmade road, and he let the soft night breeze blow through his ember fur. He breathed in, and he tried to enjoy the scent of his prey before him. The presence of the priest sapped away all the joy. His wolves would not be allowed to tear through the human ranks with the wild abandon that made them such dangerous warriors. They couldn’t howl and feast, the blood of their victims on their tongues. They had to obey rules. They had to obey their god, Cyric.