The Complete Legends of the Riftwar Trilogy: Honoured Enemy, Murder in Lamut, Jimmy the Hand

‘Our pledge to fight, is that it?’

‘Like I said, the chase is over. We agreed to a truce until we escaped, and for the moment we have.’

Asayaga turned and stepped closer until they were only inches apart. He looked up into Dennis’s eyes. ‘What do you want? Come dawn should we roust our men out from in there, line up, draw weapons and commence slaughtering one another?’

Even as he said the words both could hear the laughter and the start of another song from within the long house.

‘We both know what is in there is not real,’ Dennis replied, waving vaguely towards Wolfgar’s long house. ‘We’re outside our world for the moment, but sooner or later reality will come crashing back in. Less than a hundred miles from here, this night, Kingdom troops and Tsurani troops are sitting in their camps, waiting out the weather, and when the blizzard passes, they will be out hunting each other, and the war will go on. Are we any different, are we excused?’

‘We could kill each other tomorrow down to the last man and it won’t change what happens back there. I am as honour-bound as you, Hartraft, but killing you tonight will not change the war. It is as if we are both dead and gone from it. Tell me, is it honour, a sense of duty or vengeance which drives you now?’

Dennis did not reply.

‘Is it dawn then? If so, I’d better go in and tell my men to stop drinking and prepare. You’d better do the same.’

He snapped out the words, struggling to control his anger and stepped back. Then he bowed formally, and started to turn away.

‘Wait.’

‘For what?’

‘Just wait a moment,’ Dennis said, his voice heavy, distant. ‘There must come a day, we both know that. Once back into our lines, yours or mine, we have to face that.’

‘So why not now?’

‘Don’t press me, Tsurani: the ice we tread on is thin.’

‘Go on then, say what you want.’

‘We’ll still need each other once the passes clear. The Dark Brothers will be waiting, perhaps even bringing up reinforcements. We stand a better chance of surviving if we work together.’

‘Is that the real reason?’

‘Like I said, the ice is thin: don’t press me.’

Asayaga finally nodded.

‘A truce, then, till we return to our lines,’ Dennis said haltingly. ‘We command our own men, and keep the peace between them. If any break that peace, you and I agree to sit in judgement together.’

‘With Wolfgar.’

‘Why?’

‘I suspect he might be the most impartial of all.’

‘You’re right,’ Dennis replied slowly. ‘He will judge as well. We share all rations, lodgings and work.’

‘Of course.’

Asayaga looked back at the long house. ‘And the daughter – Alyssa, what of her?’

‘I don’t know what you are talking about!’ Dennis snapped.

‘Fine then.’

Dennis hesitated then extended his hand. Asayaga took it.

Neither noticed the intent presence that lingered in the doorway of the stable and had heard every word.

• Chapter Twelve • (#ulink_6fbb8cf4-4e4f-5ccc-ae6b-72e1287d8dbb)

Blood Debts (#ulink_6fbb8cf4-4e4f-5ccc-ae6b-72e1287d8dbb)

THE BLADE WAS SHARP.

The tip of the knife punctured his skin effortlessly, drawing forth a drop of blood. He watched the tiny pearl of crimson well up on his skin, and turned his arm so that the drop might fall free. He watched as it stained the icy whiteness beside his boots. The daily ritual complete, Bovai sheathed the blade.

His left arm was scarred from elbow to wrist by tens of thousands punctures he had inflicted upon himself over the years so that the limb was now a mass of twisted scars.

Soon, he thought, I shall be done with this ritualistic self-mutilation. Soon the stain on the honour of my family and clan will be finally ended.

On the night he had heard for certain that Tinuva had gone over to the eledhel he had vowed thus, to draw his own blood in atonement, day upon endless day, until the blood of the traitor was spilled.

For Tinuva, the traitor, was also his brother of birth.

Lowering his arm, he leaned back against a tree and looked down at the fortress guarding the river crossing. They had been camped there for nearly a fortnight, over three hundred of his brothers, the remaining humans and goblins crammed into the stockade, waiting for the weather to change and for his scouts to report that the northern passes into the valley were clear enough for his force to attack. The swirling snow lifted for a moment so that he caught glimpses of men coming back in from the forest, guiding a cart loaded with wood. He absently rubbed his scarred and bleeding arm and closed his eyes. There was a time, a time so long ago it seemed he could hardly remember it, when Tinuva had been his beloved brother, Morvai, spoken of by many as the one who would one day be the Paramount Chieftain of Clan Raven. Some even whispered that perhaps he would even be the one to unite all the clans in holy war, so that the exile in the northern bitterness would end and the plague of humans and the traitorous eledhel would be driven into the sea.

How he remembered those days, when together they would go out into the forests to hunt, to talk, to dream: two brothers still in their youth, side by side, planning for all that would come …

Morvai was fair to behold. Some would later say that from birth his heart was already calling him to join the eledhel. There had been a gentleness to him, rare in moredhel warriors, save when with their mates and young. Yet all would admit that none could match him in the hunt, in the skill he showed with blade or bow, in fleetness of foot, or even in the charm of his voice. And there was no doubt as to his fierceness and courage in battle. No small number of humans had died at Morvai’s hands, and a number of the eledhel, as well, before he had felt the unnatural tug of their queen’s dark magic.

As he remembered Bovai lowered his head, for he had loved his brother – idolized him – and would have gladly served him. His loyalty was remarked upon by all, and the sight of one brother without the other by his side was considered rare. Bovai knew that Morvai had abilities he lacked: a quickness of mind and a nimble wit. So he attempted to achieve what his brother had with different tools: strength and cunning, ruthlessness and an unhesitating willingness to kill. Together they were a perfect pair, the blade and the hammer. What Morvai could not achieve with guile, wit, and charm, Bovai could achieve with brute strength and terror.

So they had been for the seemingly timeless years of their youth. They had faced a hundred battles together against rival clans, renegade humans, even venturing beneath the earth to take the riches of the burrowing dwarves. Each had saved the life of the other more than once, and as he contemplated the memory Bovai’s hand drifted to his chest, to the wound he had taken leaping in front of Morvai so that the arrow had struck him instead of his brother.

How Morvai had wept that night, sitting by his brother’s side as the bolt was withdrawn. He had pledged his undying devotion and had cut his own arm, letting his blood drip into the wound so that their bond was seen by all to be eternal.

There are few things that could break such a bond, but at last they had encountered it and her name was Anleah. Bovai remembered as if it were days before instead of years …

The brothers had watched in open admiration as Gaduin, their father and second most powerful chieftain of the clan, returned in triumph. The warriors following him carried booty and led half a dozen prisoners with their hands tied behind their backs. One of them instantly commanded attention.

She was beautiful and proud, and no warrior looking at her for a moment would fail to recognize her for what she was: the daughter of a chieftain. Bovai and Morvai stood before the entrance to their father’s home, their faces stoic masks, but their eyes shining with pride.

‘My sons!’ Gaduin had called to them. ‘See what I have fetched home. She is the daughter of our old enemy, Vergalus of Clan Badger, and she will be our guest for a while.’

Their father had given her over to the women of the lodge to be cleaned up and made presentable, and she had dined as a guest at their table that first night.

She gave her parole not to attempt escape, or accept rescue, and was therefore allowed to live under their roof, and was given the freedom of their village. Both brothers were taken by her beauty, the soft charm of her voice and sharp intellect. She had seemed perfect to Bovai …