LITMIR.BIZ

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numbers. It also gave him a purpose after being wounded when a witch had defended herself two years back, driving a pitchfork through his leg when he was not watching. It left him with a limp, but he was still a good and reliable soldier.

      “Not good. We don’t ‘ave enough to get ‘alfway to the auch-spawn mountains the way we’re usin’ it.”

      Although the news was not good it was what he had been expecting to hear. He turned away to gather his thoughts while Thom knew to stand and wait. After considering his options Jaimz kicked wildly at a tuft of grass before turning back to his friend.

      “We will need to ration our supplies. Put a guard on the barrels and allow each man one cup in the morning and evening. There will be no water for anything else.”

      Thom nodded his understanding of what the order meant. Although they were now a disciplined army, they recently were able to go anywhere and do as they pleased. This could lead to trouble and the guards may be required to enforce the order with their swords. But he left to put the measures in place without question.

      Jaimz walked the patchy ground waiting for the lone rider. Lenk-Shadow Gerard was a big man, not the sort of man you would expect to see in charge of the scouts and infiltrators, but he had learned to use his size to his advantage. The weight he carried around his body came from many days at various inns and taverns across the land and while he was large, he was a very fit man and he could ride or walk for long sessions with ease and his personality allowed him to fit into any group despite his face being mostly hidden by long shaggy hair and a short beard. This is what made him good at his work, his solid large arms could expertly wield a sword or snap a man’s neck on command, his legs were built to carry his load but he was best known among his men for his skills with a knife.

      He reined his horse and dismounted before the Field Captain. After exchanging brief greetings Jaimz brought up the subject of water, to be told that only small amounts of drinkable water had been found. Although he had crossed this land with Xavier, they had only travelled one path. He had hoped without belief that a different route would supply the water they needed.

      “If only we were a smaller group,” mused Gerard. “We have found many pockets of water spread across the land but only enough to supply a few men.”

      “That is what I feared,” muttered Jaimz, speaking more to himself than his scout.

      He stood looking out over the land to the north, still dabbed in green despite the lack of water before pulling himself back to the army.

      “Come and have some food before you go,” he offered.

      Together they walked back to the army, but something in what Gerard had hinted at sat distantly on his mind, a thought just out of reach of understanding. While he ate, the words grew together and an idea began to coalesce into true thought. He called for his officers to join him and informed them of their lack of water.

      “But Gerard has found enough water to supply small groups. So that is what we shall be. We are going to split up.”

      His voice grew more confident his thoughts became spoken words.

      “Each squad will be under the command of their sergeant and travel as we have done for years. They will find their way north and we will meet in the trees where Xavier formed camp on my last trip. There are enough men from that trip that know where we go to act as guides. The carts will remain behind, to make their way back to Thistledowne at their own pace. We will travel much fast without them. Ride well and I will see you at the cliff.”

      He remembered to give a final warning.

      “And one last order, when we get close there will be no fires. If the auchs are watching we do not want to warn them of our presence until we are all gathered and ready. Are there any questions?”

      The idea of small groups arriving only to be attacked by animals out of their own nightmares was enough to convince the officers. There would be no fires. When no one spoke, he sent them back to gather their squads and move out.

      Chapter 8

      King Xavier sat on the great sun throne of Arenia and looked about the room from atop his stone tower of stairs. He wanted to be sure all was in readiness as he waited for Piaz to be brought before him. Field Captain Harold stood to his left; his soldiers filling the guard’s alcoves around the room and lining the red carpet that linked the throne with the double doors, while Beth stood with the other members of the council to his right. He knew two of his Gun-Jadal waited behind the throne, both tall and strong. Their appearance alone helped protect him though he trusted the sword he had hidden beside the throne more.

      Satisfied that all was in place for his little show, he signalled the guard by the door. Other members of the court attended and waited around the vast space, having heard that something of significance would happen today, but the important participants were ready. The final player to this act was about to be admitted. The doors swung open on silent hinges. Zakary, his new personal aide, stepped forward for the announcement.

      “All hail King Xavier, Lord Protector of the Land and True Guide of the People; I present Piaz the traveller and teller of truth.” Zakary stepped back into obscurity on queue.

      The expressions of those around the room amused the king as he hoped they would.

      Piaz walked forward as the doors closed behind him. Everyone waited for his guest to make his way along the carpet to the throne, flanked by two guards. While he waited, Xavier silently congratulated himself on appointing Zakary to the position of aide. He had chosen not to appoint another pageboy and although Zakary was not much better, the thing that mattered was that he was not a child. He was not a bright man but he had the loyalty of a mutt and was prepared to do anything asked of him. The last pageboy, the sixth in that position, had been lazy and slow and Xavier did not have the time to train him. That was his father’s job, and his father could take on that responsibility now that the boy had been sent home. Xavier admitted to himself that he had never had the time or patience to learn to accept children.

      Piaz stopped before the throne and fell to one knee with his head lowered. He waited for the king to give him leave to rise while Xavier sat and looked about the room, taking pleasure in the power of his position. All eyes were on him, except of course his guards who had eyes for everyone else.

      “Piaz the truth teller, I welcome you to Whitebridge. You have been summoned here because we have work for you, and I hope you will accept the role that we offer. But this is not the place or time to discuss such matters.”

      These words took everyone by surprise as he hoped they would, because he had secretly encouraged them all to attend. The throne room was silent as all waited for what would come next, having believed Piaz was the reason for the rumours. But by starting the gossip, Xavier had given them a reason and he had stopped all speculation.

      “Please forgive me for this indulgence,” announced King Xavier, “but I have another duty to perform and I took the opportunity of your visit to get everyone here without starting tongues wagging. I did not want those involved to come prepared. Piaz, today is to be a grand day in the land and you alone will bear witness for all those outside the court to what happens here.”

      Glances were exchanged and nervousness showed on all the faces in the room. It was obvious that not even Beth was aware of what Xavier was about to do. Her face showed its mixture of confusion and suspicion as he hoped it would. The king held out his right hand with palm up and one of his Gun-Jabal reached behind the throne to produce the ceremonial mace of Arenia that had been hidden there, handing it to the king. Years of use by royal hands had darkened the old timber, highlighting the gleaming gold foot that Xavier placed on the ground between his feet. The orbed head of the mace was ornately carved and inlaid in gold and precious stones. It was made to impress, and it did this now.

      “Grarm, please approach the throne,” he called to the room, staring vacantly at the space above the great doors. His tone was strong and commanding and Grarm cautiously made his way forward and knelt before the king. Xavier spoke clearly to the room again.

      “A king has many responsibilities and his time is limited.

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