The sergeant thumped onto his back.
Trull stood over him, studying the man’s dazed expression, the split skin of his forehead leaking tendrils of blood.
The other warriors were shouting, expressing disbelief with Trull’s speed, with the stunning, deceptive simplicity of the attack. He did not look up.
Ahlrada Ahn stepped close. ‘Finish him, Trull Sengar.’
All of Trull’s anger was gone. ‘I see no need for that-’
‘Then you are a fool. He will not forget-’
‘I trust not.’
‘Fear must be told of this. Canarth must be punished.’
‘No, Ahlrada Ahn. Not a word.’ He raised his gaze, looked northward. ‘Let us greet Binadas and my father. I would hear tales of bravery, of fighting.’
The dark-skinned warrior’s stare faltered, flickered away. ‘Sisters take me, Trull, so would I.’
There were no old women to walk this field, cutting rings from fingers, stripping lightly stained clothing from stiffening corpses. There were no vultures, crows and gulls to wheel down to the vast feast. There was nothing to read of the battle now past, no sprawl of figures cut down from behind – not here, in the centre of the basin – no last stands writ in blood-splashed heaps and encircling rings of bodies. No tilted standards, held up only by the press of cold flesh, with their sigils grinning down. Only bones and gleaming iron, white teeth and glittering coins.
The settling dust was a soft whisper, gently dulling the ground and its random carpet of human and Edur detritus.
The emperor and his chosen brothers were approaching the base of the slope as Udinaas reached them. Their crossing of the field had stirred up a trail of dust that hung white and hesitant in their wake. Rhulad held his sword in his left hand, the blade wavering in the dim light. The uneven armour of gold was dark-tracked with sweat, the bear fur on the emperor’s shoulders the muted silver of clouds.
Udinaas could see in Rhulad’s face that the madness was close upon him. Frustration created a rage capable of lashing out in any direction. Behind the emperor, who began climbing up the slope to where Hannan Mosag waited, scrambled Theradas and Midik Buhn, Choram Irard, Kholb Harat and Matra Brith. All but Theradas had been old followers of Rhulad, and Udinaas was not pleased to see them. Nor, from the dark looks cast in his direction, were they delighted with the slave’s arrival.
Udinaas almost laughed. Just like the palace in Letheras, the factions take shape .
As Udinaas moved to catch up to Rhulad – who’d yet to notice him – Theradas Buhn stepped into his path as if by accident, then straight-armed the slave in the chest. He stumbled back, lost his footing, and fell onto the slope, sliding back down to its base.