So far, no opportunity had arisen, and Regulus knew Janto was growing to resent his obligation. There was no guarantee of his loyalty once that debt was paid, and so Regulus was loath to turn his back on the warrior.
‘The men of the Clawless Tribes are in need of warriors and their king most of all,’ Regulus continued. ‘A man does not sit on a throne for so long and not gather enemies. If we can prove to him our loyalty, then he will accept us.’
‘You are so sure?’
Regulus shook his head. ‘No. But what alternative do we have?’
Janto’s blue eyes suddenly lit up. ‘We make a stand here. We fight. We die with honour.’
‘And who will tell of it, Janto? Who will sing of our glorious defeat? Might we not just be forgotten? That is not the legacy I would leave.’
Regulus found himself fiercely gripping the sword that lay across his knees. Though he disagreed with Janto, a part of him that was eager to take his advice – to stand and fight. Yet it would only end with his passage to the stars and another life, whilst there was so much he had still to achieve in this one.
He had to exact vengeance before he stood before Ancient Gorm.
Their scout, Akkula, came running from his post up at the valley mouth and the two warriors rose as he approached.
‘They’re coming,’ said Akkula breathlessly. ‘The Kel’tana hunters are closing in on us. No more than two leagues across the valley.’
Regulus turned to his men who had already stopped making camp. He saw their exhaustion and felt their pain, their yearning for this constant flight to end. Yes, they could make a stand here, could even wait in ambush, but more than likely they would be defeated. It would not be a heroic end. If they continued to flee, eventually there might just be some opportunity for glory, a chance to salvage a spark of honour and pride.
‘We travel through the night,’ Regulus said.
Some of his men showed their displeasure, but they all gathered their weapons obediently. Leandran led them off once more – the oldest amongst them seeming to hold the most vigour.
‘We can’t keep running forever,’ said Janto, before Regulus started after his warriors. ‘They’ll catch us eventually.’
Regulus looked to him with steel in his green eyes. ‘Then you will get your wish, Janto Sho. And we will all receive the deaths we deserve.’
Janto held his stare for some moments before lowering his eyes and running after the rest. After a last glance back to the mountains, towards his relentless pursuers, Regulus followed.
They had told Janessa that no seat of power was built for comfort. After so many days on Skyhelm’s stone throne she could well believe it. She was Queen Janessa now, Sovereign of Steelhaven and the Free States, Protector of Teutonia and Keeper of the Faith of Arlor. But she didn’t feel much different. How could she suddenly be more regal? Prouder of bearing? As wise as her father? People now expected so much of her. Janessa only hoped that she would find in herself some of her father’s wisdom.
For weeks now she had struggled with the responsibilities of statehood and monarchy, and demands from men of importance who seemed reluctant to make their own decisions. Janessa found it ironic that such men, who had spent their lives striving to attain power, had seemingly buckled under the demands of that power, needing to defer tough decisions to a higher authority. She guessed most of them desired less the responsibilities of office and more its inevitable rewards.
Janessa herself had hardly wished for this great responsibility, but for her there had been no choice.
There had been entreaties from all across the Free States: from Lord Governor Argus of Coppergate and from the High Abbot in Ironhold, both terrified the Khurtas would besiege their cities; from Lord Cadran of Braega, or more likely his aunts who held the power there, for more troops to defend their lands as the Khurtas rampaged through. But no troops could be spared – the bannermen of Steelhaven had been forced into a rearguard action, only partially hampering the tide of savages as they laid waste to the land.
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