All four warbands watched on as the Brakin corps leaders swore their fealty. The traditional oath ended with, "What would you have of us, Ragnyr?"
And Temris just smiled. "For now, nothing. You have today and tomorrow to do as you like. Solstice begins in a few hours. Enjoy."
That earnt him another cheer from the men. Free time was apparently enough of an incentive to keep them cheering even as their leader made his way over to where we stood. To my surprise, he walked straight past the Iyrak, and in full view of the hushed army, he took my hand and led me away.
We walked back to the same fire-pit. I was beginning to suspect this might be the campfire that the corps sat around every evening, even if it was currently deserted. There were layers of cold ashes beneath the current blaze, and a few dirty cookpots from last night's supper were strewn around the edge.
We all formed a ragged circle on the grass. I ended up between Temris and Samira, rather unsurprisingly. Before I had even crossed my legs, Bevan began passing a skin of ale around. I took a deep swig and felt the alcohol immediately go to my head.
"To that treacherous prick," Anlai toasted. "Good riddance."
We drank happily to that, but Temris seemed solemn. "He didn't deserve to die."
"Come on, Ragnyr. The man tried to fillet you with an illegal blade," Fendur pointed out. We could all see the tear and smear of red on his shirt where Yarrow's dagger had grazed him. It was across his ribs, a handspan above the scar from his father's challenge.
He shrugged. "It wasn't a very good effort. The pommel was showing — I noticed it before we even began fighting."
It had looked like a damn good effort from where I was standing. But then again, I was merely an ignorant peasant, oblivious to the ways of battle.
"That's all well and good, Tem. He did manage to get a few hits in, though," I said as I used my waterskin to soak a scrap of cloth. He didn't resist when I tipped his face towards me and wiped the blood from it.
Yarrow's punch had split his lip in more than one place. I slipped a hand around the back of his head to hold it in place while I cleaned the gash and inspected it. The bet only counted for romantic advances, apparently — he had touched me several times already today.
"I think I'll live, little one," he told me. "Now here's the plan. Tomorrow at dawn, we leave for Canton. So try not to get too hungover. Command in my absence goes to you, Sami. You may share the burden with Hallos and Bevan if you so choose. March the army to Taiga, take it with minimal loss of life and then return home in time for harvest."
"Me?" Samira asked incredulously. "Not Anlai?"
"You," Temris confirmed. "Should anything happen to me, you have my blessing to compete in the melee."
I couldn't help but smile. He had made the right choice and named a successor who might genuinely want the position. Samira was young, but by the gods, she could fight.
She choked. "You can't be serious. There's never been a female Ragnyr. Not in all of history."
"Then it is about time we changed that, don't you think?"
Samira smiled as well. She still didn't quite seem to believe it. "Thank you, brother."
"Don't thank me — I'm not doing you a favour," he drawled. "You earnt this."
Before long, Temris got dragged into a discussion about melee tactics with his cousin. I quite happily turned to my other neighbour and asked the question I should have asked days ago. "So, what is Solstice, exactly? Why does everyone love it so much?"
We hadn't celebrated it in the village. There had been feasts at the spring and autumn equinox to mark planting and harvest respectively. That had been about it. Aside from a small gift in our birth-moon and the occasional new toy on market days, we had led a firmly boring life of routine, completely devoid of parties.
Samira leant in close to answer, perhaps aware of her little brother's presence. While Glyn was currently conversing with Bevan, I wouldn't put it past him to be listening in. She said, "Solstice is famous for ... coupling. We drink and dance until dusk, at which point everyone seeks a little more privacy. It's a night when tradition dictates men and women should ... well, I assume you've caught the drift."
"Oh." I felt my cheeks flush with heat. "That's, um ... an odd custom."
She laughed at me. "You have no idea. It gets very wild. Well, it does in Sierra. Here there are ten men to every woman and I suspect most of them will have to ... ah, make do, shall we say?"
"And do you have a special someone?"
Samira gave me a look which said it all. "Not particularly. I imagine I'll find a man before the end of the night. Half of the Creitons are handsome devils, you know."
"You Sierrans aren't so bad yourselves," I commented, looking at Temris. Such a pity that we had made the bet before Solstice. Maybe I would just have to settle with someone else.
She wrinkled up her nose. "If you're planning to share my brother's bed, would you mind leaving me out of it? I don't need to know that horse shit."
"Sorry," I murmured. "I can only imagine how that feels."
"Uncomfortable is a good word."
We ate lunch around the campfire. Damper bread and leftover stew, all prepared by Colloe. He had a surprising talent for cooking. I dug into the dense bread and inhaled the meaty broth. With five grown men and four not-so-big-but-still-ravenous others, we got through a huge amount of food. Poor Colloe was mixing dough for an hour straight.
The rest of the day passed quickly enough. I sorted through another heap of reports on everything from smoked herring to arrow stocks. There were more raiding parties moving out from Taiga, burning and pillaging everything in their path. Lord Ulric and the dozen other rebel Cambrians were moving their armies to the city and preparing for a siege. Our northerners would help secure that victory when they arrived. Even the southern aldermen were finally stirring themselves to reclaim their city and defend the coastline from Anglian attacks. All in all, it was good news.
Rory appeared and stayed in the tent for as long as it took to collect Temris's sword for cleaning. He claimed to have watched the challenge from the ridges with the rest of the men. I stayed in the bedroom compartment for the duration of his visit, unsure whether I would rip out his throat on sight. Colloe, with a dignified subtlety, repositioned his seat to block my route to the boy in case I spontaneously attacked. I tried not to take too much offence at his faith in me — since my visit to the Anglian prisoners had gone so disastrously.
And Fendur refused to go to bed the entire time, despite his increasingly frequent yawns. He said he would sleep after Solstice and not before.
One letter, Temris opened himself. It bore the royal seal and had arrived by courier during the challenge. He read it aloud, "Regarding Temris Ragnyrsbane, son of Lanak Sihonslayer and Custodian of the Northern Warbands ... blah, blah, blah. Such impressive titles, aren't they? It's the Anglian fashion to name a man after his father. We think it's ridiculous — no one chooses their sire."
"And you're a custodian now?" Fendur laughed. "What the hell does that even mean? His Magnificence, Lord of Pudding."
"I'm sure the word doesn't actually have anything to do with custard," Colloe assured us. "It might be an Anglian term for warden, if I remember correctly."
"I'm sure Fendur was joking. Anyway, listen to this. 'You are required to account for your recent actions at the Anglian Pass. Reports have indicated your presence there, against the wishes of our prestigious leader. Charges of treason are being brought to your name, regarding a royal army which met with an untimely fate in the above-named location. It is the king's wish that you should appear at the Anglian capital to face judgement on this matter. Kindly send your response at your earliest possible convenience so the proper preparations can be made for your arrival.'"
My face scrunched up in concentration. "That's a very long-winded way of saying I know you killed my men so get your ass to Belmery."
Fendur grinned wickedly. "Yes, well, the Anglians are known for their wind, let us say."
Temris tried to hide his own smile. "Oh, grow up. On the bright side, our plan is working. I now have a sparkling invitation to the city in which Herox currently resides."
"And on the down side, you're accused of high treason. The penalty for that is death, Ragnyr. They don't have ordeals in Anglia. There's no wriggling out of it," Colloe said.
"You underestimate my wriggling abilities, old friend."
"How?" I asked. "You are guilty twice over, and he can prove it. How can you possibly expect to walk away from that with your head attached to your shoulders?"
He regarded me rather suspiciously. "I suppose you will just have to wait and see."
The arrival of the two Brakin Iyrak interrupted our conversation. They had been summoned without my knowledge. I hadn't seen them at the challenge either, but they would have been there somewhere — watching helplessly as the man they had sworn to protect died. I might have even felt sorry for them ... had I not remembered yesterday's attempt on my life.
"Ah, there you are." Temris leant back in his chair. His face drained of all emotion as he took on the irreproachable mask of the warlord. I was beginning to see the pattern — Temris was all bravado and danger around his army, yet playful and easy with his friends. I wasn't sure which personality I enjoyed more.
"Ragnyr."
The taller Iyrak inclined his head while the other stared resolutely ahead. Temris didn't seem to care either way. His tone was the epitome of cold indifference. "My condolences, gentlemen. I know you grew up with Yarrow."
"Grew up with him, fought beside him, should have died for him," the first Iyrak sighed. "Yet even Iyrak can't protect a warlord from himself. You know, I think he truly believed he was doing the right thing."
"Don't we all?" Temris asked.
"Is that what you thought you were doing when you put a sword in your father's heart, Ragnyrsbane?"
The second Iyrak took a step forward, which had Fendur and Colloe on their feet in an instant. Now I understood why both of them had stuck around — to make it a fair fight, should it come to that. Temris continued to lounge in his chair, not even shifting his gaze to the threat. For a moment, I was worried, but then the Iyrak's comrade put a hand on his shoulder.
"Enough, brother," he commanded. "You know as well as I do — we are only alive because of that."
He didn't listen. The Iyrak shoved Fendur backwards a step, even as Colloe seized his collar. Only when the man's hand slipped to his sword hilt did Temris finally deign to look up. "You are dismissed."
Then, to his own Iyrak, "Get him out of my sight."
"As you say, Ragnyr," Colloe and Fendur said at the same time.
With some difficulty, they extracted the instigator from the tent, leaving the three of us alone. I remained in my corner, watching and waiting. Temris stood up slowly to look the taller of Yarrow's Iyrak in the eye. "You seem a reasonable man. A sensible man. Yarrow is dead — you are free of your blood vow. And by happy coincidence, I need someone to keep the Brakins in line. There is understandably a degree of unrest amongst your warband."
"Some of the men are ... riled, it's true," he agreed. "They would not dare start anything on Solstice, though."
"All the same, I would like for you to keep an eye on the situation."
"And what exactly," the Iyrak said, smirking now, "would I get out of this?"
Temris narrowed his eyes and I knew they had reached the inevitable stage of the conversation where the Iyrak would try and flex his muscles. Every interaction up until this point had been the Iyrak trying to prove himself cooperative. He was an influential figure among the Brakin Warband who now wanted the best out of a bad situation.
"Firstly, you won't get your bloody head ripped off for trying to kill Lyra. Is that enough of an incentive?"
I tried and failed to keep myself from laughing. He had obviously not forgotten that particular occasion, even if I was beginning to.
The Iyrak shot me a disgruntled glare before continuing. "You won't kill me for following an order — which, may I remind you, was given by a man to whom I was bloodsworn — in exchange for a lifetime of service?"
"Not quite," Temris disagreed. "Did you try and kill me? No. It's not my vengeance to collect. But, in exchange for your service, I will do my absolute best to stop Lyra killing you."
"Oh, please, Tem," I purred. "You couldn't even protect yourself from me. How are you going to save this piece of goat shit?"
They both turned toward me. Temris took of advantage of the Iyrak's decreased line of sight to wink at me. We had played this game before, and I was only too happy to play it again.
"I only said I would do my best..."
I smirked. "Which isn't quite good enough, is it? Need I remind you what happened with Yarrow at the paddocks? Fighting two Iyrak and a warlord to get at another Iyrak wouldn't be so much of a stretch after that."
"Did you just threaten the Ragnyr's life?" Fendur asked, his hand drifting to his sword hilt. To the Brakin, he would have appeared furious. Yet I could see a glimmer in his eyes which told me he knew what we were doing, and he wanted in.
"Threatened it, laid claim to it, disregarded it — however you want to phrase it," I drawled.
Fendur took a step towards me and Temris had to intervene, putting a hand on his shoulder. The air crackled with tension, so much so that I had to remind myself they were acting. "Ah, ah. None of that. Lyra's mine."
The Brakin Iyrak's eyes widened and his face drained of colour as he finally took the bait. "Lyra is ... your Valkyr?"
"She will be. Didn't you know?" Temris's tone was so casual, so innocent.
"Yarrow said she was just a bedwarmer, Ragnyr, I swear. I... I didn't know. We would never have let him—"
"Oh, that explains a lot," he interrupted. "Because I couldn't quite fathom how stupid you must be to have attacked a future Valkyr in her own camp."
The Iyrak swallowed. His pride unbent as he bowed stiffly towards me. "My most sincere apologies, m'lady. I acted on my Ragnyr's orders without knowledge of your status. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I will happily serve Sierra until the end of my days."
I took on an indifferent expression. "I suppose I could forgive it, just this once. We shall see how well you keep your people in line..."
He rose back to his full height, yet somehow, he seemed shorter than before. "As you say. There will be no more trouble from Brakin, I swear it."
Temris waved him out. "If you fulfil that promise, I will guarantee the independence of your people after this war. You will be free to hold a melee and raise a new warlord. And Yarrow's widow and children will be well looked after. They may even keep his ascension tithe, if they wish, for I have no need of it."
"Thank you, Ragnyr," the Iyrak said. He left smiling.
Yet Colloe shook his head in exasperation. "Only you, Ragnyr, could give a man a thankless chore and convince him you're doing him a favour."
Temris smirked. "What are you talking about? I spared his life, didn't I?"
"Oh, Lyra was never going to kill him. You knew that, she knew that, hell, even he knew that," Colloe argued.
I raised an eyebrow. "Any evidence?"
"The second Iyrak is still breathing, and he played as much part in the attempt on your life."
He had a point.
"I literally just promised independence and protection for Brakin," Temris sighed, rather unhelpfully.
"Which you were already going to do." Colloe waved a half-written letter. "You had me write to Yarrow's corps an hour ago."
"Yes, well" —Temris scowled— "he didn't know that, did he?"
Colloe stepped back slightly, perhaps sensing his intrusion. "All I'm saying is that you're treading a thin line here."
"Then it's a blessing I have such good balance, and a shame my feet are so big."
Fendur and I laughed at that, but Colloe remained sullen. "You know, now you've told an Iyrak that you're going to marry Lyra, word will spread, and you might just have to do it."
Tem smiled. "Oh, what hardship. Just think — being forced to bed such a beautiful girl."
And despite every effort to the contrary, I found myself flushing.