The far door creaked open. ‘Rayvan?’
She turned to see her son, Lucas, bow in hand. ‘What is it?’
‘Riders – around fifty of them, heading for the city.’
‘Damn! How did they get past the scouts?’
‘I don’t know. Lake is gathering what men he can find.’
‘Why only fifty?’
‘They obviously don’t hold us in high account,’ said Lucas, grinning. He was a handsome lad, dark-haired but grey-eyed; with Lake he was the pick of her litter, she knew.
‘They will hold us in higher account when we’ve met them,’ she said. ‘Let’s move.’
They left the chamber and made their way along the marbled corridor and down the wide stairs to the street. Already the news had spread and Vorak was waiting for them, backed by more then fifty traders.
‘That’s it, Rayvan!’ he shouted as she came into the sunlight. ‘Your war is over.’
‘What does that mean?’ she asked, holding her temper.
‘You started all this – it’s your fault. Now we’re going to hand you over to them.’
‘Let me kill him,’ whispered Lucas, reaching for an arrow.
‘No!’ hissed Rayvan, her eyes sweeping the buildings opposite – in every window was an archer, bow bent. ‘Go back into the chamber and get out through Bakers’ Alley. Fetch Lake and do what you can to get away into Vagria. Sometime, when you can, avenge me.’
‘I won’t leave you, mother.’
‘You will do as you’re told!’
He swore, then backed away through the door. Rayvan walked slowly down the steps, her face set, her green eyes locked on Vorak. He backed away.
‘Tie her!’ he shouted, and several men rushed forward to pin Rayvan’s arms behind her back.
‘I shall come back, Vorak. From beyond the grave I shall return,’ she promised. He hit her across the face with the flat of his hand. She made no sound, but blood trickled from a split in her lip. They dragged her through the crowd as they made their way to the outer city and the plain beyond where the riders had come into view. The leader was a tall man with a cruel face. He dismounted and Vorak ran forward.
‘We have taken the traitress, sir. She led the rebellion, if such you can call it. We are innocent men, all of us.’
The man nodded and approached Rayvan. She stared into his slanted violet eyes.
‘So,’ she said softly, ‘even the Nadir ride with Ceska, do they?’
‘Your name, woman?’ he said.
‘Rayvan. Remember it, barbarian, for my sons will carve it on your heart.’
He turned to Vorak. ‘What do you suggest we do with her?’
‘Kill her! Make an example. Death to all traitors!’
‘But you are loyal?’
‘I am. I always have been. It was I who first reported the rebels in Skoda. You should know of me – I am Vorak.’
‘And these men with you, they are also loyal?’
‘None more so. Every one is pledged to Ceska.’
The man nodded, turning once more to Rayvan. ‘And how did you come to be captured, woman?’
‘We all make mistakes.’
The man lifted his hand and thirty white-cloaked riders moved out to surround the mob.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Vorak.
The man drew his sword, testing the edge with his thumb. He spun on his heel, the blade flashed out and Vorak’s head tumbled from his neck, eyes wide with horror.
The head bounced at the man’s feet as Vorak’s body collapsed to the grass, blood pumping from his neck. The men in the crowd fell to their knees, begging for mercy.
‘Silence!’ bellowed a black-masked giant who sat a bay gelding. The noise subsided, though here and there the sound of sobbing could still be heard.
‘I have no wish to kill you all,’ said Tenaka Khan. ‘So you will be taken to the valley and released to make your peace with the Legion. I wish you luck – I sincerely believe you will need it. Now get up and move out.’
Herded by The Thirty, the men began to walk to the east as Tenaka untied Rayvan’s arms.
‘Who are you?’ she asked.
‘Tenaka Khan, of the line of the Earl of Bronze,’ he answered, bowing.