‘Shall never forgive you? It may be so. But she shall see me to the west first. Nothing matters more than that. Perhaps nothing shall matter after that. I shall try to make the peace with the Romans, and you must see to it that it is kept amongst our people.’
Word passed about the riders then – the command to mount and make ready. Those who dozed about the fire were being kicked awake, the horses stirring and pulling at their tied reins. Bahadur and Kai rose like drunken men, heavy legged and leaning on one another, and made their way to their mounts. And when Kai laid a hand against its neck the horse stirred, fixed one wise eye upon him and turned its head back towards the east. For they always seemed to know before a new journey, to know the mind and heart of their rider.
Bahadur tilted his head to the side – a gesture Kai had seen too many times before, when his friend was trying to piece together a story, or unpick a riddle. ‘There are men and women on the plains,’ he said, ‘who share their lovers as if they are passing wine about the fire. I wish I were one of those men. And if I were, I would want to share my wife with you. But I am not. I cannot.’
Once more, they embraced like brothers. As they parted, Kai felt the sensation of eyes upon his skin, yet when he looked about the company all were busy mounting and arming.
A thought born of darkness and fear, and no more.
A palm laid against the shoulder, light as a lover’s touch. A whisper in the ear, close enough to feel the warmth of the breath. And Kai awoke, his half-dream twisting into the world so that for a moment he thought it was Arite beside him, and he whispered her name.
Laughter in the darkness – the low chuckle of Saratos. ‘Afraid not, lad,’ the old warrior said. ‘It is your watch. You can dream of another man’s wife at a different time.’
Fully awake now, Kai took the man’s proffered hand and stumbled to his feet. They were in the deepest part of the night now, the narrowing moon half hidden by the clouds, and once more, he went to take his place as a sentry.
But something was different this time – the rich scent of pine trees filled the air as they stirred and danced with the wind above him, for they had stopped beside a copse of trees, made a brief camp up against them. And so rather than four other sentries, there was only one that he could see, a young lad half asleep in his saddle, his head lolling and swaying. And without even thinking, Kai gave his horse a gentle touch of the heels, set it forward three paces, waited.
No call came from behind, and so the horse continued, hesitating as it crossed some unseen boundary twenty paces from the camp. Kai felt it too – almost a physical pain, to part himself from the warband, from the thing they were becoming. The weak and foolish found comfort there, and those who were brave found that bravery shared and strengthened amongst the rest until it was a godly power. How hard it was to become but a man once again, when one had tasted such strength. To be just a man and a horse, alone in the night.
A parting of the clouds would undo him, a rotten branch underfoot would be traitor enough, and he waited for the snorted challenge of the horse, the call of the sentry, the questions asked to which there would be no answer. But it did not come.
It seemed that the gods favoured him, as he guided his horse around the copse, and found open ground before him. He had almost made it away when he felt that sensation once more, that feeling of eyes upon his skin.
Behind him, a shadow – a ghost, he might have thought at first, one of the dark riders that haunt the plains, hunting those foolish enough to travel alone. For those without companions were often found dead without a mark upon them, speared from their horses by some unseen lance from another world. But the clouds parted a little from the moon, and he felt a shiver of fate, and love, as he looked upon his sister’s face.
‘You had to run, didn’t you?’ said Laimei. ‘You could not, even once, do as you are commanded.’
‘You saw me go?’
‘I knew you would go. It has always been my fate, to know all the foolish and cowardly things that you will do, even before you do them.’ The horse stirred beneath her, restless. ‘I knew you would not kill our father. That you would shame us all, and I would have to take your place. To do what you could not.’
‘And I am sorry for it.’
‘That is not enough,’ she said, her eyes never leaving his. ‘Was it Bahadur who told you to do this? Some deal that you struck? Did he agree to let you share Arite in the bargain, as men might share a horse or a bowl of stew?’
‘No. I chose myself. And we share much, but not her.’
Laimei’s spear swung down in the darkness, laid across the neck of her horse – not levelled at him, not yet. ‘Come back with me,’ she said. ‘There is still time. If the others ask, we shall—’
‘I cannot do it,’ said Kai. ‘It is as it has always been. You cannot forgive me, and I cannot do as you command.’
‘And I cannot let you go.’
‘Call the others, then. You have your deserter. Call them and kill me.’
Silence answered him.
‘Is this not what you want?’ he said.
‘I do not need them. And I cannot trust them.’ Motion from the spear – a tremor passing down it, from the hands that held it. And when she spoke, it was as though she dragged up the words from some deeper part of herself, as if the words themselves came out bloody. ‘They love you more than me,’ she said. ‘Perhaps that is the worst of it. But I suppose the weak are always loved more than the strong. The way men love mewling infants, and blind puppies, and fools.’
‘They do. But that is not the only reason that they love me more than you.’ Kai reached forward, stroked the neck of his horse. To calm her, and reassure her, so that she would not blame herself for what was to come. ‘How shall we settle this?’ he said.
‘Wait for the wind to blow,’ she answered. ‘There is no need for the others to hear this.’
A touch of the reins, a shift of weight, and his horse was moving backwards, one careful duellist’s step after another, until they were far enough apart for the charge. He took the spear in both hands, looped the leather thong about his wrist. He waited.
The wind had been strong that night, great cutting gusts rolling across the long grass and through the trees. Yet now the air fell to perfect stillness, and it seemed some god held his breath, giving them a chance to change their minds.
Kai breathed in deeply, took in that beautifully sharp scent of horse sweat. It must have been one of the first things he had smelled – first the gore of birth, and then the smell of a horse. Fitting that it should be reversed now, for there would be blood in the air soon enough. Another circle closed.
A little stirring of wind. His horse’s ears flicking against it. Then a great roaring in his ears as the air tore sideways, and the horses were surging forward, the spears tilting low. No time to blink, weeping eyes held open against the wind, the movement of the horse seeming impossibly fast in the darkness.
And, just as they drew close, Kai cast his spear to the ground, and closed his eyes.
A slap of air struck his side, the clatter of armour and hard fall of the hooves passing close. But no sudden force of a blade into his chest, no unseen hand lifting him from the saddle, no hot taste of blood in his mouth. His sister riding past, her spear high in the air. Had she raised it before he cast his down, or after? Impossible to tell in the darkness.
He watched her then, to see if she would come around for another pass. But the horse was turning and wheeling, and she was stabbing at the air all about her as though surrounded in the press of battle, lunging at phantoms that only she could see, roaring and weeping as she gave one killing stroke after another into the empty air.