his tunic where buttons had once been, and the wine-stains on the fabric. He didn’t remember putting that tunic on; his memory was a jangled mess. Only Tila’s face was clear.
What happened then, the glass arrow, was in the distant past, as was the duel he’d fought with the Elf. There were clouds in his mind, after that, voices talking over one another, faces overlaid with pain and blood, someone shouting in his ear, tentative hands leading him through the streets, faces filled with horror and terror . . . such a long time ago . . .
There was a sound behind him, a click and creaking. Once he had been able to recognise the noise of a door opening. Now, he didn’t turn. The sound belonged to a different time, one where Tila lived. Nothing mattered now. As a voice began to speak he tuned it out, staring, unfocused, at the wine-stains. The words flowed over him unheard as the ache behind his eyes sharpened with every beat of his absent heart. The sound filled his ears and rattled his ribs long after the voice stopped and he realised he was alone with his pain again.
‘She can’t be gone,’ he muttered, ‘she can’t be.’ But no matter how often he repeated the words, the hollowness in his belly remained and he knew the words were a lie. His God-given strength was useless against such overwhelming power. Karkarn’s iron general was surrounded and helpless; his forces were broken, his stratagem in tatters. He had been defeated. Nothing was left but pain —
The cloud of shadows was suddenly thrown back and Vesna felt an explosion of pain in his head as he was thrown sideways onto the floor. He crumpled, content to lie there, even as the years of training tried to cut in and force him to stand.
‘Get up, you useless streak of piss!’ yelled a voice. ‘On your feet, soldier!’
Vesna found himself dragged upright as he stared blindly at blurs that lurched and swayed. Before he could focus on anything he felt a hand slap him across the face with enough force to snap his head back.
‘You pathetic, fucking drunk! You shame her memory, boy!’ the voice roared, choked with rage.
Tila. Energies caught life inside him, sparking like a lit fuse, and Vesna caught the next blow with one hand and struck out with the other, trying to shove his attacker away. From somewhere his sword slapped into his palm and then the blur disappeared from his eyes.
In front of him stood Marshal Carelfolden, his face red with rage, and Sir Dace, his cheek yellow with old bruising.
‘Get out,’ Vesna growled.
Sir Dace opened his mouth to reply, but Carel beat him to it. ‘Fuck off, you whining little brat! You want to be alone? You get out.’
Vesna took a step forward, power flooding though his body as the lit match became a mighty flame. ‘Get out or I’ll kill you,’ he growled.
Carel raised his head slightly, like a duellist en guarde. He held a long log in his hand, the one he’d smashed around Vesna’s skull. ‘Go on then, you damned coward. You can kill me, but don’t think you frighten me.’
‘I will kill you.’ Vesna raised his sword.
Carel spat on the floor at Vesna’s feet and tossed the log aside. ‘What are you waiting for then? I spent years around Isak and his temper; your grief’s nothing new. Want me to count the number of times he threatened me? From his thirteenth summer, that boy was strong enough to kill any man in the wagon train, and I’ve got the scars to prove his temper - and so does’ - he faltered momentarily, but caught himself - ‘and so did he.’ The rage in his eyes lessened, to be replaced by something Vesna recognised.
When Carel continued it was in a much quieter voice, though he was no less defiant. ‘You ain’t the only one who’s lost here, Vesna. You ain’t the only one who grieves for Tila.’
‘What do you want from me?’ Vesna asked.
Carel shook his head and his shoulder sagged. Now more than ever he looked the old man he was. ‘There’s no one here can tell you what to do. You’ve got to figure that out yourself - but if you just sit there I’ll keep swinging this log ’til your brains spill out or you gut me.’
‘Is this some sort of joke?’ Vesna said in bewilderment. ‘Just get out and leave me alone.’