He quickly scurried off when Vaelin took the reins.
“Chek,” the veteran said, tossing Vaelin’s sword onto the ground at his feet. He glanced over his shoulder at the mounted warrior some fifty yards away and spared Vaelin a thin smile before stomping away.
“Eager are you?” Vaelin asked Derka and received a snorted spatter of mucous in response. “Then I’m sorry to disappoint.” Vaelin dropped the reins and stepped away. “I always fought better on foot.”
He strode forward several paces, drawing his sword and casting away the scabbard. He scanned the crowd until he found Kehlbrand, standing amongst his ardent coterie of disparate followers on a raised platform at the edge of the makeshift arena. Vaelin had expected more speeches, more righteous condemnation of the Fire Queen’s assassin. But none came, the Mestra-Skeltir standing with his arms crossed and watching Vaelin with an expression of solemn rectitude.
Coming to a halt, Vaelin rested the sword’s blade on his shoulder and stood regarding the mounted warrior in expectant silence. Obvar remained immobile for a time, a frown of consternation drawing his heavy brows together. He wore no armour, only a loose jerkin of black cotton, a large, broad-bladed sabre in hand. With a grunt he kicked his tall stallion into a trot, coming to a halt a dozen yards away.
“You think I won’t ride you down?” he asked Vaelin. “You think I have any interest in giving these worthless fucks a show?” He jerked his head at the crowd. “The sooner I kill you the sooner we march for the Merchant Realms, the one thing I wanted all my life . . .”
“What did the song show you?” Vaelin broke in.
Obvar’s mouth clamped shut, throat swelling as he choked down fresh words. Vaelin suspected this may have been the first time in his life he had tasted true fear, but not of combat.
“It told me many truths,” Vaelin went on. “Truths I didn’t want to hear . . .”
“Shut up,” Obvar murmured, his bemusement rapidly turning to anger.
“That was her gift,” Vaelin said. “She came all this way knowing it would cost her life, just to reveal the truth to your people.”
Obvar’s fingers flexed on the hilt of his sabre, his horse letting out a shrill whinny of anticipation. “Shut up,” he repeated through gritted teeth.
“He is not a god.” Vaelin’s finger stabbed towards Kehlbrand. “You are not part of a divine mission. All the slaughter you have done is worthless. You are a killer in service to a liar . . .”
“Shut up!”
Obvar scraped his heels against his stallion’s ribs, spurring him into a gallop. Earth rose in clods as he closed in, leaning low in the saddle, teeth bared and sabre drawn back for an upward sweep. He was a skilled rider and swordsman, but his rage made him incautious, his charge too fast to allow for a change of course as Vaelin dived to the side, rolled to his knees and brought his sword round to slash the stallion’s rear leg. The animal managed to veer away a little before the blade connected, so it failed to sever the limb, but still left a wound severe enough to send the beast into a panicked stumble. It whirled, screaming and legs flailing, before collapsing several yards away. Vaelin sprinted towards the thrashing animal, leaping over it with sword raised high, bringing it down with enough force to tear open Obvar’s rib cage.
The sword’s star-silver edge sparked and gave forth a near-musical ring as it met Obvar’s sabre. He was on one knee, having rolled clear of his struggling mount, staring up at Vaelin through the crossed blades.
“Nice trick,” he hissed through gritted teeth.
He moved with a swiftness that should have been beyond a man of his size, jerking Vaelin’s sword free of his own, then twisting and lashing out with his boot. It caught Vaelin full in the chest, sending him into the midst of the stallion’s still-flailing hooves. He suffered two glancing blows before scrambling clear, dragging air into winded lungs. Obvar leapt over the horse, sabre held level with his head in a two-handed grip. He lunged as his feet met the ground, the sabre aimed at Vaelin’s neck. The thrust was strong and Vaelin grunted with the effort of forcing it aside, feeling the sting of the edge as it scraped over his shoulder. He ducked as Obvar whirled, the sabre slicing air, then flicked his sword point at the Stahlhast’s eyes. He dodged in time to avoid