They rode south for Dun Sobairche the following morning. Bee was loathing the thought of the ride’s distance. Forty leagues was a long time to be in the saddle for someone with a soft butt. Forty leagues in the company of two men she was pretty sure she couldn’t trust. One of them, at least. Forty leagues. They would do well to complete the ride in three days. But that would be three long days. It was more likely to be four, especially if she wanted to be able to sit when they arrived.

  And at the end, a bore to suck up to.

  The capital of West Kingdom was known as a thriving community; the townsfolk were rich, and the Ochall dynasty was famous throughout the Kingdoms. When she asked, Dorn told her that the current King Ochall was the most recent in a long line of Kings called Ochall, and if he was anything like those Bee had met, the most ignorant, self-centred prig in all the Kingdoms; a place that didn’t lack for ignorant and self-centred prigs. She couldn’t see any room for improvement over the centuries she’d been sleeping. The dynasty believed in keeping the wealth they raped from the diamond mines in the Western Wastes within the immediate family, so they often married first cousins and the like. The kings didn’t see the problems inherent in marrying immediate family. It was their subjects who saw them; suffered because of them.

  “Tell me about this rebel, Ruirech,” Bee said to Dorn, more out of a desire to pass the time than any genuine interest. Pass the time or take my mind off a certain dynasty? Surprisingly, the ring fighter’s face lit up as much as any face put through a grain mill could, and she smiled. In contrast, Finn tutted and rode ahead as if scouting the route.

  Ye ain’t fooling me, she said to herself, glaring at the tracker’s back. The more she thought it through, the more she was convinced Finn and the brute riding beside her were already acquainted. Finn wasn’t the tracker that the Chief claimed. His weapons skill put him in the warrior sect, sure as hens lay eggs. Raising the question of why Dagda said otherwise. And what else has he lied to me about? And what was Finn doing while I froze me butt cheeks off? And what was he doing the wrong side of the crag?

  She was used to the Chief’s subterfuge and secretive ways, but she failed to see the benefit on this occasion. All right, it made sense for her Master to have multiple spoons in the cauldron. With that said, surely it would be better to let them work together rather than butting heads whenever they tried to turn.

  “He’s a real character,” Dorn said, breaking her thoughts. “When the King, the one who got a slap from me as a prince, freed the Fomorii warriors from his thraldom and gave them tracts of land, forcing the landowners out of their homes. They came to the forest in their droves, and Ruirech declared war. I have never seen such a young man take such a stance. It made me proud.”

  “I apologise for saying it, but ye don’t seem the type, so ye don’t.”

  “What type would that be?” he asked.

  She wanted to say the type to show loyalty, but instead said, “The type who adopts the son of a former liege. Didn’t yer oath die with this Tadg mac Cein?” Nothing but a bloodthirsty rogue, I don’t doubt.

  “Maybe,” Dorn said, looking thoughtful. “The truth is, being saved from a hanging changed me. I realised life can be very short, and a person needs to do something worthwhile. I can’t see anything more worthwhile. One day, Ruirech will be king, which Middle Kingdom needs.”

  “why do they need this Ruirech?”

  “Balor is not a good king. He thinks too much about hunting and whoring. Ruirech is different.”

  “Ye seem very sure.”

  “I am. Ruirech was brought up with values. King Balor has miscalculated. Elevating his warriors at the cost of the people was a huge error.”

  Bee mulled over the words as she watched Finn ride back into sight.

  “Something’s afoot,” the non-tracker said, drawing rein beside them.

  “How so?” Bee asked, stopping her horse and patting its neck.

  “You can’t see over the rise, but a mass of refugees is moving up the road. Never seen so many unwashed bodies in one place. You won’t believe the stink, I reckon.”

  Bee watched where Finn was indicating. Slowly, the crowd of humanity shuffling up the road came into view. The majority were pulling wains piled high with possessions. Some few had horses or donkeys to do the pulling, but those were the minority. All the people were downcast, even the children, who she thought would be playing beside the road as they moved north.

  “Where are ye going?” she asked the first man as he pulled his wain aside to let them pass.

  “North Kingdom,” he called. “Taking ship in Airne.”

  “Why?”

  “King Ochall’s closed The Gap, bodalán that he is,” the man hissed before pulling his wain back onto the road and turning his back.

  “That’s not what I meant,” she said, but the man was already out of hearing.

  “What did you mean?” Dorn asked.

  “What’re they running from? Is there a war we ain’t heard of?”

  “It’s coming,” Dorn said. “I doubt it’s arrived yet, but it is definitely coming.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “I thought the war was between Balor and yer Ruirech.”

  “That’s how it started. It’s not how it will end. The kings always band together when one is threatened. It’s the way of the Kingdoms.”

  Bee nodded, but Finn was sceptical, explaining, “Just after the last Scourge, when Eterscel the Great died, King Ochall, whatever regnal number he had, I can’t remember, sent Indech Mor to take Dun Ailinne. When he took the citadel, instead of handing it to his king, the warrior kept it. Declared himself the King of Middle Kingdom. That’s the way of kings everywhere, not just in the Kingdoms.”

  ***

  The road to Dun Sobairche remained full of refugees for the days it took them to reach the city. As such, they arrived during the middle of the fourth day after leaving Bacca. They were tired and irritable as a group, but Bee’s mood was much worse than the others’ because she thought she knew what awaited them in the citadel.

  When they rode over the last hill before the city, they were met by the sight of hundreds of tents pitched before the hill on which the city stood. The prevailing wind was from the south, and the stench from the city of tents made Bee gag. The gates were barred, and the battlements bristled with the spears of the city guard.

  “What in the name of the Tuatha is going on here?” Finn asked.

  From their vantage point, they could see that the Eastern Road was as packed with a shuffling mass of humanity as the Bacca Road. It seemed that those who lived in the east were heading to the capital in search of succour, while those from the areas around the capital were heading for the northern ports and North Kingdom, putting the Narrow Sea between them and whatever trouble was about to erupt. As usual, when kings decided to act, it was the commoners who suffered. Bee didn’t need the insight of a seer to know what would happen when so many gathered in one place without enough food or water and inadequate sanitation. Pestilence.

  “Seems to me like these folk have no faith in their leaders,” Dorn said.

  “Aye. Can you blame them?” Finn said. “There’s been a feud between West and Middle Kingdoms since Indech betrayed King Ochall. Ruirech might have started the latest battle, but this war has been going on for centuries.”

  When they arrived at the gate, a burly guard captain stood before the closed studded oak barriers with a scowl and his arms crossed. Bee had no doubt that the man failed to understand how far down he was in the chain that started with his king.

  “We’re here to see King Ochall,” she said.

  “Are you? And what makes you think the King would see you? Not that I care what you think. Just curious.”

  “I think you fail to see the evidence of your eyes,” Dorn hissed. “I am an emissary of King Ruirech—”

  “King who? Never heard of no King Ruirech.”

  “Maybe not, but I can guarantee that King Ochall has. Do you want to risk the ire of your king? I’ve heard he can be unpredictable.”

  The captain took his chin between a finger and thumb and gazed at them questioningly for many moments. Bee was starting to think someone they couldn’t see had hexed him before he finally said, “You wait here. I’ll send a runner.”

  As the guard slipped through the wicket gate, Bee said, “Ochall will give us the same answer, I fear.”

  “I’m not sure,” the brute said. “He will have heard of Ruirech and see him as an ally in his coming conflict. At the least, he will want to get the measure of Ruirech by interrogating me.”

  Bee nodded, unable to fault the ring fighter’s logic. In the back of her mind, though, she thought Ochall might be beyond logical thought.

  The delay was surprisingly short before the captain returned and told them to tie their horses on the rail beside the gate. “Too many folk blocking the streets for horses to be possible,” he said in explanation as he led them into the city.

  The noise and stink made her stop and stare, mouth agape. With her memories of Dun Sobairche, she hadn’t expected anything like the privation before her. She remembered it as a place of narrow streets and dark alleys, but they were well-tended. Now, all she could see and smell was rot and sewage.

  Forcing their way through the throng of humanity towards the interior keep, Bee began to wonder about her misgivings. She’d thought the tent city outside the walls was because Ochall was being petty or perhaps keeping the city for those who owned the diamonds. Now, seeing all the suffering, Bee realised that not letting anyone else in was for the benefit of the people. What she saw in the cramped, narrow streets was a breeding ground for disease.

  “This won’t end well, I reckon,” Finn said as he stepped over an old woman sitting with her back propped against a wall. Bee nodded, grimacing at the saliva dripping from the woman’s mouth. Although her eyes were open, they were staring in sightlessness. Everywhere she looked, there were similar sights of those on the cusp of death, and somehow beyond caring.

  “Do wars ever end well?” she asked.

  The tracker turned to her with a confused expression, as if he thought such a sentiment from a witch to be strange. There was no time for him to respond before the captain ushered them into the keep and led them towards the dais in Ochall’s throne room. As she remembered, the room was large and square with a massive fireplace behind the dais. Despite it not being cold for a winter’s day, the fire roared. Bee could feel the heat dancing on her face as they neared the King.

  “Sire,” Dornalai said, dropping to one knee.

  Bee would not usually make obeisance to a human, but on this occasion, she saw sense in swallowing her pride and knelt, pulling Finn with her.

  “Guard Captain Hefeydd said you are the envoy of Ruirech, this rebel from the Great Forest.”

  Bee studied the King from under lowered brows. He seemed a man weighed down with the worries of a state in crisis, but not a man bereft of his senses. He was neither fat nor jowly, as she remembered his ancestors being, and he spoke with a quiet, confident voice.

  “Yes, Sire.”

  “And what does he want?”

  “Ruirech sees your old enemy sitting on his ancestor’s throne, mistreating his people, and thinks you and he might work together to resolve the coming conflict as allies.”

  Ochall frowned down at the brute for what seemed an age before he finally responded, “If you had come sooner, it might have been possible. Now, however, I have ordered the closing of The Gap. The…” the King hesitated, perhaps thinking of the best way to describe Balor without appearing petty. His hesitation was beginning to grate before he finally concluded his thought. “The descendant of Indech has been threatening me if I do not side with him against this Ruirech. I have ordered the construction of a wall without a gate—”

  “But how will we get through?” Bee interrupted.

  Frowning at her, Ochall said, “You can be lowered into Middle Kingdom by a pulley, but you will have to walk the rest of the way from there, as it is not currently possible to lift horses over the wall. Eventually, there will be pulleys in place, but not yet. Why do you even need to get through The Gap? But putting that aside, who are you? I am guessing that you are not here on behalf of Ruirech unless, of course, the Fae have allied with the rebel.”

  “I’m a Fae messenger. I’m travelling to the druid Myrddin with messages from my Master.”

  Ochall scowled at her before he said, “Myrddin, eh. You would do well to stay away from him. He has become…” Again, the King paused. “Unpredictable,” he finally concluded.

  “In what way?” Bee asked.

  “He has taken control of the castle at Breslech Mor and declared himself a necromancer.”