Unhewn Throne 01 - The Emperor's Blades(186)

Then he caught sight of the bird—Yurl’s bird. The creature had settled down to roost in a small alpine meadow a quarter mile from the main body of men.

“That ’Kent-kissing bastard’s here already!” Gwenna shouted into his ear, pointing.

Valyn nodded grimly.

Yurl must have spotted the Aedolians from the air, or they spotted him. Either way, he would have thought fast enough to realize the game was up, and come in for an easy landing. After all, the Aedolians slaughtered on the boat to Qarsh all those months ago hadn’t been known exactly who was behind the plot. These were likely no better informed. They probably thought Yurl was flying a lawful mission from the Eyrie, probably thought the son of a whore was there to help. The youth could have fed them any one of a number of plausible lies, could even now be helping to arrange a “rescue,” one that would end, undoubtedly, in a tragic accident and Kaden’s death.

Except, of course, that Yurl believed Valyn’s Wing was back on the Islands. As Hendran had written: There’s no blade as keen as surprise.

The saddle stretched between two jagged peaks, offering a passage between them and a momentary respite from the unrelenting steepness of the surrounding terrain. Deep banks of snow piled in the shadows of the most jagged escarpments, but the center of the broad notch was clear. There were even a few patches of stunted grass thrusting up between the rocks. To the east, the ground fell off abruptly—so abruptly, Valyn wondered if it was possible to descend in that direction at all—but westward, the declivity was more gradual, and a quarter mile distant, the land leveled off again for a hundred paces. There, out of the worst of the wind, the grass grew more evenly, and it was there that Yurl had tethered his bird.

The Aedolians had taken up a rough defensive position in the pass, groups of three marking out the perimeter of an uneven square. A few of the men clustered at the center of the pass hunched over a cook fire, although where they found the wood to burn, Valyn couldn’t say. Others were erecting a handful of low canvas tents, tucking them behind shoulders of rock or up small ravines—anywhere to get out of the wind. It was a messy camp, but the Aedolians couldn’t have been expecting an attack out here in the middle of the wilds, and even if a foe did materialize, the position, sloping away as it did on either side, was nearly impregnable. The men wouldn’t even need weapons; they could just trundle a few of those medium-sized boulders down the escarpment and be done with it.

Yurl, likewise, had taken minimal precautions. It took Valyn a moment to pick out the Wing leader out from among armed men, but once he spotted him, there was no mistaking that yellow hair whipping in the mountain wind. Even the way he stood was arrogant. Balendin had joined him at the center of the camp. The leach had been forced to leave his dogs behind on Qarsh, but that hawk perched on his shoulder. Not his well, though, Valyn reminded himself. Just a bird.

The leach and the Wing leader were locked in coversation with a group of Aedolians. Yurl was making broad, expansive gestures with both hands while Balendin stood stock-still at his side. Valyn wondered what kind of lies the bastard was spinning. Anna was down by the bird, and Remmel Star and Hern Emmandrake had taken up positions on opposite sides of the pass. They looked a little more vigilant than their Aedolian counterparts. Emmandrake even had an arrow notched to the string of his bow. The youth wasn’t as good as Annick, but he could hit his targets. None of it mattered. They’re looking into the valleys. Every single one of the ’Shael-spawned sons of whores is looking down.

Valyn grinned savagely, then looked over at Gwenna.

“It’s time to settle some scores.”

*

Laith landed the bird in a flurry of wings and wind, and Valyn rolled up from his dismount to find himself facing a stern Aedolian in nearly full armor. It took him a moment to place the man. He knew the face, but it had aged, of course, hardened.… Micijah Ut, he realized, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Better and better. As a small child, he had always admired the commander of the Dark Guard, and Ut, for his part, had been kind to Valyn in return. Valyn stood up a little straighter, aware that the Aedolian was seeing him as a man now for the first time.

“Commander Ut,” he said, stepping forward and extending a hand.

Instead of accepting his greeting, the huge Aedolian took a step backward, preserving the distance between them while he drew a massive broadblade from the sheath across his back. If he was shocked to find Valyn here, a continent and a half away from either Annur or the Qirins, he didn’t show it. Nor did he seem pleased.