The Crimson Shield Read Free Page A

belly as well, and nearly ten years of peace had done him no favours there. In his armour he was almost too much; but for all Gallow knew, the Screambreaker
was already knocking at the Maker-Devourer’s cauldron, and a Lhosir died in his armour if he could, dressed for battle with his spear in one hand and his shield in the other. That was a good
death, one the Maker-Devourer would add to his brew. Once Gallow had the Screambreaker on the back of his horse he strapped a shield to the old warrior’s arm and wrapped his limp fingers
around a knife and tied it fast with a leather thong ripped from a dead Vathan’s saddle. A sword would have been better, but swords were heavy. Chances were it would fall out and be lost and
then the Screambreaker would have nothing. A knife was at least something. The Maker-Devourer would understand that.
    The Marroc were still back in the clearing. He ought to lay out the other Lhosir dead and speak them out, tell the Maker-Devourer of their names and their deeds, but he couldn’t. He
didn’t know them. He put swords and knives into empty hands, knowing full well that the Marroc would simply loot them again as soon as he was gone. With the Screambreaker’s horse
tethered to his own, he whispered a prayer to the sky and the earth, mounted and rode away.By the time he was free of the woods, the sun was sinking towards the distant mountains of the south.
Varyxhun was up there somewhere, up in the hills, surrounded by its mighty trees and guarding what had once been a pass through the mountains to Cimmer and the Holy Aulian Empire, but that was an
old path. Nothing but the odd shadewalker had come from the empire for more than fifty years now, while the castle overlooking Varyxhun itself was said to be haunted, full of the vengeful spirits
of the last Marroc to hold out against the Screambreaker. It was said to be the home of a sleeping water-dragon too, but the Vathen wouldn’t bother with it, dragon or not. They’d stay
north and move along the coast to Andhun. If Valaric and the other Marroc wanted a fight, that’s where it would be.
I’ll be with my family
, Valaric had said, but
Valaric’s family were six wooden grave markers in a field near a village by the coast, far away to the west, and had been for years. Everyone knew that.
    He watched the sun finish creeping its way behind the distant horizon. As the stars came out, he stopped and eased Corvin to the ground and gently took away his shield. He let the horses cool
and took them to water; when he was done with that he searched their saddlebags for food for both of them and blankets for Corvin. The Screambreaker’s breathing was fast and shallow, but at
least he was still alive. Gallow forced one of his eyes open. It was rolled back so far that all Gallow could see was white. He made a fire, forced some water into the old man and ate from what
he’d found on the stolen horses.
    ‘If you die on me I’ll make a pyre if I can. I’ll miss a few things when I speak you out, I reckon. Forgive me. The sky knows there’s enough that I do know.’ He
took the Screambreaker’s hand and held it in his own.
Talk to a troubled spirit. Helps it to remember who it is
. Some witch had told him that, not long after he’d crossed the
sea. ‘They say you were a farmer once, no better than anyone else. The old ones who knew you before. Thanni Thunderhammer. Jyrdas One-Eye. Kaddaf the Roarer. Lanjis Halfborn. We listened to
all their stories. You were one of them, and you were their god too. Even then people knew you because of what you’d done, not because of a name you carried when you were born. “That a
man should somehow be better than his brothers simply because his father was rich? A Marroc nonsense. Lhosir will never stomach it.” You said that. Do you remember? I think we’d been
talking about Medrin.’ He let the Screambreaker’s hand go and poked at the fire. ‘Things were changing even before I crossed the