Empire of Ashes

Chapter IV - Friends and Foes

At one of the gaping entrances to the camp, Temris caught Nightmare's bridle again. He lifted me from the saddle and lowered me to the ground with surprising gentleness. Although my aching muscles appreciated his effort, I would have preferred a choice in the manner of dismounting.

Without releasing me, he looked to our companions. "Col, go and get some sleep. I don't need you until dawn tomorrow. Bevan, you know what to do with Nightmare."

"Is that his name now?" Bevan laughed.

"I can't think of anything better. Can you?" the warlord retorted, and the young man shook his head as he led the stallion away. Colloe followed in his wake. And then it was just the two of us, and we were headed for the very centre of camp, where I had stolen Nightmare in the first place.

A dozen paces in, Temris decided I could be trusted to walk without the hindrance of his grip on my arm. I took the opportunity to wander towards the cook tents, hoping he could take a not-so-subtle hint. The last time I had eaten was a day ago. Before I could get far, he caught the back of my belt and dragged me back to him.

"You don't want any of that muck," he told me. "I have some leftover game pie in my tent if you can wait a few more minutes."

It was too far beneath me to say thank you, even though the manners my mother drilled into me were demanding it. Game pie was a luxury I had never had before — farm food had been mostly home-grown vegetables and bread.

"And then what? What exactly do the slaves in your camp do?" I demanded.

"Steal my possessions and try to kill me, apparently," he muttered. "You are the first, little one. I'll decide what to do with you after I've eaten. But there is definitely a bath in your foreseeable future — you stink of piss and vomit."

Oh, wasn't he charming? I tried to thump him, and he knocked my hand away effortlessly. That drew a few stares from warriors who were doubtless curious about their warlord being attacked by a grubby slave girl.

And once I'd noticed those few curious looks, I was suddenly aware of all of them. Every man we passed let his eyes linger on the pair of us, and most of them nodded at Temris. A handful even muttered a greeting, and he replied to every single one of them. Sometimes in Anglian, sometimes in that other tongue. I was astonished how many names he knew, how much he remembered about the men under his command. If he hadn't been my enemy, I might have been impressed.

I recognised the massive pavilion when we reached it. Nightmare's halter dangled from the post outside, exactly where I had left it. Temris made to go in, his hand on my belt pulling me with him. I dug my heels into the mud a few paces from the entrance.  I hadn't forgotten who was responsible for most of my current bruises.

"You're taking me to see the captain?" I breathed.

Temris looked as if he was debating carrying me inside, with or without my cooperation. "Yes. I promised you a meal, didn't I?"

"On second thoughts, I'd rather eat at the cook tents," I said hurriedly.

"Oh, that's adorable. You think you have a choice in the matter," he drawled. He leaned in close to whisper, "Just follow my lead and keep your mouth shut for once."

And then he yanked me forwards, and I stumbled into the tent despite my best efforts. Once the flap of the tent closed behind us, I blinked rapidly to adjust to the dimness. At a strain, I could make out the sturdy figure of the captain, who had his back to us. A tall, lanky, dark-haired warrior in his late twenties was arguing with him. From Temris' smirk, I guessed it was a friend.

We had entered the tent almost silently. The warrior acknowledged his leader with a slight incline of the head, but the captain failed to notice our arrival.