The Obsidian Pillar

Chapter Twenty-eight

The warm, orange glow of the campfires against the black wall of night came into view long before the blue and gold tents were visible, and I resolutely remained still in the saddle, despite the numbness that was spreading through my bottom half. My ribs were aching from Brindt's iron grip round me. I had already attempted to slide from his grasp onto the ground, preferring the horse's hooves to his breath upon my neck, but he had responded by simply gripping me tighter.

'Ride ahead and inform Dunelvyn of our arrival,' he announced to a couple of soldiers that rode obediently behind him.

I squinted at them as I watched them ride away. They were incredibly young; many boys their age were only just able to help on the farm with Brindt and Avorr. I used to watch as they would return from a punishing day of work, sweating and bruised as Brindt and his friends would trip them or push them down the path, baiting and taunting them. They were perhaps no more than my own age.

I didn't know how Brindt had achieved his status in the Vakaarian army, let alone the reason he was able to leave Willowheathe, but, I understood that the young men were obeying him because, like me, they knew little of the world. They did not yet understand what type of man Brindt was. They knew that he had power, command and influence and that was enough to control them. They did not know that he was from Islar, or that he was a lost soul, for reasons I hadn't yet discovered.

Lost in my thoughts, I gasped with fright when he jostled me with his chest against my back. I avoided looking up at him at all, despite the urge to turn and venomously attack him.

'Lord Dunelvyn will be pleased to meet you, sweetheart. He gave me express orders to return you unharmed. Now that one of his esteemed captains has returned with the murderous girl, and having exterminated a band of giants in the process, he will be pleased.'

'You don't know that they are dead,' I snapped.

Brindt was quiet for a moment as he mulled over my words. I prayed that my friends were not dead. 'No, they have not sent word yet, but it is most likely that they are still looting the bodies before burning them, and let us be frank with each other here, they are quite a weight to move. Then they will have to rest after a battle, of course. But I have no doubt in my mind that they were successful.'

I felt the self-assuredness emanate from him like a horrible stench. My stomach continued to churn with anxiety as we arrived at the large camp, that was more like a small village with its many tents clustered together.

Everything was in order. The tents were lined up strictly and the soldiers were nowhere to be seen in the dark. It didn't have the lively hum that Montgarz had; the soldiers were not drunk, chattering or singing loudly. It was eerily quiet.

As Brindt led me on horseback through the maze of tents, I spotted a large man sat on a crate, sharpening his sword with a whetstone. His eyes bored into us as we passed and I felt a shiver work its way up my spine in response.

In the maze of the camp, a large marquee stood taller and wider than the rest, golden and shining in the firelight. As I rolled my eyes at the pompousness of the Vakaarians, I winced when Brindt seamlessly leapt from the horse with me still in his grasp. He nodded to the others to take his horse and the soldiers smiled at each other as they realised that they were free for the evening, to catch a little sleep before daybreak.