Page 79 of Faeling
Uncharitable of Vallek to think? Petty? Yes.
But he was tired of Ulrich’s wheedling, of his incessant need to have control over everything Vallek did.
It was he who was king. The berserkers knew it. Fulk Stone-Skin and every eastern tribe chieftain knew it. It was time Ulrich knew it, too.
“I will have only her, Ulrich.”
“Be sensible! She’ll destroy all we’ve done!”
Jostling Ulrich by the collar, Vallek hissed, “I will make it so. The beast has chosen, and so have I.”
Ulrich’s eyes darkened, a look of utter betrayal flashing across his face. “You forsake all we’ve done, all we—”
“I take what is promised by the gods: a life with my mate. You would question your king? The gods themselves?”
Lips thinning between his tusks, Ulrich pulled out of Vallek’s grip. “She’s enchanted you. Poisoned your mind as she poisoned my body.”
He didn’t like the look of epiphany that crossed Ulrich’s gaze. An unnatural light reflected in his eyes, and Vallek stood to meet it.
“Hear me, Ulrich. I tolerate this insult because you are my friend, but not forever. She will be my wife, and you and all kin will have to make peace with it.”
Pushing Ulrich back into his seat and tossing the flask into his lap, Vallek strode from the tent. His mood was foul and he needed air.
If Ulrich couldn’t respect his choice, as a king and as a friend, then it was time to consider a new lord commander.
19
Despite all the gains and successes, the homeward-bound march was a far more serious affair. Many days had been spent consolidating the eastern tribes, ensuring each sent representatives back to Balmirra—representatives,nothostages, he’d firmly reminded them—and knew the next steps for unification. That had taken longer than intended, so by the time the road home was again underfoot, the late-summer rains threatened.
It made for much more miserable marching, yet Vallek pushed the column hard. Everyone wanted to get home, to share the news of their triumph—and not get caught in the wilderness when the first autumn frosts came. None complained, although evenings were often quiet, his people weary from the road.
Were it just him and his berserkers, they could have reduced their time by running, but with so many camp followers, all they could do was keep a steady walking pace.
That was, until a berserker came trotting up from the back ofthe column with word from the rear.
“My king,” the warrior panted, “Captain Mattias requests the column stop for a few moments for thekoneto catch up.”
Vallek’s mindless feet came to an immediate halt. “She’s fallen behind?” he growled.
Beside him, Ulrich huffed. Row by row behind him, the column ground to a halt.
“It seems so, my king.”
Lifting his head to try peering over the column, he couldn’t see the rear. Knowing that Ravenna was out of sight, had fallen behind in the vast wilderness, had his beast pawing at his chest cavity.
“Go back to Mattias, have him bring her to me.”
“Yes, my king.” The warrior bobbed his head and then was off, boots splashing in the little puddles gathering from the day’s rain.
It’d stopped for the moment, but the humid air made breathing laborious and stuck hair to skulls. There was a modicum of relief away from the trees, and they followed a well-worn path leading through the foothills and deeper into the mountains.
The region was known for its crags and crevasses. Like cracks in dry, overspread clay, deep gouges crisscrossed the gray stone, forming a network of dangerous sheer drops. A breeze wafted up from the deep gray canyon to their left, sounding not unlike the howl of a forlorn wolf. The gorge was so deep and the air so humid, that a thick layer of mist gathered far below, obscuring the stone floor of the great cut in the earth.
There was a majesty to this landscape, rugged and untamed. The only real trace of orcs or any others was the path leadingthe way safely through it. Enough souls had lost their lives to the mountain’s sinister smiles that everyone knew to stick to the path.
Throwing back his oilskin hood, Vallek squinted at the overcast sky. The monochrome gray that had brought the rain was beginning to break up into great, puffy pillars. Thunderstorms came from clouds like that.
“We wouldn’t stop for a tired warrior,” grumbled Ulrich. “Nor any of your staff. We shouldn’t stop for her.”
