Legacy of Steel by Matthew Ward

Author:Matthew Ward [WARD, MATTHEW]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Orbit
Published: 2020-11-03T00:00:00+00:00

As had become habit, Rosa left Sevaka sleeping and took to Vrasdavora’s ramparts. She threaded her way between the sentries on the east wall. Little enough to see, but it cheered her to find no slackness of watch. As when Sevaka had dragged her about the makeshift garrison earlier that night, she found faces more alert and confident than she’d any right to expect.

She completed her circuit of the rampart and made her way up the northeast tower. Along the collapsing roadway, the fires of the Hadari picket line offered reminder of the siege that would come tomorrow. So many lives offered up to the Raven, and to little purpose.

Rosa crossed to the tower’s edge to stand beside the sentry. Not one of Vrasdavora’s garrison, but Thaldvar. The borderer stood with one foot between the crenellations and a bottle loose in his hand.

He nodded. “Lady Orova.”

“I thought you were out on the road.”

“Castellan Paradan was kind enough to send soldiers to relieve us. It’s been a long day. Even borderers need rest.”

She nodded. It had been a long day, for Thaldvar’s shrinking band most of all. The Tressian soldiery were all very well, but the borderers had a knack for finding firm footing. Without them, Sevaka’s ambush couldn’t have reached position in time. “You don’t seem to be resting.”

He swept the bottle out to encompass the valley. “I like to come up high when I’m nervous. Makes me feel like an eagle, rather than a mouse. The poor sentry was dead on his feet, so I offered to stand a turn.” He shrugged. “Seems it’s a night for restless souls.”

Rosa propped herself against the rampart and folded her arms. “I seldom sleep. Not any longer. It’s part of what I am.”

“I’d go mad without a few hours snatched from the world.”

“I think I went mad long ago.”

“Who says I didn’t?” He proffered the bottle, a touch unsteadily. “Care for a drink? One restless soul to another?”

“Liquor has even less grasp on my wits than sleep.”

He sniffed. “This isn’t liquor. It’s Lasmanora whiskey. Finest in the borderlands. You don’t sup it for drunkenness, but flavour.” Flavour or not, the slur to his words suggested drunkenness lay near. “Consider it one last toast before things turn sour.”

“You think tomorrow will go badly?”

He gave a slow, sad shake of the head. “Who said anything about tomorrow?”

“True. It could be weeks before this is done.”

“And by morning, the whiskey will be gone.” Thaldvar tilted his head, striking a pose common among statues of the great and the good. “Circumstance insists I offer to share, but a piece of me hopes you’ll refuse.”

“If that’s how it is…” She laughed and plucked the bottle from his hand. “Why are you still here?”

He frowned. “I told you, I offered to stand watch.”

Rosa took an experimental sniff. The sweet tang of peated heather summoned forth late nights and early mornings while still a squire, standing sentry at the Ravonn’s watch-forts. “I don’t mean that. Leave. No one will think less of you.

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