Chapter Seventeen The Lair of the Great Wolf

‘For Dinann!’ howled King Galan, standing in his stirrups and lifting his spear.

‘For Dinann!’ His soldiers filled the night with noise, their horses rearing and screaming, pounding their armoured hooves on the dusty road.

Nia was at his side, triumphant on her white destrier, grinning as she raised her spear. She was bold and beautiful, her auburn hair plaited down her back and her voice as ferocious as any of the men’s.

The Hounds of Dinann kicked their horses into a canter, and the highway rang to the sound of metal-shod hooves.

The capital was still half a mile away, but Galan could already see soldiers rushing to man the battlements.

‘These are our lands,’ said Nia, her voice hoarse with anger. ‘The birthright of the Dinann. The lair of the Great Wolf. How could they fail us so badly? What could have driven them to betray us?’

Galan waved his spear at their glorious host. ‘Who cares? It will soon be over. This battle might be larger than the others, but it will be just as decisive. And when we are done, the kingdom will be restored and we can end our days in peace. We can be proud of our reign, Nia.’

She held his gaze, and an unspoken thought passed between them.

He leant closer. ‘We might not have produced heirs, but we have rebuilt the kingdom and given our people hope. That is worth far more. We can be proud, Nia.’

‘Your majesty,’ said Lord Melvas, steering his horse towards Galan.

Nia smiled at Galan and rode away, chin raised and eyes flashing.

Melvas looked troubled, and Galan slowed his horse to speak with him. The warrior seemed unable to talk, grimacing and struggling to meet Galan’s eye.

‘What is it, man?’ Usually, Galan would have found his general’s awkwardness amusing, but not on the cusp of battle. ‘Speak up.’

Melvas shook his head. ‘I’m not sure…’ He still looked pained. ‘Now that I come to say it, it sounds absurd.’

‘Pull yourself together, Melvas. I can’t have you pulling faces and cowering when we’re about to attack. What is it?’

Melvas frowned. ‘This morning, when I was inspecting the rearguard, I saw the strangest thing. For a moment, I thought I saw the men eating something…’

‘What are you talking about, Melvas?’ snapped the king. ‘Eating what?’

He grimaced. ‘It looked like they were eating the men they had just killed.’

‘Eating the bodies? What are you talking about? You’re saying they were cannibals?’

Melvas stared at him a little longer, then laughed and shook his head. ‘I know. It’s absurd. Forgive me, your highness. I think I really did drink too much at the feast.’

Galan leant closer. ‘We’ve been fighting too long and sleeping too little, all of us.’ He slapped Melvas on the back. ‘Soon you’ll be back at home with your feet up, boasting about how you did all the real work.’ He laughed. ‘Cannibals!’

Melvas tried to smile, but his eyes remained fixed and dull.

‘Galan?’ called Nia from the other side of the road. ‘Is there a problem?’

‘Only Melvas’ inability to hold his drink! I warned him this would happen!’

She laughed and rode on.

Galan pulled Melvas so close their faces were almost touching. ‘We are about to end this uprising. The men will be looking to you for guidance. Understand?’

Melvas nodded and sat up in his saddle. ‘Of course.’

Galan loosed his arm, and the general’s horse carried him back into the flow of riders. Melvas barked orders as he went, but his commands lacked their usual vigour.

Galan shook his head and rode on, frowning until he saw Nia, just ahead of him, laughing with one of the men, radiant and glorious.

‘For Dinann!’ he howled, grinning.

The host echoed his call.

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