The Queen's Blade by T. Southwell Read Free Book Online

too used to being alone, too bitter perhaps. But everyone grows lonely, and there can be none so alone as a man such as him. An outcast, a misfit through no fault of his own. It must be hard."
    Chiana nodded, and, after a short silence, they turned to the business of the day.
     
    Blade crouched behind a ridge and pulled the spyglass from his belt, setting it to his eye. Through it, he scanned the massive camp below him. Thousands of men milled within a sea of dull brown tents pitched in the desert, and the hot wind whipped away the smoke from their fires. It carried the scent of cooking meat and sweat, the tang of rusting armour and the stale stench of urine. The mountains at his back guarded the Jashimari lands beyond, craggy grey peaks that rose in a long line like a god-made wall dividing the warring kingdoms.
    It was along this border that all the battles of the Endless War had been fought, on one side or the other. Here the bones of countless warriors enriched the soil, and the remnants of broken armour and weapons rusted in the sand. Once there had been many towns on the far side of the mountains, peaceful villages that farmers and shepherds tenanted. Most of these had been wiped out now, however, like the one in which he had been born. The change in terrain from one side of the mountains to the other was drastic. Here, sand lapped at the foothills, on the other side, grassland stretched away to distant forests.
    The Cotti warriors loomed large in Blade's spyglass, their shaven heads gleaming in the sun, their skins a deep golden-brown. Most had shucked their boiled leather armour and wore only tunics of rich yellow emblazoned with a silver sun, symbol of the Cotti kings. He wondered how tired they must be of fighting, and of eating the salted meat sent to them from the distant oasis where their city was built. He spotted a group of camp followers, harridans and toothless whores who earned their keep on their backs each night.
    Their presence comforted him, and he moved the glass on, searching for the King's tent. Blade recoiled as a dead face filled the glass, pausing long enough to take in the details of the four men staked out in the sand, their bodies mutilated beyond belief, their eyes plucked out by crows. Snatching the glass from his eye, he turned and retched, emptying the meagre contents of his stomach. If he failed, his fate would be similar to theirs, perhaps worse.
    Wiping sweat from his brow, he lay back on the hot rock and struggled for composure. His bold words to the Queen mocked him now that he faced the enemy, and the horror that could befall him. After a few minutes, he lifted the glass again, avoiding the grim sight as he continued his search. King Shandor's tent was little different from his warriors', but for the pennant that flew above it. It stood almost at the centre of the camp, and any who tried to reach it would be forced to walk a long way through the King's army. Lowering the glass, he noted its location, then gathered his possessions and moved back to the cave he had selected for his preparations.
    There he sank down on the sandy floor and contemplated the task before him. This was no simple feat. One slip, one mistake, and he would die horribly. He had much in his favour though, compared to the men who had gone before him. The Queen had sent strong warriors, doubtless wise and wily, but no amount of courage or cunning could save them within King Shandor's camp.
    Blade pondered Queen Minna-Satu, enjoying the memory. A regal lady, certainly, and a perceptive one. He had spent many moons nursing tankards of ale in shoddy inns, finding the courage to go to her. When Lilu had told him of the reward her client had bragged of soon receiving, he had been only slightly interested. When she had revealed the intended victim, however, his blood had coursed faster in his veins. Lilu, like Chiana, was unobservant, and had never understood his lack of interest, seeking every opportunity to speak to him,