They rode south for Dún Sobairche the following morning. Bee was loath to accept how long a ride it would be. Forty leagues in the company of two men she was unsure she could trust. Or, more accurately put, she was pretty sure she couldn’t trust them. Forty leagues. They would do well to complete the ride in three days.

  And at the end, a bore to suck up to.

  The capital of West Kingdom was known as a thriving community; the townsfolk were rich, and the Ochall dynasty was famous throughout the Five Kingdoms. The current King Ochall was the most recent in a long line of Kings called Ochall, and if he was anything like those Bee had met, the most ignorant, self-centered prig in all of the Five Kingdoms, a place that didn’t lack bodaláin. She couldn’t see any room for improvement over the centuries she’d been sleeping. The dynasty believed in keeping the wealth they raped from the diamond mines in the Western Wastes within the immediate family, so they often married first cousins and the like.

  “Tell me about this rebel, Ruirech,” Bee said to Dornálaí, more because she wanted to pass the time than because of any interest. Pass the time or take my mind off a certain dynasty? Surprisingly, the ringfighter’s face lit up as much as any face put through a grain mill could, and she smiled. On the other horse’s flank, Finn tutted and rode ahead as if scouting the route.

  Ye ain’t fooling me, she said to herself, glaring at his back. The more she thought it through, the more she was convinced Finn and the brute riding beside her were already acquainted. She guessed that An Dagda sent Finn ahead to meet the ringfighter, not to track Brenós as he’d claimed.

  Raising the question of why he said otherwise. And what else has he lied to me about? And what Finn was doing while I froze me butt cheeks off.

  She was used to the Chief’s subterfuge and secretive ways, but she failed to see the benefit on this occasion. All right, it made sense for Him to have multiple irons in the fire. With that said, surely it would be better to let them work together rather than headbutting each other each time they attempted to turn.

  “He’s a real character,” Dornálaí said, breaking her thoughts. “When the King, the one who got a slap from me as a prince, freed the Fomorii warriors from his thraldom and gave them tracts of land, forcing the landowners out of their homes, Ruirech declared war. I have never seen such a young man take such a stance. It made me proud.”

  “I apologize for saying it, but ye don’t seem the type, so ye don’t.”

  “What type would that be?” he asked.

  She wanted to say the type to show loyalty but instead said, “The type who adopts the son of a former liege. Didn’t yer oath die with this Tadg mac Cein?” Nothing but a bloodthirsty rogue, I don’t doubt.

  “Maybe,” Dornálaí said, looking thoughtful. “The truth is, being saved from a hanging changed me. I realized life can be very short, and a person needs to do something worthwhile. I can’t see anything more worthwhile. One day, Ruirech will be king.”

  “Ye seem very sure.”

  “I am. This Balor has miscalculated. Elevating his warriors at the cost of the people was a huge error.”

  Bee mulled over the words as she watched Finn ride back into sight.

  “Something’s afoot,” the tracker said, drawing rein beside them.

  “How so?” Bee asked, stopping her horse and patting its neck.

  “You can’t see over the rise, but a mass of refugees is moving up the road. Never seen so many bodies in one place. You won’t believe the stink.”

  Bee watched where Finn was indicating. Slowly, the crowd of humanity shuffling up the road came into view. The majority were pulling wains piled high with possessions. Some few had horses or donkeys to do the pulling, but those were the minority. All of the people were downcast, even the children, who she thought would be playing beside the road as they moved north.

  “Where are ye going?” she asked the first man as he pulled his wain aside to let them pass.

  “North Kingdom,” he called. “Taking ship in Airné.”

  “Why?”

  “King Ochall’s closed The Gap, bodalán,” the man hissed before pulling his wain back onto the road.

  “That’s not what I meant,” she said, but the man was already out of hearing.

  “What did you mean?” Dornálaí asked.

  “What’re they running from? Is there a war we ain’t heard of?”

  “It’s coming. I doubt it’s arrived yet, but it is definitely coming.”

  “I thought the war was between Balor and yer Ruirech.”

  “That’s how it started. It’s not how it will end. The kings always band together when one is threatened. It’s the way of the Five Kingdoms.”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Bee nodded, but Finn was skeptical, explaining, “Just after the last Scourge, when Eterscel The Great died, King Ochall the, whatever regnal number he had—I can’t remember—sent Indech Mór to take Dún Ailinne. When he took the citadel, instead of handing it to his king, the warrior took it for himself. Declared himself the new King of Middle Kingdom. That’s the way of kings everywhere, not just in the Five Kingdoms.”

  ***

  The road to Dún Sobairche remained full of refugees for the days it took them to reach the city. As such, they arrived during the middle of the fourth day after leaving Bacca. They were tired and irritable as a group, but Bee’s mood was much worse than the others because she thought she knew what awaited them in the fortress.

  When they rode over the last hill before the city, they were met by the sight of hundreds of tents pitched before the walls, the gates barred, and the battlements bristling with the spears of the city guard.

  “What in the name of the Tuatha is going on here?” Finn asked.

  From their vantage point, they could see the Eastern Road was as packed with a shuffling mass of humanity as the Bacca Road. It seemed that those who lived in the east were heading to the capital in search of succor, while those from the areas around the capital were heading for the northern ports and North Kingdom, putting the Narrow Sea between them and whatever trouble was bubbling in the cauldron.

  “Seems to me like these folk have no faith in their leaders,” Dornálaí said.

  “Aye. Can you blame them? There’s been a feud between West and Middle Kingdoms since Inbech betrayed King Ochall. Ruirech might have started the latest battle, but this war has been going on for centuries.”

  When they arrived at the gate, a burly guard captain stood before the closed studded oak barriers with a scowl and his arms crossed. Bee had no doubt that the man failed to understand how far down he was in the chain that started with his King.

  “We’re here to see King Ochall,” Bee said.

  “Are you? And what makes you think the king would see you? Not that I care what you think. Just curious.”

  “I think you fail to see the evidence of your eyes,” Dornálaí hissed. “I am an emissary of King Ruirech—”

  “King who? Never heard of no King Ruirech.”

  “Maybe not, but I can guarantee that King Ochall has. Do you want to risk the ire of your King? I’ve heard he can be unpredictable.”

  The captain took his chin between a finger and thumb and gazed at them questioningly for many moments. Bee was starting to think someone they couldn’t see had hexed him before he finally said, “You wait here. I’ll send a runner.”

  As the guard slipped through the wicket gate, Bee said, “Ochall will give us the same answer, I fear.”

  “I’m not sure,” the brute said. “He will have heard of Ruirech and see him as an ally in his coming conflict. At the least, he will want to get the measure of Ruirech by interrogating me.”

  Bee nodded, unable to fault the ringfighter’s logic. In the back of her mind, though, she thought Ochall might be beyond logical thought.

  The delay was surprisingly short before the captain returned and told them to tie their horses on the rail beside the gate. “Too many folk blocking the streets for horses to be possible,” he said in explanation as he led them through the wicket gate.

  The noise and stink made her stop and stare, mouth agape. With her memories of Dún Sobairche, she hadn’t expected anything like the privation before her. She remembered it as a place of narrow streets and dark alleys, but they were well-tended. Now, all she could see and smell was rot and sewage.

  Forcing their way through the throng of humanity towards the interior keep, Bee began to wonder about her misgivings. She’d thought the tent city outside the walls was because Ochall was being petty or perhaps keeping the city for those who owned the diamonds. Now, seeing all the suffering, Bee realized that not letting anyone else in was for the benefit of the people. What she saw in the cramped, narrow streets was a breeding ground for disease.

  “This won’t end well, I reckon,” Finn said as he stepped over an old woman sitting with her back propped against a wall. Bee nodded, grimacing at the saliva dripping from the woman’s mouth. Although her eyes were open, they were staring in sightlessness. Everywhere she looked, there were similar sights of those on the cusp of death.

  “Do wars ever end well?” she asked.

  The tracker turned to her with a confused expression, as if he thought such a sentiment from a cailleach strange. There was no time for him to respond before the captain ushered them into the keep and led them towards the dais in Ochall’s throne room.

  As she remembered, the room was large and square with a massive fireplace behind the dais. Despite the day not being cold, the fire roared. Bee could feel the heat dancing on her face as they neared the King.

  “Sire,” Dornálaí said, dropping to one knee.

  Bee would not usually make obeisance to a human, but on this occasion, she saw sense in swallowing her pride and kneeled, pulling Finn with her.

  “Guard Captain Hefeydd said you are the envoy of Ruirech, this rebel from the Great Forest.”

  Bee studied the king from under lowered brows. He seemed a man weighed down with the worries of a state in crisis but not a man bereft of his senses. He was neither fat nor jowly, as she remembered his ancestors being, and he spoke with a quiet, confident voice.

  “Yes, Sire.”

  “And what does he want?”

  “Ruirech sees your old enemy sitting on his ancestor’s throne mistreating his people and thinks you and he might work together to resolve the coming conflict as allies.”

  Ochall frowned down at the brute for what seemed an age before he finally responded, “If you had come sooner, it might have been possible. Now, however, I have ordered the closing of the Gap. The…” the king hesitated, perhaps thinking of the best way to describe Balor without appearing petty. His hesitation was beginning to grate before he finally concluded his thought. “The descendant of Indech Mór has been threatening me if I do not side with him against this Ruirech. I have ordered the construction of a wall without a gate—”

  “But how will we get through?” Bee interrupted.

  Frowning at her, Ochall said, “You can be lowered into Middle Kingdom by a pulley, but you will have to walk the rest of the way from there, as it is not possible to lift horses over the wall. Why do you need to get through the gap. But putting that aside, who are you? I am guessing that you are not here on behalf of Ruirech unless, of course, the Fae have allied with him.”

  “I’m a Fae messenger. I’m traveling to the éigeas Myrddin with messages from my master.”

  Turning regal eyes on her, Ochall scowled and said, “Myrddin, eh. You would do well to stay away from him. He has become…” Again, the king paused. “Unpredictable,” he finally concluded.

  “In what way?” Bee asked.

  “He has taken control of the castle at Breslech Mór and declared himself a necromancer.”