Addax laughed softly. “I have done many things in my life,” he said. “Spending a couple of years in the tournament circuit was simply one experience. Since leaving my home many years ago, I have had the opportunity to do a great many things. Talent, and the ability to learn quickly, will open up the world to you providing other men feel the same way. I have been very fortunate that the Christian knights have seen value in who and what I am.”
“And what are you?”
“A prince of my people,” Addax said with a twinkle to his eyes. “The son of a king who no longer rules, but a sonnonetheless. My father was calledQara Ejderto our people and that is the name I adopted on the tournament circuit as a way of keeping him alive. I was allowed to compete because of the testimony of Count d’Acoz. He explained to the marshals of my lineage and bloodlines. In fact, d’Acoz knighted me himself. He said no man was more worthy of the knighthood thanQara Ejder.”
Atreus was listening intently. “What does that mean?”
“The Black Dragon,” Cole answered for him. “He was known in the tournament circuit as The Black Dragon. And they called Essien the God of Vengeance.”
Atreus’ eyebrows lifted. “That seems both bold and embittered,” he said. “Why should they call him that? Essien has never struck me as being a vengeful man.”
“Because his name, by birth, is Horus,” Addax replied. “Horus is the ancient god of vengeance, a symbol of power to my mother’s people. So when Essien also competed in tournaments or sport, he was known as the God of Vengeance. It sounds much more impressive than The Little Princeling, which is what I wanted to call him.”
Atreus chuckled. “I find your histories fascinating,” he said, but quickly sobered. “I would like to hear more of it when this task is finished. I’ve not had much opportunity to speak with you and I would like to.”
Addax dipped his head graciously, but he, too, realized this wasn’t the place for such a casual conversation. They were at the culmination of two years’ worth of work, a moment of great brutality and great violence.
There would be time enough for introspective conversation later.
“What more would you have of Addax and me, Papa?” Cole asked, watching his father’s men finally gain the upper hand onthe big, hairy Scotsman. “Is there something else you would like us to do?”
Jax nodded. “Secure Fountainhall,” he said. “This place is deep in Scottish territory and I cannot spare the manpower to try and hold it, so we are going to strip it and burn it. Take everything of value and burn it to the ground so that it is unusable for years to come. Does Canmore have a wife?”
Cole nodded. “He does.”
“Have you seen her today?”
Cole shook his head even as he looked at the enemies impaled upon the poles that were lining the road. “I do not believe so,” he said. “I have only met her once, a big woman with flaming red hair.”
“Find her and bring her to me.”
“I will,” Cole said. “Anything else?”
Jax nodded. “I will spare one of Canmore’s men to tell people what has happened here,” he said. “Someone must be witness to this great destruction and who brought it about. Select that man and bring him to me along with the wife.”
Cole pulled tight his gauntlets, preparing to carry out his father’s directive. “And where will you be?”
Jax turned his head in the direction of his encampment, his eyes glimmering in the light of the midafternoon sun. He had unique eye coloring, something that only served to enhance his diabolical and ruthless reputation. His left eye was muddy-brown and the right eye, while mostly of the same muddy color, had a huge splash of bright green in it. The man had two different-colored eyes, something he’d inherited from his father and his father before him.
Devil eyes, were the whispers.
Jax’s sons had all inherited it to a certain degree, including Cole. He had his mother’s golden-brown eyes, but they were encircled with a bright green ring. His brother, Julian, had theirfather’s eyes almost exactly, and Cassian, their youngest brother, had it also but it was far less pronounced. Two of the three girls had avoided that trait, but the youngest one, Addington, had a fascinating mix of the muddy-brown and the green, evenly patterned in both eyes.
They were eyes that defined the de Velt family.
And it was the eyes of Jax himself that were pondering the distant encampment and his son’s question.
“I will be with our captive,” he said after a moment. “Find me there.”
Cole and Addax nodded, heading off towards the smoking fortress, leaving Atreus to oversee the dissolution of the Scots army as Jax headed back to the encampment. It was tucked back in the same small forest that gave up its small, younger trees so Jax’s army could make pikes. As he approached, he could see one corner of the forest that had been stripped, with the foliage mashed. Men were still pulling saplings out of the undergrowth and several of them were turning the ends into sharp points with great axes.
Just like old times.
Several tents had already been erected in the encampment, including a tent that housed the wounded. Though the battle hadn’t been particularly fierce, there were the inevitable wounded in the tent, men being tended to by a surgeon who had come to Jax through his liege, de Vesci. Piers Michelson used to be a knight for de Vesci many years ago, but he’d found his calling in tending the wounded and healing the sick. He could see Piers, his gray hair pulled back to the nape of his neck, bent over a man who had damaged an eye. But that glimpse was fleeting as he entered his own tent.
The first thing he saw was Essien.
Tall and broad-shouldered, Essien immediately bolted to his feet when Jax entered.
