Page 6 of The Laws of Nature (Heirs of the Empire #3)

The circus folk and audience start to scream and scatter as the Ambolk overwhelm them.

But there’s no escape. Some of the riders swing down from their mounts, accepting surrender and starting to herd the people into two groups, men in one, women, children and the elderly in another.

They don’t seem to be harming anyone unless they resist. But those that do are dispatched quickly.

The horsemen reach where Tobi stands. Some folk around him try to run but horses are faster than men and there are outriders behind them in the dark, circling the camp ground, rounding up anyone who flees.

Tobi sees no point in trying to get away, so he stays where he is, standing his ground and staring up at the two riders who are in front of him.

They are both great beasts of men. Tall and broad.

Dressed in furs and leather. They have long hair, braided down their backs and shorn on the sides of their heads.

Their chests are bare under their cloaks, covered only with leather harnesses.

They wear short leather breeches, leaving their strong legs bare from mid thigh to the tops of their long boots.

Like Tobi, they wear black paint on their faces.

But where Tobi uses it to pick out and enhance the shape of his grey eyes, the warriors wear their black paint in three slashes straight over their nose and cheekbones.

All the riders carry strange curved swords and many also have bows and quivers of arrows on their backs.

But one of these two men, the taller of the pair, has a great broadsword on his back.

The biggest sword Tobi thinks he has ever seen.

He stares at it for a moment. There is something strange about it.

Like it is glowing softly, lighting the dark around it.

The tall man is looking down at Tobi. He wears a green cape with black fur across the shoulders. On his hands are heavy leather gauntlets. Something about his bearing, his size, seems to suggest he is important.

He sits atop his horse with an easy powerful grace, muscular thighs spread around the horse’s body in a way that makes Tobi feel shivery inside. His blue eyes glitter above a strong, stubborn jaw.

Tobi realises that Cyrus is standing close to him, only when he speaks, “What is this?” Cyrus says, surprisingly sternly. Tobi always knew Cyrus was demanding, but here, it feels like bravery.

The tall man on the horse looks down at him. He says something sharp and sudden in a strange language. And Tobi is surprised when Cyrus responds in kind, speaking in sounds that are unintelligible to Tobi.

Cyrus and the man exchange more words. Both of them sounding sharp and angry. Although Tobi isn’t sure if that is just how this language sounds. After a few moments of this, Cyrus sighs. He walks over to the two groups of assembled people. One of the men on horseback urges Tobi to follow.

When Cyrus reaches the scared looking groups with Tobi in his wake, he says, “The Ambolk claim we are on their land,” he sounds taut and angry about this. “I have explained that we are on our regular campground, but they insist this is their territory and they demand payment for our trespass.”

A woman holding a baby shouts out, “What payment?” her voice is shaky with fear.

Behind the Ambolk leader, the second man who had rode beside him, slips down from his horse. Now he is standing it is clear he is a little slighter than most of the Ambolk and looks no older than Tobi. He wears a yellow kerchief knotted around his neck. He almost looks like he could be an Azurian.

Walking towards Cyrus, he speaks in accented Artemian saying, “People of the Copperhead Circus. My name is Lymok. I speak for King Harok, Unkillable Irgo, Slayer of Demons.”

This makes Tobi look back at the other man, still on horseback. Is he King Harok?

He certainly looks formidable. He is looking back at Tobi with a stern, steady gaze.

That gaze is so intense it takes Tobi’s breath. He has to force himself to look away, turning his attention back to Cyrus and the Ambolk man who calls himself Lymok.

Cyrus is looking at the man angrily. “I am perfectly capable of speaking Ambolk to your people, Sire.”

Lymok gives Cyrus a small bow. “If you do not mind. It is our custom to speak to all who have trespassed against us in their own language and explain the payment we require. We wish to be wholly understood. Your presence here has angered our ancient Gods — the beast, the trees and the earth. This land is sacred to us. And subject to our laws. We require a tribute from you?—”

“Your laws?” Cyrus interrupts, “This land is part of the Azurian Empire. We make a camp here every year on Alios Day. If you have an issue with our presence, let us take it to the enforcers of Zai in Ceruleum. They will decide if we owe you tribute or not.”

“We have no interest in your laws or what is decreed in Ceruleum,” says Lymok. “These lands have belonged to us for a thousand, thousand years. They are ours and everything on them belongs to us. ”

“If you will not take this to Ceruleum then I would ask you to simply leave,” Cyrus says back coldly.

The tall man on the horse points at Cyrus.

He says something in his rough tongue and three of the unmounted Ambolk warriors barrel forward.

Cyrus is grabbed by both arms. He yelps in surprise as he is forced down onto his knees and only quietens his protests when one of the Ambolk pulls out a long blade.

He places the tip to Cyrus’s throat. With Cyrus pulled aside, Tobi finds himself alone, standing before Lymok and the mounted Ambolk behind him.

Lymok looks over to Cyrus and says, “King Harok would like you to be silent while I speak for him. Interrupting me is interrupting him.”

Cyrus looks at him. “I am Lord Cyrus Copperhead,” he spits. “I demand that you—,” he stops as the blade pricks his throat, drawing a drop of bright red blood that runs down his neck.

Tobi swallows. He glances up at the king again.

King Harok . But he avoids meeting his eyes.

He looks at his broad chest with its leather harness, straps nestling in the dark hair.

Lymok called him a slayer of demons. Is that true?

That soldier said the Ambolk king was a demon himself.

So is he part demon or does he kill demons?

Tobi supposes it only matters if one believes demons are real.

Before Tobi can say anything, Lymok speaks again. He says, “There will be no debate. You came onto our land and we will take what we want. If you refuse we will slay all of you.” Tobi looks around. Lymok seems to be addressing him.

In the group of women and children, a young girl bursts into tears. “Please,” Tobi says. “We do not wish to dishonour the Ambolk. What do you want from us? ”

King Harok says something to Lymok, who nods. “We require Prince Tobi Darekul. Beast Tamer.”

Tobi feels like a strange cloud has suddenly enveloped him. He can’t speak. For a moment he doesn’t feel like his feet are touching the ground. His voice, when he finally finds it, is weak. “Tobi Darekul?”

“That is correct. Please will you point him out to us.”

Before Tobi can respond, one of the Ambolk grabs a squealing figure from the group of women and children. She is pulled to her feet by a big hand in her hair. It’s Myrtle. The Ambolk man who holds her puts his blade to her throat.

Tobi watches, hardly daring to breathe as Myrtle is forced onto her knees before the crowd of his terrified friends. She has frightened tears rolling down her face.

“To make it clear we are serious,” Lymok says, quite smoothly.

Tobi looks around in panic. He has to say something.

But he can’t seem to speak from sheer terror.

He can hear his blood rushing in his ears.

But everything is happening so fast. He feels frozen with fear.

Can he declare who he is and give himself up to these brutal people? They cannot mean to treat him well.

Darvo leaps up, barging past the Ambolk guarding him and the other men. He rushes over and tackles the man holding Myrtle. Tobi cries out, “No,” it is clear there are too many. Darvo is strong, but he’s no warrior. And most of the Ambolk look as large as he is.

And Darvo’s heroics are over as fast as they began. He is grabbed and held back by two huge Ambolk warriors. He’s panting and looks like he’s in pain. His arm looks wrong. Like they broke it as they pulled him off the man he attacked .

Lymok strolls over to him. “What’s your name?” he says.

Darvo is fighting the men who hold him despite his injury, “Let her go,” he snarls. “Let Myrtle go.”

“Darvo,” Cyrus says, from his position on his knees, sounding quite weary. “His name is Darvo. He‘s her husband.”

“I see,” says Lymok. He looks at Darvo. “You care for this woman?”

Darvo nods, his face anger and fear.

Tobi glances over at Harok, who simply watches all of this impassively.

“Do you know Tobi Darekul?”

Darvo nods again.

“Where is he?”

Darvo looks at Tobi. His face is pale. He doesn’t want to betray Tobi, even though there is no point in keeping quiet about the fact Tobi is standing right in front of them.

Darvo lifts his chin and says, “If he has any sense, he has fled into the forest.”

When Lymok translates this, the Ambolk laugh. “I assure you,” Lymok says, “If he were in our forest, we would know. We have your people surrounded. He is here. Give him to us. Give him to us or you can watch your woman die.”

Tobi looks at Darvo. His sweet frightened face. His broken arm. His air of dumb, stubborn loyalty.

He swallows. He has to say something, he must.

But before he can, Cyrus says, “Tobi Darekul is standing right before you.”

Lymok turns. He looks at Tobi as if he is somewhat surprised. “You? You are Tobi Darekul? Son of Prince Rafus?”