Redemption

by Philip E. Batt

massive expanse of forest stretched from almost one side of the Commonwealth across the plains to almost the other. Even from this distance it looked like a dark and foreboding place, and certainly not somewhere that he would particularly want to be of choice.

  A horse following from behind drew level with his own and he looked up from his own little world to see Verkade's face smiling across at him.

  'You've been quiet today, Smythie.'

  'I've been thinking the same thing about you,' Winterburne replied. 'I wondered if I'd done anything wrong.'

  Verkade still smiled. 'I don't know,' he said, 'have you?'

  'Not that I know of.'

  'Then that'll be your guilty conscience sitting on your shoulder and blabbing in your ear. We all have those moments.'

  Winterburne smiled. 'Really? I thought it was just me.'

  'Nah,' Verkade said. He fell silent for a moment as they travelled on for a dozen or so yards before speaking again. 'Seen you looking at the forest. Not superstitious are you?'

  'Not particularly, why?'

  'They say there's ghosts and goblins and other fell beasts in that place.' Verkade continued to look in the direction of the trees. 'If you can name a beast of horror, then I bet I could find you a man in this gang that knows a story about when it was seen in that place.'

  Winterburne laughed.

  'No, I'm serious,' Verkade held a straight face.

  'What? That there are ghosts and worse things in there?'

  'No, I'm serious that you would be able to find someone in this gang with a tale to tell about there being ghosts and things in there.' Verkade chuckled. 'I been there, and I ain't never seen nothing scary. Spent many a night with a bed of ferns at my back and I slept like a baby every time. Never woke for nothin'.'

  Winterburne wondered if it was time to probe for more information. After all, who knew when he would get the chance to hold as long a conversation again.

  'I couldn't help but notice that we seem to be getting closer to it,' he said.

  'There's no pulling the hood over your eyes, is there?'

  'I'm just observant.'

  'I guess there's no harm in sayin', 'specially as how you spotted it in the first place.' Verkade paused. 'We're headed that way to meet Spen and the rest of 'em.'

  'In the forest?'

  'Not directly,' Verkade said. 'We're goin' to follow the edge, and then meet him about half way to White Haven. Not rightly sure what happens after that. I guess we'll find out in due course, when Conn thinks it's time.'

  The two men carried riding for a few more minutes, and Winterburne found himself struggling to find anything more to say to Verkade, but then the man solved the problem for him.

  'You like them hills behind us don't you?'

  'What do you mean?'

  'I saw you look back a couple of times during the morning. Wondered what you were looking at?'

  'Just the mist. Got me soaked a good few times before you boys found me. Not sorry to be away from the mist.'

  'Ah,' Verkade replied. 'Well,' he said, 'if I was you I'd take a last look at them hills as you won't see 'em much more after tonight.'

  'I'll do that.'

  'I'll leave you for a bit now,' Verkade said, 'gotta speak to Conn about setting camp. Can't see us getting anything hot to eat tonight, though, sorry.'

  He feigned a salute and kicked into his horse, trotting up towards the front of the line.

  Winterburne watched the man ride off, then looked up at the clouds. The sun was getting lower in the sky, and maybe it would be worth a last glimpse, especially since it signified the last landmark that remained of his homeland, albeit from the wrong side of the border. Don't even think about it, he told himself, forget home for now. He knew that he wouldn't be able to do that though and turned in his saddle, looking back at the Hills far away on the horizon.

  For a brief second, something on the plain shone in the fading sunlight, only for a moment, and then it was gone. He looked again, straining as he tried to see if he could see it once more, but there was nothing.

  He frowned, shook his head, and continued on.

  oOo

  'Smyth?'

  After all the time he had spent in the gang, Conn's voice was instantly recognisable to Winterburne now. He also knew that the best thing to do was to see how things went when dealing with the man. There had been no suggestion that the gangmaster was threatening to him, but it would be wise for him to be wary.

  'Yes, Conn?'

  He looked up at the man as he approach where he sat, in his chosen place, not too far from the fire.

  'Can you go out on first patrol this evening?'

  'Of course.'

  It had been a long day and they were now close to the forest and Winterburne had hoped to get his head down early, but there was a bonus in getting first watch and it was that he would get an unbroken night's sleep, even if it was a little later than he at first thought.

  'My thanks.' Conn tapped him on the shoulder. 'I appreciate it.' He lowered himself to sit next to Winterburne, first looking into the flames and then across at him. 'You seem to be settling in well,' he said.

  'I'm trying.'

  'I know you are,' Conn said. 'Slowly does it, eh? It's always hard when you meet so many new people and you're trying to find your feet.'

  Winterburne smiled.

  Conn continued, 'I've been impressed with you, and I reckon before too long you could be working your way up the order. What do you say to that?'

  'It's good to know that you have confidence in me.'

  'I do,' Conn replied, 'but watch your back though.'

  Winterburne frowned. 'Why?'

  'Well, there's those in the group that wouldn't like the thought of being overlooked, if you know what I mean. They might not take too kindly towards the one they see as jumping the queue.'

  'Really?' Winterburne replied. 'I've not had any problems so far.'

  'I know,' Conn said. 'Just watch yourself.'

  'I'm grateful for the tip-off.'

  Conn smiled at Winterburne. 'No bother,' he said. 'Grab your metal and get off on patrol and I'll catch you later when you get back.'

  He stood and walked away, heading back to the centre of the camp.

  Winterburne picked up his sword and strapped it on. The sun had set as he looked out across the plain, towards the dark shape of the forest, and he couldn't help but wonder what they would find in there if they dared to go in.

  He walked out to the edge of the camp, just about to the point where the fires in the middle would still send their light out, but not quite beyond that point at which the darkness would be stifling. He had already learned in the Watch that it was not a good idea to look back to the camp too often; the brightness of the fires destroyed night vision, and it would take a while before it was back to its best.

  He followed his customary route, clockwise, in a large circle around the outside of the camp. Each circle took about twenty minutes at a slow crawl, and he planned to count each of the twelve circuits he had been ordered to complete during his watch. He looked down at his feet, checking around for a dozen small stones and gravel to pick up to keep in his pocket to move from one side to the other to mark his progress, and when he was happy, he set off.

  The evening was dry, at least, but he found the trudging demoralising even though he knew that it had to be done if only to show Conn that he was a team player and someone that he need not worry about. As he reached the end of his first circuit he took a stone from his left pocket and moved it to his right. One down, eleven to go, he told himself.

  During these types of duties he found himself switching off and not thinking of anything in particular, although over the years he had developed an ability to keep his alertness, whilst turning off that part of his mind that seemed to cry out that it was bored.

  After what seemed like little time he pulled out the pile of stones that marked his remaining passes. There were five left, he counted, and it was then he heard the nois
e. Not loud, and certainly not distinct, but nonetheless a noise of metal on metal as if someone had tapped a knife once on a metal plate. His senses sharpened, and he slipped the remaining stones back into his pocket. The noise came not from the camp, where he could still hear the distant laughter of the men as they sat around the fires, but from the darkness, out towards the forest.

  His hand went to the hilt of his sword and he drew it slowly from the scabbard, trying to keep the sound to a minimum but nonetheless the metal hissed as he pulled it free. Peering into the darkness he looked across to where the noise had seemed to come from but there was no movement apparent, and no further sounds. Winterburne took a few steps away from the camp and the path he had walked, and continued out into the dark towards the trees, his heart pounding.

  Winterburne was highly conscious that he would be outlined against the comparative light of the encampment and his imagination painted pictures in his mind, drawing images of soldiers, and wolves and other beasts, but he shook his head trying to banish the thoughts away, trying to focus only on the reality of the situation.

  He peered again and squinted, trying to detect any movement, but there was nothing. Nothing, except the sound of the grass as the night breeze caressed its way across the plain. He slipped his blade back into its scabbard and returned to the remaining circuits of his duty. Conn would have to be told, but if there was anyone out there, then there was no longer any sign of them and they had gone.

  The rest of the duty was uneventful and as he returned to the camp Conn was walking towards him carrying a mug of hot tea.

  'This is for you,' Conn said.

  'Thank you,'