‘Buckler, you there?’ he yelled. Nothing. He frowned, drew his arm back, and launched the apple at the perch. The little red missile arced through the air, and Corthie grinned as he watched it descend onto the platform. A surprised roar echoed out over the fortress, and dark red wings rose as Buckler’s head craned up, his eyes gazing around.
‘Over here!’ Corthie cried.
The dragon flapped his wings and soared into the sky, then surged down at the roof of the tower. He stopped a yard over Corthie’s head, his claws extended.
‘Are you throwing stones at me, wolf-boy? I should reduce you to ashes for the insult.’
‘It was an apple, so quit the dramatics.’
‘It struck me on the head.’
‘Oops. I used to throw things at my brother; he didn’t like it much either.’
‘You interrupted my afternoon nap to tell me about your brother? I demand an apology.’
‘Alright, I’m sorry; sorry you’re such an ugly lizard. Nature can be cruel.’
Buckler’s eyes seethed with rage and he drew himself up to his full stature, his wings out. He opened his jaws and blasted a stream of fire up into the air. The dragon gazed down as Corthie folded his arms.
‘You throw things at me, and now you bait me? Shall we see if I can be as cruel as nature, you measly insect?’
‘You seem to be taking all of this a bit personally.’
Quill rushed onto the roof. ‘Whatever’s happening, stop it; now.’ She glanced up at Buckler, her empty palms raised. ‘Sorry about him, he’s been a right pain in the ass all day; you know he doesn’t mean any offence.’
Corthie chuckled. ‘Why are you assuming it’s my fault?’
She scowled at him. ‘Isn’t it?’
‘It might be construed that way, I suppose.’
‘I would be grateful, Sergeant Quill,’ said Buckler from above, ‘if you escort this foolish boy downstairs. If he annoys me one more time today, I shall not be held responsible for my actions.’ He beat his great wings, and soared away into the pink sky.
‘I wasn’t finished,’ yelled Corthie; ‘I had a question for you.’
‘I think it might have to wait for another time,’ said Quill. She glared at him. ‘Just what did you think you’d achieve by angering a dragon?’
Corthie walked to the stairs and began to descend. ‘I’m bored.’
‘Come on,’ she said, following him, ‘there are a hundred things you could do with your day off. Rest, read a book, take a long bath.’
‘Have you bumped your head and forgotten who I am?’
‘Alright, how about we bring some musicians and singers up to the rooms where Tanner and I live, and we could listen to some songs? We could get some dancers, and fancy food.’
‘I’m not in the mood.’
They reached the bottom of the stairs and came out into his bedchamber. He strolled to the window and gazed out over the City. A pall of smoke was hovering over the Circuit beyond the Middle Walls in the distance, as it had for well over a month. To his right spread the vast area reserved for the Blades, laid out by a grand design around a series of circular plazas. To the left was the wall dividing the territory of the Blades from that of the Scythes. From the elevation of the Wolfpack Tower, he could make out endless fields stretching into the distance. Often, he would see the tiny figures of workers in the fields, but that was as close as he had come to meeting a Scythe.
‘Or,’ Quill said, ‘we could just get drunk again.’
‘Now you’re talking.’
She sighed. ‘Not downstairs in the common room, though; I can’t stand the place since the commander locked down the fort.’
‘Are you missing my worshippers?’
‘Strange to say, but a little bit, I guess. They added to the sense of occasion. Arrowhead feels empty without the civilians.’
‘I agree. Look, why don’t we just forget about the day off? I could be kitted up and out there in an hour; let me slaughter a few dozen greenhides to work off my excess energy. We can have a few beers after that.’
‘No way. The Wolfpack are adamant, and so am I. You must take one day off out of fifteen, so you can rest, and so that you don’t get injured again.’
‘I wasn’t injured because of the greenhides.’
‘It doesn’t matter. Will you abide by the will of the Wolfpack?’
He sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. ‘I guess so.’
She gave a half-hearted smile. ‘Brandy?’
An idea popped into his head. ‘Aye, but not here.’
‘Then where?’
He glanced over at her. ‘The Blind Poet.’
‘Uh huh; no way.’
‘I won’t go to that shrine again.’
‘It makes no difference,’ she said. ‘There are troops from Auldan and Medio swarming through the streets.’
He shrugged. ‘It should be safe enough, then.’
‘But if that Elsie’s a rebel, then the authorities are probably after her, and the Blind Poet will be under surveillance.’
‘That’s a lot of “ifs” and “probablies”. Come on, it’ll be a laugh.’
‘No it won’t; and besides, Tanner will go mental.’
‘Then let’s not tell Tanner.’
‘What, just slip away?
‘There’s never been a better time to do it; the fortress is deserted.’ He got up and grabbed his coat. ‘I’m going; come if you like.’
He went down the stairs, and smiled to himself as he heard Quill’s boots on the steps behind him. He pulled his coat over his shoulders as he descended, passing the level where his two sergeants lived, then continued down to the ground floor. It was quiet, though a low noise was coming from the common room. Corthie strode out of the tower and across the empty forecourt, Quill hurrying to keep up. As they approached the gatehouse a burly sergeant stepped out.
‘A fine afternoon,’ the sergeant said as he watched them get closer.
‘It is that,’ said Corthie; ‘so fine, in fact, that Quill and I are going out for a little walk.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t be doing that, sir.’
Corthie halted a yard from him. ‘And why not?’
‘Perhaps because around four thousand of your more avid followers are camped outside the walls, and if you were to suddenly appear among them, then they might get a little excited, sir, and I don’t think we want that now, do we?’
‘You’re right, Sergeant. Bollocks.’
The sergeant smiled. ‘I can always organise a carriage for you, sir; then you could ride somewhere else for your little walk with Sergeant Quill.’
‘You’re a fine man, Sergeant. Thanks.’
‘Not at all, sir. I’ll just nip away and get that sorted for you.’ He winked at Quill. ‘You two have a lovely evening.’
The carriage bore them through the Bulwark and into Medio, the soldiers at the Middle Walls waving them past once they had seen that the famous champion was aboard.
Getting through the militia checkpoints in the Circuit was not as easy. Soldiers in Icewarder and Dalrigian uniforms stopped the carriage at several roadblocks positioned along the way to the centre of Evader territory, and when they reached Redmarket, Corthie and Quill left the wagon, ponies and driver with the palace stables and walked the rest of the way to the Blind Poet on foot. The building looked closed from the outside, but the door swung open after Corthie had knocked.
Nareen looked up from the deserted bar. ‘The hero returns,’ she beamed, as her husband slid home the bolts on the front door. ‘Ale?’
‘Aye, please,’ said Corthie, his eyes scanning the alcoves. He muttered a curse to himself as he realised Elsie wasn’t there.
‘I didn’t think you’d be coming in here again,’ Nareen said, filling two tankards with ale, ‘not with all the foreign soldiers swarming the streets. I hope they didn’t give you any trouble.’
Quill frowned. ‘Once he gets an idea into his head, there’s no stopping him.’
; ‘I’m surprised the soldiers didn’t send you back,’ Nareen said, placing the ales on the counter; ‘I didn’t think they’d want outsiders to see what they’ve been up to in the Circuit.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Corthie.
‘Killings, beatings, you name it,’ said Dorvid, coming over to the bar. ‘The Tarans are the worst, as usual.’
‘Tell them about the massacre in Candlemakers,’ said Nareen.
Dorvid frowned. ‘Just a few days ago, the Taran militia locked the doors of a tenement and set it on fire. They filled anyone trying to escape with crossbow bolts, and then watched the place burn. Eighty-three folk died in there; kids, women, old folk.’
‘That’s terrible,’ said Quill. ‘What’s the governor doing about it?’
‘Nothing, as usual. She sent her Adjutant to lodge an official complaint, but the Tarans told her they had evidence that the tenement was being used as a rebel stronghold.’
‘And was it?’
‘Of course not,’ said Nareen. ‘It was revenge, pure and simple, for a raid on a supply convoy. The Tarans just picked a nearby building to make an example of. They’re treating it like a great success.’
‘Aye,’ said Dorvid, ‘they even promoted the officer responsible.’
‘Do you know the officer’s name?’ said Quill.
‘Everyone in the Circuit knows his name,’ said Nareen; ‘it’s Aurelian, some aristocratic beast from Tara. He’s a dead man if the rebels get hold of him.’
Corthie frowned. ‘So, would you say that the other tribes’ militia are making things worse?’
‘Aye. I mean it was bad before, but the Circuit’s feels like it’s at war now, occupied by a foreign enemy.’
‘Give me a minute,’ said Quill; ‘I need to use the little girls’ room.’
Corthie waited until the sergeant had disappeared through the door leading to the bathrooms, then leaned closer to Nareen. ‘Has Elsie been in tonight?’
Nareen gave him a funny look. ‘I’ve not seen her since you were last here. It’s a shame; I’ve been dying to ask her what you two were up to.’
‘Damn it. I thought she came here a lot.’
‘She did, before the troubles started; before it became too dangerous to walk the streets.’
Corthie took a long swig of ale. ‘Business bad, aye?’
‘It’s a miracle we’re still open, son. The unpaid bills are stacking up, and without customers, we’ll have to close soon.’
Corthie placed a bag of gold onto the counter. ‘Our little secret.’
She opened the bag and glanced at the contents. ‘I can’t accept this; it’s too much. I’ll never be able to pay it back.’
‘Just use it to stay open; I want my favourite tavern to still be around when these troubles are finally over. Oh, and don’t tell Quill. Or Elsie.’
She slipped the bag under the counter as the sergeant returned from the bathroom.
‘What’s the plan, boss?’ she said. ‘Are we staying here and getting drunk or what?’
‘Sorry to interrupt,’ said Dorvid from the front door, ‘but we might have a problem.’
Nareen frowned. ‘What is it, dear?’
‘Uh, there are a lot of folk standing outside; the whole street’s full of them.’
‘Soldiers?’
‘Not yet, but with a crowd that size, they’ll be along any minute.’
‘What do they want?’
Dorvid glanced at Corthie. ‘Him.’
‘Me?’ said Corthie.
Nareen shook her head. ‘Were you seen on your way here, son?’
‘Aye, maybe, but so?’
‘What do you mean “so”, son? You’re the Champion of the Bulwark, did you not think the folk in the Circuit had heard of you? You’re the most famous mortal in the damn City. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave and come back another time. There’s no telling what the soldiers will do when they get here.’
‘Don’t apologise, Nareen; it’s my fault.’ He downed the rest of his ale, then nodded to Quill. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
Corthie and Quill walked to the door, and Dorvid swung it open, the iron bar in his right hand. A roar of noise came in from outside, and Corthie saw that the street was packed with Evader civilians. They cheered as they saw him emerge from the tavern, and surrounded him and Quill. Folk were stretching their arms out to touch him, while others chanted his name to the beat of a drum that someone had brought along.
A woman in tears handed him a flower. ‘You’re our champion; the champion of all the oppressed mortals of the City.’
‘Have you come to save us?’ cried another.
‘I just came for a drink,’ he said, shaking his head as he pushed his way through the crowds.
A young man with earnest eyes grabbed his arm. ‘You fight the eternal enemy, but don’t forget the internal one; when will you fight them too?’
‘I kill greenhides,’ he said, shoving the man to the side, ‘that’s it.’
A harsh blast from a whistle pierced the air, and the crowd began to panic. Some scattered, running down any nearby alleyway, while a few reached for weapons.
‘The Tarans are coming!’ a voice cried.
A small group of youths remained in the streets after the others had fled. One had a crossbow, while the others had an assortment of makeshift weapons. Down the road in the other direction, the rumble of boots was approaching.
‘Get out of here,’ Corthie said to the group. ‘I don’t want your blood on my hands.’
One of the youths stared at him. ‘I thought you were here to help us.’
‘I was here to get an ale. Go home.’
The group glanced from him to the approaching soldiers, then scattered, fleeing from the militia. The soldiers arrived, filling the street. Protected by mail, shields and helmets, and wielding crossbows and long, steel-tipped clubs, they surrounded Corthie, who held his palms out to show they were empty.
‘Evening,’ he said to the officer.
‘Corthie Holdfast?’ the lieutenant said, her eyes glancing up at him.
‘Aye.’
‘We have orders to escort you out of the Circuit, sir.’
‘Why?’
‘Your presence is deemed to be an incitement to disorder, sir.’
‘Are you Tarans?’
‘Yes, sir,’ she said, pointing to the badge of a black leopard on her arm. ‘We’re from the Third Loyal Regiment of Foot, sir, if you wish to file a complaint.’
‘We have a carriage parked at Redmarket Palace,’ said Quill. ‘Can you take us there?’
‘Yes, ma’am, if you promise to make your way out of the Circuit once we get there.’
Quill glanced at Corthie.
‘Aye, alright,’ he said.
The officer gestured to her troopers, and they moved into a flanking formation. Corthie glanced back down the street, seeing the crowd of youths standing fifty yards away, watching. What did they want from him? Wasn’t killing greenhides every day enough? He turned as the troopers began to march off, their boots thumping over the rough cobbles.
Crowds followed at a distance as the troopers escorted Corthie and Quill back through the narrow, winding alleys to Redmarket Palace. The officer led them up to the checkpoint at the entrance to the palace forecourt, and handed them over to the custody of the Evader militia there. A palace official was also waiting, and he gestured to Corthie as soon as the Tarans had departed to resume their patrol.
‘Pack Leader, welcome to Redmarket,’ he said.
‘How did you know I was here?’
The official raised an eyebrow. ‘I think, sir, that the entire Circuit is aware that you are visiting. The governor, also, is aware, and has requested that you meet with her briefly.’
Quill frowned. ‘The Tarans told us we had to leave the Circuit immediately.’
‘And the quickest way to do that, ma’am, is to take a barge from the canal at the rear of the palace. The governor has arranged
for her personal vessel to be available for your use tonight; it will take you right through into Icewarder territory close to the Middle Walls.’
‘That’s good of her,’ said Corthie.
‘But first, sir, if you would be so kind as to follow me into the palace; the governor is looking forward to meeting you.’
Corthie nodded, and the official led them across the forecourt, and up the wide steps into the palace. It was shabby compared to the Royal Palace in Ooste, and rough even by the standards of the Wolfpack Tower. They were shown to a small room laid out with comfortable chairs arranged by a fireplace. A woman was standing by a window. Corthie assumed it would be the governor, but one glance told him he was wrong.
‘This is Lady Aila, Adjutant of the Circuit,’ the official said.
Aila stepped forward. She was dressed in elegant robes with her hair up, and looked far more like a demigod than the last time he had seen her. Their eyes met for a moment, then she glanced away.
‘You must be Corthie Holdfast,’ she said, extending her hand.
Corthie took it, and raised it to his lips. ‘A pleasure to meet you.’
‘I, uh… yes, thank you. Of course. Ahh… would you like a drink?’
‘I can do that for you, ma’am,’ said the official, bowing.
‘No need,’ she said; ‘you can leave us; I’m sure my noble cousin will be here shortly.’
The official bowed again, then left the room.
‘A brandy would be nice,’ said Corthie, unable to take his eyes off Aila as she walked to a cabinet.
‘Just water for me, ma’am,’ said Quill.
‘No problem; you’re guests here. As pleasant as it is to have a Champion of the Bulwark visit, I must ask, what are you doing in the Circuit?’
‘The Pack Leader wanted to get a drink, ma’am,’ Quill said. ‘I told him that, under the circumstances, it might not be a good idea, but…’
‘We went to the Blind Poet,’ said Corthie; ‘you heard of it?’
Aila turned and handed him the glass of brandy, their fingers brushing as he took it. ‘I’m not familiar with every tavern in the Circuit, and with the troubles I don’t get the chance to go out these days.’
The Mortal Blade: An Epic Fantasy Adventure (The Magelands Eternal Siege Book 1) Page 26