The Price of Hate

by Kyle Alexander Romines

  A broad-shouldered man covered in soot grins as I approach. “Thought you were dead.”

  “I’m not that easy to kill.” I nod to my companion. “Meet Bast. He’s with the gang.”

  “Doesn’t look like this one’s seen much fighting.” He laughs at Bast’s obvious indignance. “The name’s Shane, lad. Any friend of Duke’s is a friend of mine.” Shane is our contact in Siren’s Reach. He supplies us with weapons and information in return for a cut. “Heard about Redmyre. Nasty business.”

  “We’re looking for Duke and the others. Have you seen them?”

  “You’re in luck. Duke walked through my door just yesterday. He’s camped out in a hideaway in Hollowfall Forest. It sounds like he’s staying put for a while. He’s planning something big.”

  I toss him a copper coin in thanks. “I’ll need some new armor. I’m good for it.”

  Shane whistles when his eyes sweep over my armor. “I’ll say. I’ll take care of it for you. Meet me back here before you leave. Oh, and one more thing.” He shuffles over to a rack of weapons and hands Bast a sheathed sword. “First one’s on the house. Need anything else, you’ll have to pay. There aren’t many blacksmiths or armorers who’ll sell to outlaws, if you catch my meaning.”

  Bast accepts the gift with reverence, and his attitude toward Shane changes instantly. I have a feeling he hasn’t been given many gifts in his life, even ones with strings attached.

  We hole away for the night at a less than reputable tavern. There’s a bounty posted for an ogre in the area, and a few for local thieves, though none with my face on them. Even so, I keep my head down. A warm meal is a welcome reprieve, and a soft bed no less so. Bast, unburdened in youth, shuts his eyes the moment his head hits the pillow. I hardly sleep. Try as I might to put events in Redmyre from my mind, Elyssa’s death haunts me still. Killing doesn’t usually stay with me this long. I’ve become numb to it. I used to think that was a good thing, but now I’m not so sure.

  In the morning, we collect my armor from Shane and set out from Siren’s Reach. It’s not far to the area of Hollowfall where the others have camped. Duke’s chosen a hideaway close to the city for whatever he’s planning there. Eventually Faolán picks up the scent, and we leave the trail behind and venture deeper into the forest.

  “There.” I bring my horse to a halt and point out a set of hoofprints in the wet earth. “Someone came this way recently.” We pass under a stone archway, the sole remnant of an unknown structure long since reclaimed by nature. A roaring waterfall flows from a stony peak into a winding brook. My gaze turns upward, and I spot a tent on a flat surface jutting out from the hillside. “Come on.”

  Duke and the others have accomplished a lot in a short time. A newly built wood fence joins older stone walls from whatever was here before, and the view from a partially constructed lookout post will give us more than enough time to flee if we’re discovered. The others and their belongings occupy tents strewn across the area, but it appears they’re already working on more permanent living quarters.

  Arlo puts down a hammer and takes a nail out of his mouth to speak when he sees us arrive. “You two are a sight for sore eyes. It’s good to have you back.” I’m guessing he recovered our stash from the old hideout before the sheriff’s men got there. It’s a good thing, too. These supplies can’t have come cheap.

  That’s when I notice Talon and Søren laughing nearby, and my vision goes red. Talon’s eyes widen in shock when he sees me approach, and he starts stammering an apology.

  “You left me to die.” I’m on him before he can get the words out. My first punch knocks out one of his teeth. The second breaks his nose. Arlo and Bast try to stop me while Søren just keeps on laughing, but I shrug free of them and continue beating Talon until my knuckles ache. It feels good.

  “Enough.” Duke’s voice boom’s through the camp, and everyone stops—including me.

  I release my hold on Talon, who lands on his back, and jab my finger in his face. “Tell them. Tell them what you did.”

  Talon spits out a mouthful of blood and sneers at me. “The guards were everywhere. There was nothing I could do.”

  My fists balls in rage. I’d hit him again if not for the look of warning in Duke’s eyes.

  “I said that’s enough.” Duke’s voice is calmer, but there’s an unmistakable edge to it. “We can’t waste energy fighting among ourselves—not after what happened to Harald and Doyle. We’re outlaws. If we don’t have loyalty to each other, we have nothing. Talon’s loyal. He brought us the silver you took from Cowan’s stronghold. Can I say the same for you?”

  My expression falters. “Duke?” There’s probably no one else alive I’d let talk to me this way. Anyone who tried would end up facing the wrong side of my axe.

  Duke folds his arms in a show of disapproval. “I trusted you to take care of the sheriff, but you let your anger get in the way and botched the job. Now Scathach’s named him her executioner. Can you see how that makes life more difficult for the rest of us?”

  The words sting because I know how much loyalty means to him. Duke could have turned me in for the reward a long time ago, but instead, he brought me into the gang.

  Duke turns his attention to the others. “I’ve found a job for us—something big. If it works, we’ll have enough gold to last us a lifetime, but we have to work together. Understand?” The others mutter in agreement, and Duke returns his attention to me. “That means making peace. Both of you.”

  “Fine,” I grumble before offering my hand to Talon and pulling him to his feet.

  Talon snarls at me and lowers his voice. “This isn’t over.” Things will never be right between us after this.

  I spit on the ground and watch until he’s gone. “Coward.”

  Now that Bast and I have rejoined the others, work on the camp progresses swiftly. The labor is good for me. It gives me something to do and takes my mind off what happened in Redmyre.

  I stay behind when those of us with less notoriety go into Siren’s Reach on occasion for supplies and information. Word of Princess Elyssa’s death has reached the city. According to Shane, Laird Cowan is dead too, presumed murdered in the attack. I suspect the sheriff did it himself to cover his tracks so Queen Scathach never discovers he was responsible for Elyssa’s death. That explains why my involvement in the killing is auspiciously absent from the news. Princess Aithne was the only living witness to the murder, and she’s too young to remember my face. The tunnels were too dark for any of the guards to have had a good look at us.

  The knowledge of what really happened remains between Talon and me, though I think Bast suspects. Even Talon knows enough to keep it to himself. If the Ice Queen ever learns what we’ve done, she’ll butcher us and everyone we’ve ever known. Then there’s the sheriff. He knows why I was there. If he was willing to kill Laird Cowan to hide the truth, he’ll have no qualms silencing the rest of us. He has more to lose than we do, and that makes him dangerous.

  Talon and I keep our distance from each other. There’s too much bad blood between us. He returns from one of his trips to the city with Kade, an outlaw friend of his who’s been with the gang before. Kade’s an unrepentant butcher with questionable loyalty at best. I don’t trust him, but Duke says we need him for what he’s got planned. I catch Talon and Kade conversing in hushed tones, making plans when they think I’m not looking.

  Søren and I are the most experienced trackers in the gang. Although we sometimes take Bast along with us, we do most of the hunting for the group ourselves. The bloody Viking never shuts up. Worse still, he seems to find my threats endearing, like a private game between us. I hate Danes, and Søren is as mad as they come. Arlo cooks what we bring back to camp. He might be the only man I’ve met who eats more than me, evidenced by a growing belly that shakes when he laughs. The camp’s mood improves considerably when everyone has full stomachs.

  After I’ve had time to cool down, I resolve to straighten things out with Duke. I find him sharpening h
is knives by the waterfall. Like me, he enjoys getting away from camp sometimes, especially when he’s planning something. When Duke notices me, he continues what he’s doing and waits for me to speak.

  Other than the chirping birds and the waterfall’s roar, it’s quiet. I can see why Duke likes it here. I clear my throat to break the silence. “Camp’s almost ready. It’s a good spot for a hideaway.”

  Duke returns one knife to its sheath and sets to work on the other. “No one comes out here. I used this place years ago. Life was harder for an outlaw then.” He points out a strange symbol carved into the rock wall beside the waterfall. “It’s said fairies dwelled here once, and many believe the place is cursed.”

  “Listen, about what happened in Redmyre…” I’ve never been good at apologies. “It’s on me. I should have stuck to the plan.” Finally, I utter the words I’ve been waiting to say. “Instead, I killed Princess Elyssa.”

  “I know.”

  I wait for him to reprimand me, but he doesn’t. “There’s not a man among us who doesn’t have cause to hate Scathach and her servants.” A few moments pass before Duke speaks again. “I had a wife once, long before this life. We didn’t have much, but it was enough. The local lord wanted her for himself, and one day she disappeared. I never saw her again.”

  “I hope you made the bastard bleed.”

  “Oh, I did much worse than that.” Duke returns the second knife to its sheath, climbs to his feet, and makes his way to me. “You and I are much alike. From the moment we met, I knew they took something from you too.” He can tell I’m uncomfortable. “You don’t have to say anything. I know you don’t like to talk about it.”

  “It’s easier not to think about it.”

  Duke doesn’t press me. Instead, he nods to show he understands. “After a while, even the good memories grow tainted by hate. That’s what they’ve done to us.” His voice hardens, and I glimpse a hint of the bitterness he hides underneath his charm. “The nobles and their world deserve to burn until there’s nothing left but ash.”

  I meet his gaze and hold it. “I’ll make it right, Duke.”

  He claps me on the back. “I know you will. There’s not a man here I trust more.”

  We return to camp together. I thought I’d feel better after confessing my guilt to Duke. Maybe I wanted him to make me answer for what I’ve done, but as far as Duke’s concerned, one less noble in the world is a good thing. I’m not so sure. While I have no love for nobles, Elyssa never did anything to hurt me. Now her daughter will have to grow up without a mother. I know what that’s like. Every time I picture Aithne, it’s my daughter’s face I see.

  “Gather round, everyone!” As we enter camp, Duke walks with a new spring in his step, any sign of the vulnerability he showed earlier forgotten.

  Arlo winks at him. “Finally worked it all out, have you?”

  Duke flashes a rouge’s grin. “That I have.” He glances at each man in the camp. “I won’t lie to you—between the ambush and raid on our camp, we’ve had some setbacks recently, and the trouble in Redmyre only made things worse for us. We’re lucky Arlo managed to retrieve the loot from our hideout before the sheriff’s men found it, but even with the silver Talon brought back from Redmyre, our resources are stretched thin. Fortunately, I have a plan to get us everything we’ve lost—and more. If this works, we’ll be set for life.”

  Søren excitedly rubs his hands together. “So, who do we get to kill?”

  “I’m getting to that. Siren’s Reach has escaped the worst of the war. The nobles sit safe behind their castle’s walls, watching the rest of Ulster tear itself apart. They grow fat and rich from trade while the country withers under waring lords and goblin raids. But now Laird Ward has died with no legitimate sons or daughters, and his death has left something of a power vacuum in the region.” Duke waits until the men are hanging on every word. “Ward’s only heir is a girl named Wren, the bastard daughter of a tavern wench. If she was to be…removed, other nobles could claim the throne for themselves.”

  Arlo frowns. “What are you proposing?”

  “It’s simple—we abduct the girl and ransom her to whoever pays the highest price. With her in our hands, we’ll hold the keys to Siren’s Reach itself.”

  Arlo still has his doubts, but it’s clear he sees the plan’s merits. “That could work.”

  “It will work. Ward’s heir has only just been discovered. We must act quickly, before she ascends to the throne, while she is relatively unprotected.”

  Duke proceeds to lay out the details of the kidnapping, and it becomes evident that using information gathered from Shane and his own trips into the city, he’s left nothing to chance.

  Over the next few days, we go over the plan repeatedly until every man can recite it from memory and devise strategies for what to do if things go wrong. We go into Siren’s Reach in groups to familiarize ourselves with the city and practice using the way we’ll go to make our escape.

  If everything goes according to plan, we’ll be in and out of Siren’s Reach before anyone knows what’s happened.

  My gaze lingers on the castle, where an array of dazzling blue banners tousle about in the wind. It’s a beautiful day without a cloud in sight. Sunlight bathes the port’s waters in golden light. Autumn leaves fall to earth, where the people of Siren’s Reach traverse city streets in heavy numbers.

  Bast and I darken an empty passageway far below the castle. It’s a quiet area. Parishioners across the street come in and out of a temple to the Dagda. Boats at the dock are visible in the distance. A friendly looking guard makes his way down a curved stone staircase and stops to help a blind beggar who fell in the road outside the temple. The guard whistles a lively tune as he continues on his path until I clamp a hand around his mouth and drag him out of view. He slumps over, unconscious after a brief struggle, and I prop him against the wall and cut his throat.

  Bast scowls disapprovingly. “You didn’t have to kill him. He was already out.”

  I shrug. “He was a guard.”

  “He didn’t seem so bad to me.” Bast works to help me remove the guard’s armor.

  I stop what I’m doing and give him a hard look. “If you don’t have the stomach for this, you’re in the wrong line of work.” Even so, he has a point. Between the war and the unrest across Ulster, the guards of Siren’s Reach are vigilant. The job needs to be relatively bloodless or there’ll be trouble, and we have enough of that on our hands already. Kade is even more hotheaded than Talon, which doesn’t bode well, and Søren’s never met a fight he’s walked away from. Fortunately, Duke’s keeping an eye on them.

  I stash the guard’s body away while Bast dresses in his armor. When he’s finished, we depart the secluded passageway and head down the staircase to join the crowds. Locals and travelers alike push through a busy marketplace where peddlers of many varieties ply their wares. From the way Bast watches children playing games in the shade, it’s likely he’s thinking about his own stolen childhood, but I can’t find it in me to pity him. My father killed my mother in front of me.

  We come to an impoverished neighborhood near the docks. Wren grew up in a tavern in the area, and according to Shane, she returns around the same time each week to hold onto a piece of what was her life until a few weeks ago. It’s midday, and the air is unseasonably warm. Gulls squawk overhead while circling the river, and a few drunken sailors stumble about in search of the docks.

  “There she is.” I nod at a girl handing out bread to the poor.

  Bast stares at her in surprise. “She doesn’t like I thought she would.”

  She’s a slip of a girl no more than sixteen. Her hair is a chestnut brown, and a crescent moon shaped birthmark surrounds her left eye. Judging from the way Wren pulls uncomfortably at her dress, it’s clear she’s unaccustomed to the trappings of finer things, which explains why she appears so at ease around the poor. Wren is accompanied by a bored attendant who looks as if she’d rather be anywhere else. There are no guards in th
e immediate area.

  Bast and I exchange looks, and he advances into the crowd. I loiter out of sight and observe unseen. When she’s finished dispensing charity, Wren will move on to the tavern by way of the Commoner’s Market. That’s where we’ll take her. Arlo, clad in friar’s robes and wearing a hood to hide his face, waits at the head of a horse-drawn carriage. After Duke and the others, concealed somewhere in the area, take care of the sentries to prevent the alarm from going out, they’ll shepherd the wagon from Siren’s Reach with no one the wiser.

  Once Wren finishes greeting the locals, Bast follows her and her attendant from the square as I trail behind. He quickens his pace to catch up and calls to them above the crowd. “My Lady!”

  At first Wren fails to heed his call, perhaps because her noble rank remains unfamiliar, but her attendant tugs on her sleeve, and she turns around to find Bast facing her. Wren bestows an earnest smile, which Bast returns in kind while I keep a respectable distance away.

  “You forgot this, My Lady.” Bast hands her a scarf.

  Wren holds a hand to her mouth and suppresses a giggle. “Many thanks. Between you and me, I’m still not used to wearing all this, especially on such a warm day.”

  Bast grins. “You should try wearing armor.”

  Wren laughs and overlooks her attendant’s reproachful stare. “What is your name?”

  “Bastian of the City Watch, My Lady.” The cheeky bastard actually bows.

  Wren graces him with a smile. “Would you join us, Bastian? I’m on my way to the Seafarer’s Respite, and I’d be glad of the company.”

  “My Lady, I’d be delighted,” Bast answers over Wren’s attendant’s evident skepticism.

  Wren’s expression brightens. “Delightful! And no more ‘My Lady’ nonsense, either. Here my name is Wren.”

  They move out of earshot, and I miss the rest of the exchange, but it appears Wren’s attendant tries and fails to remind her charge of other obligations elsewhere while Wren ignores her in favor of Bast. This is going smoother than expected. Somehow the little devil has managed to charm her, though for the life of me I can’t imagine how. To a girl only a short time removed from a simple life, Bast is probably a welcome reprieve from the machinations of nobles who say one thing and mean another. I expect she’s lonely, especially if others around her treat Wren with the same air of condescension displayed by her attendant.