The baron sat, trembling in his seat, desperately nodding his head making his blubbery jowl wobble as he quaked.
Rogue stepped back and turned to Lady Grant.
“Take care, my lady. I will see you as soon as I can. Be safe.”
“I cannot thank you enough, Rogue.”
“I owe you my life. It is a debt as yet only partially repaid.”
Rogue bowed, turned away, and left, heading straight for the door. His roan was tied up outside with a nosebag of oats and freshly rubbed down. Maybe Cedric had other skills too, he thought, but mainly his thoughts were to get back to Riverside with all speed and set to his task of finding out who was behind the attack on the Grant estate.
He took off the nosebag to a whinnying note of annoyance and a snap of teeth from the roan, leaped up into the saddle, and galloped away through the gates, past a watching Cedric, and along the dusty track to Riverside.
27
Rogue
Without others to slow him down, Rogue arrived back at the Grant estate in a couple of hours. It was late afternoon, a time when a ponderous air seemed to fall over the land in the summer. As he circled the house on foot, insects buzzed around him, doing their crazy dances. Bees tumbled around the flower beds, crazily collecting pollen to take back to the hive.
The birds in the trees seemed to be too hot to call very much, just the odd watchful twitter as he approached their particular tree.
In and among the bushes, tiny scuttling noises spoke of small, fearful creatures finding hiding places as he walked by.
None of that interested him, although he took it all in. He was searching now for tracks. He followed the tracks he had seen earlier on the route he had taken to the Grant estate and now, a mile from the estate, he found where the tracks diverged and headed across open country.
He retraced his steps back to the house to find he had company. Drawing his sword, he crept up behind the two men.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?”
Both men swung around quickly, fists up, dropping them when they saw who their opponent was.
“Sherry sent us.”
“Sherry?”
“Yes. Look, we don’t want any trouble. We’re here to help. We work for Lady Grant at the lumber yard. Sherry came to find us after Miss Jasmin left this morning. She said there’d been trouble up here and could we go up and do what we could to sort the place out.”
The other, larger man spoke up. “I told her that was woman’s work.” Rogue winced. “Yeah, I know, she cuffed me around the ear and told me if I didn’t go she’d rip my...well, you know. She is one persuasive lady. Now we’re here and see what has happened, I’m glad. This is no sight a woman should ever have to see.”
The dead body they were standing next to was testament to that sentiment.
“You say Jasmin left there?”
“Yes, apparently she and one of the guards fled there last night and headed out with the king’s men who were there at the tavern. Sherry didn’t say where, but I guess they are going to Evermeir,” the first man said.
Rogue thought about that for a moment. It made sense. Yosef was back and Jasmin would be safe once he got her to Evermeir. With her mother and Alonso going too, they would at least be together—and nobody would dare mount an attack on the king’s palace.
“Right then, lads,” Rogue said as he sheathed his sword. “I think you need to gather up a few of your workmates and get this place cleared up. You’ll need a cart to transport all the dead bodies out into the country somewhere. They need to be burnt and the ashes buried. Don’t just dump them, the water around here is pure and fresh and doesn’t need tainting. Then the whole place needs cleaning up and repairing. That should keep you going for a while.”
“We can ask the miners to come and help with the digging of a pit for the bodies. We can repair the building and get it clean. Is it bad inside?” the first man asked.
Rogue nodded. “Bad enough. You get cracking, then. I’m going to see if I can find whoever is left of the bastards that did this.”
“I pity them when you find them, Rogue. I’ve seen you fight in the Wretched Wench.”
“My friend,” Rogue said as he unhitched the roan. “I feel pity for no man who slaughters innocents like the people here.”
He put his foot in a stirrup and mounted up.
“I’ll make sure Lady Grant knows what you men have done. She will be grateful, I’m sure.”
“She treats us fair, Rogue. It is only right that we do what we can when things turn bad.”
Rogue wished more men were like these, and more nobles were like Lady Grant.
...
When he saw where the tracks left by the gang of mercenaries that raided the Grant estate had split from the main track into the hills, he had a good idea where they might have set up camp.
Gusty Hollow lay a few miles out of Riverside, a deep depression between three sets of hills that leveled out at the bottom into a wide, grassy area by the side of a small brook that fed into the main river. It was named Gusty because the winds that blew around the mountains swirled around the hollow before escaping where the stream broke through on its way down the valley.
It was also prime hunting land, and a lightly equipped force could probably stay hidden out of sight there for days with plentiful game and water on hand.
Rather than stick to the track and follow the trail, he headed across country as fast as the roan would carry him, jumping hedgerows and ditches with ease until, snorting and panting, they arrived close by.
Rogue left the horse tethered in a small outcrop of rocks in the center of a half-dozen mature trees for shade. As soon as he was tied up, the horse began to nibble the close-cropped turf around the rocks.
Happy that he would know where to find him, Rogue set off to scout the hollow. He had been right. As he crested a rocky ledge, he could see down in the hollow at least ten tents, spare horses tethered in a line—presumably they belonged to the dead from the night before—and, in the center of the camp, two men cooking on a fire set in a rock-lined pit.
His first inclination, given that these two men were likely the weakest members of the group, was to go down and slaughter them mercilessly. After some thought, though, he realized that he needed information. Where was the rest of the group, what were they doing?
Using all the stealth he had learned after his years as a shadow warrior, he worked his way around the camp, sticking to rocky areas to stay hidden.
He was behind the men and on the opposite side of the camp to the horses so he didn’t disturb them and give away his position. Silently, he drew his sword and a sharp, lethal-looking short sword out of their sheaths and readied himself.
He took one good, deep breath, slowly released it, and leaped up from his position behind a small pile of rocks. He approached carefully, using silence rather than speed. The babbling brook made enough noise to cover the odd sound he made as he walked.
Completely unnoticed, he crept right up behind the two men, proving his theory that these were either the worst or most careless members of the group and. It would cost them dearly.
He flicked his sword out to the side and with a flick of his wrist drove the blade into the side of the man’s head. He died where he sat, with barely a noise.
The other had jumped up, scrambling around on the floor for the weapon he had laid on the ground earlier. Rogue was on him in a flash, before he got anywhere near it. The man froze with Rogue’s short sword flashing in the sun, pushed up against his throat, the sharp tip slicing the skin slightly. Blood dribbled down the man’s throat and along the blade Rogue held so calmly against the man’s windpipe.
“Where are the rest?” Rogue asked.
“Down the valley. They have gone to ambush the woman.”
“What woman?”
“The princess, the one who got away.”
Rogue looked at the man, smelling the stink of alcohol on his breath. He must be drunk, he thought, r
attling on about a princess when it was Jasmin who had escaped.
At that moment, the reason for the attack and the ambush dawned on him. He had heard about the murder of princes and other relatives of the king. Lady Grant’s connection to the court must have put Jasmin close to the throne.
“Where?”
“They followed the valley, yonder. I don’t know after that. I don’t know this area. My family is back in Chambia. I only came on this because my wife and I needed the money to help our sick child get to a doctor. Please don’t kill me. I’ll take a horse and get out of here, back home.”
“What do you do in Chambia?”
“Huh?” The man was trembling so much Rogue could feel the vibration through his blade.
“What is your job?”
“I’m a...blacksmith, sir. Please can I go?”
Rogue looked at the man. He was lithe and slim, his bare arms showing no sign of the muscle developed by every blacksmith he had ever known.
“Show me your hands.”
“But, sir—”
Rogue interrupted the speech by pressing his blade in even further. Slowly, the man held up his hands. They were soft, clean, and bereft of the ring that married men wore by law in that kingdom.
Rogue took away the short sword while smiling at the man. He saw the relief flood into the man’s face as he did, and the dark patch that developed on the front of the man’s canvas trousers. For a few seconds, the men stared deep into each other’s eyes.
Rogue said one word. “Liar.”
He flashed his arm out faster than the man could register the movement. Even as his objections reached Rogue’s ears, the man’s head was detached from his body, rolling and bumping across the campground.
Rogue placed a boot against the man’s body as it wavered before him and sent it crashing backward with one kick.
“Damned liar,” he said under his breath.
It took him a while to search the tents to make sure they were empty. Whatever was useful he took, not knowing how long he would be out searching for the rest of the gang. He then set what was left on fire.
Before he left he led the horses that were there out of the hollow and released them on the hills, then walked back to where he had left his own horse. He stored the supplies he had taken in his saddlebags and had a drink from his canteen, sharing some with the roan, who drank, then nibbled at his fingers.
The sun was lowering toward the line of hills he had just been beyond. With barely a couple of hours of sun left, he doubted he would catch the villainous crew that night, but he would get as close as he could while the light still held.
Climbing on his horse, he checked around. The other horses were already just specks in the distance. Hopefully they would end up with someone who could make some use of the animals. If not, they would survive quite happily in the wild.
He dug his heels into the roan’s side and moved away at a walk through the rocky terrain. He knew that, when he reached the valley the brook had eroded through the landscape, he would be able to make better time, but for now a walk would do. It would give him time to think about what he had learned about the gang and about their target.
It would also give him time to allow the righteous anger that bubbled inside him at the thought of what had happened—and was yet to happen—to fester and ferment.
The man back at the house was right.
His targets should be pitied by any man that feared death, because that was what he was, and he was on his way to visit fury upon them.
28
Raiya
“I’m looking for a man called Rogue,” Raiya said at the bar. It was the third village and about the tenth inn she’d visited since leaving Bones. She was methodically working her way west towards the village of Riverside, but at each village or town she stopped at, she asked around. Roadside inns were information hubs. Lonely travelers with a warm belly and a few drinks in them tended to be gossips.
Raiya watched the crowd through the mirror behind the bar. Several men looked up at the mention of Rogue, and another shifted in his seat. He didn’t look up, but she could tell he was now listening carefully.
“What business have you with a man like that?” asked one of the travelers.
Raiya turned to look at the man. He was a large man with rugged features, dressed for traveling, but had kind eyes and a friendly look. “My family owes him a debt. I’m looking to repay it.”
The friendly traveler nodded. “Best to avoid men like that, but even better to not owe them. I’d keep heading west. Rogue likes to spend time in Vaton.”
“Robbing the king’s coffers,” another traveler said with a loud laugh.
The friendly traveler shrugged. “As long as it’s the king’s pockets and not mine, I have no issue. I’ve never heard of him robbing anyone other than the king’s tax men.”
“I’ll bet the king shagged his wife,” a third man said.
“You think the king of Vaton shagged some commoner’s wife?”
“Not the old king, one of his sons,” the third man insisted.
The second traveler laughed. “Well, that is more likely. But a killer like Rogue? What woman would love a cold-hearted bastard like that? Nah, I think maybe one of the princes ripped him off and now he robs the royal coffers to make up for it.”
Raiya had heard all this before. Every time she brought up Rogue the conversation turned to speculation as to why he raided Vaton so often—that and how he always escaped despite the number of men the king of Vaton sent after him. Realizing this inn was no different from the rest, she thanked the men for their help and headed out. There was plenty of daylight left and she intended to use all of it.
As she mounted her horse, Raiya heard the inn door open. She waited to see if anyone came into the stable behind the inn, but no one arrived. Warily, she started out of the stable and towards the street. Spotting no one, she headed west.
She was four miles from the inn when she sensed something wrong. The sun was gone, but both moons were in the sky that evening, making travel possible. She pulled off the road and dismounted. She walked her horse, a capable bay mare she’d purchased in Evermeir, further into the woods and tied the reins to a tree. She then slipped deeper into the woods.
It only took a few minutes before a stranger slipped silently through the trees towards the horse. The forest was thick with tall trees and off the cleared road it was dark and full of shadows, even with both moons in the sky. Raiya was impressed by how the stranger moved, silently and smoothly, towards the horse. With a few years’ additional training, he could be a worthy shadow warrior.
When he reached the horse, the stranger stood up straight. “It seems my skills aren’t what I thought,” he said as he turned in a circle, looking to find Raiya.
She stepped away from the tree where she was waiting. “Your skills are fine, but you should know better than to hunt a hunter.”
The man shrugged. “This is true. Yet, here we are.”
“Yes, here we are,” Raiya said. Reaching into one of her many hidden pockets, Raiya opened a small vial and drank its contents. She could feel the liquid tickling her throat and soon her whole body tingled as the magic potion flowed through her. Normally, she didn’t use magic against a single opponent. This was a unique situation, though; she faced an assassin who liked to use poisonous daggers in the dark of the woods with only slivers of moonlight creeping through the trees. Not only did she need to keep him from cutting her with his poison-tipped weapons, she needed him alive. She had questions to be answered.
As the magical potion worked through her body, Raiya’s night vision improved. She could see the man’s face. It was the assassin Cam Dias that she’d been warned about. Dias moved subtly, his hand brushing his body. With the magic potion flowing through her, Raiya could see movements that would’ve been otherwise hidden in the shadows. She stepped to her left as a dagger sliced through the air where she’d been standing. She then slipped behind the tree next to her and
then the next, moving impossibly quick through the trees. She slapped a few branches on her way by, giving the assassin a target, but he didn’t bite at the bait. Instead, he turned his body, trying to anticipate when she’d attack him.
Raiya threw a pair of throwing stars that struck the assassin right above both knees. The deadly seven-bladed stars were perfectly placed to send the assassin to the ground as his knees gave out under him. Her next two throws struck the assassin’s hands, pinning them to the ground. She walked out from the shadows and knelt down in front of him.
Dias grunted in pain, trying to show no fear, but she could smell it on him. It wasn’t surprising. Men like this were used to inflicting pain and suffering, not receiving it.
Raiya pulled another vial out. This one she poured into the mouth of the assassin, and then she closed his mouth with her hand, forcing him to swallow.
“What was that?” Dias gasped.
“A truth potion,” Raiya said. “If you answer my questions, it will help with your pain. If you lie to me...well, you get the idea.”
“I won’t answer your questions, bitch,” Dias said, but the moment the words left his mouth he started to scream in pain.
“Want to try again?” Raiya asked.
The assassin groaned before nodding. “Yes, I’ll tell you whatever you want.”
Raiya tapped him on the chest. “Good boy. I thought you’d see things my way eventually. Now tell me why you are following me.”
“You were asking about Rogue.”
“Why do you care about Rogue?”
The assassin started to speak but groaned in agony.
“You can’t fake your way out of this; the potion will know. And I must warn you: the more you resist, the more painful your lies become. Now tell me why you are interested in Rogue.”
“The bounty. I want the bounty on his head.”
“And you thought killing me would help you find him?”
“Killing? I was going to kidnap you and torture you for information, and then use you as bait,” said the assassin through clenched teeth. It was obvious he’d given up trying to fight the truth serum.
Rogue Page 17