The Devil's Judgment
Page 18
As they made their way to the exit, she hoped that the farmer was merely poor and struggling. There was no other acceptable excuse for not taking care of these horses. If that was the case, he might be more willing to sell them.
The rest of the group had camped out on the ground, resting as they found a few minutes to do so, except for Rue, who leaned against the barn wall. As Dearborn considered this, she decided that his clothing was too refined to sit upon the dirt. Hardly the kind of ogre with which she was familiar. Bale wasn’t above eating dirt, let alone sitting on it.
Bale was attempting to regal Rue and Draymon with stories of his adventures, though neither of the listeners seemed particularly interested in listening and none of them seemed to take notice of Dearborn and her children as the emerged from the barn. Hope, Dearborn noticed, was watching for them, her green cheeks flushing with a soft burgundy color at Nevin’s reappearance. Nevin seemed to Dearborn to be almost absent to the world around him, not disinterested in it. So, Dearborn mused, of all the things that my son has learned, he is totally unaware of this girl’s interest in him. Perhaps there was time yet to have a motherly effect on her son. That thought made her smile despite present circumstances.
“The horses seem okay to me,” Dearborn said, announcing her presence to the group. “They need some consistent meals and no small amount of attention, but otherwise seem to be in good general health. I think we should find the farmer and offer fair coin for them. Haggling for them might be a dalliance that we can ill afford.”
Lapin, who was in a field by himself further away than the rest, hiccoughed a response. “So, should I
“I missed you so much,” Bale said as he scooped up the rabbit and started petting him.
The children of Bale all smiled at the scene of Lapin swearing and kicking his feet at Bale’s rough hand. Their birth father interacting with one of their fathers from the past decade. It was good to see now, but Dearborn wondered how would their relationship change over the years? How could she reform a relationship with Ideria and Nevin? Unfortunately, there was one question that still needed to be answered before Dearborn could ruminate about the evolution of anyone’s relationships. “Whether we are able to purchase the horses or not, we should figure out where we go from here.”
“Shouldn’t we figure that out first?” Bale asked.
“Why?” Draymon asked. He rubbed his thumbs against his temples, trying to shoo away the obvious headache Bale had given to him.
“Well, if we purchase the horses now, then off we go, but if we can’t purchase the horses now, then the first place we need to go is to the horse market to buy some horses.”
Draymon rubbed harder.
Rue stepped away from the stable wall he had been leaning on and walked closer to his father. There were plenty of similarities Dearborn could see, but the bulbous belly that Bale somehow still had after ten years of less than abundant food from the dungeon was absent from Rue, and he had sharpness in his eyes that Bale simply lacked. “I believe what master Draymon is asking is where to go if we are able to purchase the horses now or after we purchase them from the horse market.”
There was a calmness, a patience in Rue’s voice that Dearborn had to admire. She was able to deal with Bale only because she killed whatever part of her soul that felt annoyance for Bale’s scatological thinking.
“As I understand it, the king has pulled his troops from Kallistah Pass. If we go through that pass, then we are inside Tsinel,” Phyl said.
“But why did the king pull his troops? It seems like a setup to me. If Albathia is in open war with Tsinel, then why would he pull his troops from the path to the border, unless he has some sort of a trap in mind?” Draymon reasoned. “It’s a direct path, but it reeks like a bad idea to me, almost too good to be true.”
“Who did you hear this from, Uncle Phyl?” Hope asked.
“A family heading to it. When Draymon and I snuck into the town over to purchase a few supplies, I couldn’t help overhearing about the Pass and asked them about it. They were meeting up with some other families to make a run for it, to escape Albathia.”
“They’re running into a trap,” Draymon mumbled.
“What would you propose, Draymon?” Dearborn asked. “Where would you have us go?”
“A bar?” Bale and Lapin asked in unison.
Ignoring the words as if they had never been spoken, Draymon answered, “Anywhere except the obvious trap. I have no qualms about trying to find a way to Tsinel. In fact, they may be my grand suggestion, but we need to be smart about it.”
“Why shouldn’t we kill the king?”
Ideria.
Dearborn turned to her daughter and found herself mildly surprised that she stood with the other four children. They comprised a tight pack, close enough for each of them to hear the other should they need to confer in whispers, which, Dearborn suspected, they did often.
Ideria continued, “We all know that Perciless is building a quiet army found in the shadows of every city, town, and village. We find one of them and convince the soldiers it’s time to strike.”
Ideria’s words pulled images of the rescue to the forefront of Dearborn’s mind. The feral cries her daughter, her baby, shrieked while decapitating the army recruits would forever haunt her nightmares. The expression Ideria wore while shoving her swords so deeply into the men she only stopped when her elbow was inside of them, sometimes bringing out viscera upon withdrawal, was one of such raw hatred that Dearborn doubted she knew what she was doing. She’d possessed a berserker rage that no parent should ever have to witness their child contend with. Dearborn never wanted her daughter to experience that again. “I’ve heard those rumors as well. I believe we would sooner find a greedy and desperate soul willing to sell us to the king long before we found a member of Perciless’ army.”
“More people hate the king and his brother than you’re imagining, Mother. Not so many weeks ago, Nevin and I had members of that army attempt to recruit us.”
“For supposition’s sake, let’s say we find a contingent as quickly as stepping foot into in the first town we come to. What then? We raid the castle with a dozen troops? Two dozen people? Pitchforks and shovels and against swords and crossbows. There will be a time for that, but now isn’t it. We should make our way into Tsinel to see what we can do from there.”
Dearborn implied that she wanted to help with the war effort but had to admit to herself she just wanted to get her children away from it.
“Still a bad idea,” Draymon said.
“No,” Ideria rebutted. “It is not. Walking into an ambush expecting one is more prudent than looking for a path trying to avoid it. Either we’ll waste energy looking for something that doesn’t exist, or we’ll expose ourselves to enemies. Uncle Bartholomew taught us that.”
“Bartholomew’s lessons notwithstanding, we should—”
“Then what about your lessons, the ones concerning altruism and bravery. We know that innocent people who are not capable of defending themselves are going to be making that trek. If this is truly an ambush set by the king and his brother, then they are walking right into their graves. We want to fight. My mother has a point about helping the armies of Tsinel, and Kallistah Pass is the fastest way. One week’s ride there, one week to go through the Pass.”
Draymon looked around to the other adults for any form of help. Bale shrugged his shoulders, while Phyl looked skyward. Lapin hiccupped and lay down on his side. Dearborn smirked and said, “Well, it looks like we
’re heading north.”
twenty
The public house was in the center of town. Larger than most, the town’s main road formed a circle around it with offshoots perpendicular to each other, a wagon wheel with four spokes. The denizens had even paved the circled road with cobblestone to reduce the amount of mud created from the road’s constant use. What impressed Landyr the most about it was the expansive mead hall where the drinks overflowed, and the food satisfied.
“You’re familiar with this building?” Samillia whispered.
“We should be,” Landyr answered. “Thorna and I were here just earlier this evening.”
As with most public houses, this one served as a town hall for a town too small to have one as a separate building, yet large enough to need a place for the mayor to conduct official business. Meeting with the once and future king was such business the mayor attended to earlier today.
Landyr had been more aware of his surroundings, the meeting was the first between Perciless and a town official of any sort since the devastating ambush from the Elite Troop. The gathering went smoothly enough, the mayor offering fealty and any resources he could when the time came for insurrection. After the meeting was over, Brokar and Thorna escorted the king back to the inn, while Cezomir and Lina went off on their own. Landyr passed a few coins around for some mead and information about the types of local woman he could rent love from. He had enjoyed the hall and made a mental note to return to it as soon as time permitted. Standing across the street from it now with Thorna and Samillia, he wished the circumstance for his return was different.
Samillia brandished three knives; one in each hand and one with her tail. “If you know the layout inside, then this should be a fairly easy—”
Thorna clamped her hand over the snake woman’s mouth and pointed to the streets. Landyr held his breath. The shadows of the alleyway kept them hidden from the pair of marauders walking by, but only if everyone remained silent. Samillia frowned and backhanded Thorna’s hands away from her mouth. “Touch me again and I’ll gut you.”
“Keep talking and the cutthroats you attract will do it for you,” Thorna hissed.
“Them? Bah. We’ve wasted too much energy trying to avoid them already.” Samillia slithered from the alleyway to the main street. By the time Landyr angled himself to see her silhouette move over the cobblestones, she slit the throats of the two men and then darted to a shadowy corner of the public house, the only noise being the new corpses falling to the ground.
“Still planning on putting your dick in her? I’d be wary if I were you,” Thorna whispered as she dashed from the alley to the public house.
He wanted to say, “No,” but answering her question would do no good, plus a tiny voice in his mind had yet to eschew the idea. Her use of stealth was frightening, yet tantalizing. Her skills surpassed the need to defend one’s self from thieves. She had been trained to do what she just did, to kill and move on, making less noise than a shadow. That concerned him.
Landyr joined the two women at the one corner of the building and they crept along the wall until they came upon a window to the main room. Twenty captors surrounded their hostages, including the patrons of the public house during the time of the invasion. Perciless stood face to face with a bald man whose face and arms were covered in tattoos, jagged lines like black lightning bolts. He wore a leather chest plate, arms exposed, pants made from thick animal hide, and mud-caked boots. The walls and windows were too thick, so Landyr could hear only the muffled voice of the group’s leader, no specific words, as he paced in a circle around Perciless, his gestures aggressive. After the end of each statement, each member of the group raised their fists in the air and cheered.
Samillia and Thorna wasted no time with anything more than a cursory glance through the windows and continued to move along the side of the building. Once they got to the back, Samillia used one of her knives and a pin she procured from her belt to pick the lock of the back door. The efficiency she demonstrated once again excited and concerned Landyr.
They slipped through the kitchen and into the main room with ease. There were no guards, but few would be foolish enough to walk into a room with twenty armed men fueled by criminal intent. As with everything else she did tonight, Samillia displayed cunning and training as she glided through the rooms to a hiding spot behind a half wall built off a massive support beam. She relied on timing and speed, but since neither Thorna nor Landyr possessed any serpentine skills, they slowly crawled to the half wall.
The leader’s name was Obeed, the name that his charges chanted after he said statements like, “Who led you to wine and women?” and “Who kept your bellies full while other peoples’ went empty?”
Landyr wondered if Obeed was leading his troops somewhere with this line of questions that all had the same answer. Was he trying to intensify their mood? Or placate his own ego? Finally, there was a question that caused a reaction from someone other than his men.
“Who is the new lord of the underworld now that Vogothe is dead?”
“Obeed!”
“Wait,” Perciless yelled. “What did you say?”
The rowdy cheers settled to dull murmurs as Obeed sneered at Perciless, walking circles around him. “Did you just interrupt me?”
“I’m just seeking clarification about one of your statements. Did you say Vogothe is dead?”
“I did indeed.”
“When?”
“A couple of weeks ago.”
“How?”
“Depends who you ask. Some say his throat was cut in his sleep. Some say he got caught up in a dungeon escape that went to hell. Some say he’s resting in the belly of one of the king’s dragons.”
“What has King Oremethus done about this?”
The circle Obeed walked got smaller, a wide-eyed smile of disbelief on his face. “You want to know what your brother did? Fucked you, he did. Fucked every town and village in this kingdom. Vogothe did more to keep the crime levels low than any constable or sheriff. He who holds either of those positions is the true criminal. That is why I am the new king of criminals.”
“Obeed!” his men cheered once more.
“You?” Perciless chuckled. “I’ve heard more intelligence come from the tail end of a horse.”
Obeed backhanded Perciless.
Landyr winced and readied himself to charge toward Obeed. Thorna grabbed his arm to keep him from doing something both foolish and deadly. He acquiesced when he noticed that the king suffered nothing more than a bruised cheek.
“My brother has many qualities, some could be described as unsavory, but stupidity isn’t one of them,” Perciless said. “What you said is true about Vogothe. Despite him being a deplorable cretin, he did have quite the stranglehold on those who chose to live in the dark underbelly of this country, but I assure you that King Oremethus was just as eager to end Vogothe’s reign as he is to end mine. Now that Vogothe is dead the king will stop at nothing to crush anyone trying to take up the mantle.”
“The king is too focused on the war to worry about his people. He cares more about conquering Tsinel than catering to Albathia. Other Lieutenants in Vogothe’s army are running around like wild beasts in a ballroom. Messy and shortsighted. Only I have the same vision as Vogothe. I care more about this country than your brother does. I’m eliminating threats by organization. The king? The only help he’s offering the locals is giving them a few troops here and there from the regiment he pulled from Kallistah Pass.”
“The king pulled the troops from Kallistah Pass? When?”
“This isn’t some fucking tea room where we chat about the events of yesterday. I could give a goat’s testicle about when the troops left.”
Perciless dropped his gaze to the floor and stroked his chin, the action either calming or focusing. He muttered to himself, but Landyr was not able to hear the single
person debate.
Obeed slowed his step but still walked around his hostage, his face caught between curiosity and anger. After being ignored for two full revolutions, Obeed hit Perciless’ shoulder. “‘Ey! Did you forget where you are? And the king moving troops away from some mountain pass up north ain’t gonna stop me from turning you over to him.”
Landyr tightened the grip on his dagger and looked to Thorna. She kept glancing between him and the scene in the middle of the room, awaiting his signal. He knew she wanted to rush in and kill Obeed and his marauders but mistiming that attack could be deadly for Perciless or the other civilians. As much as it pained him to do so, he needed to wait.
Obeed cuffed Perciless again. “How were you once our king?”
“Would you like to learn something interesting today, Obeed?” Perciless asked.
The men who followed Obeed laughed. He did as well, but after a few seconds, he gestured to them to return to silence. Once they did, he stopped circling the king and stood within half a stride of him. He used his thumb to pantomime wiping a tear caused by laughing too hard. “I’m always up for a good bit of education. What might you have to teach me, sire?”
“It’s coincidental that you called me that because when I was king, I heard what my critics had to say about me. Of course, they were wrong, but do you want to know the number one criticism about me that they got wrong?”
Obeed crossed his arms over his chest and squinted. “I’m listening.”
“That I’m not observant. But I am. I’m very observant. For example, the knife in the sheath hanging from your belt is untethered and perfectly positioned for me to take it.” Just as Obeed looked down at the knife, Perciless yanked it from its sheath and plunged it into the new crime lord’s ribs.