Steelhaven 02 - The Shattered Crown

by Richard Ford

  ‘His name is Friedrik.’

  Kaira felt disappointed. She’d been hoping it was Palien. Hoping it was the Guild, but it was most likely just someone Merrick owed money to.

  ‘What does this Friedrik want with Merrick Ryder?’

  Rag looked guiltier than ever. ‘Don’t rightly know. But Friedrik’s one of the fellas what runs the pickers and pinchers and the rest, so it can’t be for anything good.’

  ‘The pickers and pinchers?’ said Kaira.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Rag, as though Kaira were somehow dense for not understanding. ‘You know … the Guild.’ She whispered her final words as though someone might be listening.

  All Kaira could do was stare.

  The Guild.

  This must be him – this was the man Kaira had been hunting, the man she had been sent from the Temple of Autumn to track down and bring to justice. And her one link to him was a girl off the streets.

  ‘What you staring at?’ demanded Rag.

  Kaira realised her eyes had been locked on Rag all the while.

  ‘Nothing,’ she replied. And it was nothing. Her mission for the Temple of Autumn was long past; she had turned her back on all that. She had a new life and she was no longer beholden to the Shieldmaidens and the Matron Mother.

  Even so, something in Kaira wanted to find this man, to bring him, kicking and screaming if necessary, to the stairs of her temple. To shout out the Matron Mother, to tell her she had succeeded in the task given, and on her own terms.

  Besides that, it was obvious this man wanted Merrick for nothing good. Kaira could not simply stand by and let the Guild find him. Though they were safe within the boundaries of the palace, they could not stay inside its walls forever. It was only a matter of time before the Guild would make their move. And if they found him they would most likely find her, and it was doubtful they’d greet her with smiles and hugs of friendship.

  Kaira Stormfall was not the type to wait for trouble to come to her. If there was a fight to be had she would take it right to the enemy’s door.

  And this urchin – Rag, the street rat – was the key to it all.

  Kaira looked down at the girl, still deciding if she could trust her. Perhaps she had no choice. Was she to torture her for the location of the Guild’s leader? Hand her over to the Inquisition and let Seneschal Rogan use his own inimitable methods? Not likely. Even if Kaira could have allowed such a thing to happen to a young girl, there was no guarantee Rogan wasn’t already in the Guild’s pocket.

  ‘Do you know what the Guild intends to do with this Merrick Ryder?’ Kaira asked.

  Rag shrugged. ‘They didn’t say.’

  ‘What do you think they’ll do?’

  This time there was no shrug. Rag had every idea what they’d do.

  ‘Nothing good, I’ll wager,’ the girl replied.

  ‘And you’re happy with that?’

  Kaira could see Rag weighing that up. She clearly understood the implications of her actions.

  ‘No,’ she replied. ‘No I’m bloody not. I’ve …’ She stopped herself.

  ‘You’ve what, Rag?’

  The girl’s brow furrowed into a frown and then her face crumpled. ‘I’ve had enough of watching what they do to people. I’ve had enough of seeing the misery they cause folks. The things they make people do … I only wanted to join up ’cos I was sick of living day to day with nothing to eat and no roof over my head. But they … they …’ She looked down at her hands, squeezed together all white-knuckled, on her lap. ‘All I wanted was somewhere to belong. But I don’t belong with them. I’m just not like them.’

  Kaira took Rag’s hands in hers.

  ‘I can help you,’ she said with a smile. ‘I can protect you from them. Give you a new life if you want it. But you have to help me first. Do you think you can you do that?’

  Rag nodded. How could she turn down the prospect of a new life away from Friedrik and his vicious ways. ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘This man Friedrik. I want him. And I need you to lure him out so that I can get him.’

  Rag understood. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘But how am I going to do that?’

  ‘He’s after this Merrick. If you tell him you’ve managed to infiltrate the Sentinel barracks, you’ll gain his trust. Say you can lure Merrick out but you’ll need more time. Persuade Friedrik to meet you at a certain time and place when Merrick will be outside the palace. That is when I will strike.’

  ‘All right,’ said Rag. ‘I can do that.’

  She stood up and wiped her eyes dry. Kaira placed her hands on the girl’s shoulders.

  ‘I can trust you, can’t I, Rag?’

  Although Rag’s nod seemed sincere enough, Kaira hoped that Vorena was watching and this girl’s lament about the Guild was indeed genuine.

  ‘How do I get them to believe me?’ Rag asked. ‘To believe me enough to do what I say?’

  Kaira thought for a moment. It would certainly help the girl to persuade Friedrik and the Guild to follow her if she had something to back up her words.

  ‘Take this,’ Kaira said, removing the Sentinel medallion from around her neck. ‘As a show of trust. It could also help you to convince this Friedrik that you have been successful; that you have found the man he’s looking for. Tell him it belongs to Merrick Ryder.’

  Rag took the shiny steel medallion and ran her thumb across the face of it as though the crown and swords emblazoned there might rub off.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, putting the medallion round her neck and tucking it inside her shirt. She took it a little too easily, tucked it away rather too deftly, and again Kaira had fleeting doubts. But what choice did she really have?

  She guided Rag out of the barracks, across the courtyard and out onto the street beyond.

  ‘I’m counting on you, Rag,’ Kaira said as they stood in the shadow of Skyhelm.

  ‘I know,’ the girl replied, and walked quickly away.

  Kaira watched her go, hoping her faith would be justified. Only time would tell.

  As for Merrick – did he have to know about this? That the Guild had not forgotten about him and were even now planning to kill him? No. He had enough to worry about right now.

  Kaira would see this through on her own.

  SEVENTEEN

  It started raining just before nightfall. Kaira had come to relieve him of duty at the queen’s chamber door and all Merrick wanted right now was to indulge in the luxury of sleep. These past days at the queen’s side had not allowed him or the three other Sentinels the usual amount of respite. They barely had enough time to eat and shit before they were once again on duty. Not that Merrick would have complained – this was his time to shine, to prove himself.

  And is that what you want, Ryder? To shine? To show your devotion to the Crown and make your father proud? Or are you fooling yourself? Nothing’s changed, has it, Ryder? You’re still the same useless bastard, only now you’ve got a shiny suit of armour to strut around in.

  Making his way through the gates of the barracks he could hear men shouting as they trained in the courtyard beyond. So far he’d managed to avoid the Wyvern Guard, which was fine by him. All they seemed to do was practise, practise, practise. Training themselves to a physical peak, honing their sword skills or beating the shit out of each other just for the fun of it. Merrick had been forced to train hard upon joining the Sentinels, but had never been subjected to anything like this.

  The courtyard was full of men stripped to the waist, the rain glistening on their bodies in the lantern light, steam rising off them as they exerted themselves in the cold evening. Two men with canes walked up and down a line of warriors who were performing push-ups. Every man did them in unison. Any man who dropped behind the pace received a whack with the cane.

  Despite his fatigue, Merrick was tempted to watch a while from the shelter of the eaves. Part of him envied these men their strength and dedication. Though he was a consummate swordsman who had endured his share of gruelling trainin
g, Merrick doubted he would respond well to being beaten. He’d most likely have told them where to shove their bloody canes.

  That had always been his problem – too independent, too headstrong. It was an attitude that hadn’t served him well over the past few years, and having someone else making his decisions might have been a good thing. But, you had to play the hand you were dealt the best you could. No use crying over it.

  ‘Impressive aren’t they?’

  Merrick turned to see a grizzled-looking man standing at his shoulder. His hair and beard were close-cropped, his nose a broken mess. From his age and demeanour, and the fact he wasn’t sweating like a pig with the rest of the Wyvern Guard, Merrick guessed he was one of the Lord Marshal’s lieutenants.

  ‘They’re certainly good at push-ups,’ Merrick replied. ‘Though being beaten with a stick would motivate most men.’

  ‘Lord Marshal Ryder believes in obedience at all times. Pain is a good reminder of that. Most of these lads have been training under him for years. Long, hard years learning the spear and sword. They’re as disciplined a bunch of men as you’ll find in all the armies of the world.’

  Merrick knew well how much Tannick Ryder loved his discipline, though he had always been spared any physical chastisement as a child. He guessed he had his mother to thank for that.

  ‘I’m Jared,’ said the warrior. ‘The Lord Marshal’s second.’

  ‘Merrick,’ he replied, thinking it best to leave it at that for now. No point admitting he was a Ryder – he was in no mood for the inevitable inquisition that would follow.

  ‘Merrick?’ Jared asked. ‘Funny – Lord Marshal used to have a goat called Merrick. We had to slaughter it for rations before leaving the Kriega Mountains. He was ever so upset about that.’

  A goat?

  A fucking goat?

  ‘Some people do get attached to their pets,’ Merrick replied through gritted teeth. Shame they don’t feel the same for their families.

  Out on the rain-soaked courtyard the warriors of the Wyvern Guard had changed from press-ups to sprinting. Each man carried one of his fellows on his back and ran the thirty-yard length of the square before they swapped over.

  ‘Since there’s going to be a fight the likes of which no one’s seen in centuries,’ said Jared, ‘we have to be prepared. Strong. Fast. Or at least stronger and faster than the enemy.’

  ‘I see you’re taking no chances on that score.’ One of the cane wielders was thrashing a pair of sprinters who had fallen behind.

  ‘Aye. Those Khurtic bastards will take some beating, but we’ll be ready for them. Anyway, might soon come the day when we have to fight shoulder to shoulder. Hope you’re ready too.’

  ‘As I’ll ever be,’ Merrick said, though he wondered if he really was ready. Defending the queen was one thing – standing on the wall of the city and waiting to be attacked by a horde of angry Khurtas was quite another. ‘But I certainly feel a lot safer knowing you’ll be by my side.’ He feigned a smile at Jared, who flushed with pride.

  ‘Ha,’ said the warrior, slapping a heavy hand on Merrick’s shoulder. ‘It’ll be an honour. The Wyvern Guard and the Sentinels, side by side once more. The tales will last long after we’re dead.’

  ‘I’m sure they will.’ And let’s hope that’s not for many, many years yet.

  The warriors in the courtyard had finished their sprints and were standing to attention. One of them placed a finger to his nostril, snorting snot into the rain. As he did so one of the cane wielders slashed him across the back. Without flinching he spun round, snatching the cane from the man’s grip and snapping it across his knee.

  Merrick recognised him from days earlier in the throne room. He’d been the one wearing the white animal pelt that had faced off against Marshal Farren of the Knights of the Blood.

  ‘Bloody hells,’ said Jared to himself, as things looked like they might escalate.

  ‘Seems some of your men haven’t quite got that message about discipline,’ said Merrick, suppressing a grin.

  Jared took a step forward as the two Wyvern Guard looked like they might come to blows, but before he could speak a voice barked from the shadows at the edge of the courtyard.

  ‘Whoreson!’

  The men froze where they stood, but the two warriors still glared at one another.

  Merrick watched as a tall bearded figure walked into view. His stern visage was unmistakeable in the scant light. Tall and imperious in his armour, Tannick Ryder strode over to where the two men confronted each other.

  ‘It’s always you, Whoreson. If you weren’t so bloody good with a blade I’d have put you out in the snow years ago.’ Whoreson stood to attention. ‘All brawn and no brains. Well you’re lucky that’s what we need right now. Assume the position,’ Tannick ordered. ‘The rest of you watch, and watch closely. I’ll brook no dissent. No argument. No disobedience.’

  Whoreson strolled to the centre of the courtyard and dropped to his knees. Merrick could see something in his face; something in his eyes … could he be looking forward to what was coming?

  Merrick leaned in to whisper in Jared’s ear. ‘Interesting name, Whoreson.’

  Jared grimaced. ‘His name’s Cormach. Whoreson’s just a nickname. Best swordsman we’ve got, but he bloody well knows it. This ain’t the first time he’s taken a caning and I doubt it’ll be the last.’

  Tannick signalled to the other man who held a cane. The man walked forward and looked a little nervous. ‘Nothing personal,’ he said, before he raised the cane and struck. It made a wet slapping sound against Cormach’s soaked back.

  ‘Again,’ said Tannick.

  The man began the flogging, whipping the cane through the drizzle-filled air and striking again. Merrick counted twenty strokes. Each time Tannick Ryder repeated, ‘Again,’ the cane struck hard and true.

  Merrick was amazed at how Cormach took every blow, and with each strike the corner of his mouth turned up in a bigger grin.

  ‘Enough,’ said Tannick finally, reaching for the cane. ‘Remember this well; I don’t fuck around. You are all made of mountain rock. You’re all heartless bastards, fed on blood and steel. None can stand against you because I have made you invincible. You are mine alone, my sons and brothers both – the Wyvern Guard. Never forget that.’

  Tannick looked down at Cormach Whoreson, still kneeling in the rain, then brought the cane down with a final mighty slash. It split in two against his back, one end flying off into the night. Cormach fell forward, then righted himself. As he did so he looked up at Merrick, catching his eye for the briefest of moments. Merrick didn’t know the man from a bag of nails yet he was sure he could see hatred in that look. What in the hells he’d done to offend this man he had no idea.

  ‘Get some sleep,’ Tannick shouted, flinging away the remains of the cane. ‘Be ready for training tomorrow.’

  Obediently the warriors of the Wyvern Guard made their way into the barracks. One of them tried to help Cormach to his feet but the man shook off his hand and, after rising unsteadily, followed the rest inside.

  ‘See you later, friend,’ said Jared with a quick salute.

  ‘And you,’ Merrick replied with a casual salute. ‘If you need some stronger sticks I’ll have a look in the stores for you.’

  Jared frowned at the joke, then followed his men. Tannick Ryder, however, remained standing in the middle of the courtyard.

  Merrick watched from beneath the eaves, sure he was concealed, not daring to move lest he give his position away. But the longer he stood the more his unease grew.

  ‘Did you enjoy the show?’ Tannick asked.

  Merrick looked to left and right. There was no one else in the courtyard besides Merrick and his father. Clearly not as concealed as I thought.

  Tannick turned to look at Merrick. The rain beat down on his armoured shoulders, and his hair and beard were drenched. Merrick, for once, was speechless.

  ‘Cat got your tongue, boy? This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? The big re
union? Well, I’m here, so say what you’ve got to say and we can both be done with it.’

  Memories from childhood came rushing back to him. All those days of admonishment and scornful glares. Of never being good enough. Of feeling useless. A disappointment.

  At last he had the chance he had waited years for, and now it was in his grasp he had no idea what to do.

  Almost involuntarily Merrick stepped forward and he was out in the light, feeling the rain tamp down against his head, feeling it wash down his face and the back of his neck and into his armour. All at once it was as though the rain had washed away any reluctance to speak up for himself.

  ‘It’s been a long time,’ he said.

  As good a start as any.

  ‘Yes, it has,’ Tannick replied. There was no emotion in his voice, no notion of regret or paternal feeling, but what had Merrick expected?

  ‘Too long,’ ventured Merrick. This time Tannick gave no reply. Clearly he didn’t share the sentiment. ‘I assumed you didn’t want to see me.’

  ‘I didn’t. But since you’re here now, let’s get this out of the way. So what have you got to say?’ Good to see his father still had that inimitable charm.

  Merrick had plenty to say. Years of pent-up frustration just boiling up, waiting to explode, but he couldn’t find the words. He had to say something. Had to grasp the moment. He couldn’t just stand there getting piss wet through.

  ‘How have you been?’

  That was a bit more pathetic than he’d been going for.

  ‘The question is: how have you been?’ said Tannick. ‘But you don’t need to tell me, I’ve already been informed. You’re a drunkard and a gambler and a whoremonger. You left your mother to die while you spent her fortune and ended up on the streets. Is that about right?’

  You fucking left her to die, you bastard! You were the one that abandoned us! You were the one who rode off into the night like a bloody thief!

  ‘I’m not like that anymore,’ Merrick said. The voice that came out of him was hardly his own. It was the voice of a child. A lonely child with no father and a sick mother. A child that simply wanted to be loved, accepted, reassured.