Through out the battle, Lorrie had remained in the shadows, watching. Haggart saw her and called her over.
“It is done, Lorrie. They're dead,” he said.
“That was horrible,” she spluttered, her tears reaching her lips and shining silvery in the light from the burning temple. “Who were they?” she asked. Todd, hiding behind the nearest wall, rose and came over.
“They were the hunters, the ones from before. They arrived shortly after I left you and demanded to know who these horses belonged to. When I didn't tell them, they threatened to kill me. That was when the Priest arrived. The rest you know.”
“Why did they set fire to the temple?” asked Haggart.
“They'd wanted rid of this place for years and here was their chance.” He turned to look at the flames which were now devouring the wooden beams of the roof. Haggart knew there was little chance of saving it now. “They killed him,” Todd said almost to himself, an act of surrender to the sad truth of it.
“You can come with us,” said the Captain, untying the horses who were distressed by the heat and the smell of blood.
“But...”
“You have no home now. The Priest is dead. Come, Todd. Come to the pub.”
“Okay,” he managed. He knelt down and closed the eyes of the old man. “We will need to bury them,” he mumbled.
“I'm sorry, but we can't. Give them to the fire. Let them burn by their own flames.”
Reluctantly, Todd nodded and the Captain and Haggart lifted the bodies into the temple whilst Lorrie led the horses down the path. People from the town, having seen the flames and heard the battle began to make their way towards them.
“Hurry, Haggart,” said the Captain as they heaved the bodies inside. The last to go was the Priest who Todd insisted be allowed to carry him instead of Haggart. Just as they emerged from the inferno, the first of the townspeople arrived, demanding to know what was happening.
“There were three bandits, they set fire to the temple, they murdered the Priest,” said Todd through his tears. “I locked them in. It was all I could do...”
The people gasped in horror and stared at the crumbling remains of their place of worship, blind to the three riders who were just leaving, cloaked and moving along with their heads bowed.
4.
“Religion is rife in Ulfwen and never more so than in those who lift a sword in service to their King. But the man of religion is a dangerous companion. Either he is too zealous for his god's will and neglects that of his Monarch, or he is too afraid of displeasing his god and will hesitate at the moment of truth. Send such men to the storerooms and ink wells but never to the battlefield.”
- The Cavalryman's Primer
Todd arrived several days later. Haggart didn't think he was coming when he hadn't shown up the following morning but a few days later they saw him plodding slowly down the road and the Captain rode out to meet him.
“Where is your horse, Todd?” he asked.
“I had to sell him – I had nothing,” he replied. “It's all gone. Everything. Burned.”
“There are still those who would remember your deeds, Todd. Not all is lost.”
They returned to the pub and Haggart served him a meal and a drink whilst a room was sorted for him. Lorrie sat at the table, listening to him pour out his heart as the alcohol did its work.
“What do we do now?” asked Haggart from behind the bar as the Captain came near and he poured him a generous helping of ale.
“I'm not sure. We're drawing a lot of attention and it won't be long before fingers are pointed our way. I say that despite the rune leading us to the weapons of Dern, we still haven't had an explanation as to what we might need them for.”
“My thoughts exactly,” said Haggart. “The rune itself was associated with your ancestors – but why? That remains an unanswered question and the Library may still have an answer.”
“That decides it then. We take Lorrie and Talbert...”
“...and John,” he insisted. “The boy is spending too much time with Yorvik's lads. The last I heard they were growing Hogg in the bottom field and smoking it by the bucket full. A little time in the City should do him good.”
“They'll both need to learn a little sword work,” said the Captain. “Is that lad of yours still good with a bow?”
“Aye, but not with a blade. Better to teach them both at the same time.”
The bar was filling up slowly as the afternoon wore on yet Haggart felt lost in his own thoughts. Had it come to this? More war, more conflict? He struggled to look at Lorrie, to see such a young girl already scarred by what she'd seen and have to make the decision to possibly involve her in worse. The vision had shown him an army unlike any he'd faced before. Was it just imagery, or was this in the future and still to come? If there was war, on such a scale as that, would they ever return?
When one of the maids arrived, Haggart retreated to his study and closed the door behind him. He lit the candle on the table and found some blank paper to write on and began putting down his final wishes. He wasn't feeling particularly morose, he knew that in some way this was going to be the end of something and they would have to be prepared for the worst. He decided to leave the pub to Harry. His family would be good landlords and he felt there were very few people he could trust with the task of getting rid of his library of council-banned books. If he was smart, Harry would pass them on to travellers who would be far harder to trace back to the 'Sundered Helm'. He left instructions to only do this on the full confirmation of the deaths of the Captain, himself and... He struggled to finish the sentence, not wanting to see his own son's mortality called into question, but he had to - he knew that their mission would take them beyond the City eventually and into even greater dangers. Such was the lifestyle he'd lived for so long, but why was it harder to accept now?
There was a knock at the door and Haggart broke out of his internal torment and saw that it was Lorrie. He waved her inside.
“Are you okay?” she asked as he finished writing and dusted the ink. It was then that he truly saw her, her mother, reflected back through the flickering flames that played across her eyes. The pain was almost too much to bear and he slumped back in his chair, throwing the paper aside.
“Not really,” he managed and found a bottle of green liquid in the desk drawer. He took two glasses from the shelf behind him and poured out two generous measures. He passed one to her just as the Captain came in and went in search of a third glass.
“What are we drinking to?” he asked, sitting down next to Lorrie.
“Whatever lies ahead. Whatever waits for us,” said Haggart. “And wait it does.”
The Captain picked up the discarded paper and began reading.
“You were thinking the same as me then,” he said. “That we're not coming back?”
“It's a possibility. I need to be sure this room doesn't fall into the wrong hands and I don't have the heart to destroy it.”
“True enough. Harry can be trusted to make it disappear, don't worry about that.”
“You're both talking like there's no hope,” said Lorrie. “Why?”
“We don't know,” said Haggart. “But if you'd seen what I saw...”
“I have.” She opened her hand and held it up for them to see. Burned into her palm was another rune, different from Haggart's but in exactly the same style. The shock was palpable.
“When did this happen?” asked the Captain, startled at her coolness. “Why didn't you say anything?”
“I haven't had chance – it happened when you went out to meet Todd. I was dozing in that chair when I felt my eyes grow heavy. The next thing I saw was a burning land, a blaze that reached up to the sky. In the flames were people, walking, marching, coming closer to me. I thought I was going to suffocate from the smoke but I felt nothing. Then the army came into view and they were holding up people – dead people – people like you, Captain. And Haggart. And...”
“John,” Haggart finished.
“Yes.”
“Was there a robed man?”
“Yes. He appeared and told me they were sending their dead ahead of them, before a great sign would be given. Then...”
“Then what?”
“Then he said that the one who holds the key is dead.”
They were silent for a moment and the sounds of the busy bar below murmured up through the floor boards. Haggart poured another round of drinks and drained his in one attempt.
“This is much different from my vision,” he said. “The rune is different too.”
“I know,” said the Captain. “Now, more than ever, do we need to leave for the City. There can be no more delay.”
“There wasn't fire in my vision – it could mean that something has begun that hadn't before... I just don't know, it's too bloody cryptic. Why not just tell us clearly?”
“I think they must enjoy it,” said Lorrie. “They must enjoy toying with us like the heathen gods of old.”
“You're reading too much,” he said, laughing.
*
Talbert arrived the following morning with his travelling gear and a pack horse to carry the camp. Meanwhile, Haggart rode to Yorvik farm to find John. It wasn't far from the Overlook where he'd first had his vision and as he followed the dirt track to the north-west he saw them. They were hunting on the outskirts of the forest and Haggart felt a swell of pride as his son drew his bow – made by his own hand – and easily took down a buck as it leapt over a fallen oak. The sons of Yorvik groaned as John collected the animal's body and slung it over his shoulders. When he saw Haggart he waved and rushed to meet him.
“Good morning, Dad,” he said, draping the buck over the back of his saddle and tying it down. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing, why?” he replied.
“You don't often come to find me. You want me for something.”
“We're leaving for the City,” he began. “I need to consult the Library. You're coming with me.”
“Why?”
“Because we don't think it's safe here any more, not for the time being. The mill, the temple,”
“What happened at the temple? Boran was talking about it to his Dad – did someone burn it down? I thought the Captain's family crypt was there.”
Haggart set the horse trotting back away from the farm and John waved goodbye over his shoulders. The Yorvik lads were hissing and cursing his skill as they waved back.
“Hunters came. They killed the Priest. Todd is at the 'Helm now, he has no where to go. I'd have told you all this had you come home this week.”
“I think I'm old enough to stop out, Dad,” he said, grinning. “And before you say it, we stopped growing Hogg last summer. It made some of us ill.”
“Good. Still, you'll enjoy the trip. It will be better than hanging around here waiting...” He trailed off and urged the horse to walk a little faster.
“I understand,” said John. “Things are going to change, aren't they?”
“What do you mean?”
“We've had it too easy for too long. Something was bound to happen sooner or later. We'll go to the Library and then you'll learn what that burn is on your hand and tell us we need to go some where else, then to another place, and another.”
“You make me sound like a mad-man, hunting shadows and looking crazy-eyed,” laughed Haggart.
“You're none of those, I can promise you. But I know you. This thing with Hector, the vision, Lorrie, it's setting off warnings inside you and that, in turn, sets them off inside me. You survived the wars because of your intuition, you've told me that many times. Why doubt it now?”
“I'm not doubting it – I can promise you that. Lorrie has had a similar vision, John.”
“When?”
“Last night. It wasn't the same. There was fire this time – and the mention of a key, but the bearer being dead already. It makes no sense at the moment, but they don't until the time is right for them to be fulfilled.”
“Then we must go to the Library and find out when that right time might be. I will come. You will need my bow.”
Haggart looked at his son, now half his own age and wondered how he had become so wise. He ruffled his hair and clipped him gently around the ears.
“You're still a bloody good shot I see,” he said.
“Thank Talbert for that.”
“At least there's something he's good at.”
“He's good at a great many things, Dad – I think you just tend to forget that.”
“Perhaps.”
*
They left Sander's End by mid-afternoon and by that time it was raining steadily. The Royal Road was now a muddy swamp and the horses squelched and splashed their way along it as they headed west. The clouds darkened the sky and promised a storm that night. Even on the tops of the northern mountains it looked bleak.
“A promising start,” said the Captain, taking a swig from a small leather skin. “Being pissed all over on the first day. They must really love us up there.” He pointed up to the bruised sky, pulling his hood further down over his face. Haggart pulled his own cloak tighter around him as the cold nipped at his damp shoulders. Talbert rode ahead of him alongside the Captain and laughed.
“It's just a bit of water,” he said. “It could be worse.”
“How so?” asked John from behind.
“It could be snowing,” he said.
“I'd take snow over rain any day,” said Lorrie. “It's prettier than grey clouds and dirty puddles.”
“Well see both before we've finished our journey,” said the Captain. “We are three months from the first days of winter and the City is known to have been buried in the stuff before now. Let's hope we're inside its walls before the first flakes fall.”
“Is it true – the walls are made of the bones of the Council's enemies?” asked John.
“No,” said Haggart. “It is said that the first King, Darsus, a thousand years ago mixed the remains of his enemy, a rival King in the south, with the mortar, but I think it was more of a myth. But, saying that, no one has taken the wall apart to find out.”
“Any word from Shanks?” asked Talbert.
“Nothing,” Haggart answered. “We won't hear from him now until we reach the City. Harry will send on any messages to the Captain's family there.”
“Who's at the City, Captain? I thought all your family were dead,” said Lorrie.
“Most of them are. The Derns were the first to make a stand with the Royal family in the early days of the uprising. When Alexander came and attacked the Palace, it was the Derns who made a stand there. I lost my Father and two brothers at Barneck Castle that day. My uncles and Aunts fought and died in subsequent wars, leaving me and two cousins to carry on the family name,” said the Captain. Haggart could hear the pride swelling in his voice. The Derns, unlike the Haggarts, were once a great and noble family. It was only their allegiance to the last King that robbed them of it. Now the Council had taken away the throne, names like Dern and Passe were synonymous with defeat.
“What about your family, Haggart?” she asked him. He'd seen it coming and so had the rest of the group who chuckled despite the miserable rain.
“We have far less... honourable origins. My father was originally from the frozen north, Sturgenvad. He was a lesser leader of a lesser tribe. We only ended up on this island because our ship lost its place in the fleet and beached here. On it, my mother and father and two sisters survived along with a dozen other tribesman,” he replied.
“What happened to them?” she asked.
“My father was glad to leave our homeland and welcomed the chance of a fresh start. My mother hated the place and wanted to find a way to go home. My sisters didn't care, they were happy to be off the bloody boat. I was only young back then, but I still remember the clan that came to kill us.”
“Kill you? Why?”
“They thought we were invaders. Some of the crew were killed, along with my mother, and they took the rest of us as prison
ers. My father didn't survive and my sisters were given to local clan leaders. I never saw them again.”
Lorrie fell silent, as did the rest of the group. Only the Captain had known the full story – and its outcome. It was only in the final years of the uprising that he and the Captain had travelled north with a war band and found the clan who murdered his family. His sisters were long dead by then.
“I'm sorry,” she muttered.
“Don't be. That is life, as they say,” he replied.
The road became a little more substantial as the evening came and they picked up speed, reaching Rottersill just as the night was coming in. They could still see the burned remains of the temple, though work had begun to clear away the rubble. They passed through quickly and turned south at the cross roads, riding onwards until they reached a dense forest that encompassed them and made camp a mile east of the road.
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