Haggart's Dawn

by Martyn J. Pass

  “What did we do to you?” he moaned.

  “We came from the Inn down the road. Apparently you've been extorting them.”

  “Bein doin' what to 'em?”

  “Demanding they pay you for not attacking them,” said Haggart.

  “Oh. We didn't... I mean...”

  “Let's just get this over with. Kill them if you want, but I tell you now none of you are leaving here alive. You know it. We know it.”

  There was a moment of silence. Then the man drew upon whatever courage he had left, cast the woman aside and charged.

  *

  “What did I say?” roared the Captain as the flame caught the kindling and began to devour the wood of the pyre. Haggart lifted his fur collar as high as he could and knotted a piece of thong around his head to secure the makeshift mask over his mouth. The stench of burning flesh reminded him of pig fat and he mused on that as the Captain, helped by Talbert, heaved great barrels of wine out into the snow.

  “Have you found coin then? Gold maybe?” he said, his voice now muffled by the collar.

  “Coin, some jewels, even a bit of silver ingot. That will keep us in good food and warm beds for a while!” His face was flushed red from exertion, or perhaps from the excitement only children seem to enjoy and he laughed as the two of them went back inside to fetch more.

  “We're going to need a wagon,” said Haggart when they next emerged.

  “Talbert, start walking,” commanded the Captain.

  “Eh?”

  “You heard - get a brisk pace together and get back to the Inn. Fetch Varn and his wagon; tell him if he wants his stock back he'll have to come and get it himself.”

  “Why me?”

  “You're younger, faster, healthier. Me and Haggart here are old men. We'll stay by the fire, mate.”

  “That's a bloody crime! If it wasn't for me...”

  “Bloody hell - you only pull on that trigger of yours, what's so hard about that? Tell you what - next time, you can get that letter opener of yours out of its scabbard and have a go at a real bit of scuffling. How's that?”

  “I'm going, I'm going,” he mumbled and set off down the hill. When he was out of earshot, the Captain grinned.

  “He did well,” he said, sitting on a barrel. “What did I tell you?”

  “That's one success - he hasn't won a war yet. Still, it's a good sign.”

  The Captain threw on his furs as the cold crept across his sweating, heaving back and he returned to his plunder. The three women who'd survived were tied at the wrist and fastened to an iron rung in the wall near the fire. They all looked at their feet and were too scared to watch as the bodies burned and the stench assaulted their noses. Haggart pitied them but perhaps Frau might also take pity on them, he thought, and his mind was drawn to Lorrie and John many miles away and what they might be doing.

  11.

  “Speed, aggression and fear - your allies and your guardians when you charge the enemy. It is no time for reflection nor for pity. It's a time for violence and blood and death. Only when the battle is won can you assess the cost, only then can you decide whether you rode out of the attack a better or worse man.”

  - The Cavalryman's Primer

  That night the Inn and its surrounding neighbours threw a lavish meal for them in gratitude for what they'd done and perhaps as the only kind of payment they could afford. The Captain was more than satisfied with such a reward when the first platter of roast beef was brought out, quickly followed by various vegetables, sauces, pies, cheeses and of course - a healthy amount of ale. There was even talk of a cake made by the farmer's wife followed up with cream and mixed berries in a strong sauce made from rum. Then more ale. Haggart made sure that any who attended the inn despite the wailing, roaring storm outside ate their fill and soon the atmosphere was happy and contented and filled with the sounds of clanking pots and chinking glasses.

  As the night came to an end a feeling of unease soon overcame the merriment like an oncoming mass of grey clouds might overtake a pleasant blue sky. People dispersed, drunk and glad in their hearts that their immediate threat had been defeated. But soon Haggart, the Captain and Talbert were left by the hearth side with Varn and Frau and it was Talbert who seemed to voice his concern first.

  “Anyone within a hundred leagues will know we're here,” he said.

  “Aye lad. Though we knew that when the ship came after us,” replied the Captain. Varn looked at them.

  “I don't mean to pry,” he said, “but why exactly are you here? In all this chaos I'd never thought to question just why three men of your... skills should be in my tavern.”

  “We're looking for a man called Jurgenbraw,” said Haggart.

  “I know this man,” said Frau. “Everyone here does. He murdered innocent people, so they say, people who did him no wrong, just so he could make a name for hi'self.”

  “When was the last time you heard of him in these parts?” he asked.

  “A few months ago, but he'd never come down this road. It's too obvious. He prefers to sneak around, get others to do his work for him,” continued Varn.

  “Work?” said Talbert.

  “Aye lad, work or some evil scheme up in the mountains. He might not come this way but the wagons have to if they want to make it through.”

  “How many?”

  “We've counted over a dozen a month up until last summer when they suddenly ceased. They looked like carriages but we couldn't be sure because they were covered in sail cloth to hide what was in them.”

  “Did any of them come back this way?” asked the Captain.

  “They've been coming and going for over three years now. At first we thought they were just packing up and sailing away, but we've never seen any one but for the drivers. They don't stop here. They don't stop anywhere. They just keep going, right up onto the decks of ships and off across the water. Sometimes you'd hear them during the night, slowly driving those poor horses along the road, their shoes clip-clopping into the darkness.”

  “That's why you're here,” said Frau. “You've come for him?”

  “It's a difficult story to tell, suffice it to say that those wagons were carrying strange machines - machines that we discovered hidden under a mill near our home. Then they started to appear all over the place. The Council think they're coming from here - or were, should I say. You've really seen nothing since summer?”

  “No, not a thing,” said Frau. “What did these machines do?”

  “That's the part you don't want to know,” said the Captain. “Let's just say it isn't very pleasant and he needs to be stopped.”

  “Do you know where to find him?” she asked.

  “We have a good idea where the place was where these things were being made. We're heading there straight away in the morning,” said Haggart.

  “If he's still up there then by morning he will know you're here. There's not a person within leagues who hasn't heard of your deeds up at the old fort. I'm sorry to have dragged you out into the open like this,” she said and shook her head.

  “Do not fret. We knew we were already being followed, it was only a matter of time. There is no need for secrecy, only haste. Tomorrow we will make our way into the mountains and find out if he's still there.”

  “It could be a trap,” said Varn.

  “We've seen a few ambushes in our time,” said the Captain. “There's a good chance we'll see this one.”

  “I hope you're right,” said Frau. “For all our sakes.”

  “When you've finished, if time permits, return here before you make for Minivad. We will be honoured to send you on your way fed and well rested once again.”

  Haggart thanked them and finished his cup before looking longingly into the fire. Ambush, he thought. It certainly felt like it.

  *

  The morning greeted them with a calm blue sky and a fresh foot of snowfall. The stable boy, already out in his long oversized boots, met them with a shy nod and led their horses out to the hitching post
near the Inn door. The Captain was fitting his saddle to his mount and he checked for a third time that his coin and small pieces of precious metal were still inside the panniers. He'd been glad to find that many who'd attended the celebration meal that night had bought a great deal of loot from him and once more the coin purse bulged with his prize. There were a few items, clothing and such, that he hadn't been able to shift and these he left to Varn to give to any passing stranger in need of them.

  “You mean to say you burned their bodies naked?” Varn had asked.

  “Well, not quite,” replied the Captain sheepishly. “I always leave the undergarments. No one wants to buy undergarments, especially the ones they died in. They tend to get... soiled.”

  “Seems slightly... ghoulish.”

  “To some, aye. To others in need of assistance, the dead are happy to part with their material possessions. They no longer have need of them.”

  “I suppose there is a kind of logic to that,” said Varn with a puzzled look upon his face.

  “You get used to it,” said Haggart. “It's odd at first, watching him strip them bare, but when you're settling into a warm bed in the middle of winter you're quite glad he did it.”

  “Really?” asked Frau.

  “No,” said Haggart. “We think he's very strange.”

  They bid their hosts farewell and set off up the road, trotting along and trampling down the snow to create fresh tracks upon it. There was little or no chance of remaining secret now and nor did they feel it necessary as the trail they left behind stood out plainly on the landscape. Theirs were the only hoof prints in the virgin snow and unless it came down again shortly they would remain there for the better part of the day.

  Crunching along and upwards, the hills displayed a beauty unknown to Talbert who, having never left his native land before, found it inspiring and said as much to the others.

  “It's beautiful,” he said. “I've never seen so much snow before.”

  “We get snow,” remarked the Captain.

  “Yes, but not like this. There's just so much of it here.”

  “It's like this for most of the year,” said Haggart. “It makes crop growing almost impossible. Hence why Minivad thrives on imported foods. But you'll never eat a better beef than those that are bred at the bottoms of the mountains on the other side of this rise. The taste is beyond compare, not like those dismal looking beasts that we saw at the City.”

  “So far they've had the best mead and now the best meat. What more can a man ask for?” said Talbert.

  “That's the spirit,” said the Captain, laughing. “There's something to be said for your kind, Haggart.”

  “That's true,” he replied.

  The horses crossed the peak easily enough and passed between two much higher mountains that flanked a deep valley below. It was a gentle sloping path down to a long, narrow lake that had long since frozen over. By midday they were on the far side of it and looking for somewhere to camp.

  “It's going to be a cold one,” said the Captain.

  “There's a pine forest over there,” pointed Haggart to a clump on the north-western corner of the lake and spurred his horse in its direction. They avoided the ice for as far north as they could and came back on themselves before dismounting and leading their horses inside. It was airy and there was still plenty of light streaming in between the branches.

  They made camp and started a small fire but sleep wouldn't come. Often during the night they woke to imagined sounds of horses passing along the road or the sounds of animals creeping around their camp looking for a scrap of food or to enjoy some of the heat from the flames. Four times Haggart found that he needed to relieve himself because of the cold and in the end the best that they could hope for was a short doze while they sat around the warmth. But no sooner had their eyes closed than their heads suddenly dropped and jarred them awake again.

  In the morning they continued on, tired and weary but eager to press ahead and make the most of a clear sky. But by afternoon a violent wind came in from the east, bringing with it a dismal snow storm that tore at the parts of their faces not swathed in wool and leather. Their horses had been well chosen and pushed through it all with a dogged determination - perhaps with even more grit than their riders who were quite content to sit there, heads bowed, bearing the brunt of the gales whilst the beasts pressed on.

  Yet the night came and storm raged itself into nothing. The furious sky gave one last burst of hatred aimed directly at the three intruders and gave up as suddenly as it had started. Their ears rang with the sudden silence and presently they found they could talk for the first time since midday.

  “I thought it would never end,” said Haggart as he pushed back his hood and pulled down the scarf that was now moist with condensed breath.

  “I have never been in such a storm before,” said Talbert doing likewise. The Captain had stopped the slow march as they finished a precarious descent into a valley ringed in thick, dense woodland. The stars were out in what could almost have been mistaken for a celebration at the close of a tremendously difficult day. Turning his horse westward, the Captain waved a hand towards a collapsed stone wall that appeared for about half a mile before crumbling at the base of an old cattle barn made of the same grey brick. He led them inside the four walls and climbed off his horse. It was a good size, long enough to take both the horses and themselves comfortably.

  “Shame about the roof,” he said and pointed to the skeletal beams that were all that remained. “Better than being out there though.”

  He asked Talbert to gather some wood whilst he kicked a patch of ground clear of the snow and began building up a pile of kindling. Haggart tethered the horses to some rusted iron rings in the wall and fetched two bottles of mead from his panniers along with a stout copper pan.

  “Time for this I think,” he said and, once the fire was ready, set the mead warming on the fire. The Captain passed round some cold cuts of ham and some unleavened bread which Talbert toasted on the end of his dirk.

  “A nice way to ruin your blade,” remarked the Captain. “Don't let the end change colour or it will lose its temper and blunt more easily.”

  Talbert nodded and Haggart passed around pewter cups of steaming mead before sitting with his back to the wall and his legs crossed in front of him at the ankles.

  “At least we might sleep tonight,” he said and closed his eyes. The mead was hot and sweet in his throat.

  “That's what bugs me about Talbert,” began the Captain, gesturing with a piece of bread. “Look at his face - not a single sign of discomfort. He's always cheery and in high spirits no matter what we throw at him.”

  “What do you expect? He's young and we're old. We've got back pains and indigestion and a bad case of cynicism,” said Haggart. Talbert just laughed and in his heart Haggart knew that such an uncanny positivity could only be a good thing. If left to fester too long, cynicism would give way to despondency and people like Talbert had a way of retarding such a disease's growth. In response to this musing, Haggart filled Talbert's cup for him and offered some more to the Captain.

  “How much further?” he asked, accepting.

  “Tomorrow we should see something of the tribes. Then by the following day we will have reached the cave in Sturgenvad, I hope,” replied Haggart.

  “How come we haven't seen anyone else?”

  “They're usually deeper into the mountains. If I remember rightly it took us four days to get from Sturgenvad to Minivad where our fleet once docked. But that was a long time ago and I might not remember it properly. I was only young.”

  “What's can we expect at Sturgenvad?” asked Talbert.

  “I'm not sure now. Lorrie's notes don't allow for the unknown damage Jurgenbraw might have done. For all I know everyone might be dead and we'll come across a lot of frozen corpses.”

  “That's a possibility,” said the Captain. “We'll just have to be on our guard.”

  “Nothing new there then?” said Haggart. />
  *

  Haggart hadn't been far from the truth when he suspected that there might actually be no one there when they arrived. At the setting of the sun on their fourth day in the wastes they found only empty huts and caves all the way into Sturgenvad itself. Any wooden structures were now only charred skeletons and caves had been melted from within into almost transparent balls of ice misted only by the refracting sunshine.

  In the centre of the town they stopped and turned their mounts this way and that looking for any signs of life in the bleak wasteland. A chill breeze seemed to welcome them, cutting through their layers of fur and wool and freezing the blood in their veins.

  “They're gone,” said Haggart with finality.

  “Where though?” said Talbert. “There are no bodies, no bones. Not even loot.”

  “I'd noticed,” murmured the Captain.

  “Shall we make for the cave?”

  Haggart remained stunned and motionless save for the natural shuffling of the horse beneath him. Was it shock, he wondered as he surveyed the destruction and tried to make sense of it. Then it dawned on him what had happened. It was a bloody, wretched dawning and it surged up in the pit of his stomach.

  “Let's find the cave. The answer is there,” he said and turned the head of his horse with a sharp pull on the reins.

  “You're sure - what are you thinking, friend?” asked the Captain noting the sudden paleness in his face.

  “I hope I'm wrong...” was all he could say as he led the two companions northwards.

  As they had expected, the cave had long since been abandoned. They found the entrance sloppily concealed behind an ice melt and a few blows from the Captain's axe soon cleared a path inside. They lit a torch and began to move deeper inside, the light creating an otherwise beautiful blue and white glow all around them. A wide ramp led down into the depths of the cave whilst cut into the sides were many steps going in the same direction, gritted with crushed stone to avoid slipping.