Citadel

by Martin Ash

  Six

  Sometime in the night I was awoken by a persistent shaking sensation. I opened my eyes, not knowing where I was. The room was in near-darkness, pale moonlight revealing blots and outlines and little more. There was a figure crouched over me.

  I was seized by the dream I had had in Hon-Hiaita, of assassins in my double’s employ stealing into my room to murder me. I panicked and made to strike out at my assailant. A strong forearm blocked my blow, fingers locked around my wrist.

  ‘Master Cormer! It’s me, Jaktem! Master Cormer!’

  Jaktem... Jaktem... At last I put a face to that name, and all then cascaded into place.

  ‘Jaktem, what is it?’

  Jaktem released my wrist. ‘Something’s happening. Outside.’ He moved away, across to the window. Now I made out Ilian’s still form in the darkness, pressed to the wall beside the window, peering out through a gap in the shutters. I left my bed and stole towards them. Jaktem, crouched now by the sill, motioned caution with his hand.

  The partially opened shutter allowed a view down into the street. We were on the first floor of the inn, at the rear. Our chamber overlooked a twisting alley with buildings close on the other side. The sloping, tarred wooden roofs of the inn’s stables and storerooms were immediately beneath our window.

  I could see nothing below but dark shadow, vaguely illuminated here and there by patches of weak moonlight. The cluttered rooftops spread away, all jutting, ramshackle angles, and beyond, at the furthest end of the alley, I could just glimpse the glistening marsh, black trees rearing in sinuous postures.

  ‘What is it?’ I whispered again.

  ‘Wait,’ breathed Ilian, and pointed down into the alley. ‘Watch there, between the houses.’

  I concentrated my gaze on the area he indicated. Still I saw nothing but deep shadow. The harder I peered the more impenetrable it seemed to become, shifting as my eyes tried to remain focused upon it. And then the moon came from behind a cloud, throwing a ghostly wash of light on to the street, and - just a glimmer - was it? Yes! Something moved, deep within the shadow.

  ‘Did you see?’

  I nodded.

  ‘There’s another positioned on this side, hidden by the stable, roof.’

  ‘Who are they? What are they doing?’

  Jaktem shook his head. ‘We don’t know, but there are more gone round the front. Master Cormer, I think you should dress.’

  Both my companions had garbed and armed themselves. I quickly moved away, stuffed my legs into trousers and boots and pulled on my tunic, then belted sword and dagger to my waist. I checked the inside of my belt where a length of garrotting wire was secretly stitched. A faint sound from beyond the room caught my attention. I moved to the door and pressed my ear against the wood. I heard the sound again: someone was moving downstairs.

  It might have been the landlord or his staff, or even a guest if there were any, stirring from his bed to relieve himself, but my senses were sharpened and I feared the worst. I motioned to Jaktem to join me. We heard a muffled thud, then another. Then came the creak of a foot upon the stair.

  Jaktem released a grim breath. ‘They have entered through the front.’

  I thought quickly. Whoever was out there was almost certainly not coming to pay their respects. I caught the stealthy footfall on the stairs again, a little closer now.

  ‘How many went around the front?’ I said.

  ‘Five or six. Hard to be sure. Master Cormer, unless you know something different, I think we’re in danger.’

  My heart raced. What should we do? I could go out and speak with these men, try to reason with them, but I doubted that reasoning was on their agenda. The furtive, organized manner of their approach declared them menacing. Somehow I was convinced that their intention was to ensure I did not see the light of the next day.

  Beside me Jaktem moved with sudden decisiveness, lifting the latch and opening the door.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I gasped.

  ‘Give me a minute,’ breathed Jaktem. ‘Stay at the door and be sure to let me back in quickly.’

  He was gone. My fear intensified. I did not know Jaktem. Were he and Ilian in on this? Was I betrayed? I took some heart from the fact that I had just had time to see the glint of a pair of long daggers in his hands.

  I glanced across to where Ilian still stood at the window, eyes on the alley. He seemed intent on his task. I slipped into the doorway and peered along the corridor in Jaktem’s wake. It was pitch dark; I could vaguely determine the outline of Jaktem’s bulk as he moved towards the stairwell. He moved silently but to my surprise, as he drew close to the stairs, he began to sing, a wordless, thumping melody in a low voice. I listened, dumbstruck.

  Suddenly Jaktem’s tune was cut short. There came a grunt, a couple of bumps, and I heard his voice raised in surprise. ‘Ho! What’s this? Good eve, sir. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.’

  There was a moment’s silence, then a curtly mumbled reply. ‘Good eve.’

  ‘I hope I didn’t hurt you,’ said Jaktem. ‘But what’s this? You seem several, lurking here in the dark upon the stairs. By the devils, announce yourselves before I call the guards! Who are you? Are you here with dark intent?’

  Again, brief mumbles. I could just about glean Jaktem’s silhouette at the head of the stairs, cast in a dim amber light. Someone on the stairs was holding a lamp.

  The intruders recovered from their initial surprise. Another voice spoke harshly. ‘We seek Master Cormer. He lodges here.’

  ‘Master Cormer is asleep, as are all respectable folk at this time. What do you want with him that can’t wait until morning?’

  The voice hardened. ‘Make way, man. Our business is not with you.’

  ‘You will not pass until you’ve answered my question. What is your business with Master Cormer? You have weapons drawn, by thunder! Who are you?’

  There was a curse, then a gruff call from below. ‘What are you waiting for? Take him!’

  Now came sounds of a scuffle. Cries, a groan; confusion. There was a clatter on the stairs, more shouts; the lamp was doused. Suddenly Jaktem was back, panting, pushing me into the room.

  ‘Quick, block the door!’

  As he rammed it shut Ilian and I grabbed pallets and a table to barricade it.

  ‘What happened there?’ I demanded.

  ‘One is dead, or at least he should be. A second took my boot in his face. They fell back down the stairs. But they are six at least.’ Jaktem ran to the window. ‘Quickly, it’s our only chance.’

  Even as he spoke I heard them in the passage. They were still confused, not sure which was our chamber. They kicked in doors regardless now, all pretence gone.

  Ilian was through the window, lowering himself quickly on to the sloping stable-roof below. Sword drawn, he half-ran, half-skidded down the roof and leapt into the alley.

  ‘Go!’ urged Jaktem. I grabbed my pack and followed, working my way towards the edge more cautiously than Ilian. I heard grunts and the clang of metal on metal below, but could see nothing. I reached the lip of the roof. Now I made out Ilian almost directly beneath me, fighting furiously against two assailants. I knelt, leaned over the roof and swung my sword-blade down hard upon the head of the nearest man, slicing his skull in two.

  ‘He’s there!’

  I glanced back. Someone was outlined in the windowframe of the room I had just left. A lamp was lit at his back and I could see that the chamber was full of men. I saw, too, that Jaktem was on the roof, pressed up flat against the wall beside the window. As the first man began to climb through in pursuit of me, Jaktem brought the pommel of his sword hard around into his face. The man toppled backwards. Jaktem stepped around with a whoop and stabbed into the window. There was a shriek from within, then Jaktem was running helter-skelter down the roof.

  ‘Come on, Master Cormer!’ he yelled as he launched himself into space. I followed, dropping over the roof into the wet mud of the alley.

  Ilian had finished
off his man. Jaktem grabbed my arm. ‘Quick, this way!’

  We made off into darkness. I could hear feet clattering over the stable-roof in our wake now, and there were shouts from around the building to our left. I ran on blindly, aware by their hoarse breathing and the squelch of their boots in the mud that Jaktem and Ilian were with me.

  Figures came at us out of the darkness to our left - I could not tell how many. I heard Ilian give a bellow as he threw himself among them. There was a horrible thudding sound and a whimper close by me.

  ‘Up here!’ came Jaktem’s voice and he thrust me - I presume it was he - hard into a narrow snickelway between two buildings. The moon slid behind dark clouds. Now in utter blackness, with no light at all to penetrate the shadow, I was forced to slow my pace for fear of colliding with something. I could hear the noise of conflict at my back, then running feet somewhere a little way off to one side.

  I weaved away from the sound, not daring to speak to Jaktem for fear of giving myself away. Then I realized I could no longer hear the reassuring sound of Jaktem’s or Ilian’s breathing, nor their feet on the earth. I sensed too that the buildings had fallen away; I was on relatively open ground.

  This alarmed me more than I could say. The moon remained obscured. I could see nothing at all. There were sounds close at my back, off to one side: scuffling, heavy footsteps.

  ‘This way!’

  It was not a familiar voice.

  Another voice: ‘No, over here!’

  ‘Listen! There’s someone over there!’

  They were edging closer. I moved on, away from them, my heart pounding from a fear as great if not greater than the fear of murderers in the night. By my calculations I had come a hundred or more paces away from the rear of the inn. I had left the buildings behind. I knew that in this direction there was no protective wall. There was no need for one: nobody could approach the settlement from any direction but the southern causeway, not even by boat, for all was hideous wet marsh and mire. And with every step I took I brought myself closer to that marsh.

  I kept going, slowly, taking heart from the firmness of the ground beneath my feet. Suddenly I was aware of laboured breathing close upon my flank.

  ‘There’s someone there!’

  ‘Jaktem!’ I whispered. ‘Ilian!’

  ‘Here! Here!’

  The voice rang out loudly, so close I could almost have touched the man from whom it came. It was plain he did not call to summon aid for me. I lifted my sword and swung wildly at the dark. It bit hard into something both yielding and solid.

  ‘Aaargh!’

  He was down, but his screams rang an alert into the night. I swung again, but this time my blade chewed into earth.

  ‘Aaaargh!’ I could hear him slithering and thrashing on the ground, struggling to move away from the lethal blade he could not see. But neither could I see him, and I heard others converging upon his noise. I plunged away before I became the victim of someone else’s invisible blade.

  Now several voices, hushed and excited, spread in a rough arc to my rear. I had no choice but to push on, away from them. I glanced skywards; black cloud still hid the moon, but it moved swiftly and I could see that a break approached. The moonlight it permitted would almost certainly be sufficient to enable me to gain a rough grasp of my whereabouts, but it would also reveal me to my pursuers.

  The man I had downed had ceased his screams, presumably reassured by the arrival of his cronies. I could hear him moaning still, and someone barked a curt command to take him to safety.

  The ground beneath me had become spongy. It gave with every step, as though supported on springs, and I felt the cold in my feet as water gathered around my boots. My fear mounted. I was surely heading directly into the marsh. Yet I lived, and if I turned around and went back I could confidently say that this would no longer be the case. These men were not looking for a prisoner: they had been sent to take my life.

  Suddenly, with one lurching step, I was up to my knees in soft, bitterly cold slurry. I halted, gasping, utterly afraid. I did not dare take even a single step more for fear that I would sink completely into the stinking mud. But there were voices behind me, moving towards my position, albeit slowly and cautiously.

  I bent at the waist and leaned forward, stretching my arms, groping for something - anything. My fingertips touched only cold wet mud.

  And then, as I swung to one side, they brushed against a clump of grass. I edged gingerly towards it, grasped it in my hands, pressed. It did not give - seemed rooted in solid ground. I lifted one foot, freeing it of the mud, and planted it upon the grass. Half-pulling myself, I dragged the other foot clear and hauled it from the muck.

  And then the cloud broke.

  ‘There he is!’

  I glanced back. The moon’s pallid glow showed half a dozen men spaced out some twenty paces to my rear. Behind them were the dark angles of the settlement’s buildings. Ahead lay swamp, choked with dense undergrowth and trees, some toppled, strewn with torn curtains of moss and creepers.

  It seemed that the turfy land I was on extended some distance further into the undergrowth. It was the only way open to me. Even as I considered it I heard a quick hissing sound and something splashed into the mud close by.

  I looked back again. Two of my pursuers had crossbows.

  I was on my hands and knees. I pushed myself into a crouching run and made off as best I could. Another bolt split the rotten stump of a fallen tree to my left. I weaved slightly, not daring to verge too far to either side. Then, mercifully, the moon slid once more behind a cloud and I was no longer a visible target.

  But nor could I see.

  I had fixed my sight upon a certain point where a gap presented itself between the tangle of branches before me. Towards this I raced unveeringly in the blackness. The ground continued to support me - in fact, it felt surer now. Perhaps there was some hope - perhaps I might yet find a path through the swamp, back to the town where I could lose my pursuers.

  It was a desperate and irrational hope, but it was all I had to cling to. Twigs brushed suddenly across my face, stinging my cheeks. I ducked, slowing instinctively and raising my hands before me. I could no longer hear anything other than the sound of my own breathing and the soft thud of my feet. Had my pursuers given up, or were they waiting, listening, to better determine my position?

  I paused for a moment to regain my breath. A twig cracked! Somebody was less than ten paces away. A glance at the sky showed the moon about to reappear. I would be seen!

  I pushed myself away, trying not to make a sound. Fortunately the ground no longer squelched with my every step, though my wet, mud-clogged boots seemed to make a noise almost as loud. I collided with something hard, banging my knee. My fingers traced the wet, rough curve of a fallen tree trunk, festooned with sopping lichen and moss. As the moon came from behind the clouds I threw myself over and lay motionless on the other side.

  ‘D’you see anything?’

  ‘No. He’s around here somewhere, though.’

  The voices were hushed, a fair distance off but too close to allow me any respite. I watched as another black cloud approached the moon - assessed the way I would go next.

  ‘We’ll wait. If he comes back this way we’ll get him; if he doesn’t, the mire will.’

  The ghostly moonlit marsh faded. I got to my feet and moved off, following a path held in my mind’s eye, keeping low, one hand lifted before me to avoid overhanging branches. Now I made good progress; the ground was firm and I could just about make out the lie of the land and the trunks and undergrowth immediately around me. I weaved between the trees, putting distance between myself and those at my back, and began to feel that all was not lost after all.

  And then the ground turned to liquid beneath me.

  I was suddenly thigh-deep in mud, almost toppling headlong as the forward motion of my legs was arrested. I sank deeper, then my foot came to rest on something firm. I thrust my weight forward, relying on the apparent solidity. Bu
t it fell away like sponge beneath me and I sank to my chest.

  The shock of the thick, ice-cold mud, and the utter terror that immersion in water aroused in me, took the breath from my lungs. I could hear my hoarse, high-pitched gasps as I struggled to draw air into my body, but I seemed to be apart from it, somehow isolated, numb with terror. I think I would have called for help had I been able, hopeless though it was; but I had no voice. My arms swam on the surface of the slurry, my fingers seeking something, anything, to grasp on to. And I sank deeper.