The Copper Promise

by Jen Williams

  ‘Who’s Fane?’

  Dreyda looked pained, and gestured at Wydrin to keep her voice down.

  ‘You have seen the guards, yes? With the painted face on their shields?’

  Wydrin nodded.

  ‘Fane commands them, and these days the people of Pinehold live in fear.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because he’s killing them.’

  19

  ‘She should be back by now.’

  Frith paced back and forth, trying to keep his eyes on his boots. If he looked up he was drawn back to the town and the tower, and he was sick of looking at the damn place. Instead he forced himself to enjoy the newly fluid movement of his leg, the shattered bones within now completely healed. The limp was gone, his ear had grown back, and the scar had vanished from his face. It was a joyous thing. A miracle.

  ‘It really is quite intolerable!’ he snapped. ‘How long can it take one person to fetch supplies? Must we wait out here all day doing nothing?’

  Sebastian, crouched against the wide trunk of an oak tree, grunted in response. And that was the other irritation; the big knight, usually so calm and accommodating, now appeared distracted, even moody. Frith was regretting hiring either of them.

  The afternoon was drawing on, and the light filtering down through the trees was growing dimmer all the time. Familiar bird calls filled the air, making him think of his boyhood hunting in the woods around the castle, and such memories only made him more anxious to move. He stopped pacing and put his hands on his hips, facing the walled town.

  ‘I think we should go in there,’ he said. ‘She clearly cannot be trusted to do this, so we must do it ourselves.’ He kicked Sebastian’s booted foot. ‘Get up, Sebastian. Let’s go.’

  Sebastian lumbered to his feet wearing a conciliatory expression.

  ‘Give her a little more time, my lord. We have no idea what the situation is, nor how many people might recognise you. It would be wise to—’ Before he could finish Sebastian staggered, swaying on his feet. Frith frowned.

  ‘Are you well?’

  ‘I don’t – I don’t feel …’ The tall man had gone almost as pale as when Gallo had stabbed him, and his eyes looked glassy and unfocussed. Frith didn’t like it.

  ‘You are ill,’ he said. ‘I told you not to let her cook that rabbit. I’m surprised we’re not all emptying our bowels into a ditch somewhere.’

  A rush of blood came from Sebastian’s nose, soaking his mouth and chin and running down his neck. The knight pressed his hands to his face and the blood ran between his fingers.

  ‘They’re burning everything,’ he said, quite clearly. ‘Killing it and cutting it and I can feel the blood moving.’ Sebastian dropped to his knees, muttering.

  ‘What is wrong with you? Get up.’

  Frith bent down and slung an arm round the knight’s shoulders in an attempt to drag him to his feet again, although his hopes of achieving that were rather slim. Sebastian was a big man, and if he wanted to sit down Frith would be unable to stop him.

  ‘Come on now, I didn’t heal you just for you to go bleeding all over the place again.’

  He heaved, feeling Sebastian’s battered armour digging into his side, when a nearby shadow peeled away from the trees and approached them, sword in hand.

  ‘You don’t want to be doing any bleeding round here,’ the stranger said.

  Frith whirled, his hand reaching for the rapier that was now lost beneath the Citadel.

  ‘Stay back!’

  The newcomer looked at him, his expression unreadable. He was a rangy, gaunt man, as tall as Sebastian but with narrow shoulders and long wiry arms that suggested a kind of contained strength. He wore a ragged mixture of leather and wool, and there was a huge fur pelt slung over his back. There was, Frith couldn’t help noticing, a lot of dried blood on his fingers, and the short sword he carried looked well-used.

  The man looked from Frith to Sebastian, who was now sitting with his legs out in front of him and his head tipped back to stem the flow of blood from his nose.

  ‘No blood,’ he said again, nodding at Sebastian. ‘Not if you know what’s good for you.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Course, it would be a mercy to those poor fellas if you was to distract them for a bit. Would that be a mercy, though? Or would that be prolonging it, like? I reckon another night in those cages could be worse, you know, than getting all torn to bits, but what would I know? I don’t and I don’t want to, and who would? No one, that’s who.’

  Frith blinked a few times. Despite his vaguely aggressive appearance, the man seemed more intent on talking than killing.

  ‘Who are you?’ he said, as clearly as possible. ‘And what do you mean?’

  The stranger frowned at him as though he were unused to other people asking questions, and then nodded at Sebastian.

  ‘You want to put something cold on that. That would be the safest thing. You want to know who I am, do you? My name is Rognor, although how that helps you I’m sure I don’t know. Best bury those bloody rags, son, and bury ’em somewhere you won’t be returning to.’

  Sebastian’s nosebleed appeared to have stopped, although his face was still white.

  ‘Why?’ His voice was muffled and thick.

  ‘The bears, of course.’ Rognor gestured behind him, as though the entire forest were bristling with bears. ‘They’ll be down here at dusk, looking for what they’ve put out fresh, and maybe they’ll fancy some proper sport rather than taking whichever poor bastard has been put in the cages. If I were a bear, would I want to chase and hunt? I think I would.’

  Frith and Sebastian exchanged a glance.

  ‘Cages?’

  Rognor walked round with them, keeping to the treeline. He nodded at the black-clothed guards on the wall surrounding Pinehold. They had clearly spotted the small group skirting along the trees, but were doing nothing besides watching their progress.

  ‘They won’t come down here now, you see, too close to feeding time. I come up here as the sun goes down and I tries to clear away what I can, and as long as I don’t try to free the poor buggers or scare the bears off they leaves me be. Once or twice I’ve moved away enough of the mess so that the animals have left them alone for the night, but does that help? Another night in those cages, I tell you, I wouldn’t want it.’

  ‘But why?’ asked Sebastian. He still felt lightheaded and his nose was throbbing faintly. Concentrating on the tall man in the furs was difficult. Inside his head he could still smell the smoke as the city burned. ‘Who would do such a thing?’

  ‘A leader of men, or the biggest monster amongst a horde of demons.’ Rognor twisted his lips and spat into the bushes. ‘I live out in the Blackwood, don’t go in the town much, see? So I wasn’t here when the guards and the red faces came. Once they came, the townsfolk weren’t let back out again. I’ve heard the guards talking, though, when they don’t know I’m there. You think any of them ever walked through a forest with a mind to be quiet? Have they, buggery. His name’s Fane, is what I heard. Come up from down south.’

  Frith stopped suddenly.

  ‘Fane? Fane is here?’

  ‘You know him, do ya?’ Rognor turned a speculative eye on Frith, raising one bushy brown eyebrow. ‘He’s a demon-worshipper, is what I’ve heard.’

  But Frith was already turning towards the town wall, a look of alarming fury on his face. Sebastian reached out and snatched at his arm, holding him back.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going,’ he hissed, before adding, in a milder tone of voice, ‘my lord?’

  ‘Fane is in there.’ Frith’s grey eyes were shining fever bright. ‘The man who ordered the execution of my family, who took my castle, who had me tortured …’ He wrenched his sleeve from Sebastian’s grip so violently the fabric ripped down the seam. ‘I will go in there now, and I will separate his head from his body.’ He pointed at the wall, where the guards were starting to take more of an interest.

  ‘
’Ere, what’s that you’re talking about?’ Rognor was peering closely at Frith’s face.

  ‘Nothing, just – nothing.’ Sebastian fixed Frith with what he hoped was his most reasonable expression. ‘Think, my lord. Think. We must know everything we can first. The size of his forces, his reasons for being here—’

  At that moment a terrible scream wrought the air. It went on for some time, and then degenerated into noisy sobbing.

  ‘Damn the gods, they’re early,’ said Rognor.

  And with that he set off at a run. Frith and Sebastian had little choice but to follow him, although Sebastian soon came to wish they hadn’t. Around the corner from where they had stood, five large metal cages were set close to the town wall. They were tall and narrow, too thin for a man to sit down or even crouch in. Two of the cages were still occupied with living people; a fat man and an old woman, both naked and both gripping the bars of the cage in terror. The cages were hanging on chains from a makeshift gallows that stuck out from the wall, and as the man screamed (it was the man screaming, Sebastian noted as his stomach turned over, although his voice had lost all gender in his terror) his cage rocked wildly back and forth. And the noise was only attracting the bear all the more.

  It was, Sebastian guessed, a good foot taller than the bear that had attacked them in the forest, and certainly bulkier. It had the same long narrow head and shining eyes, and its black claws were already streaked with gore. The other three cages contained bodies in various stages of decomposition, all with terrible wounds.

  Rognor blew air through his teeth, frowning.

  ‘Bloody creatures are learning to come at the same time each day, whether they can smell it or not.’ His weathered face twisted into a grimace.

  ‘Why are they doing this?’ said Frith. His earlier expression of fury had fled, and been replaced with one of extreme distaste. ‘For what end?’

  ‘For information, they says.’ Rognor nodded towards the guards. ‘The Friths had a great treasure, they says, but no one knows where they hid it. Fane intends to find out, and he’s got a whole team of torturers in that tower there. The man is dead keen on torture, that’s what they say.’

  ‘The Friths?’ said Frith. He looked like he’d been struck in the stomach.

  ‘Whatever it is, I am stopping it now,’ said Sebastian. He drew the sword from the scabbard on his back and revelled in the sound of its escape. He’d been idle too long. Perhaps he couldn’t stop the slaughter happening in a distant city on another continent but that didn’t mean he would stand by while other innocents were killed.

  ‘You can’t!’ Rognor slapped the big knight on the shoulder. ‘Do you not think I’d have done that if I could? Look.’ He pointed to the guards again, and this time Sebastian saw the longbows. ‘They’ll shoot, don’t think they won’t. And they’re good shots, too.’

  ‘I still have to try.’

  He turned away from them and ran at the approaching bear. For a few seconds it was too intent on the blood-smeared cages to take notice, until Sebastian shouted in its direction. It was important to get its attention away from the prisoners.

  ‘Hoy! You ugly creature! Dinner’s been cancelled.’

  The luminous eyes swivelled towards him then, and the bear growled, revealing long yellow teeth. Distantly Sebastian could hear shouting from the wall. The animal turned and lowered its head, bellowing.

  Sebastian hefted the weight of his broadsword in his hands, and ran towards it, slightly to its right. The animal shifted that way, expecting the attack, so Sebastian turned swiftly to the left and swung low at the bear’s shoulder. At that moment an arrow thudded into the ground next to his foot, the red fletching feathers bright against the soil, and he stumbled, turning the blow so that it only scraped against the bear’s flank. The animal roared and flung one huge, razor-clawed paw in his direction, but for all his size Sebastian had always been quick on his feet, and he moved out of its path just in time. Another arrow struck the steel plate on his arm at an angle, ricocheting off and undoubtedly leaving a bruise, and then another took the bear in the leg. The animal, already bleeding from where Sebastian had struck it, tossed its head in pain and fury and backed away. It cast one last look at the shivering humans in the cages and disappeared back into the forest. Sebastian watched it go before looking back at the guards on the wall. They all had their bows trained on him. The next voice that spoke was coming from behind him.

  ‘You’ll die for that, you big bastard.’

  There stood a group of about ten guards, all dressed in black leathers and with a red mask sigil on their shields. Rognor and Frith were in front of them, the guards holding short swords to their throats. The guard who had spoken was a squat, powerfully built man with ruddy marks on his face from some pox he’d suffered in the past. He grinned at Sebastian, revealing rather more gums than teeth.

  ‘We’ll kill your pretty little friend here first though.’

  ‘No, wait.’ Sebastian sheathed his sword and held up his hands. ‘We have information for you.’

  ‘Shut up, Sebastian,’ said Frith. The burly guard laughed.

  ‘What sort of information is that, then?’

  Sebastian took a deep breath. ‘The location of the Frith vault.’

  Frith swore loudly, the first time Sebastian could recall him doing so. He didn’t look at him, and kept his eyes on the guard instead.

  ‘You tell me, then, and maybe I’ll let you go.’

  Sebastian shook his head. He was very aware of the people in the cages behind him; the fat man, the old woman. He could feel their eyes on his back.

  ‘I want to speak to Fane. He’s the only person I’ll be telling anything to.’

  The guard frowned.

  ‘You’re not in any position to be bargaining, my son.’

  ‘Maybe not, but how many of your men do you think I can kill before you kill me? Enough to make them hesitate before they come over here, I’ll bet. Take me to Fane. I’m sure he’ll be anxious to hear what I have to say.’

  The guard looked angry then, and for a moment Sebastian thought he’d pushed it too far, until he turned and gestured at a few of his men. Within moments he was forced next to Frith, swords and crossbows at his back as they were marched round to the gate.

  ‘You are an idiot,’ hissed Frith as their jailors conversed with the guards on the wall. ‘Even worse than her. I should have left you both in Creos.’

  ‘You will tell them, Frith.’ Sebastian spat the words. ‘There are innocent people dying, and for what? Your bloody inheritance.’

  The gates opened, revealing the dismal town beyond. Frith leaned in close. His eyes were the colour of storm clouds.

  ‘I don’t know where the vault is, you damned fool. You’ve doomed us all.’

  20

  Wydrin walked out of the tavern with the woman Dreyda at her back.

  ‘He will be in the market at this time of day, if you wish to get a look at him. He likes to parade himself and his personal guard when the town square is at its busiest, so people cannot forget that he is here.’ She laughed. It was a small, bitter sound. ‘At night he retires to the tower, for his entertainment.’

  ‘I would like to see him,’ said Wydrin, as casually as she could. ‘And I have a few supplies to pick up.’ The evening was drawing in now, the grey clouds above soaking up the dark like a sponge in a pool of ink. The sky that she could see was violet.

  ‘Then I shall walk with you there. Come on.’

  The tall priestess took her arm, and they walked up the street at a steady pace.

  ‘Do not make eye contact, if you can help it,’ said Dreyda of the guards. ‘Pinehold has been like a slow-cooked pot for weeks now, and some of them are just looking for ways to draw the steam off. And believe me, you do not want to be on the receiving end of that.’

  ‘Why are you helping me?’ said Wydrin. The Regnisse’s grip was quite firm.

  ‘I had a vision,’ said Dreyda in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘I dreamed of Rene
thena, the goddess of scrying and fortune. She showed me the words in a surge of boiling lava, and I knew that I would meet a woman with red hair and a trio of sea monsters on her arm, and she would be the saviour of a town caught in the vice grip of—’

  ‘Oh, piss off.’

  ‘Not going to work on you?’ Dreyda caught her eye and gave her a very ungodly smirk. ‘It normally goes down so well with the young men I meet. Never mind. I just happen to think you look like a woman who has seen plenty of trouble in the past, and might be up to handling some more. The people here, my child, they have had all the courage shaken from them, and now they cringe their way around their own homes for fear of being fed to the bears. For fear of Fane.’

  They had reached the marketplace. It was still lively enough, with wagons and stalls crowded with people doing their last bit of shopping before heading back for the evening. There was a noticeable lack of produce; half the groceries on display looked rather elderly, and there was a great deal of questionable meat for sale. People were still buying it though.

  They reached the centre of the square, where a tall, graceful statue stood on a raised stone platform. It depicted a young woman with a longbow at her side, and she was staring off to the tower beyond. Three men sprawled around its base, watching the market.

  ‘The one in the middle. That’s Fane,’ said Dreyda, although she needn’t have bothered. It was clear who he was.

  The man screamed violence. Like the tower, the eyes were drawn to him again and again, as they are drawn to a house fire roaring out of control, or the red tendrils of infection from a diseased wound. He was a tall, powerfully built man with brown hair oiled back from his forehead, and his jaw was square and dark with stubble. Wydrin supposed he was handsome, if you could look past the malevolent gleam in his eyes. And the scars. The scars were something else.