by Anton Le Roy
I've had the opportunities to settle down with the limited money I've earned and enjoy my old age, but I never decided to. Could have stayed with Wetlock, the only girl I really loved. Didn’t though, even with plenty of chances to do so. I totally stuffed that one up and the thought of what could have been tears me up. And thus I complain inside my head, I reason with myself to feel better with the choices I’ve made and then I grow tired of this shit and my mood deepens once more and the ghosts of many varied regrets return along with the strange sadness, as if I’ve lost something I’ve never known I had or been able to find since.
There was one day that set me on this nomad’s path, a day when everything turned to fire and I watched brothers and sisters of the Red Dogs burn. I was never the same since. Sorrow was not the only lasting emotion. Guilt is a terrible thing: it eats away at your insides until all that remains is a damaged relic of the person that once was. In truth though, even before that and even before I was a fresh recruit in the Army of The Six as a kid keen to prove himself, mine was always a troubled soul escaping a difficult past.
Now where are we this time? No different to yesterday actually, or the many days before that. Days and days of travelling through the monotony of various white tones. Utter boredom. Freezing blizzard after freezing blizzard trying to batter us from our horses and freeze my face off. Bored of that too. The journey back out of there feels much longer, to the point where we begin to doubt our navigational skills. Then all of a sudden the ground slopes and where we need to go finally appears as a small mountain settlement, called Awt, in the shade of one of many similar tall peaks. It’s a shabby and forgettable little village with buildings formed of stone and wood and then a thick layer of ice and snow on top of that for good measure. More of the Sanpelle mountain range arcs beyond it and also across the horizon like the broken spine of a rotting serpent and these ridges and peaks spread for miles, splitting this land in two and forming the border of many small kingdoms that are always at each other’s throats. Seems like you can’t go anywhere these days without bumping into another war but the very heights of these mountains are free from such things. What other gods and monsters lurk in these mountains too, I wonder? What other treasures?
In one direction I can see a cold valley yawning wide and crowned by mist. Can’t wait to get down there and out of this freeze even if I do end up stepping into the middle of another war. Got to be better than this. I don’t understand how these mountain folk put up with the temperature – they know no other life I guess, are hardened to it.
“I’ll be glad to sit somewhere warm,” grumbles Gregor. “My arse feels like it froze up and fell off miles back.”
“So that’s what that noise was? I thought it was a nearby avalanche. Had me worried.”
“Wow, you’re real funny, Vet. I’d laugh if I could feel my face.”
“You wouldn’t want to laugh if you could see it.”
We pass through as if carried on the accompanying chill breeze, like one of the many snowflakes drifting without purpose. Apart from the occasional friendly nod our way the denizens pay us little heed and are more interested in their chores. Not so for the children. They crowd around us in excitement, almost getting trampled underfoot by our trail of horses. Must be damn boring up here if we’re the best entertainment they can get. It takes a few handfuls of seemingly worthless shiny black pebbles that I collected along the way just to get rid of them and silence their endless barrage of invasive questions. They retreat into nooks and crannies only to slowly seep out again to follow us at a distance. It’s not as if they haven’t seen us before: we came this way on the first leg of our journey and we weren’t very interesting that time either.
Gregor grunts and nods towards a small collection of older youths honing their primitive looking hunting weapons. Could be that we killed some of their friends back there or could be that they recognise these horses. Well, we’d best not stay around here for too long. Just need a hot meal first and funnily enough here’s just the man to supply it.
Stepping out from the village long house is the Elder wrapped in rich furs and with eagle feathers entwined into his long loose hair. He greets us warmly as we stiffly climb down from our horses. In the background lurk a couple of his guards with friendly enough faces.
“Welcome back, my friends!” he says happily in a decent traders tongue. “I’m glad that you returned. I had warned you of the dangers in these mountains and yet you proved me wrong, I see. Very good, very good! You must be formidable warriors and accomplished trackers.” Stop it, you’re making me blush. “Now tell me, did you find whatever you came all this way for?”
Although the pipe doesn’t weigh much I can still feel its unmistakable presence in a pouch at my belt. I nod while stretching out my limbs and rubbing my joints.
Gregor beats me to a vocal response. “We’re famished and cold. Knock us up another bowl of that hot stew would you, friend? It’s all I could think of for the past few days and I’m ready to kill for it now.”
The Elder grins wide to reveal half rotten teeth while emitting a strange high pitched squeal of a laugh. “My second wife will be most pleased to give you lads a good feed.” He pats the neck of my nag. “You appear to have found some new horses along the way too.” Yes you could say that. The two horses we’d originally ridden through here died up in the mountains. “We’ll look after them for you while you stay. Boy!”
A scruffy little bugger with a fed up expression appears from nowhere to lead them off to some stables. I flick a copper coin to him and that puts a smile on his face at least.
The Elder puts an arm about me and as we walk towards the long house he says, “You want to eat before or after talking to those men down yonder?” Along the main path and all the way to the opposite entrance of the settlement I can see too shadowy figures waiting patiently on horseback. “They arrived not too long ago. Perfect timing, eh? Say they came to meet two particular men and from the description I figured they must mean you boys. They wait out there, despite the cold. Seem a little odd to me.”
Don’t worry, we’re used to odd.
“Best we go say hi, then,” I say.
Gregor thinks of arguing against that before handing a silver coin to the Elder, “Tell your woman to get that stew nice and tasty for when we come back.”
The Elder nods and smiles, barks a few orders to someone through the door and then genially watches us making our way down the path on foot. The two men on horseback remain impassive and the closer we get to them I realise they’re not in shadow it’s instead that their entire attire is a homage to shadow with everything being a dark grey. The more intriguing of the two is completely hidden within long silky grey robes, shining almost like metal, and it’s a wonder how he sees through the shroud covering his head. The second man is not as bizarre. I can at least see his head protruding from a grey fur cloak, albeit it too is hooded.
“Well they don’t look too shifty, do they?” mutters Gregor. “May as well put up a damned sign while they’re at it.”
“They’re not the men the Princess said would come and we weren’t even meant to meet here.”
Gregor hawks and spits. “Smell of magic too. How else would they know we were passing through here this afternoon?”
“End of the day, if they carry the seal of Princess Icromm, then who cares what they are? Just as long as they pay up.”
“Aye, and if they don’t then we’ll just have to lop off some heads and then pay the Princess a visit ourselves.”
A simple plan, old friend.
Walking through the village I can hear the kids scampering around as they follow, the inquisitive little sods. Ahead, the man with an exposed face slides nonchalantly off his horse and pulls back his hood to reveal a flash of blonde hair combed neatly to one side and pale enough that it could be white. As we near him I can see that he's relatively young, with sharp features, a couple of white scars on one cheek and an arrogant look in his eye. There is a slight cur
l to one corner of his cruel mouth. We amuse him.
Arms appear from within his fur cloak and open it up to reveal expensive dark grey clothes beneath the obvious outlines of light armour in the shape of greaves, valances and pauldrons, all also grey. There’s a bold white symbol on his chestguard of a skull within a diamond. I finally spot the dual onyx swords on his back housed in, aye you guessed it, grey scabbards. Standing like an officer he watches us approach until at last we meet up close. I ignore the urge to punch him in the face.
Blondie removes his grey gloves and holds out an expectant hand. There’s a curious dot the colour of ash on his palm. “The pipe. You have it, yes?”
Straight to the point then. As I’m a fan of that approach I decide to point out the obvious. “We were expecting a member of the Princess’s elite guard. You’re someone else.”
A sigh and his open hand clenches into a fist that swiftly disappears under his other arm to rummage for something. “Correct. And now I suppose you want some sort of verification of our identification? Very well. Here. I trust it’ll satisfy you.”
From within his cloak he pulls a fancy looking scroll tube and tosses it unceremoniously to me. Hard eyes watch without blinking. There really isn’t any point looking inside this tube because I know what will be there but I go along with the charade and sure enough there is within it a rolled scroll with Princess Icromm’s unbroken seal. The letter says the usual guff: in the name of Princess Icromm, yadda yadda, two trusted soldiers of the Princess, yadda yadda, accompanied by two priests of The Newborn, yadda and again yadda. Priests, eh? Don’t seem like it to me, unless their deity is one of death. These boys aren’t your usual men of the cloth – there’s something darker there – a hidden menace just beneath the surface. What I assume to be a drawing of their own crest is on the letter: the same symbol as on Blondie’s chest and also, I now realise, on the other one’s shroud over his head. I take more notice of it – a diamond enclosing a skull and crowned by flames, all above a very small circle.
I roll the letter back into the tube. “So where are the other two, then?” I ask, still playing the game, whatever it is.
Blondie shrugs. His eyes momentarily betray him as he glances off to one side. “Sadly they perished along the way falling prey to bandits while scouting the trail ahead. Luckily we survived.” Yeah, real lucky. “Well, time is of the essence and Brother Vim is very talented at finding things. That’s why we decided to journey up here, isn’t that correct, Brother Vim?”
“Indeed, Brother Tolvik.” The voice emerges from within the shroud like gravel falling down a deep well.
“So, it speaks,” mutters Gregor.
Blondie Tolvik huffs. “Now, enough chit chat. The pipe, if you please.”
“Ha!” Gregor laughs bitterly. “We ain’t stupid. Show us the payment first before I shove that scroll tube up your arse.”
Tolvik surprises me when a slight grin twitches at the corners of his thin mouth. Maybe he’s imagining what he would like to do to Gregor. He’s itching to get his hands dirty, I can tell. Strangely this fellow warms to me a little.
Instead of a knife he pulls a heavy pouch from within his cloak and says, “The Newborn always pays its dues. I suppose you’ll want to be on your merry way with a purse full of gold coins to spend in whatever whorehouse you so please.” His cold eyes narrow. “Now you will finally give us the pipe.”
With the pouch tossed to Gregor it still looks sizeable in his shovel hands. He inspects the coins and gives me a happy nod. We’ve now got enough cash to last, say, a year and all we had to do was kill a god. We should have asked for more, much more, had we known it would come to that.
You know what though? I don’t care that the two bodies of the guards are probably only partially hidden behind rocks and snow a little way down the trail. I don’t care either that this thing is a divine artefact, an item of tremendous power that I barely understand. I don’t care what these two men do with the pipe, or what the Princess will do with it, if she ever gets it anyway. All I (and no doubt Gregor) worry about is that purse full of gold, getting back onto the road to seek our next adventure and leaving these lunatics to it.
Yet, despite these thoughts I’m betrayed by a sudden bad feeling, like I’m convincing myself it’s a good idea when in fact it’s a very bad one. I always trust my instincts and today, as I hand the item over to Tolvik, I realise that I’ve failed them to potential calamity. The man relaxes like he’s just found his lost kin and then smiles like a shark.
“Thank you. Impressive that you took this from Loktie, but then he was a faint shadow of the god he once was.” For a moment he gazes at it and then his cool façade returns, “Now, Brother Vim, authenticate it, please.” He passes it up to his comrade as a grey gloved hand appears from within the shroud.
Gregor again mutters, “Wow, he has arms too!” The two figures choose to ignore that.
Turning the pipe over and over even though he cannot possibly see it, putting it up to his hidden nose to sniff it then finally Vim excitedly replies, “It’s real, Brother Tolvik!” The pipe quickly disappears into the recesses of the silk fabrics and that is that.
“Very good, Brother Vim. Mother Umbra will be most pleased!” smiles Tolvik.
His comrade nods. “As will High Brother Satipo and High Sister-”
“Hang on,” I blurt, “Satipo?” Although it’s not a common name surely it couldn’t be the same man? One who I once called friend and brother? One who became lost to me? No, that’s too much of a coincidence, surely! Somehow though, I know I have to say something.
Tolvik effortlessly leaps up onto his horse while ignoring my question. “As I say, The Newborn always honours its side of the bargain. It’s unfortunate that you both shan’t be alive to enjoy it, a fact I can only apologise for.”
Gregor barks a heavy laugh as he hefts his axe and my hand instinctively reaches for my sword – I can feel it vibrating in anticipation of a good fight. “We’d love to see you try,” Gregor growls.
For a moment it looks like Tolvik is indeed going to show us what mettle he’s made of, but he disappoints me when he settles back into his saddle, “I don’t need to try. I have a mage. Brother Vim, destroy them.”
Vim snaps out a dark hand and a dark shadow immediately explodes at our feet. I’m sailing through the air, just like I did with Satipo decades ago and just like then the ground heaves up and painfully claims me. We both lay there in semi-consciousness some distance from the two priests amongst the freshly made debris of a small shed. My body is battered. My vision merely vague shadows where swarm the ghosts of my past, damn them all.
I hear Tolvik beyond the fizz of my spinning head. “Ever since listening to High Brother Satipo talk of Veteran and Gregor I’d expected… well, more from them today. Would you agree, Brother Vim?”
“Indeed, Brother Tolvik, they were disappointingly easy to deal with.”
“So, are they dead, Brother Vim?”
“I acted just as High Brother Satipo instructed, Brother Tolvik.”
“Good. We will have made him proud today, Brother Vim. We’ll return to our brethren with great honour!”
“And what of the rest of this pathetic rabble watching us, Brother Tolvik?”
The kids… The Elder…
“Brother Vim, is it not written that Mother’s arrival shall be Armageddon and all those found unworthy shall be cleansed from the face of this world?”
“That it is, Brother Tolvik.”
“Kill them then, Brother Vim. While you’re at it, why not just destroy the whole village? They’re all as good as dead anyway.”
“Very well, Brother Tolvik. It will be an easy enough chore, I suppose.”
The blanketing sound of more magical blasts drowns out every shriek and wail from the dying until finally the emptiness of unconsciousness sucks me in. Soon enough though, old dreams emerge from the blackness: I’m once more listening to Satipo’s screams while the dragon fire consumes me until I’m noth
ing more than smouldering ash.
Chapter 5
Corpses lay amongst each other in an immobilised orgy of death. Blank eyes stare up at the sky. Mouths open from silent cries. Scorched limbs reach out for salvation. Others are too mutilated to even resemble humans anymore. The Elder is there, breathing words that only I can hear: he asks why I brought death and destruction to his people. I have no answer to that, not a good one anyway. Anger boils deep in my gut and I swear that I’ll decapitate Tolvik and Vim for what they’ve done here and maybe then I can be free of guilt. Slowly the bodies disappear under rock and frozen earth as we fill the grave. You would think me numb to such a scene by now and yet you would be wrong. How many countless cadavers have I seen in my lifetime, I wonder? Too many to ever number. Too many to ever ignore.
Smoke billows into the air further up the path where the empty scattered shell of a settlement remains. No one else is alive. All are dead, even the children, even the babes. Small feet with tiny toes protrude from the blanketing soil until another layer deletes them from existence. Who will ever know of these people hidden beneath us?
It takes a few hours to start and finish the job because the earth is hard and the bodies in such abundance. Plus, that magician had really battered us when he threw us through a wooden building. Finally though, in mutual silence, Gregor and I are finished and are standing beside the barrow bathed in sweat, ash and dirt and trying to rub it all off with snow and ice. The stains of our sins cannot be so easily removed. They run too deeply. Just like all of my scars.