The Key To The Grave (#2 The Price Of Freedom)

by Chris Northern

  “There is. We will have to lead the horses up, though, and I didn't go looking to see what the lay of the land is up there.”

  Damn. Neither had I.

  “Why not submit to the will of Ishal?” One of our prisoners said.

  “Why not shut up before I decide letting you live was a mistake?” I answered the Alendi's unnecessary question. “Best gag them,” I decided. “Dannat, when I have my first torch lit get moving, head back there and get up to the top of the gully and see how it is up there. The torch will ruin your night-vision but do the best you can.”

  He didn't answer, just led his horse to where I was busy making torches, wrapping the oil soaked cloth as tight as I could. Jocasta was beside me, stripping cloth and soaking it, making the work go faster. I like that about her; she just got on with things. I lit the first torch from the fire and gave it to Dannat. There weren't many branches that would serve so I cast the illumination spell on the first thing that came to hand, which happened to be the blade of my knife. It glowed bright, casting a clear white light that didn't waver. Far better than a torch and I wished that Jocasta had stone she could use, berating myself for not taking the time to think of it before I set out after her. I rapidly found enough dead wood to cut four more lengths that would serve, giving us seven in total. It would do, with my own light and whatever Dubaku could provide. It would have to do, as I didn't want to spend more time on it. By the time I got back, everyone was ready. “Don't wait for us. Dubaku, don't call for light until you are well away from here, I don't want to alert them to the fact we are up and about.”

  “I hear you,” he said.

  Jocasta and I were alone with the prisoners, who were tied and neatly gagged, I saw. I wrapped and tied the last four torches as fast as I could and still make a good job of it. Jocasta had a bag full of strips of cloth soaked in oil that she tied to the saddle of her horse. “We can re-make them as they go out, if we need to.”

  “Good thinking. Let's get out of here.”

  We got.

  #

  There was no way to pick a trail in the dark. Still, I knew the way I wanted to go; north with a westward trend. Dawn would make things clear enough. Getting the horses up the slope at the end of the gully had been difficult and took longer than I liked, but it was still achieved in plenty of time. From there we picked our way in single file, Dubaku leading, the spirit ahead of him glowing more brightly than any torch, and far more brightly than I could manage. We walked the horses in single file. Myself behind Dubaku, Jocasta close behind me, Dannat following, and Sapphire bringing up the rear.

  “They can't push their horses faster than we can; Dannat, how far away was Learneth?”

  “Seven miles, more or less.”

  “Good enough. So they have been on the road that much longer, their horses will tire first, the only advantage we don't have is that we don't know the terrain, so we pick the clearest path and don't worry about being seen, though I hope we will be able to drop back onto the trail at dawn or soon after. Do you hear me, Dubaku?”

  “I hear you, head back to the trail, but not yet.”

  “No, not yet. I want them well into this rough terrain by the time we do that; if we time it right we will be back on the trail and moving faster than them in good light while they are stuck up here for a time.”

  I hadn't said that in front of the prisoners. Ishal would have a somewhat false idea of my intentions. It might be enough. Of course, the Alendi would be back under his influence, but still I did not regret letting them live.

  It seemed to take an age before the sky began to lighten as dawn approached. The terrain was difficult and we had to walk the horses, for which I was personally grateful. My thighs were chafed raw and walking was just that little bit less painful. Soon I'd make for a settlement and stop for a few days to give myself a chance to heal, but that was a dream for now, and one I tried not to dwell on. It might not happen. I looked back often, seeing the torches of the riders behind us; over a mile away, they were moving as slowly as we were, and doubtless seeing us just as clearly. When the night began to lift with the false dawn and the terrain become just a little more visible, we began to turn east and when we stumbled into a dry river-bed that thankfully ran that way, I became more confident that we would gain the advantage I had wanted. The only down-side was that I had to get back on the horse. I looked back just before I rode down the shallow incline, and checked that our pursuers had not gained any ground. I don't doubt that they saw me, but there was nothing they could do.

  In the river bed, we moved a little faster; not much, but enough to make the difference. An hour later we were back on the trail, already a good way ahead of our pursuers.

  The path was clear of traffic, the cool morning bracing, the sunrise bright, and we had the advantage I'd wanted. The trail snaked across the dry valley, rising again to disappear over a saddle between two low hills. And beyond that lay Learneth, so I'd been told. We would almost certainly have to ride in sight of the town, but I did not want to risk getting too close. Now that I had had time to think it through, I was sure that Ishal had allies there – he wanted Jocasta's knowledge, and she would be no use to him if she were executed for a bandit. Either he had coerced an ally into loaning him warriors, or he had every expectation that he would be able to arrange that Jocasta be placed in his custody. Either way, it didn't change my plans. I still hoped that the men loaned to him would give up the chase soon enough from lack of motivation.

  We cut north as soon as the trail allowed, avoiding the town of Learneth that lay less than a mile away on the other side of the river.

  Learneth was a city fort. There was no mistaking it. The walls had been made permanent with stone but the design was identical. Outside the walls the town had spread, but not far. A river, probably the same one that we had shadowed through the pass, ran alongside the fort, a single bridge providing passage across the waters.

  So, at one time the city had been a presence here; some patron or another had ruled from this fort town. Probably only briefly, as I had not come across anything in the histories that I had read. Maybe it was merely the residue of a punitive expedition, a footnote to the histories and one that I had overlooked. The libraries of the city are extensive and it would take many years to read every work stored in them. As we headed down a long slope overlooking Learneth, I could make out where there had once been good roads leading to the town, their stone long since quarried for other uses; even from a distance it was clear that the walls and houses of the town were fabricated of the paves that had once been roads. Inside the wall, the buildings were even laid out in a the same fashion as the tents of a fort, an inner area cleared except for a scattering of significant buildings, doubtless where the Magistrates and city guard made their home. The rest of that central area was empty of buildings but full of bustle, and I guessed a more-or-less permanent market was in progress there. Beyond, where the army would have pitched their tents, in four roughly L shaped sections, were dwellings and warehouses, densely packed. I paid attention, because I planned to be back, sooner or later. If the Necromancers had any influence there, I wanted to at least know about it.

  We moved fast. The northward trail had become wide enough to take wagons, and passed through land irrigated by the river; the fields providing plough-land for any number of small farmers. The town was too far away to send warriors after us - too far away to really be aware of us unless they had sentinels with unnaturally keen sight or spy-glasses imported from the city. We kept a watch on our back-trail, but spotted no pursuit as the day wore on. We had opened a gap, and now all we had to do was keep the advantage until nightfall.

  #

  “What are they doing?” Jocasta said.

  We watched from a distance.

  We had just cleared a rise and below us lay the river, the trail leading to a simple stone bridge, and beyond that, a village. It was the first significant community we had encountered since bypassing the town of Learneth. The shadows we
re growing long and we had seen not so much as a glimpse of pursuit. For a moment I had been glad to see the village, dreams of a bath and a bed had passed rapidly through my mind, and then I had seen the crowds and had instinctively reined in, the others coming abreast of me before bringing their mounts to a halt. Crowds can be a good thing; a festival or a marriage for example. But I could see right away that this wasn't that kind of crowd.

  “I don't know, but we are going to find out,” I said. “There is no other way to go, except cross-country and that doesn't strike me as a good idea in this terrain. We'd lose time, if nothing else.”

  “You plan to get involved?” Sapphire said.

  I shook my head. “Not our business. Must be nearly a hundred people down there; things could get ugly. Best if we just ride through; they're distracted enough to leave us be, probably, and if challenged the horses will give us a brief advantage. Enough to get clear.” I was dubious about that last comment; we had rested them as much as seemed prudent, walked as often as not, but still the horses were tired. Fresh mounts would be better but now I had no inclination to try for that here; tomorrow we would have to slow the pace or risk the health of the horses. “Keep close, and be ready to move fast at need.”

  I didn't wait for further discussion, but rolled my hips forward and urged my mount into a walk. She was tired but moved out willingly enough. I kept an eye on the village, watched the crowd roil, tried to see what was happening at the centre of things, but could not see clearly for the distance and the buildings in the way, even though we were on higher ground; and I swiftly lost that advantage as we dropped down to the river and crossed the bridge, unseen by a populace whose attention was fixed elsewhere.

  I listened to the mood of the crowd, hidden from sight by their own dwellings; their voices reached us clearly enough. They were a rabble, voices raised in angry waves as they listened and responded to a single leading voice.

  “And when crops fail, do they go hungry? No!” The crowd echoed him with a resounding 'No!'

  “And do they use the wealth that is yours to buy grain for the needy? No!” The crowd again, 'No!'

  “The crops of the field belong to all, yet they take one tenth of every harvest for their own selfish needs! And do they sow the fields? No!” The crowd once more responded. “Do they till, or weed, or harvest, or thresh, or bake?” The crowd chanted their response without prompting. 'No, no, no!'

  “They only consume! Like ticks, they suck away the very lifeblood of the people who work so hard simply to survive! To them, you are no more than slaves! But you are the many, and they are the few, as we have proven today, they have no power over you! Here they are, those who would be your masters, answer them now, tell them! Will you be their slaves?!”

  The roar of the crowd rolled over us, their answer all too predictable, suddenly louder as we rode into a wide gap between dwellings, a gap that afforded us an uninterrupted view of the crowds, the lone orator, and the object of their anger. But, of course, the orator wasn't alone. His kind I recognized at once; cadaverously thin, dressed in black robes; he was clearly a Necromancer. He stood on a platform made of bales of hay, putting him head and shoulders taller than the crowd. To either side of him stood soldiers of a kind I had not seen before; they were of a height, both tall and well muscled, their armor showing this to good effect: breastplates, shoulder-guards and vambraces, kilts including steel sewn to leather strips. They bore long spears with a lot of blade, and carried tall shields that looked like the figure eight. Between them, hands bound, stood a family of five, husband and wife and three children aged from twelve to twenty. They had been beaten. Bruises and cuts covered their faces, their clothing was torn and bloody.

  “You have chosen freedom! Now, through the power of the Divine, your former masters will walk among you as undead servants as a constant reminder to others of what fate awaits those who would enslave you!”

  “Bogani Iodya,” Dubaku said. I had heard the words before, but for a moment I couldn't remember the context. I turned in the saddle to see him pointing. My question died on my lips as I remembered and I turned back to see the spirit manifest and wrap itself around the Necromancer. A frozen moment later he burst into flames.

  I don't know who was more surprised. I twitched, Jocasta gasped, the guards and prisoners flinched away, some in the crowd screamed, some ran, the rest froze in place. Engulfed in flame, the Necromancer flailed wildly, twisting blindly, staggering as he tore at his own clothing, half falling from the now burning bales, staggering into the crowd. More screams and shouts sounded out as they danced back from him lest they themselves be burned.

  My hand had fallen instinctively to the hilt of my sword, and when Dubaku rode forward into the scattering crowd, guiding his mount into them without much care for whom it pushed aside or knocked sprawling to the ground. I drew the weapon and heeled my mount forward. There seemed little choice but to join him; the decision had been made for me. Sapphire and Dannat came with me; I caught glimpses of them as I rode, steering a path between the scattering crowd without regard for those who moved suddenly into my path to be knocked from their feet. My attention was focused on the two soldiers, who had begun to recover from their shock. The Necromancer spun in place before falling and rolling on the ground, still desperate to douse the flames that engulfed him. The soldiers had seen us coming. One stepped forward, lowering his spear and hefting his shield at the same moment as the other turned and fled, giving him pause. I saw him look to the Necromancer, look to us, then over his shoulder to his fleeing companion; then he too turned tail and ran, dropping his spear and discarding his shield to make better speed. I let him go, drawing rein. I had wanted no part of this and, had it not been for Dubaku's precipitous action, would have ridden by, probably unseen. I was aware of Jocasta at my side, and Dannat nearby. The crowd was still running, clearing the area fast. And lucky for us they had panicked. I watched as Sapphire thundered on, going after the guards. Time. He was wasting time. And risking himself for nothing, though having seen him in action I did not think the risk was very great. I let him go, turning my attention to Dubaku, who had dropped from the saddle and snatched up the discarded spear. I watched him approach the writhing figure of the burning Necromancer and put an end to him with one clean thrust. He'd clearly used a spear before, hefting it effortlessly and using it effectively.

  Pretty soon we were alone with the captives. They could not run, their feet bound together by a foot of rope so that they could walk, but only slowly. They were huddled like sheep, shuffling away from the flames, shepherded by the parents, shielding the children from us and the flames. They were watching us, or the man and his elder son were. The other children were holding their mother, weeping even as she wept while trying to comfort them and still move. I sighed.

  Well, we couldn't just leave them. I sheathed my sword, dropped from the saddle and pulled a belt knife clear as I approached. Jocasta joined me before I reached them.

  The man held out his bound hands wordlessly and I cut them and handed him the knife.

  “Don't thank me,” I told him. “Thank him," I pointed. "His name is Dubaku.”

  I turned without another word and walked the few paces to where Dubaku still stood, spear in hand, looking at his handiwork. “Why?” I demanded.

  “What they do to spirits is evil.”

  “What they do to men is also evil,” the man behind me said. “He was about to kill us and re-bind our spirits into our dead bodies, animating them with his vile magic. It was no idle boast he was making. I have seen the walking dead they have made of those who oppose them.”

  I had seen them too. I knew it could be done. Kukran Epthel had a guard of Alendi chieftains made into animated corpses. Examples to the Alendi and the new chieftains of the price of resistance to his will.

  I glanced over my shoulder. Jocasta was helping to free the woman and children. “I know," I told him. "I've seen them too, in the south. You are the headman here?”

  “Not
any more,” he didn't even try and disguise his bitterness. He'd been betrayed by his own people and his anger showed clear. “They made their choice. Let them live with it.”

  I looked around. There wasn't a villager in sight. I spotted Sapphire making his way back to us, in no hurry and looking calm and relaxed. I didn't have to ask him about the fleeing soldiers. He was back too soon for there to have been any other outcome. If he was here, then they were dead. Well, I couldn't work up much sympathy for them.

  “Can you get horses?” I said. “You are not going to want to stay here.”

  He nodded decisively. “We'll get our possessions.”

  “Dannat, go with him,” I said. “Make it quick.”

  The father and son headed off with Dannat in tow. Jocasta stayed with the women and children, calming them down and talking quietly. I left them to it. Sapphire rode slowly in a circle around us, looking coldly menacing. He didn't look happy. Neither was I.

  The Necromancer was still burning, the flames slowly dying away on the charred flesh of his corpse. The stink was nauseating, but that wasn't why I was frowning.

  I turned to Dubaku.

  “If you ever do anything like that again, putting us all at risk for your own ends, you will be going your own way, Dubaku.” I held up one hand to silence him as he began to speak. “I don't want to hear it, man. It's not up for discussion. On your own you are responsible only for your own actions, but here you are accountable to me and we have to pay the price of your choices. Try and remember that I am paying you as a mercenary, and as your commander I expect you to obey orders and not act on your own whims. If the crowd had fought, if the Necromancer had resisted you and fought, things could have been very different. Ishal did not fall so easily, I seem to recall. If Jocasta had come to harm through your actions don't think I would be in the least forgiving.” I had pretty much worked my way into a cold rage and I guess it showed.