A Burden Given

by James Bee

  “Orland!”Felicia rushed over to his side, kneeling beside him. Gerald walked out of the door, chest so tight he could barely breathe.

  28

  Chapter 28

  The evening air was still and quiet, save for the occasional whistle and thud of an arrow. They were still falling at the north gate, though with much less frequency as during the day. So far no one had been hit, though that would change eventually. Tonight it seemed as though everyone was inside, hiding away from dangers of the night. How much longer until they attack? What are they waiting for? Gerald knew the sword stroke would fall soon, and hard. They were cut off, completely surrounded. No way to get a message to the mine, now way of knowing if they had already been attacked. Only a few squads of the guild’s soldiers remained inside Redstone, though a large amount of miners had been trapped within its walls.

  Gerald balled his hands together. He knew he should have foreseen this. How could their whole force have come upon us with no real warning? Treachery, probably. He should have demanded all the guild’s forces stay within Redstone’s walls. Accepting the gold seemed foolish now, a pittance. He couldn’t fight the Sanish with coins. He may have just been paid for all of their deaths.

  Gerald stood, causing a twinge of pain to go through his shoulder. While the wound hurt, it was more bearable than he’d have expected. In time it would heal, time he probably didn’t have. Hurriedly, he waved to the guards on duty and ran into town. He thought he heard a whistle, the telltale sound of an arrow. It was only the wind.

  Wearily, he headed toward his cottage. I should find Kayl and Orland, apologize to them. Gerald knew that he’d acted poorly, yet he couldn’t bring himself to seek out his friends. Facing them would take more energy than he had. I’ll probably just make things worse. Gerald resolved that they would find them in the morning and beg their forgiveness. Things would look better then.

  “Gerald!”a voice yelled, its owner rushing up to him in the darkness. Fletcher hurried up to him and grabbed his arm.

  “What is it?”Gerald had never seen the man panicked, never seen him lose his composure even a little.

  “Fire! Behind the cemetery! Some bastards are trying to burn the whole town down around our ears!”Fletcher yelled. Suddenly the man’s panic made all too much sense. Most of the buildings in Redstone were made from wood. If a fire spread, it could take half the town before they were able to stop it. If the Sanish see fire, they’ll attack. It’ll be a slaughter!

  “Go! Bring as many men as you can! Don’t sound the alarm. We can’t afford panic. I’ll meet you there!”Gerald shouted, sprinting off away from him. Fletcher yelled something, but he couldn’t hear over the thunder in his ears. Nearby was an old house where a squad of Kayl’s men was quartered. Gerald ran up to it and burst through the door.

  Inside, ten men or so were sitting around a table, cards in their hands. Upon seeing Gerald, many dropped them, looking guiltily. Most were still wearing their battle kit, fresh off patrol.

  “FIRE!”Gerald yelled, cutting over their hasty explanations. The effect of his words was immediate. All the men leapt from their seats and followed him out the door. Gerald grabbed one. “Get Sir Kayl! To the cemetery!”Without looking to see if he was obeyed, Gerald took off running again, the rest close behind him. The sooner he could get there, the better the chances of fighting the fire. Hopefully Fletcher can get some men together without drawing too much attention.

  The cemetery was not far away, and it came quickly into view. Behind it was a row of old cottages that had fallen into disrepair. If anyone lived still lived there, it was likely not by choice. As they drew closer, Gerald couldn’t see any smoke coming from behind. A stroke of luck! Perhaps the fire is already out or is small enough to not be seen.

  Gerald and his men rushed into the cemetery, slowing to avoid tripping over a headstone or falling into a pit. Peering into the darkness, Gerald couldn’t see any sign of Fletcher or the fire. Confusion halted him, and the men around him.

  “There!”one of the soldiers said, pointing off into the distance. Gerald followed his finger and saw a thin column of smoke rising off in distance. Looks like it’s coming from the north gate! Gerald was bewildered. What was going on? Fletcher said the cemetery!

  Then the first arrow struck. A man fell beside him, clutching his chest. A cry went up, and men came rushing out of the buildings. Another arrow landed, from the other side. Gerald span around; more people were rushing up from behind. Men poured into the cemetery, weapons in hand. Guild men.

  “AMBUSH!”Gerald yelled, drawing his sword. His shoulder screamed at him, but he ignored the pain. An arrow flitted by his ear, making him duck. He caught a glimpse of men with bows in hand on the roofs of nearby buildings. Then they were on him.

  An axe came for his head, but he ducked under the blow. The swing left the man exposed, and Gerald slashed at him. His sword tore through fabric and flesh. His attacker reeled backward, blood dripping from his arm. Gerald stepped forward to finish him.

  A body smashed into him, and he was sent stumbling, His foot caught a tombstone, and he tumbled to the ground. All the breath went out of him as his injured shoulder smashed into the ground. Teeth gritted, he rolled and stumbled to his feet. The graveyard had descended into a half-lit landscape of chaos. Men and blades flashed in the evening sky. Cries and shouts rang out in the air, as loud as thunder in his ears. Gerald climbed unsteadily to his feet and rejoined the fray.

  A guild soldier was hacking at one of Gerald’s men, his back turned. Gerald ran his sword through the man’s leather jerkin. With a kick he drew his blade from the corpse, just in time to deflect a jab from a nearby spearmen. The man snarled as he thrust again and again. Wishing he had a shield, Gerald desperately parried the spearhead, again and again. The man sprang at him but stumbled. His foot had slipped in a hole. Gerald strode forward, cutting the man’s spear away. A second cut across the chest sent the man down.

  As abruptly as it started, the melee was over. Two of his soldiers raced into the night after the retreating forms of the bowmen. All around Gerald were moans and screams. More than half of his men were down, bloodied and mutilated. Twice that number of guildsmen were beside them, some dead but most injured. Only three soldiers still stood beside him. Like him, they looked around in shock. What had just happened? The guild attacked? But how could they have known…

  “Well, well. What’s this?”A voice asked. Fletcher strode into the graveyard with half a dozen men behind him. Gerald saw that they were also wearing the uniform of guild men. “You’re supposed to be dead.”Fletcher’s voice was flat, seemingly annoyed.

  “Not yet,”Gerald choked out. He couldn’t think. Didn’t know what to do. He’d trusted the man! How could he be such a fool!

  “How very brave and troublesome. I suppose I should have just poisoned you too. Much less hassle,”Fletcher sneered. His face was different, as though a mask had fallen away. Raw hate shone from his eyes. “Kill them.”

  The six guildsmen came forward, calmly and with precision. They were clearly trained fighters. Men who knew their business. We’re all going to die, Gerald realized, fear making his knees weak.

  The guildsmen charged forward. Out in open ground, they would have been overwhelmed in a moment. Instead, the gravestones gave them a chance, albeit a slim one. One man leapt over a cracked headstone, war hammer raised above his head. The blow narrowly missed Gerald as he threw himself sideways. Another guild soldier was on him immediately. Gerald blocked the man’s sword, but not his fist.

  Mouth filling with blood, he reeled backward. His legs were jelly, and the next slash nearly went across his neck. Nearby, a soldier went down. Stepping over the corpse, his killer advanced toward Gerald, blood dripping from his blade.

  Gerald was aware of the three men herding him toward the corner of the graveyard, but there was little he could do about it. The guildsmen advanced slowly, not giving an opening to attack or run. If he turned his back, they would be on him. If he
surged forward, he would die instantly. Without a shield or armour, he was as good as helpless. His attackers knew it, and leers lit up their faces. Farther and farther they pushed him, until he was almost at the cemetery’s edge. Soon he would have to make a stand. Maybe he could take one of the bastards with him.

  A deafening shout froze all of them. A helm appeared over the men’s heads. A bull’s helm. Kayl! The big knight sprang into graveyard, crossing blades with Fletcher. He wasn’t alone — a half dozen soldiers following after him with Orland close behind. The nobleman had his bow aimed in Gerald’s direction.

  One of the men in front of him fell, arrow in his side. The two remaining men hesitated, looking back and forth. Sensing opportunity, Gerald sprang forward and cut one down. The last guild soldier dropped his sword, eyes wide. Hands rising, he tried to surrender. Orland’s arrow took him before the words came out.

  As he fell, Gerald saw that Fletcher was in trouble. Now it was he who was being pressed backward. Kayl and two soldiers were harrying him, trying to get bring him down. Suddenly, Fletcher pressed forward, leaping at Kayl. Gerald’s heart caught in his throat as the sword flashed at his friend’s neck.

  Calmly, Kayl stepped aside and parried the blow, sending Fletcher reeling. Before the older man could recover, Kayl’s blade slashed across his belly. Fletcher fell to his knees, holding his stomach. Before Gerald could cry out and stop him, Kayl brought his sword down and ended him. Fletcher’s lifeless body collapsed to the bloodstained earth.

  The graveyard once again fell back into peace, save the cries of the wounded. Gerald wiped his sword on the cloak of a nearby guildsman before sheathing it. Panting, he stood amidst the carnage, numb. More townsfolk rushed toward them, blanching at the scene. After a moment, though, they ran to the injured. Gerald could hear Kayl bellowing, shouting orders at anyone who would listen.

  Gerald walked toward him, stepping over bodies and around tombstones. A swirling host of thoughts raged in his brain, each screaming for his attention.

  “Gerald!”Orland said, running up to him. A bright purple bruise marked the side of his handsome face. Shame and embarrassment flooded through Gerald at the sight. His friend stopped short, looking unsure.

  Gerald stepped forward and pulled him into a crushing one-armed bear hug. “I’m sorry,”he said, releasing the flustered nobleman.

  “So am I …I should never have said that,”Orland stammered, looking behind Gerald.

  “Nice marksmanship,”Gerald said, following his eyes.

  “I’ve never. Only animals before.”Orland was pale and looked on the verge of being sick. Gerald had seen it many times before after a first battle.

  “You did well. Those men would have had me if you hadn’t shown up,”Gerald said, putting his hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

  “What happened? Why did they attack you?”

  “It seems that Fletcher wasn’t as much of a friend as you thought, eh, Gerald?”Kayl said, walking up beside them. Gerald opened his mouth, but no words emerged. What could he say?

  Suddenly it was his turn to be wrapped in a crushing hug. Kayl’s armour dug into his wounded shoulder, and Gerald yelped. Hastily, the big knight let go. Stepping back, Kayl took his helmet off.

  “Sorry, mate. Seems like you have a habit of walking into ambushes,”Kayl said, looking around at the graveyard.

  “Aye. Seems that way. Fletcher had this one sewn up well. Sent me running here to put out a fire. Then we arrived and we saw the smoke not here, but…”Gerald suddenly panicked, remembering the smoke coming from the north gate.

  “Put out. It was a diversion. Small little blaze with leaves all over it, made a hell of a lot of smoke. Was about to put it out when Yill came running, telling me to get to the graveyard. Got here just in time, looks like,”

  Gerald nodded, rubbing his shoulder.“Aye. Damn guild, and damn Fletcher too! Traitors! But why? Why would they attack now? Just to kill me?”Gerald mused angrily.

  “Might be they want you out of the way so the town can surrender?”Orland ventured.

  “We can guess at the motivations later. What do you want to do now? There could be more of Rolan’s boys around, causing mischief,”Kayl said.

  “Set up patrols. Tell Blane and Lucan what happened. Also, I want all the miners arrested and under guard. We can’t afford to take a risk on any of them.”The shock was wearing off, anger rapidly taking its place.

  “They other lords could be conspiring with Rolan too! How can we be sure?”Orland said, sounding near panic.

  “The only person in town those two hate more than they hate me is Rolan. Also, neither would do anything to put Redstone in danger,”Gerald said reassuringly. Though if they are against us, we may as well slit our own throats now.

  “True enough. I also think we can trust them,”Kayl added. “I’ll see that all this gets done. Plus freeing those men you condemned to death. Not sure Fletcher’s accusations mean much anymore. You should go rest, Gerald, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

  Gerald shook his head, trying to hide the weariness that was dragging him down.“No. I’m going to visit Fletcher’s rooms. Might be some clue to all of this,”he said.

  “I’ll come with you in case you collapse in a ditch,”Orland said.

  “What about Wylliam? What are you going to do about him?”Kayl asked, his frown suggesting what his solution might be.

  “That all depends on how surprised he is by the news that I bring with me.”Gerald’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. ‘I should have been the new mayor!’ The young Banesfort’s words rang in his ears as he headed to the mansion.

  29

  Chapter 29

  “Kick in the door,”Gerald said.

  “What?”Orland replied, looking at him like he’d grown an extra limb.

  “Kick it in. Haven’t got it in me.”Gerald leaned wearily against the wall. It seemed like an eternity since he’d struggled out of bed this morning.

  “Why can’t we knock?”

  Gerald sighed. “We need to intimidate him. Scare the prick. That way he’ll be less likely to lie to us. Waiting for him to open the door is not intimidating. Kick it. Here.”Gerald pointed where the lock would be. Orland took a deep breath, stepped forward, and kicked.

  The door swung inward easily. Stepping back, Orland beamed at him. “That was simple!”

  “It wasn’t locked,”Gerald said uneasily. The house was quiet and dark. All of the torches were out.

  “It’s barely past sundown. Why’s it so dark? Maybe they’re not at home.”

  “Maybe,”Gerald answered, stepping through the front entranceway.

  “Here.”Orland tore a torch off the wall and after fiddling with it for a few moments got it alight. Handing it to Gerald, he went about lighting one for himself. The flickering torch cast the room in eerie light.

  “Hello!”Gerald shouted. No voice answered him, no sound came from anywhere in the house. He grew more uneasy. By all reports Wylliam and his mother stayed at home most of the time, barely venturing out. They should be here. Someone should be here. “Let’s check upstairs. He might be asleep,”Gerald said, not believing it.

  “He’d have to be one hell of a heavy sleeper. This place is giving me a creepy feeling,”Orland said. Gerald could hear the strain in his voice. The recent events were taking a toll on the nobleman.

  “Aye, me too. The quicker we find Wylliam, the quicker we can be free of this place,”Gerald replied, waking toward the staircase. Holding the torch high, he scanned the room for any signs of violence or a struggle. There was none. The house seemed pristine, untouched. Like a sealed tomb. Reaching the top of the staircase, Gerald stopped. There were a half dozen rooms, each with a closed door. Any one could be the Wylliam’s bedroom.

  “Anyone here?”Gerald yelled. Still silence. Pushing a door open, he peered inside. The room was empty, save for a large mirror. The next room was just as sparse, a bookcase and a pair of chairs. The third room, however, was not ba
rren.

  It was clearly Lord Banesfort’s room. The room was wide, crammed from wall to wall with furniture. The centre was dominated by a massive bed. Curtains hung on its sides, now thrown back to expose the covers. And the corpses lying atop them.

  Gerald’s flickering light barely reached them, just enough to shine off their eyes. Behind him, Orland took a sharp breath. Gerald stepped into the room. There was little smell. They’ve not been dead long. Slowly, the two men approached the bed. Gerald’s suspicions were confirmed when he saw who it was.

  Wylliam lay next to an older woman. Both of their throats were cut, the sheets stained crimson beneath them. Wylliam still had a look of shock on his face, while his mother simply looked at peace.

  “Fletcher did this! What an evil fucker! He wiped out the whole family? Why? They trusted him, paid him for protection! Who could do such a thing?”Orland said. Gerald found that he felt only numb. He’d seen too much death this day to be much affected by this display

  “Gold, I’d wager. Guild gold. Though why Rolan would want them dead, I’ve no idea. Maybe Wylliam suspected him of killing his father. There’s still too much here that’s a mystery,”Gerald said, turning away from the grisly scene. “Still, I suppose we avenged them. Or Kayl did, in any event. Come on, there’s nothing more we can do for them. We’ll search Fletcher’s room. Maybe it’ll hold some answers instead of more questions.

  The old soldier’s room was torn apart. Clothes and bedsheets littered the floor. A small travelling bag was sitting on a table in the back of the room.

  “Looks like someone cleaned this place out!”Orland said.

  “Aye, seems that Fletcher was going to pull a runner after killing me,”Gerald said, walking over to the bag.

  “Where would he have gone? Snuck out of the city and into the arms of the Sanish? Walking into the forest would be suicide! He’d be caught for certain!”