A Demon in Silver

by R. S. Ford

  ‘How do you even know Clancy’s going to be there?’ said Mullen as they both kept an eye on the hedge.

  ‘I don’t. But last I heard Gothelm had ordered border keeps built all along the edge of his duchy. If we work our way along them we’re bound to find Clancy eventually.’

  Mullen nodded. ‘That’s as good a plan as any you’ve had in the past ten years.’

  Josten wasn’t about to get complacent. Gothelm’s border ran for another forty miles northward. If they had to walk all that way before finding Clancy they’d be all but exhausted. That would be no good if they ran into trouble, or more tallymen, on the way.

  ‘Right, let’s move,’ said Josten, keen to get on with business.

  They set off down the road, Mullen bringing up the rear. The day brightened but it did nothing to bring up their spirits any. Despite the girl’s poor condition she managed to keep up the pace and Josten found himself admiring her resilience. They passed one of the forts marking the border of Gothelm’s duchy, keeping out of sight – it wouldn’t do to get questioned before they’d had a chance to get paid for their prize, but the place looked all but deserted. Further on there was a farm that looked burnt-out. A lone donkey stood in a field. Mullen couldn’t resist.

  ‘Look at its face,’ he said laughing. ‘Reminds me of that ugly whore I banged in Cullington.’

  Josten wasn’t in the mood to reply that there’d been more ugly whores than either of them could count.

  ‘Takes one to know one,’ Livia said quietly.

  Josten stopped, turning at the unexpected comment. Mullen stopped too, staring at her. Then Mullen burst out laughing.

  Shaking his head, Josten led them on.

  The next of the border forts looked like it had been besieged for a week. The walls were blackened; loose masonry lay all around a gaping hole in its midst. The three of them paused for a while to look for any signs of life. When they were confident enough that there was no one alive, Josten moved towards the fort, his curiosity getting the better of him. If there was trouble on the road ahead they needed to at least get an idea of what they faced.

  The fort was gutted. A fire had raged through it, burning the wooden floors up to the third storey. A discarded helmet and several weapons lay strewn about but there were no bodies.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Mullen.

  ‘I think we shouldn’t hang around,’ Josten replied, about to lead them off when he saw a wisp of smoke rising on the horizon. The road ahead would lead them right to it.

  ‘That doesn’t look good,’ Mullen said, following Josten’s line of sight.

  Josten stood and looked. His initial reaction was to go around, but that could well add a day onto their journey.

  ‘We don’t have time to worry about it. Most likely just an old campfire. Let’s press on.’

  With that they set off, with Mullen grumbling all the way about how this was going to get them killed. Josten had heard that grumble a thousand times and they were both still alive. For now.

  When they eventually reached the source of the fire they slowed, keeping to the hedgerow as they moved. The village was blackened; not a splinter of wood stood untouched. It must have been like a tinderbox when aflame, but now it was a silent, charred mess. There was no sign of who’d set the fires.

  Josten moved from the bushes, walking slowly towards the carnage.

  ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Mullen hissed, louder than most people shout. Then he followed, but then Mullen always followed.

  Josten drew his sword, Mullen pulling his axe as they walked through the smoking remains of the village. There was a dead dog in the road; then a horse, entrails strewn, tongue lolling.

  They moved to the centre of the village, not a sign of anyone until they reached the central square. It was a slaughterhouse. Men, women and children lay all about. Flies buzzed around staring eyes and wounds lay open, the blood long since dried to a thick black crust.

  ‘Who do you think did it?’ asked Mullen.

  Josten shook his head. ‘Castor Drummon to the east has been harrying Gothelm’s territory. But it could be anyone. Maud Levar. Lorac’s crew. Take your pick. Every one of them is bastard enough to leave a place in this state just for the hell of it.’

  He looked around for as long as he could stomach. It wasn’t the slaughter that bothered him, he’d seen plenty enough of that in his time. It was the memories it brought back. There was a time, not too long ago, when Josten Cade was part of a company that would have left a place in the same state as this and not thought twice on it. Even if Josten hadn’t joined in with any of the slaughter, he’d still run with men who had. It was a time he’d sooner forget.

  ‘Let’s get out of here,’ Josten said.

  Mullen didn’t need any further encouragement, picking his way northward through the bodies. Livia just stood in front of the village well. Josten hadn’t even thought what she might feel about this. It was doubtful a girl so young had ever seen such horror.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he said to her after moving closer.

  Josten could see her eyes were fixed on an old man sitting with his back to the well. Someone had opened his throat and his head lolled back, eyes white and blank.

  Just as Josten was about to give her a shake she moved after Mullen without a sound. He wasn’t sorry to leave the dead village behind.

  The road north continued to wend its way alongside the river that marked Gothelm’s border. The sky grew ominously dark as though the rain were about to pour its misery on them but the clouds managed to hold out long enough for the next border fort to come into view. Josten allowed himself a smile of relief as he spied a scaffold constructed on one side of the circular building.

  ‘This could be it,’ he said.

  ‘Right,’ said Mullen, gripping his axe. ‘Let’s get down there.’

  ‘No. I need you two to wait here.’ Josten could see Mullen’s disappointment. ‘I’ll handle Clancy. We need to approach this carefully.’

  Mullen raised an eyebrow. ‘Because you’ve done a great job of that so far.’

  ‘We’re still here, aren’t we? We’re not fucking dead yet?’ Mullen had nothing smart to say to that. Josten moved on down the road towards the half-built fort.

  As he got closer he could hear the clang of the mason’s hammer and see men placing stone and levelling off mortar. Two spearmen wandered around the site, vigilant for anyone who might come and disturb the work. If whoever had levelled that last village passed by he doubted two men would be much defence.

  When he was within a hundred yards, Josten felt his heart beat that much faster. Clancy was there, reviewing parchments on a small table. His head was bowed, covered by a grey skullcap. Wispy beard dangled from his chin and his hessian smock looked filthy at the hem. Clancy had never put much store by his personal appearance.

  Josten managed to walk within an arm’s distance of Clancy before either of the two guards noticed him. They rushed over immediately, shouting their warnings, and Clancy turned, a comical look of surprise on his lined face. When he saw it was Josten he clutched his chest as though his heart had given out.

  ‘It’s all right,’ said the old builder. ‘I know this man.’

  The guards lowered their spears, still eyeing Josten warily.

  ‘Hello, Clancy,’ Josten said. ‘Long time.’

  ‘Not long enough,’ Clancy replied, shooing the guards away with one wrinkly hand.

  ‘Don’t be like that. There’s a lot of water under the bridge since Hagenworth.’

  ‘I almost got my neck stretched because of you.’

  Josten smiled at the memory. ‘And yet here you stand. Neck still the length it should be.’

  Clancy smiled with him. ‘How’ve you been, Cade?’ He looked Josten up and down. ‘Not had a great run of luck from the state of you.’

  ‘No. But I’m hoping to change all that. And you can help.’

  The smile fell from Clancy’s face. ‘Why do I have a bad feelin
g about this?’

  ‘You have Gothelm’s ear. I need you to pass a message on. I’ve come into possession of something he wants. For a price I’m willing to give him what he’s after.’

  The colour in Clancy’s face drained away as Josten spoke.

  ‘You were the one who took the girl?’

  Josten was surprised the news had travelled so fast. ‘You’ve heard about that already?’

  ‘Everyone this side of Eldreth has heard. If the tallymen catch you you’re a fucking dead man, Cade. Are you bloody insane?’ The builder thought on that for a moment. ‘What am I saying – of course you’re insane. Everyone knows that. But this time you’ve bitten off more than you can chew. Stealing a prisoner from the tallymen? Gothelm will see you swing for this.’

  ‘That’s why you have to persuade him what a reasonable man I am. There’s a burned-out fort a few miles back along the river. I’ll be waiting there in two days’ time. Two hundred pieces of silver and she’s his. Any sign of an ambush and she’s dead, and so is anyone he sends. Is that simple enough, Clancy?’

  ‘I can give him the message, Cade. Whether he goes for it—’

  ‘Just do your best, old friend. That’s all I ask.’

  Clancy nodded. ‘Two days. Two hundred silver. Seems simple enough.’

  Josten gave the old man a nod before turning to leave, then thought better of it.

  ‘Out of interest, why does he want the girl? She seems pretty ordinary to me.’

  Clancy just shrugged. ‘I have no idea. But he’s willing to kill to have her, I know that. So watch your bloody back.’

  ‘Always do,’ Josten said with a wink. Then he turned and took the road back towards Mullen and Livia.

  The dark sky opened up before he was halfway back, peppering Josten’s cloak and soaking it by the time he found them. When he reached the spot he’d left them in he could hear Mullen’s deep voice resonating through the brush at the roadside. Then the girl laughed; a high giggle. It was the last thing Josten had been expecting.

  As he drew closer he could see them sitting under a tree just off the road, Mullen holding his cloak over both their heads. He was treating her to one of his many bawdy stories – not the kind of thing you’d tell a slip of a girl, but she seemed to find it as funny as any mercenary.

  Josten stepped out into the clearing and Mullen stopped his tale. Livia looked up, the smile dropping from her face.

  ‘A word,’ Josten said.

  Mullen offered Livia an I’m in the shit expression, before leaving her his cloak and following Josten into the rain-spattered undergrowth.

  ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Josten asked when they were out of earshot.

  ‘Just a few stories to pass the time,’ said Mullen innocently – he could be thick as a tree trunk sometimes. ‘Where’s the harm?’

  ‘Where’s the harm? You’re laughing with her like she’s the local serving wench. She’s not someone for you to have a giggle with. She’s two hundred pieces of silver. She’s leverage. And if things don’t go to plan we might have to slit her throat and leave her to bleed in the fucking road.’

  Mullen frowned at him. ‘I didn’t—’

  ‘No, you cocking didn’t, did you? So I’m telling you – don’t get attached. Whoever she is she’ll be gone soon. The last thing I need is your judgement being dulled any more than it already is because you’ve developed a liking for her. I need you sharp. Is that understood?’

  Mullen’s face turned grave. ‘I’m not a fucking idiot. Was just a couple of stories, that’s all.’

  With that he walked back to the clearing.

  Josten watched him go with the feeling this wasn’t going to be as simple as ‘two days and two hundred silver’.

  21

  THERE was a feeling you got before battle. Dread, deep in the pit of your stomach. An overwhelming sense that this would be the day you died. It was something you always had to push aside, to stop you pissing in your trews or fleeing to the hills, screaming for your mother as you went. It was a feeling every man wrestled with before he had to take up arms and fight for his life.

  Josten had that feeling now.

  No great battles were being fought here today though.

  He stood alone in the shadow of the derelict fort. A crow cawed in the distance. Josten’s thumb flicked up the cross-guard of his sword – a sharp click as it was released, a smooth metallic ring as it fell back in place. Over and over his thumb worked as he stood in the damp air, waiting for their riches to come riding from the gloom. But was he just waiting for death?

  Josten tried to put that thought out of his head. Best not to dwell on the bad. Better to think on how much coin he was about to make; better to keep a hand close to his blade. Thinking about the worst would shred a man’s nerve.

  Before he had the chance to properly consider what he was doing, he heard riders coming through the mist.

  Five horses trotted into view, slowing to a walk when they came within a few yards of the fort. Josten took a breath as they approached; black cloaked riders all staring at him. Josten recognised the one at their fore – the one whose nose he’d flattened back in the inn. His hair hung down in greasy locks, eyes blackened, a bandage across his face. He must have been pissed off at Josten, but there was still no reading his expression as he nudged his horse forward. The other four riders spread out, hands close to their weapons. One of them had a small casket resting on his saddle.

  ‘That’s close enough,’ Josten said. Best to let them know who was in charge early on. He needed to lay out his terms and keep control. ‘Is that my silver?’

  ‘Where’s the girl?’ said the one with the bandaged nose.

  Josten regarded him carefully. Obviously he was in charge, though he looked the youngest of the group. It was clear none of the others would make a move unless this one said so.

  ‘What’s your name, son?’ Josten asked.

  The young man regarded him for a time before relaxing a bit in his saddle.

  ‘I’m Randal Weirwulf. And you are?’

  For a moment Josten wondered if it was worth the lie, but chances were Clancy had already told Gothelm whom he was dealing with. That was why he hadn’t bothered covering his face with a scarf.

  ‘Josten Cade. I’m guessing you already knew that.’

  Randal nodded. ‘That we did. Thought I’d ask anyway. Now where’s the girl?’

  ‘She’s not far. Do you have my silver?’

  Randal glanced across at the tallyman with the casket, then back at Josten. ‘I’d really like to see the girl.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ said Josten, thumb hovering beneath the cross-guard of his sword, ready to flick it up at the slightest provocation. ‘And you will. Just as soon as I’ve got my silver.’

  Randal smiled, his eyes shining. ‘You really have no idea what you’ve got, do you, Cade?’

  ‘I was hoping I had two hundred silver, but right now I only see a closed casket.’

  Randal glanced around, searching for something. He took in the derelict fort, the river in the distance, and then looked back at Josten.

  ‘Where’s the other one?’ he asked. ‘There were two of you.’

  ‘Where do you think? He’s taking care of our prize. So hand over my silver and we can get this done with.’

  Randal stared at him, a wry smile on his face. Josten hardly knew this little fucker and he already hated him.

  ‘So I hand over your pay and let you walk away, and trust you to just send her back to me?’

  ‘That’s the only way this goes. If I don’t return in one piece my associate opens her throat and no one gets anything.’

  Randal nodded knowingly. ‘I see.’ He looked to the tallyman with the casket on his saddle and nodded. The tallyman lifted the casket and threw it on the ground in front of Josten. By the way it bounced it didn’t seem quite as full as he’d hoped.

  Carefully Josten stepped forward, kneeling down and flicking the clasp on the casket. The lid crea
ked open and Josten held his breath all the while. He exhaled in a panicked huff as he saw Clancy’s severed head staring up at him.

  A sword rang from a scabbard, heels kicked a horse and it galloped forward, but Josten was already moving. The thud of hooves on the damp earth followed him as he ran towards the fort.

  ‘Mullen!’ he screamed as he ran, at any moment expecting to feel the hard impact of a sword against the back of his head.

  There was the crisp thwap of a crossbow being fired. The bolt shot from within the broken confines of the fort, whipping past Josten’s head. He heard the dull strike, the whinny of an animal in pain, before he reached the edge of the fort and dived over broken masonry and into the dark.

  He looked up to see Mullen already cranking the string of the crossbow, eyes scanning for the next target. No one came. Josten scrambled to his feet, wrenching his sword free, his breath coming hard.

  ‘Again, things haven’t exactly gone to plan,’ said Mullen.

  Josten resisted thanking Mullen for his unfailing ability to point out the fucking obvious.

  They waited in the shadows of the fort, scanning the mist, waiting for the tallymen to come running. Nothing. The wind blew in, swirling the grey fog, and Josten caught sight of the horse Mullen had shot lying dead, the quarrel pointing up from its neck. He gave silent thanks for the lucky shot.

  ‘Cade?’ Randal’s voice rang out through the mist. ‘There’s nowhere for you to go. Five against two is poor odds. Just send out the girl and we’ll let you live.’

  Josten glanced at Mullen, who just shrugged his big shoulders. Even if he believed Randal would honour his proposition, they didn’t have Livia with them.

  ‘Why don’t you come in and get her?’ Josten shouted back.