by Brandon Barr
Tears began to run down Aven’s face. Except for Winter, who was still at their home, everyone he loved was in Harvest’s hovel. He felt helpless. He was a farmer, not a swordsmen. There wasn’t a chance in a thousand that he could kill Rozmin with a pair of pruning shears.
“Scared, boy?” came Rozmin’s humored voice.
A random thought stirred Aven’s hope. “Harvest is Pike’s sister,” he said. “That’s Harvest’s family in that hole. Pike’s family. You know he’s the Baron’s son.”
“Pike’s just one of his pets. The Baron would sooner snap a bitch's neck than show mercy on account of its offspring.”
Rozmin began to walk faster, and Aven stumbled backward.
A voice shouted behind Aven. “We came as quick as we could!”
Aven turned. Two more figures came from the road. More familiar faces from the Baron’s watch. Aven’s eyes drifted back to the stump. Rose still held the hatch wedged shut. There had to be another way. Something else he could do. One more frantic possibility came to mind, but it terrified him.
You’re as good as dead already, said a voice in his head. He knew it was true. He needed a two or three day head start to have a chance at eluding the bands of mounted soldiers and their dogs that would be sent to hunt him down.
“Alright boy, on your knees,” said Rozmin, “I promise a quick death now and only now. If you run, I’ll make the agony slow so that your eyes are bled dry of tears before death comes.”
The offer was oddly tempting. How many times had that promise worked on some lowly farmer, he wondered? Die quick or jump off the cliff into the unknown darkness.
Winter. He mouthed her name as a prayer, then tore his eyes from the stump.
He heard the soldiers behind him closing in. He had to decide.
Now!
Aven flung the shears at Rozmin. They grazed the watcher's hand as he shielded his body.
“Farmspit!” he heard Rozmin shout. Aven glanced back to see the watcher clutching his hand. “I’ll slash your face for that!”
Aven focused his attention back onto his escape route. Ahead, the two other watchers from the garrison sped to intercept.
At the road Aven feigned right, as if he were heading for home, then cut hard left into the woods, leaping over a fallen tree. There came the sound of boots sliding on loose dirt behind him, then a muffled crash and loud curses. Another pair of boots chased a moment longer through the brush, but their thrashing grew fainter. Aven had run through these woods in the dark as a child, though not as reckless as he was now. A moment later, the only noise was his feet slicing through the undergrowth. He didn’t slow. Ahead, at the end of a row of low hills was the fortress. It was the only hope he saw, and it was only half a plan.
To fall before Baron Rhaudius and beg for mercy. And to implicate Pike’s family with his own. Perhaps any mercy shown to Pike’s parents and sister would carry over to his family.
The odds of that seemed slim, but between that and running, it was his best chance. He felt much more confident about Harvest and her parents. Her family was Pike’s family. They had to matter to the Baron. If only because they mattered to Pike.
The fortress was a sterile, ugly sight. Cold and impenetrable. He found the stone enclosure especially hideous at night. An interconnected mass of bleak grey walls conjoined to a towering edifice the farmers called the Watchers’ Tower.
The main entrance was cut off by a thick iron gate attached to the wall that encircled the fortress. Before the Guardians arrived, the defenses were built to ward off attacks from other Barons. Aven’s parents had told him stories of times when they had to flee into the gates because another baron had come marauding, razing crops, putting to the sword everyone they found. If anything positive could be said about Land Baron Rhaudius, he had been ruthless in repelling attacks and protecting his farmers. Even if it was only greed that drove him.
Now, with the presence of the Guardians, the mysterious peacekeepers who’d arrived through the portal, the skirmishes had stopped, but that meant the only people left for the Baron and his soldiers to clash with were his own farmers. Aven heard rumors of other Barons disbanding their soldiers. Not Rhaudius. As his father always said, when you cheat the people under you, you’re always looking out for insurrection.
Aven knew almost nothing of the Guardians, but if they were truly peacekeepers, and truly as powerful as to have ships that traveled the stars, why didn’t they intervene here, amongst the farmers?
Aven saw the gate ahead and hurried up to where three soldiers stood. One with a shaved head moved toward him.
“Rozmin sent me,” said Aven. “I have a message for the Baron. It’s urgent.”
The guard stared at his face, as if waiting for a nervous twitch to reveal some lie in what he’d said.
“Now he’s sending farm runts to deliver his messages?”
“It regards a plot between several families. They’re trying to leave the valley.”
“See this, boy?” The guard held up a curved knife. “If you’re lying to me, the Baron’s going to demand your head. So, you want to stick by your story, or turn for home while you’re still alive?”
“Rozmin will do the gutting if I don’t deliver his message.”
The guard swore and grabbed Aven’s shirt. The man drew his face close to Aven’s as if to intimidate him with one further test. Aven didn’t flinch, and after a moment the guard released his shirt and shouted up at the gatekeeper. The doors opened a crack and Aven and the guard slipped in-between the huge metal frame.
Candlelight lit the main hallway of the fortress, casting dark shadows in every corner. Though ugly on the outside, even in the sparse light Aven could tell the fortress’s interior decor was extravagant. The fiery glow touched upon fresh cut flowers in ornate vases and ancient looking tapestries of nobility on horseback. Shields with the Rhaudius family crest engraved on them, swords, war axes, quarter staves, and lances hung on the walls. The second hallway the soldier led him through was lined with animal heads and furs. Aven took this in through his periphery. A few servants passed them in the halls, but they were like ghosts, his thoughts more real and touchable. His mind was consumed with the words he should say to the Baron.
The guard leading him barked orders to a servant woman.
A door was opened at the end of the hall of animal carcasses, and Aven found himself in a darkened room. The servant woman lit a torch, and began setting the room ablaze as she lit other torches fastened to wall mounts. The room was enormous. A high vaulted ceiling stretched above, the wood beams fading into grey shadows. A long white table of some unknown stone ran the length of the room with enough fur-lined chairs for several dozen guests.
“Baron Rhaudius is being roused,” said the guard with the shaved head. “For your sake, you should hope Rozmin’s report is scintillating enough for the Baron. Otherwise Rozmin and I will get an earful and you’ll have your head impaled on a stake.”
Aven stood beside the guard, his stomach churning. He noted the guard watching a door at the end of the room. Aven did the same, and felt like a rabbit waiting for a wolf.
The wait wasn’t long. The door swung open and the Baron entered, followed by an entourage of servants. The Baron, whom he had seen only a handful of times, assessed him with an amused glint in his eyes. Aven glanced at the other faces in the room.
His eyes froze on a second person. Pike, Harvest’s brother.
He stood staring at Aven. Surprise marked his face, but a touch of anger shadowed his eyes.
There had been a time when seeing Pike’s face was a welcome thing. But that was before he knew he was the son of the Baron.
“Rozmin sent you?” said Baron Rhaudius. Before Aven could open his mouth, he added, “Rozmin knows better than to disturb me during the evening hours.” He gestured toward a chair.
Aven sat.
“Get up, you fool!” said the Baron indignantly. “That’s where you’re to stand. The chairs are not for servants o
r berry pickers.”
The Baron glared at him, then found a chair across from where he stood. Pike sat beside Rhaudius. A barely clothed girl stood behind Pike, gliding her hands over his neck and back. One of the whores the Baron kept on staff. Pike eyed Aven coldly, then swatted the girls hand away, and she silently left the room.
The Baron reclined in his chair; his tidy beard and combed hair were speckled grey and looked wet with oils. “Where’s my wine!” he shouted with a smile. An odd droop was in Rhaudius’s eyes. “What did Rozmin give you?”
Aven took a breath. “Two families have been caught planning to leave the valley,” said Aven. “Rozmin found them tonight…because of me.”
“Rozmin sent you to tell me that?” said the Baron. “What? Does he want me to clap for him and have you run the message back?”
The question disorientated Aven. He had expected such news to be of great importance. His head spun as he tried to make sense of why he had come. What he was trying to do.
“My parents…They’re part of—” He stopped. A dizziness began to swallow him.
“Your parents are what?” Rhaudius growled.
“…Trying to escape. To leave the valley. Rozmin overheard me talking about our plans. I’m the reason—”
Pike’s snort cut off Aven’s words. Pike turned to Rhaudius. “I know this sape picker’s mother and father. They complain openly, in the field and at the market, they aren’t discreet. It seems they finally bit themselves in the ass.”
The Baron’s eyes narrowed on Aven. “My watch catches your tongue running loose, and you come here? It’s clear to me Rozmin didn’t send you. Why have you come? Are you looking for a reward?”
“No.” Aven slowly breathed out. “I’ve come to ask for mercy. For my family. And for the other family whose house they were meeting at.” He looked at Pike. “The hovel of my promised one, Harvest.”
Confusion churned in Pike’s eyes. Instantly his face glistened with a sheen of sweat. Would Pike be his ally now? If he cared at all for his family, he would.
Beside him, the Baron’s face was stone. Aven wondered what the Baron knew of Pike’s family. Had he made the connection that Pike had? Did he know the name of Pike’s sister? Slowly, the hard edges of the Baron’s face softened, then he laughed loudly, as if a huge joke had just been told.
“What’s your name, farm boy?”
“Aven, the son of Lynx.”
“You’re bold, Aven. Boldness does not befit the peasantry. You’ve lied your way into my presence to ask for mercy. You know what your family and all involved are owed. The jagged edge of my axeman’s blade. However, I already have a bottle of wine in my belly and am in the mood for entertainment." He leaned back in his chair of furs and smiled. "I have a proposition for you. If you can describe an alternative punishment befitting your crimes, I’ll consider it over decorating the market with your carcasses. But the punishment must deliver a message to the farmers. I will not allow the inspiration of more fools.”
Aven looked down at the table from where he stood. Hope and horror twisted his stomach into knots. A rush of castigations came to mind, all horrible and yet, too kind compared to death.
“May I have some time to think?”
“You have until I grow bored sitting here,” replied Rhaudius. He turned to a servant, “More wine!”
Pike suddenly stood, his eyes murderous. “This boy is a liar. Don’t give him another moment.”
The Baron frowned. “Have I missed something?”
“He claims the meeting is at his promised one’s hovel—that’s a lie. He’s promised to my sister, Harvest. He’s using my family as a bargaining piece. But he’s a liar!”
A touch of concern spread across the Baron’s face, and grew darker with each passing moment. “Boy, if this is another lie, you’ll wish you had died instead of coming here tonight.”
“Pike knows I’m telling the truth. He knows how his parents feel. His father, Gar, speaks up in the market. He isn’t afraid.”
“They wouldn’t leave,” said Pike. “My true father gives Gar more than the other farmers. Food. Pay.”
“All the more reason to leave,” said Aven. “Gar is not the kind of man to live under bribery. Especially if the bribe is payment for his only son’s affection.”
Pike stared at Aven as if a mortal wound had been slashed across his heart. “They were going to leave and not tell their son? I don’t believe it.”
“That would have been safer. But they were going to tell you. They were going to give you a chance to come.”
The Baron leaned forward and put an arm around Pike. “Son, I leave your family in your hands. You can deal as lightly or as harshly as you wish.”
The room’s large wooden door burst open. Rozmin entered, dried blood ran in a slash from his cheek bone down through his lips, stopping at the bulge of his chin. His face was blotched with black and grey, and a strong smell of smoke hung on his clothing.
The Captain of the Watch bowed his head abruptly where he’d stopped at the edge of the table. Confusion deepened the lines under Rozmin’s eyes as he turned and saw Aven.
“Baron Rhaudius, this boy escaped my men. How was he caught?”
“He came to me, begging for mercy. Lied his way into my presence.” The Baron’s fingertips tapped together. “I’m glad you arrived just now. This boy, Aven, claims you overheard him. Are two families plotting to leave the valley?”
“Yes,” said Rozmin, his eyes finding Pike for a brief moment. “Found him in Plot Eight. He was in Gar’s vineyard, talking to his daughter, Harvest.”
The Baron’s eyes darkened, his nostrils flaring: “You smell of smoke! Did something happen?”
Rozmin pointed a finger at Aven. “He and Harvest fought me. She ran down into her parent's hovel while this boy threatened me with a pair of sheers.”
“What happened!?” roared the Baron. “You smell as if you smoked the stump.”
Rozmin fell speechless for a moment. “We had to, Lord Baron. They nearly broke our wedge. We couldn’t contain them. There were only four of us, and we didn’t know their numbers. Not until after.”
Dark constricting fingers squeezed at Aven’s chest. Aven pictured his own father and Gar trying to smash through the wedged hatchway.
“The hovel—is it intact?” asked the Baron coldly, “Was anyone killed?”
Rozmin’s tongue slid across his parched lips. “The fire took to the roots and the entire stump burnt to the ground. Only the hole remains, and the skeletons of the resistors.”
Aven gripped the chair in front him, his legs giving out. He looked at Pike, drawn to him in that moment.
Pike’s lips were pale, mouth hanging open without words. As if moved to the same thought, Pike’s eyes found Aven’s. Aven saw a reflection of his own pained face staring back at him and in Pike’s eyes he sensed the same horrible images and sounds. Their mothers’ lungs invaded with poison. Fathers choking, shielding the heat with their own skin. Bodies huddled together. Harvest’s nails digging into the wall, breathing in death through lips that only an hour before had kissed him with so much life and purpose.
Aven lost his grip on the chair and his knees hit the stone floor. Winter. She was the only person he loved still alive. Then he remembered Winter’s vision. The bodies. The smoke. They had their answer now. He knew who it was his sister had seen.
“My family was innocent,” said Pike, his voice raw. “Tell me they’re safe.”
Aven looked up at Rozmin.
The grime covering the captain’s face couldn’t hide the pallor beneath. Again he pointed at Aven. “I heard from this boy's tongue, and…his promised one’s. Everyone under that stump was there for the same reason.” His face broke out in anger. “It was either risk being overrun, or preserve the Baron’s law! If they hadn’t smashed the hatchway, broken the wedge—”
“Silence!” shouted the Baron. “You did your duty Rozmin. Under other circumstances, your decision needn’t be defended
.” He placed his hand on Pike’s shoulder. “However, Pike is of my own blood. He is my son. You have killed his family, thus, you have killed my family.”
Baron Rhaudius brought a small crossbow out from under the table.
Rozmin’s lips began to tremble. “I followed your standard,” he pleaded. “I defended your honor!”
A delicate twang plucked the air. Rozmin’s mouth twisted open, his hands held the arrow’s shaft buried deep in his stomach. An agonized cry rumbled from his throat. He stumbled backward and fell.
A thick silence filled the room, interrupted only by Rozmin moaning softly where he lay on the stone floor.
Aven stared at the captain’s feet blindly, wanting to move his own legs backward in time. To un-imagine the horrific pictures in his mind. If he wouldn’t have resisted Rozmin…if he hadn’t spoken to Harvest about leaving the valley…
He felt the eyes of the room upon him, and he looked up to see the Baron studying him.
“It appears death was part of your parents’ destiny. Guards, hoist the boy up.”
Hands grabbed him from behind and forced him to his feet.
“Don’t let him go!” screamed Pike. He came around the table and put his reddened face nose to nose with Aven’s. “You think I don’t care about them. That I left them. I know what you’re thinking—that you were their new son. That you were part of the family. I told Gar I wasn’t his son anymore and you thought you could step in and take over for me!” Pike’s lips curled and his eyes widened with rage. “Don’t you cry over MY family!”
Pike’s fist struck the side of Aven’s face. The two guards held Aven’s arms, keeping him from falling back. Aven felt dizzy, Pike’s crazed words were mere noise. Aven was numb inside. Nothing mattered. Not Pike. Not death.
He hardly flinched when Pike’s fist came again, full force at his face. The jolt turned everything black. For a moment the stark reality of what had happened that night was gone. But the peace of unconsciousness faded away, and then the floor hung beneath him, his body upheld by the guards. Blood puddled beneath him. His nose was like a sieve, the immense pain leaking out of his body in bright red color. It felt right.