The Heron Kings

by Eric Lewis

  One man near the front of the pack said, “The hells? Come on lads, we can take these two!”

  “Sure,” sneered Ulnoth, “but how many’ll we take first? You feeling lucky, tough guy?”

  Another close to them shrugged but kept his distance. “Eh, what do we care? I just joined up for the food, not to bugger girls.”

  Alessia snarled. “You’d have done it anyway though, wouldn’t you?”

  “You do what you’re told around here or you die,” answered Tough Guy. “You learn that right quick.”

  “What is going on here?” Alessia jumped nearly out of her skin at the interruption. Please, not again. The bridge guard, perhaps come for his turn with her, stomped toward them. “You! Who said you could take that piece of pussy out of—” He stopped, looked into the jailhouse through the doorway and saw the young soldier lying on the floor. “What the—?”

  Ulnoth lashed out with his knife while the conscripts gawked and cowered at the same time. The guard jumped back and swung his halberd, but Ulnoth dove out of the way. Alessia picked up a broken brick and lobbed it at the guard’s forehead. It was a glancing blow, but he stumbled backward dizzily…and fell right on his ass. Without warning someone had come up from behind and tripped him, just stuck out a foot in a tiny, casual movement. The halberd clattered to the pavement. Ulnoth wasted no time and fell on the guard, dispatching him with clean efficiency. Only then did they look up at their benefactor – it was the first bridge guard they’d met coming into the city, the Argovani.

  “You?” said Alessia, amazed.

  “Never did like that bastard,” he said.

  “But,” asked Ulnoth between breaths, “why?”

  “I was coming for my free piece, saw the line outside, then saw you two fighting…all just seemed so stupid somehow. Army was supposed to be my ticket out of the shitty bog I come from. Now all I want is to go back.”

  “So go,” said Ulnoth, “nothing stopping you now.” He turned to Alessia. “We’d better hightail it too.”

  Tough Guy broke from the pack of conscripts, angry. “Well, that’s just fine for you, but patrol’s due soon and lookit this mess you made – we’ll get blamed. We’re all screwed now!”

  “We need a diversion,” said Ulnoth. “Somethin’ more pressing than two nullied sloggers.”

  The Argovani perked up. “You could fire some arrows, shoot ’em into the stockade. Lots of tents and whatnot set up in there.”

  Ulnoth frowned. “Fire…arrows? What does that mean?”

  “Look.” He went into the jailhouse and rooted through the dead youth’s kit set in a corner. “We ain’t supposed to have ’em ourselves, but at night it’s fun to shoot for distance, y’know?” He pulled a bow and three strange arrows from the bottom of a sack. The heads bulged to envelop a wad of some foul-smelling cloth. “Soaked in heavy oil.”

  “Oh, I get it,” said Alessia. “You set them alight then shoot ’em.”

  “That’s absolutely chthonic,” said Ulnoth, half in awe.

  “Wait ’til you see a cross-bow, you’ll cack a brick.”

  “A what?”

  “Never mind. Come see this.” He led the pair back into the street where the conscripts still gathered, curiosity overriding fear of their officers. The Argovani pulled a sparker from his pouch and after several tries the arrow erupted into flames. Alessia and Ulnoth jumped back.

  “They’re about seventy yards down the main street there.” He offered the bow to Ulnoth. “You want to do the honors?”

  Ulnoth moved to take it, then glanced at Alessia.

  “I’ll do it,” she said angrily. “Light the others.”

  The camp stood in stark contrast to the wasteland surrounding it, and so close they could hear the shouting of officers and men, hear the clanging of smiths’ hammers, smell roasting food and steaming cack. Only the toppled walls of Lenocca’s buildings blocked Her Majesty’s troops from view. Alessia pushed her way through the conscripts, climbed up a pile of rubble and sighted down the destroyed thoroughfare. She notched and drew the fire arrow back until the flames almost kissed her hand, aimed high, then loosed. The missile shot into the sky and the flame promptly disappeared.

  “Shit,” said Ulnoth, “it went out!”

  “Wait,” answered the Argovani. The arrow trailed smoke behind it, and when it landed right on top of an oiled canvas tent, the flame revived. At first there was no reaction. Sweat tricked down Alessia’s brow, and she braced to flee.

  Then all at once the entire top of the tent became engulfed; shouts went up. “Give me another,” Alessia commanded. This one landed on the thatched roof of a barracks, far above any bucket brigade’s reach. Another, in the midst of a sawdust-choked lumberyard. The fires spread and men scrambled to put them out. “That’ll keep ’em busy awhile.” From her vantage point she could see two figures running from the bridge toward the conflagration, their posts abandoned. She hopped down and shoved back through the crowd of stunned men. “Consider yourselves discharged.”

  “Great,” scoffed Tough Guy, more despondent than belligerent. “Except now we gots no prospects at all.”

  As the smoke, heat and noise of the fires wafted over them Ulnoth stepped onto an overturned cart to be better heard. “Don’t you idiots get it? You’re a part of their game, a bit piece in a great big scam, just like we are. But don’t think for one second that’ll stay my hand if you come for me and mine.”

  “So what are we supposed to do if not join?” asked a boy no older than the one Ulnoth had slaughtered in Plisten, his voice cracking and tears flowing. “Fight them? How?”

  “You can’t,” said Alessia. She joined Ulnoth on top of the cart, looked down on the men with eyes blazing. “They have the steel, the horses, they have the money and the numbers. They care about nothing and they’ll stop at nothing. It’s suicide to fight them on those terms.”

  “What then?”

  “Don’t fight them! Don’t fight them. Fucking murder them. Murder them in their beds. Murder them in dark alleys. Murder them under bridges. Burn their camps like I did, ambush their patrols, shit in their water so they sicken and die. Hit ’em and run, make them furious, make them jump at shadows and turn on each other. And don’t stop until you can’t find any more. It’s the only way.”

  “Says who?”

  Alessia ground her teeth. “Says the warrior priestess.”

  * * *

  Only after they crossed the Carsa into the evening dark outside the city did Ulnoth dare to speak. “So…what was that exactly? Was it you back there, or Reynal and his stupid playacts?”

  “Not sure,” Alessia replied without looking at him. “Maybe a bit of both.”

  “And those men – you just gonna speechify like that and turn ’em loose?”

  “They make their choices, like everyone else.”

  “Huh. And what about you?” he asked the guard. “You want to come with us?”

  The Argovani guard – former guard – trailed behind, and came to a stop where the road split in two directions. “Me? No, I’m going home. Shitty bog maybe, but it’s better than this.” He ripped the green badge from the tattered clothes he wore and tossed it into the dirt.

  “Stay off the road then, you’ll live longer. Good luck.”

  He nodded. “To all of us.” Ulnoth shook the man’s hand without ever learning his name and they parted in the night, leaving fire and chaos behind them.

  * * *

  The cloaked and hooded woman crept from the confines of the outpost leaving fire and chaos behind her as well. While soldiers flailed about for water and someone to give them orders, she pressed through the flames unafraid, kissed by their warm bite. Sorry old friend, I haven’t time to stay and visit. She tracked the trails of smoke to their source, and hiding behind what remained of a guildhall, watched a very interesting scene play out. When it was
over she sat in the ruins for a little while, considering. At last she rose and made her way back to her tent, which was singed but set apart enough to avoid much damage, and sent for a secretary.

  “Yes, ma’am. The fires are—”

  “Under control, I’m sure.”

  “Erm, yes. Mostly.”

  “Forget about that now. Find me a fast courier, and have him report to me in exactly one quarter of an hour.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And don’t call me ma’am.”

  Vinian flung the hood away, wanting her brandy bottle more than ever, then took a pen and sheet of paper from the little table she’d appropriated.

  To Your Majesty, from Her Devoted Spymistress:

  We have a problem.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Interruptus

  Alessia said little on the way back, and Ulnoth didn’t press her. He well knew how fragile the protective cocoon of shock could be, and how dangerous to pierce it too soon. He’d abandoned the notion of leaving her in such a state to go off on his own, so they simply rode away from Lenocca without looking back.

  It was unfortunate that they didn’t look back, because they did not ride alone. Trailing behind, sometimes at a distance of a quarter mile and at others no more than a hundred yards, was a solitary, skittish figure keeping mostly to the shadows yet always following, following.

  Though she kept well out of sight, Vinian would not risk a fire, so night after night she and the horse she’d taken without asking suffered the biting frost in dark silence. She followed, she watched, she listened but heard little, and she thought.

  As You commanded I’m acting at my own discretion, she’d written to her queen. Upon dispatch of this message I’ll pursue these demagogues with the intention of discovering their base of operations. In my opinion, we have found an answer to our riddle. I intend to solve it fully.

  And freeze myself fully, Vinian thought now. An impulsive decision, yes, and no going back now. She’d do it again if given the choice. But I’d pack more woolens. She squeezed her cloak tighter around her, closed her eyes, and waited for the jerks to start.

  * * *

  Ulnoth and Alessia took the path skirting Plisten, passing close enough to hear the ugly sounds of occupation. Ulnoth said a silent prayer for the safety of those still in the village, more out of habit than belief. A day later they rode through Firleaf. There was no one there, and they didn’t stop. Alessia said nothing.

  After the ford Ulnoth said, “This is as far as they should’ve gone.”

  “Uh-huh,” Alessia muttered.

  “I figured they’d find us by now. I hope nothing’s happened.”

  “Hmm.”

  Ulnoth sighed. “Look, Lessi—”

  “Don’t call me that,” she snapped, her eyes suddenly filled with fire as they had been in Lenocca. “Don’t you ever call me that again.”

  “All right, gods, sorry! I don’t claim to know what you gone through – that’s true for all of us. But there’s lots of people depending on us. On you, really. More I think about it, that letter of yours might actually be a pretty big piece on the board. I ain’t smart enough to know how to use it, so you need to brace up.” He hoped it was convincing. He just took the more irksome bits she’d thrown at him over the last season and mashed them together.

  Alessia sat on her horse and stared straight ahead. It seemed she was sunk back into a fugue and Ulnoth was about to poke her again when she said, “Fire an arrow.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Fire an arrow, then shoot it up. Maybe they’ll see it.”

  “And maybe the reds or greens will.” He scanned up and down the road, listened to the howling wind. “’Course I got no better ideas.”

  They dismounted and Ulnoth strung the bow they’d taken from Lenocca. They sacrificed a few strips of cloth and wound them about the head of an arrow. “The arrow’s too light for this bow,” Ulnoth remarked. “Not that I’m shooting for accuracy.” They sparked a little fire of what dry twigs they could find and lit the improvised missile. They had no oil, so it burned low and smoky.

  Ulnoth notched, aimed upward, drew the string full to his ear, then loosed before bits of flaming linen could fall into his eye. The arrow burst into the sky with an evil hiss, and as before the flame winked out leaving a dark trail behind. It rose high and higher and they watched it reach its apex. In the half a moment it spent suspended in the air the fire flashed back to life. Then it was gone again, and the arrow fell back to the earth somewhere beyond sight.

  * * *

  Dannek and Alixe lay entangled in fallen leaves and in each other while the first snowflakes of the season fell onto them unheeded. Finally! Dannek thought, though not so coherently as that. Finally they’d found the chance to slip away together, away from the drudgery and chores and stink of the Heron Kings’ roving caravan. For a week and more after the awful events in Plisten he couldn’t manage an erection – a new and terrifying experience for a young man – and when he dared to steal a kiss from Alixe all he tasted on her lips was blood; all he saw when he closed his eyes was fire. The nightmares had faded a little since, and as the caravan made their way out of the river valley and into the Edra foothills, he became more and more his old young self. So when Alixe wriggled her petite hand down his braies and smiled, he had no shortage of reasons to smile back.

  “Careful!” Alixe cried in mock horror as Dannek fumbled at her clothes. “It’s my only gown!” She lifted her ground-chilled rump to let him hike up her skirts, and he pawed at her stupidly, adorably. “Mmmhmm….”

  So warm, So warm, so soft, so…wet.

  “Get in me, now,” she breathed.

  The cold and his layers of clothing made it a bit of an ordeal, but Dannek charged ahead, paying no heed to the damage done to his own garments. Still mostly lying atop her, he felt the icy sting of the ground against his cock, then the warmth of Alixe’s hand guiding him home. Finally!

  “Oh, Dannek,” she whispered, “Dannek….”

  “Dannek! Where the hells you get to? Get back here!”

  Corren. “Oh, for….” Just go away!

  “Ignore it,” ordered Alixe. “Whatever it is can wait. I can’t.”

  “Dannek!” Louder, closer. Probably following their footsteps left in the frost like a good tracker. He wasn’t going away. Dannek’s boner however definitely was.

  “Godsdammit!” It was no use now. He rolled off of Alixe, suddenly feeling the full bite of the cold. “I better go see what he wants,” he said with a sigh.

  “This is ridiculous,” whined Alixe. “Just ’cause you’re the best with a bow doesn’t mean you have to do everything. Probably saw a squirrel he wants to roast.”

  “Mhmm.”

  “If this keeps up I’m just going to go with that Allard fella.”

  Dannek made a sour face. “He’s damaged goods, you know. Missing a finger.”

  “Ain’t a finger I’m interested in.”

  Dannek finished stumbling back into his wrinkled clothes. “Alixe, you’re barely thirteen. You have plenty of good years left for screwing.”

  “Except no one thinks we’ll survive the winter and I don’t wanna die a virg—”

  “Dannek!”

  * * *

  “What? What do you want already?” Dannek had doubled back on Corren’s path and surprised him from behind, just to show that he could. Corren spun about.

  “Ah, there you are. What’s with the attitude? And what are you doing all the way out here anyway?” Alixe stepped out from behind a tree after rearranging the folds of her gown, a deep scowl on her face. “Oh. Sorry. Well, you can do that any time. Right now I need you.”

  Dannek sneered. “Oh? Didn’t think you leaned that way.”

  “Funny. Here’s a funnier one: Marchmen ambushing us, flaying our fle
sh, burning the rest of us alive as an offering to their ancestors, then wearing our skin to absorb our strength. There’s a regular gut-buster, eh? That’s how the north’rd tribes do it.”

  “You spot any?” asked Dannek.

  “Not yet. But we’re nearing the edge of where they wander, and I want to start regular outrider and foot patrols. You’re captain of the first one. Congratulations.”

  “I am? You think the older folk’ll take orders from me?”

  “They’d better, or I’ll flay ’em myself. Playtime’s over. You head out in ten minutes.”

  Only when he was safely out of earshot did Dannek ask, “What’s gotten into him? Playtime my ass.”

  Alixe shrugged. “Maybe he needs a girl too. He ain’t missing any fingers, is he?” She laughed. Dannek didn’t.

  * * *

  Dannek, Gant, Emony and another smuggler named Marella crept forward in a staggered side-by-side arrangement, ducking low branches and trying not to leave any tracks. Snow drifted gently down through the trees and would cover their footprints soon enough, but as Corren had told them, “Good practice is good practice.” The constant peeking through the dead brush, then down to mind where they stepped, then up again over and over, left little time to imagine a Marchmen ambush. Maybe Corren had been exaggerating. Besides, would their fate be so different if they were caught by reds or greens? Better the Chthonii you knew he supp—

  Crack!

  The four of them froze, the echo seeming to take an age of the world to die away. Dannek snapped his gaze to the left. Marella stood with one foot suspended in mid-air above a broken twig, her face flushed pink. “Sorry,” she said just above a whisper.

  “All right,” Dannek said with a sigh, “let’s start back. Different path than the one we took out.”

  “What if we get lost?” asked Gant.

  “Then hope we’re not found by the wrong people. Plenty o’ those about.” They skirted the edge of a large clearing where wind stirred up the fallen snow before whistling through the trees around it. They were on a slope that marked the beginning of the land’s long rise to the distant Edra Mountains.