01 - Honour of the Grave

by Robin D. Laws - (ebook by Undead)

  Now she was near enough to know for sure: the hillside to the right boiled with the stunted, hunching forms of goblins, streaming down with outstretched swords and jabbing spears. They were moving too fast to count but Angelika reckoned there were about two dozen of them. Their skins were as green as the grass they slid on; their faces were narrow and their chins sharp. Angelika was too far away to see their pinprick eyes or jagged teeth, but knew they’d have them, all the same. Their conical hats flopped after them as advanced; they wore loose robes in a cacophony of colours, trimmed with stripes and chequerboard patterns. Some fired arrows from small bows, which landed far short of their targets. Two rode on the backs of gigantic, shaggy wolves that were half as high as horses. Goblins in the rear blew bleatingly on sheep-horn trumpets. The nearer ones sang a screeching song that made Angelika shudder.

  Franziskus urged his horse away from the goblins, but she pointed herself right at them. The wolf riders wheeled and came at her. Angelika knew her knife was too short to do any good, but readied it regardless. Her nag whinnied maniacally, as if it was looking forward to the collision. One wolf skidded sideways as Angelika barrelled down on them, throwing its rider, who curved through empty air with booted feet pointed heavenwards. The other returned the grey horse’s charge, its toothy snout wide open and a long tongue lolling out past its neck. The horse slammed right over it, and wolf and rider rolled beneath its pounding hooves. The crazy steed angled for another pass at the goblins, but Angelika tightened the reins and kicked frantically at its ribs. It straightened its course. She looked to see if Franziskus had made it through the developing gauntlet of goblins—and he had.

  Benno and Gelfrat were not so blessed. She saw them rearing their mounts as they fought to turn them around. The yammering goblins had gathered themselves into a rough formation to chase them. She checked to see that Lukas was still securely strapped to the horse’s hindquarters, then fixed her eyes on the route ahead.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Angelika stood before the horse, resting a hand on either side of its long face. Touching the animal gave her a tranquil feeling, which she knew was only temporary. It waggled its head back and forth; she could not be sure whether it was conveying pleasure or annoyance.

  “I will call you Swordhoof,” she said to it.

  It rolled down its upper lip and sneezed, blowing a thick coating of equine mucus onto her face and neck. She used her fingers to wipe the muck off. By the time she’d got enough of it away from her eyelids to open them, Swordhoof had turned around and was trotting over to Franziskus’ horse, which was grazing in the tall grasses beneath a rock shelf, tethered to a fallen log. The horses were damp with sweat; Angelika and Franziskus had used them to get several leagues away from Benno and company. They had just stopped to rest both the animals and themselves. To aid the beasts’ recovery, Franziskus had relieved them of the saddles and packs they’d carried.

  Swordhoof nosed at the other animal’s tether, trying to untie the loop from the log. Angelika saw this and ran at the nag. It chortled at her, in a way she found too intelligent, and then reared up, flashing its hooves at Angelika. She backed off from it, watching in disgust as its companion jolted onward, slipping the tether the rest of the way off the log. The crazy grey drank in one last mocking look at Angelika and then galloped off at top speed, heading back down south. After a moment’s hesitation, and a questioning look at Franziskus, the second horse followed, straining to keep up.

  “I think your nag was a daemon in a former life,” said Franziskus. “Or perhaps a Marienburg barrister.”

  Angelika watched the horses grow smaller in the distance. “Well, they would have been a hindrance anyway,” she said.

  Lukas sat cross-legged in the grass, close to where the horse had grazed. He had his head down. He’d said little since they hauled him off Swordhoof’s back.

  Franziskus emerged from a patch of low vegetation, where he’d been foraging. “What do you know of mushrooms?” he asked Angelika.

  “I know that some of them are toadstools, and can kill you.”

  Disappointment played across his face. “I grow tired of field salami and raw turnip.”

  “If the horses hadn’t already had Benno’s saddlebags on them, we wouldn’t even have the salami.” They’d also acquired several blankets, a compass, and a lantern, with some oil to burn.

  Franziskus raised his voice, addressing Lukas: “Are you hungry?”

  Lukas said nothing.

  “Not much day left,” Angelika said, checking the sky for the sun’s position.

  “You don’t think the goblins killed them?” Franziskus asked, referring to the Averlanders. Several hours had passed since their escape; they’d been resting for twenty minutes now, at most. The rest of the time had been spent riding north.

  “No, I don’t think so. They were only goblins. They might kill a few of the more aggressive ones, and the rest would run for the hills. The best we can hope is that the Sabres took some nasty hits and have stopped to tend their wounded. I wouldn’t wager any money on it, though. We’d better get moving.”

  “To where, precisely?”

  “That I haven’t figured out, yet.”

  “They’ll know to look for us at the Castello.”

  “True.” She strode over to the boy. “I was foolish to rescue you, wasn’t I, Lukas?”

  He tore fistfuls of grass from the ground and threw them into the air. The wind blew them back into his face.

  “I don’t have anywhere to take you where you’ll be safe,” Angelika said. “I should have left you to your brothers’ cruel mercies.”

  “I don’t want to be killed,” Lukas said.

  “I’m glad to see you’re recovering your senses. Franziskus, you think I did the wrong thing, don’t you?”

  The blond-haired man reached into his pack, which was on the ground near Lukas, and unscrewed the pewter cap on his waterskin. “Certitude deserts me. You may be right: he may not have had a fair chance with them.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you before you believe me?” Lukas exclaimed, leaping up. “If they get me home, I’ll be strangled, or made to fall on my sword!” He wrenched the vessel from Franziskus’ hands and took a long swig on it; his Adam’s apple bobbed as he drank.

  “Franziskus,” Angelika asked, “you didn’t see anything other than mushrooms in that brush, did you?”

  “There was a pair of squirrels, but I didn’t feel like chasing them.”

  Knife in hand, she bounded into the bushes, looking conspicuously around her. She shrugged. She returned to the two young nobles, then shrugged again, making the gesture large. “I thought I saw something,” she said, her voice elevated, “but I guess it was nothing.” She moved to face the opposite way and said, sotto voce, “Elennath’s in there.”

  “The elf?” Franziskus said, barely audibly.

  “He’s lying flush against a log.”

  “I didn’t see him.”

  “He’s good, but his elbow was sticking up.”

  “Do we take him?”

  “No. I don’t know where the others are, but they must be around. Let’s get our things, head for open ground, and stay on guard.”

  They did as she said, stealing frequent glances at the hills to their right. When Lukas’ pace lagged, she barked at him to keep up. When he asked who they were looking for, she silenced him. They walked until the sun fell behind the mountains. Then she took them up into the hills, where they backtracked south. Whenever Lukas tried to speak, or let loose a cough, or if he stepped on a dry leaf, she looked angrily at him. They heard a stream and searched it out, halting to refill their waterskins; Angelika kept anxious watch. She herded them on as the twilight thickened.

  Finally they came upon a familiar cave: it was where Angelika and Franziskus, along with the Averlanders, had taken shelter against the rain. Angelika told Lukas to wait inside. She took the beastman’s net from her pack and tossed it into Franziskus’ arms. He made a face; the
net still reeked of blood and filth. She walked to a nearby stand of leafy trees, their bark white and papery. She found a young one, and began to bend its tall trunk down.

  Lukas emerged from the cave. “Where are you?” he called, executing a confused full circle, looking for his guardians.

  “Go back in,” she hissed. She and Franziskus crouched behind a bush.

  Lukas nudged out further. “It’s dark in there!”

  “We left you a lantern, didn’t we? Light it.”

  “I don’t know how to use the tinder.”

  “Figure it out!”

  “I already tried.”

  She tapped Franziskus’ arm. Crouching, he ducked into the cave. She watched as it filled with light. He ran back to her side.

  About a minute later, Lukas started up again. This time, he did not venture into their line of sight. “Why are you out there, while I’m in here?”

  “Be quiet!” Franziskus ordered.

  Angelika amended his order: “Shout all you want, but pretend we’re in there with you!”

  “You’re using me as bait!”

  “Shout any complaint you want, other than that!”

  Instead, he resumed his silence. Angelika and Franziskus waited without exchanging words. The sky changed from inky blue to deepest black. Night birds swooped above, catching insects.

  “No, I won’t be silent and go to sleep!” shouted Lukas, from the cave. He left a pause and then said, “I don’t need to thank you for it! I deserved to be rescued!” After another interval, he added: “I deserve better! I have always deserved better!” Then apparently he grew tired of the effort to please them, and his comments ceased.

  Toby crept up first, along the trail from the north: the direction they’d come from. He edged over to the cave mouth, and peered in. The lantern lit up his greedy smile. He stepped back. With fingers on his lips, he made a bird call, perfectly imitating the trill of the insect eaters flapping overhead. He repeated this call three times, with short, even intervals between them.

  Elennath skulked through the trees, up the hillside, where there was no trail. Neither twig nor needle snapped beneath his soft-shod feet. Toby stepped back to stand beside him. Now that the light shone on Elennath, Angelika could see a long, white bandage tied across his face, bisecting it diagonally. It followed the route of the slash she’d carved in him. The elf and halfling nodded to one another; Toby made his bird call again.

  They waited.

  Nothing happened.

  Toby repeated the bird call a little louder.

  Finally, Henty tramped in from the south. He used the trail, but even so, his scraping, heavy footfalls were easily heard. Elennath twisted around to make a face at him, but he took no notice of it, trudging up to his two companions. Elennath nudged him with one elbow, and Toby with the other. Knife in fist, he nodded out a countdown—one—two—Just before he reached three, Angelika and Franziskus pulled hard on the cords they held. The beastman’s net lay beneath the mercenaries’ feet. It flew up to envelop them, and then flung them up into the air as the tree Angelika had bent unfurled itself, returning to its full height. The mercenaries, crushed into a tight ball of arms and legs and torsos, cursed and grunted. They were bouncing up and down on the main umbilical that connected the net to the tree. Angelika and Franziskus held their weapons tight until it became clear that the cord would hold, and the suspended mercenaries were securely trapped.

  “You bitch!” the elf called out. Even in fury, his voice was rich and mellifluous. “I’ll skin you for this, and wear your hide as a cloak!”

  She sheathed her blade and stepped out from behind the bush. “If you’re looking for reasons for me to let you free, that would not be one of them.”

  Henty spoke, scratching out his vowels and slurring his consonants. “The elf won’t kill you. I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you with my axe!”

  “And I thought Toby was a poor negotiator,” Angelika said, ostensibly to Franziskus. “Now I know why they let him do the talking.”

  “Enough of the wit, girlie,” Toby murmured. His words were muffled: his face was pressed tight against the net, impeding the movement of his lips. “Tell us what you want with us. Unless you plan to gut us, in which case: go ahead and try.”

  “If we wanted you dead, you’d be rotting already.”

  “Before, you were lucky!” Henty shouted. “I’ll kill you with my axe!”

  “Your companion has a single-mindedness about him,” Franziskus remarked.

  Henty snarled indignantly, as if Toby had just elbowed him.

  Lukas jutted his head out of the cave. Ignoring Angelika’s jabbing and forbidding finger, he came out to see the dangling captives. “These are the ones you spoke of, who want to kidnap me?”

  “Listen to the whining dandy, girlie, with his mincing tones.”

  “You can’t talk to me like that!” Lukas said.

  “Soon as I cut myself out of here, I’ll kick my boot halfway down your porcelain backside!”

  “You—you…” At a loss for expletives, Lukas hopped in place.

  Toby made the net bounce. “This is the one you’re risking your life for, girlie? He wouldn’t do the same for you, would he? He wouldn’t risk his life for anyone, the mewling coward.”

  “You seem to know a great deal about him,” Angelika observed.

  “He was well described to us,” said Toby.

  “Your employer realized as soon as they arrived in town that he should send you after the Kopf brothers. It was only a few hours after I’d agreed to help them that you were rubbing up against me, trying to figure out who I was.”

  “No, it’s merely that I have a taste for bony wenches.”

  “The prince is well informed about the Kopfs and their doings,” said Angelika. “He must have a spy in their midst.”

  With his tongue and teeth, Toby made a slurping noise that was vaguely contemptuous. “All I know is to bring the whelp back, as hostage.”

  “But this one is marked for death; he has betrayed his ancestral creed. If his family wants him dead, he’s not much use as a hostage, is he?”

  “The doings of generals and princes don’t interest me one jot. I just collect my pay.”

  “The prince wants him, all right, but not to ransom him off. He’ll use him as a living trophy, to embarrass his enemy. The shame of the von Kopfs, on permanent display.”

  “No amount of bafflegab’s going to confuse me, girlie,” said Toby.

  “I’m not trying to confuse you, you drooling halfwit. I want you to confirm that he’ll be safer with your employer than with his father. He will, won’t he?”

  “Wait a moment!” said Lukas. “What do you mean to—”

  She clamped her hand over Lukas’ mouth. He tried to bite her, but she was too experienced at the manoeuvre to let him do it. “Isn’t that right, Toby? Despite your cruelty and general loathsomeness, you can be trusted to get him to safety. Meaning: I can sell him to you with a clear conscience.”

  “Sell him?” blurted Franziskus.

  “We have no coin to buy him with, girlie. And I still don’t see the point of your ramblings. Get us down from here!”

  “I’ll kill you with my axe!” Henty roared.

  “Close your mouths, both of you!” cried Elennath. “I’ll confirm it,” he said, after his companions quieted their protests. He let loose a sigh of weary vexation. “Yes, the prince does want the boy as his caged monkey, and he’ll be guarded scrupulously. And I have a purse of coin I’ve been given, to cover eventualities like this. Release us, hand the snot-nose over, and it’s yours.”

  “How much?”

  “Eighty crowns.”

  A thrashing arose inside the net. It jounced on its tether. Elennath squealed in pain.

  “Eighty crowns?” Henty cried. “You’ve been holding out on us, elf scum!”

  “You expect us to believe they trusted you and not us?” demanded Toby. The violence of the net’s jerking and jarring increased. Angel
ika’s body readied itself for quick action, in case they bounced themselves loose and came crashing onto the trail.

  Elennath gave out another agonised cry, then Toby did the same.

  “Not there! Not there!” he whimpered.

  “Of course they trusted me! Am I not the issue of Athel Loren? Heir to the Council Sylvan?”

  “Spare us your elfy hogwash!”

  “And are you not a pair of drunken, vicious louts who couldn’t be relied on to find their own hairy feet at the ends of their stunted little bowlegs? Get us down from here!”

  “You’re sure eighty crowns is all you’ve got?” called Angelika.

  “Get us down!”

  She shrugged. “Better than nothing, I suppose. Throw down the purse!”

  “I can’t reach it!”

  “Work at it until you can!”

  “How do I know you won’t just take it, and leave us up here?”

  “I am going to leave you up there, to get free by yourselves. Otherwise I have no assurance that Henty won’t pick up that axe of his and start swinging it about as soon as the net comes down.”

  “Harlot!” Henty shouted.

  “You’ll notice the branch that holds you is already groaning under your weight. Another half hour or so of vigorous bouncing, and I’m sure it’ll give. In the meantime, this is what I’ll do for you. Lukas, come here.”

  Lukas moved back. “What?”

  She bent to retrieve the cord they’d used to trigger the trap. “Sadly, this is another of those times where you have to be tied up.”

  “What?”

  Franziskus got between them. “Angelika, you can’t be serious.”

  “You heard them. The Castello is the safest place for him. The safest place we can get him to, at any rate. And this way, we still get eighty crowns.”

  The mercenaries began to bounce themselves. The branch creaked.