My Father's Swords (Warriors, Heroes, and Demons Book 1)

by Dave Skinner

  “If we leave and the pirates manage to take the city we will not be able to meet with the wizard again,” Bray stated. “I believe we should stay and lend a hand with the city’s defense.”

  “And give you a chance to kill this Yucan Vee person?”

  “It would expedite matters. I admit I have been wondering about where to find him. With my father’s swords in my possession I can return to Nadia.”

  “And what of Mearisdeana? Do you plan to abandon her?”

  Bray looked over at her. “Would you be willing to come to Nadia with me?”

  “Honestly, I had not thought that far ahead. I have been concentrating on reaching the wizard here. I hoped for a different outcome, but Nadia would be as good a place as any to wait for Adamtay to come.”

  “Then we have a plan,” Bray said.

  Ran tore another mouthful of meat from his haunch, his white teeth gleaming in the candle light. “I suggest you stay out of the fighting, Mearisdeana. It would be safer.”

  “My dayskin protects me, and I have some familiarity with a sword.” She patted the sword strapped to her hip. “I have the blade I took from the sailor. It is short but I like the weight.”

  “Your knife is not the best,” Ran stated, as he pulled his weapon from its scabbard. “You would do better with this one.”

  Mearisdeana considered the knife he laid on the table. It was as long as her forearm with a wicked point sharpened on both sides. “Thank you, Ran, but I will stay with the knife Waycan gave me. I am used to it now.”

  “Suit yourself,” Ran stated as he tore into the haunch again.

  The white-washed common room was full. The waitress was doing her best to slip between the crowded tables to make her deliveries and at the same time ward off the unwanted advances from customers with wandering hands. She was young and attractive. Many of the men in the room were patting her behind as she moved past. She clearly did not like it.

  The table next to them held some of the worst offenders. It contained four, fancily-dressed, young men who had groped her the last time she delivered their drinks. The serving girl had ignored their requests since then. They, in turn, had been making rude comments about her.

  “What do you call men like those at the next table?” she asked Bray.

  “Ignorant.”

  “Yes, I agree with that, but they are all dressed in nice clothes, much nicer than most of the other patrons. Is there a name for them?”

  “They are probably of the nobility,” Ran offered before going back to gnawing on his bone. Mearisdeana could see the sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

  Bray did not appreciate the comment. Mearisdeana saw that on his face. “Grouping all nobility with their kind is like saying all woodsmen are boors because you witness one gnawing on a greasy bone,” he responded.

  Suddenly, the serving girl stumbled. Mearisdeana had been watching her. One of the boys at the next table had tripped her as she tried to slip by. She went to her knees. A glass of ale spilled onto the man she was attempting to serve. He jumped up brushing at his wet clothes, and called her a clumsy cow. The boys at the next table laughed loudly. The man raised his hand to slap the girl, but Bray—now on his feet—grabbed his wrist.

  “Not the girl’s fault,” Bray stated. “She was tripped by that boor there,” he informed the man, pointing at the young fool who had caused the accident.

  The fool jumped up. “That is a lie,” he roared as he pulled his sword.

  The room was suddenly filled with the scraping of chairs as people scrambled to move away from the fight. The commotion was followed by silence. The young dandy had his sword pointed at Bray’s chest. There was a smile on his face.

  His companions started to push themselves up from their table. The closest one screamed as Ran’s knife drove through his spread hand and pinned it there.

  “Sit down or die,” Ran growled to the three of them. They all sat back down.

  The young man with the sword lunged at Bray who seemed to float to the side as he grabbed the boy’s arm with his right hand. He hammered his left fist into the side of the dandy’s head. A glazed expression replaced the smile. Bray now had the fool’s sword arm clamped tightly between his body and his right arm. The boy’s hair was held tightly in his left. Holding him thus, he walked the young man backwards to the tavern’s open door. Letting go of the fool’s hair, Bray hit him twice more, short, left-hand jabs to the face. Mearisdeana watched as the man fell backwards out the door.

  As Bray walked back towards their table Ran finished his haunch. He stood and wiped the grease from his hands on the shirt of the now white faced man he had pinned to the table. Holding the man’s wrist down, Ran grabbed his knife and started working it out of the wood. The white faced man fainted before the knife came free. Ran had driven it deeply into the table top.

  “I suggest you take your friends someplace to have their injuries tended,” he told the other two as he used the man’s shirt to clean his knife. “But make sure you pay your bill before you leave, and tip the girl for her trouble.”

  The tavern had returned to normal before the young men had finished dragging their friend away. The innkeeper brought them three glasses of ale.

  “On the house, my friends, I appreciate you not breaking up my place. A couple of associates of mine wanted to say hello. This is Bentback and Squeak,” he said as two men took places at the table.

  One man was large, good looking, and hunchbacked—Bentback she assumed. The other was small and when he spoke his voice was high pitched and squeaky. With his face covered in fine hair, he resembled a mouse.

  “That was nicely done, young man,” he said to Bray. “Have you ever considered making money using your fighting skills?”

  “Bentback, right?” Bray asked. Bentback nodded. Bray opened his pouch and pulled out the letter from The Baker. “Something from an associate of yours.”

  “I wish I had known about this earlier,” Bentback stated when he finished reading. Mearisdeana was having a difficult time following his words. She wished he would speak louder. “It is not wise for Squeak and me to be here when the guards arrive, but I want you to know that we will take care of your possessions. You can claim them when you return.”

  Ran said something that Mearisdeana did not understand. She knew the words, but the meaning would not clarify itself. In fact everything was unclear, hazy even, she thought as she laid her head on the table.

  ***

  “Why are we behind bars? How did we get here?” Bray asked as he struggled to a seated position on the floor. He held his head with both hands.

  “Bentback must have slipped something into our drinks to knock us out,” Ran responded. He started pacing again. They were all in one large, damp cell, large for the three of them although Ran could cross it in a few strides. He knew because he had been counting as he paced, and paced, and paced.

  “Why would he do that?”

  “His reasons are unknown to me. If you meet him first, you can ask him. If I see him first, I will rip his head off.”

  “It would be a shame to try because I would be forced to kill you,” Bentback said as he appeared in the hallway outside their cell. “I drugged you to save lives. Yours possibly, my friend the innkeeper’s maybe, a number of guards for sure. I came to tell you I am sorry, but it had to be done. Now, I will do whatever I can to see you freed.”

  From down the hall someone hissed a warning. “I must go,” Bentback told them. “Someone comes. Be with the Mother, my friends,” he whispered as he slipped away.

  Ran heard a door being unlocked and the squeal of ill-kept hinges, followed by light footsteps almost undetectable under the heavier sounds of marching boots. A guard appeared, accompanied by Manda and an older man.

  Mearisdeana rose from her bed on the floor and joined Ran and Bray at the bars. “What has happened,” she asked. “Have the pirates arrived?”

  “No, Manda answered. “We informed
the mayor and the new guard captain, but all they did was send out scouts. Getting them to do that was difficult enough. There have been no sightings by the scouts, although a few have yet to report back. My father and I came to say goodbye. Our ships are at risk if the pirates attack. We are leaving along with most of the other merchants. There are a few who see more profit than risk. They are staying.” She leaned in to the bars. “One of my sailors saw the whole incident at the inn. He will stay and testify at your hearing if allowed. I hope you get off. Take care of yourself.” The last she directed to Ran as she reached through the bars and grasped his forearm. “I hope to see you again.”

  “Thank you,” Mearisdeana called as the guard led the two away.

  ***

  Bentback slipped out the secret entrance to the dungeon. “Squeak, get the boys together and meet me in the back room at the Hen, quickly.” As Squeak scurried away, Bentback considered what he had heard. He had listening from the dark recesses of a dungeon passageway, more from habit than necessity, but he was glad he had. Some things had fallen into place that he had been worrying at since the death of the old guard captain.

  Shortly, he was seated in the Plucked Hen with a passable glass of wine in hand, waiting. His wait was not long, which was good. He estimated he only had two turns of the glass before the magistrate heard the case against his young friends. He needed to be there for the hearing.

  “Something has been bothering me about the incident with Venny the Mover and the old guard captain. Venny was a smuggler—”

  “And a good one,” someone added.

  “Then why would he try to mug the captain?”

  “I saw the bodies in the street, boss.” It sure looked like Venny and the captain killed each other.”

  “Or it was staged to look like that.”

  “Why would someone do that?”

  “A question I have been asking myself. It made no sense until I overheard something today. The city has been warned that pirates are about to attack.”

  Commotion exploded in the room. Bentback let it continue for a few moments before he spoke again. Although he spoke quietly, everyone settled down immediately to listen. “In light of this new information, we have to look at this differently. What would the pirates gain from killing these two?”

  “Killing the captain is obvious,” Squeak answered. “He was good at his job. Much better than the fat fool who took over. Having him out of the way makes the success of an attack much more likely, but why the kid?”

  “Because Venny was a smuggler, he knew all three of the smuggler’s holes through the walls.”

  “A sneak attack.”

  “More likely they will slip in a few men to open the gates from the inside. Squeak, I want men watching all three holes. Kill anyone who comes through. The rest of you, we need to board up our store rooms and get ready for a fight.” The room emptied quickly. Bentback took his wine glass into the inn’s common room. Karack, the innkeeper, was serving from behind the bar. “I need you to accompany me to the court house,” Bentback told him. “The truth about the incident last night must be told.”

  Karack looked as if he was going to complain, but he must have thought better of it, remembering that Bentback’s friendship was worth some inconvenience. Removing his apron, he told his son to take over and followed Bentback out to the street.

  ***

  Four young men were standing in a group outside the doorway to the new court room when Bentback and Karack arrived. One was telling a story that involved much gesturing with a bandaged hand.

  “That is the dandy who started it,” Karack told Bentback pointing towards a youth with a bruised and swollen face.

  The two men walked over to the boys and pushed into their group. They were both large men. The bruise-faced youth started to complain, but stopped as Bentback crowded him.

  “Do you recognize my friend?” The youth nodded. “Good. I want you to know that he will be telling the court exactly what happened at his inn last night. You would be advised to do the same. In fact, you could say that your continued health depends on it. Do you understand?” The youth nodded again. “Say it,” Bentback voice was low and commanding.

  “I understand,” the boy looked pale despite his bruises, “but I might not get a chance to say anything. My mother is furious, and she has already talked to my uncle.”

  “That would be bad for you … very bad … very painful,” Bentback informed him as the doors were pushed open.

  Inside the courtroom the three defendants were already standing in a caged off area to the left of the magistrate’s desk where the revered man was working with his head down. He looked up when the commotion stopped.

  “These people are charged with causing bodily harm to gentlemen of stature in this city. Does anyone have anything to say for or against them?”

  Karack stood. “I do, Magistrate. I am Karack, the owner of the Plucked Hen where the incident occurred.”

  “Are you here to press charges for damage?”

  “No sir. There was no damage. I am here to say what occurred. These men were acting to stop an injustice. Your nephew … or rather, this young man purposely tripped my serving girl causing her to—”

  “Enough.” snapped the magistrate. “These men caused bodily harm to a fine young man … two fine young men. They must pay for their crime.”

  “But Uncle,” the youth broke in. “He tells the truth. It was my fault that the girl tripped. I was at fault. I pulled my sword. This man was only protecting the girl and himself.”

  The magistrate looked long at his nephew before speaking. “Fair enough, taking these statements into account I will be lenient. They are sentenced to only four months of labour in the mines. Take them away.”

  “But, Uncle …”

  “No. I said take them away.”

  Chapter 54

  Bray counted the number of guards who would accompany them to the mines; fourteen in all, a squad of twelve, the guard captain (off to inspect the mines), and one other to drive the cart. Although all the guards appeared young and inexperienced, it looked like escape would have to wait, at least until camp the first night. All the guards wore sparkling new uniforms of gold and blue. Bray did not believe he and Ran would have any problems overpowering a few and managing to escape.

  After the trial they had been led back to the cell. They made their escape plan when the guards left them alone. The plan was simple; escape when possible. This morning they had been delivered to the city’s inland gate where a squad of soldiers waited with a cart. It was full of supplies. Bray, Mearisdeana, and Ran were tied to the rear of the vehicle. The twelve guards formed a double line in front while the captain took his position on the cart seat beside the driver. The city gates lumbered open.

  “Forward,” the captain commanded.

  Bray was a few cart lengths from the gate when the driver pitched backwards with an arrow protruding from his chest. The captain continued sitting on the seat until two arrows—one entering straight into his open mouth—pitched him backwards onto the supplies. Two soldiers staggered past the cart in an attempt to reach the safety of the gates which remained open. One almost made it before he was taken down. The other died beside Ran. The slack in the rope allowed Ran to drag the body closer and grab the guard’s knife. He slashed the ropes which held them to the cart, and in moments they were armed with swords from the bodies they could reach. Bray stuck his head out around the cart and was rewarded with another barrage of arrows. Many came too close.

  “Good archers,” Ran commented.

  “The gates are starting to close,” Mearisdeana observed. “We do not have time to admire their abilities. My dayskin will protect me, but what about you two?”

  “The dead make good shields,” Bray said as he reached up and pulled the driver’s body from the cart. Carrying dead bodies on their backs, Bray and Ran sprinted back to the gate. Mearisdeana carried the weapons and ran in front of them. Br
ay felt the arrows striking the body he carried. As soon as they were inside they dropped the arrow-riddled burdens and lent their strength to closing the ponderous gates. They were all panting heavily when the gates were shut and the bar in place. It was then that the gate sergeant remembered they were prisoners. He stated to draw his sword.

  “Forget it, man,” Ran advised, a sword back in his hand. “Have you warned the other gate?”

  The sergeant was an experienced soldier. He realized immediately what Ran meant. “Pog,” he barked. “Run to the harbour gate. Tell them we are under attack.”

  Bray climbed the stone steps to the gatehouse atop the gate. He was crouched behind a merlon wondering why the attack had stopped. Nothing moved on the killing ground between the city and the woods. Shadowy movements flitted within the trees, but that was all. Ran arrived and crouched behind another merlon. The guard sergeant was moments behind him.

  “I think we ruined their attack by getting the gates closed quickly. Thanks to both of you for your help.”

  “They are not pressing the attack,” Bray voiced his observation.

  The sergeant moved around until he could look out a space between the merlons. “Readying themselves, perhaps.”

  “Or maybe they want us locked in here,” Ran stated. “How much food do you hold in the city at one time?”

  “With strict rationing we could survive for a month. Half as long again if we can get the supplies back from that cart you were tied to. Too bad we had no idea an attack was coming.”