by JW Webb
“He’s got a gold one!” Scaff appeared with a kettle for tea and was staring in awe at Corin’s brooch. “They’re rare, aren’t they?”
“Very.” Greggan cuffed his ear. “And he’s Lord Corin to you from now on, boy.”
“So, what’s the plan?” Corin asked as he accepted a hot mug of tea and a biscuit from Scaff.
“We were waiting for you to tell us.” Halfdan winked at Greggan, and Corin realised they’d all been talking about him. They seemed fired up and excited, as did all the men roaming about in the camp. Corin grinned; it was nice to be popular for once.
“Well, as it happens, I do have a plan that might just win us this war, and reunite me with a certain lady in the meantime. First I’ve a question - have we any birds?”
“You mean like a pigeon?” Scaff asked trying to impress.
“I don’t care if it’s a fucking parrot as long as it takes a message,” Corin replied.
“We have pigeons,” Halfdan told him.
“Then we will send one to Wynais City informing them of my notion, and can we spare a rider?”
“What for?” Greggan asked scratching his ear.
“There are several thousand bad-tempered Rorshai riders not too far from here, all wanting to wreak some havoc up north. They need to know Corin an Fol is alive and well and ready to play alongside. I need a durable fellow to ride to a place called the Delve. I’ll give out directions.”
“I’m your man,” said Greggan. “I’ll leave after breakfast.”
“Ride south along The Wild Way,” Halfdan told Greggan. “That way you can drop down into Rorshai without going near Darkvale. And keep your wits about you; Corin says some of those Rorshai are murdering bastards.”
“That’s actually good to hear,” Greggan answered with a toothless grin, “because until now I thought they all were.”
“”So. Corin, what do we do next?” Halfdan sipped his tea and smiled at his son.
Corin grinned back. “You know the answer to that.”
“Yes, I do, but I want you to say it.”
Corin nodded. “We ride north along The Wild Way and return to Point Keep via the back door. We enter in and then murder every bastard in it. And that’s us just getting started, my lord.”
Chapter 20
The Fall of Starkhold
“He’s done what?” Barin had the sergeant pinned against the wall and struggling to breathe. “Speak to me shithead, lest I pull your earholes off!”
“Barin, It’s not his fault, the sergeant’s just obeying his master,” Shallan pulled at Barin’s sleeve, and the Northman reluctantly let the red-faced sergeant slump to his knees choking whilst trying to recover his breath. Close by, Zukei eyed the sergeant evilly, her Karyia in hand, and he wished himself anywhere but here.
“He’s to hang tomorrow on Starkhold’s orders,” the sergeant blurted out. “There’s nothing I can do—or anyone else for that matter.”
“Where’s Ralian now?” Shallan asked.
“In the oubliette—last cell on the left. He ain’t going anywhere.”
“And where is Starkhold?” Barin boomed in the sergeant’s ear.
“Out on the walls where they tell me the enemy are busy swarming for attack.” The sergeant tried squirming to his left, determined to be somewhere else.
“Yes go,” Barin growled at him and the sergeant sloped of and vanished at speed around a corner. “Well, seems I need to go and have a quiet word with Lord Starkhold, bend his ears a touch and suggest he change his mind.”
“He won’t.” Shallan watched a squad of spearmen hurry by, making grim-faced for the walls. “Despite how much we need every fighter, especially officers like Ralian, Joachim Starkhold is not a forgiving man.”
“Then we’ll have to bust Ralian out ourselves,” smouldered Barin. “You up for that Zukei girl?”
“Of course,” Zukei grinned at Barin. “It’s the sort of work I specialise in, and I can pick locks too.”
But Shallan wasn’t happy. “That will just get you pair hanged alongside Ralian. I’m sorry, but I don’t know what we can do for him without crossing Starkhold and therefore putting ourselves in danger too. That said, there’s no harm in talking to him, and I suppose we’d better see what the enemy is doing.”
“I think you’ll find they are attacking.” Barin flashed her a bear grin. “Lead on, Duchess!”
As they approached the walls, the clash of steel on steel and shouts were easily discerned. Cresting the battlements, they saw how the king of Leeth had lined up his finest warriors outside the walls. These were currently yelling up insults, yelling at each other, and striking their weapons against their round shields.
Far more worrying to those watching were the twenty or so huge wicker-framed towers rumbling towards them from the woods, and beyond these were other contraptions, scorpions, mangonels, and such. They were shoddy in construction but there was no doubt they’d work.
“Looks like Haal’s changed his tactics,” growled Barin. “They must have kept those monsters hidden in the trees. I thought them too stupid for such constructions, but may happen Caswallon sent them sketch plans.”
“We need to find Starkhold.” Shallan turned her back on the dismal sights and noises below. She asked a guard, who pointed east along the walls. Barin and Zukei strode beside her as they sought out the warlord.
“How are your brothers?” Barin asked her as he hoisted Wyrmfang over his left shoulder, just in case the boys below got excited and started hurling things at them.
“They’ll mend. Danail is in good shape but Tolemon is torn by guilt at losing Vorreti.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” cut in Zukei, who was prowling like a cat just behind them.
“No, but he’s the oldest and blames himself for their capture. Tolemon is much like my father was—he takes too much upon himself.” They found Starkhold gazing down from the walls with a group of officers gathered around. He looked up seeing their approach and barked a bitter laugh.
“So the heroes of last night dare show their faces on the walls. What now? Come to see the result of your boldness, Lady Shallan?”
“They would have attacked soon anyway.” Barin loomed across and glared at the men surrounding Starkhold. “This waiting game was destroying your people’s morale and your stores. You should be grateful to this lady and her commandoes. They pulled off a stunning raid and killed one of that bastard’s sons.”
“And thus brought the entire fury of Leeth down upon us. Do you not see those siege towers?” Starkhold held Barin’s gaze in contempt for a moment and then returned to stare at the view below.
“And if you’ve come to ask for clemency on behalf of Captain Ralian you can forget it. The man disobeyed my orders and went behind my back. Worse, he put our city in danger.”
“I take full responsibility for that.” Shallan sidled around Barin’s bulk. “I’ll handle this,” she told her friend. Zukei’s hand rested on the pommel of her Karyia and her dark eyes glowered at the officers surrounding them. “It was my passion persuaded Ralian this raid was necessary, not only to free my kin but to raise morale in the city.”
“You are a naïve, stupid girl.” Starkhold rounded on Shallan. Behind her both Barin and Zukei bristled but she bid them relax.
“That may be so,” she smiled coldly at the warlord. “But surely not as stupid or reckless proud as a commander who locks up his finest lieutenant at the hour of greatest need.”
“I think someone’s in a hurry to see you, Starkhold.” Zukei had been looking back along the walls and had spotted the sergeant from earlier sprinting madly toward where they stood, his face even redder than before.
“What is it?” Starkhold hissed at the man.
“Prisoner’s gone—someone broke in to his cell. There’s no sign of Ralian. He —” The sergeant lurched forward onto his knees as Starkhold’s iron boot impacted his groin. He tried to stand but the warlord kicked him again, hard in the side of his head, knocking the
sergeant sprawling.
“Incompetence and treachery!” Starkhold turned on Barin, who watched him with measured eyes. Shallan knelt and saw to the sergeant, who was bleeding badly from that last kick.
“You could have killed him, you bullying bastard!” Shallan spat at Starkhold, whilst Zukei squared against the other men.
But Starkhold laughed at her and brushed past where she leaned over his victim. “You officers keep me informed, and you three spearmen,” this addressed to three marching past, who stopped and saluted, “accompany me down to the dungeons. Seems like if I want something done right, I have to do it myself.” Starkhold left them without a glance, his eyes slits of granite, the three spearmen crunching behind him.
“Where you going?” an officer snapped at Barin as he made to follow, and another blocked Shallan’s way. He withdrew when Zukei’s Karyia prodded his neck.
“If I were you I’d keep your snouts out of our business,” she told the man as Barin threatened to brain the other one.
“The sergeant’s dead,” Shallan said, though no one was listening. She stood and pushed the officers surrounding her out of the way, and like grim sentinels Barin and Zukei followed her back down from the battlements. Time to resolve this nonsense.
“Best let them go,” one of he officers said. He had liked Ralian and was shocked by Starkhold’s loss of temper. “Out of our hands now,” the other agreed, and they turned to watch the latest from below the walls.
“So who’s to blame for this latest act of rebellion?” Shallan snapped as she stormed through the city toward where Ralian had been held. “Or am I stupid to ask?”
“Cogga and the boys were bored.” Barin looked sheepish. “So I suggested they rough up the guards and spring the captain loose. We need Ralian, Shallan.”
“But we don’t need Starkhold as our enemy as well as the hordes of Leeth.” Taic greeted them outside the rusty doors leading down into the dungeons.
“Cogga and Sveyn have smuggled Ralian into our rooms, but master Starkhold and his lads are on their way there. Looks like trouble if you ask me.” Shallan just glared at Taic and kept walking towards where they were stationed over the right. Taic shrugged and took to strolling alongside his uncle.
“She don’t look very happy,” Taic said and Barin cuffed him on the ear.
***
Ralian rubbed his freezing fingers together and drank deep from the water contained in the stone cup Sveyn had handed him. “You boys are in big trouble for helping me, but I thank you—though I suspect you’ll join me at the gallows.”
“Not without a fight.” Sveyn fingered his axe and smiled.
Just then Cogga appeared. “Warlord’s on his way and he don’t look pleased.” Seconds later Joachim Starkhold emerged into the room, a long sword gripped in his left hand and the three spearmen clustered behind him. Cogga laughed when he saw them. “You should have brought more than that, General.”
“These will serve against dogs like you. If you’ve any sense, you’d flee the walls and join your friends outside. You Northmen are all the bloody same—treacherous bastards.” Sveyn’s eyes narrowed and Cogga’s hand reached for a knife.
“Go!” Ralian hissed at the two. “Lest he kill you too!”
“And us?” Barin grinned evilly as he stooped into the room; behind him prowled Zukei, Karyia in hand, and last up Shallan, hovering by the door.
“Lord Starkhold,” Shallan addressed the warlord as he glared at the Northmen. “This can achieve nothing. My friends were rash to intervene, but we all need Captain Ralian, and what good would executing him serve?”
“Orders are to be obeyed.” Starkhold gazed down at Ralian. “See the dissension your treachery has caused, Captain. These troublemakers have used you ill. And now you have to die as a result.” With dazzling speed that betrayed his age, Joachim Starkhold leaped toward Ralian, his long sword cutting air above and descending toward the younger man’s neck.
Starkhold was quick, but Zukei was quicker. The intended blow was blocked by her axe whilst the Karyia slid hard up into Starkhold’s kidneys and the warlord slumped to the floor.
“Zukei!” Shallan yelled, but it was too late, the axe having already sliced across his neck. Zukei gave her a wild look. “He called you stupid—I didn’t like that.”
For a moment everyone in the room gaped in silence, except Zukei who wiped her weapons clean on Starkhold’s snowy cloak. The spearmen glared at her in stunned horror. Barin looked at Cogga and Taic and Sveyn shook their heads. Interesting afternoon for them.
Ralian stood shakily. “I blame myself for this,” he told them. “But now that it is done I say we honour his passing and perform the rites quickly so we can get on with the business of defending this city. What say you?” This last was directed at the spearmen.
“We are with you,” they said after moment’s hesitation. Ralian was popular, and no one had wanted his death in the city. That said, they glared at Zukei as though she were a she-wolf. “But that one needs reining in,” the nearest grumbled.
“Good luck with that.” Taic winked at the spearman. Word reached the city that Lord Starkhold had suffered a fatal blow to heart—that after months of worry and responsibility, even his iron resolve had caved in, and the renowned warlord of Raleen had perished alone. No one believed the rumour, but no one challenged it either. They had other things on their mind. The siege towers were rolling towards the walls and the first real attack against Car Carranis had finally begun.
***
Miles to the west, the wind cried chill through the deserted streets of Kella City. Guards shivered on the walls, and at the gates the men never even questioned the lone rider as he gazed down upon them. They knew this man, as did most people in the realm—knew and feared him.
Rael Hakkenon steered his beast through the city, and as he rode he noted the mournful state of Kella. The city was almost deserted except for the large rats that scurried everywhere and got under his horse’s feet. Skinny hounds loped and growled as he urged his mount trot on toward the palace where Caswallon held frosty court.
Trash and filth littered every avenue, and stench, despite the bitter cold, clogged his nostrils. He rode on dispassionate, passing ruined buildings where lone lamps hinted that someone lived within. It seemed that Kella City was now a place of ghosts.
Three huge Groil manned the doors leading to the palace. These blocked his way with heavy halberds crossed before him. A rush of wings, and Gribble settled nasty on a wall to their right.
“Oh, it’s you,” Gribble remarked, trying to look important. “Tell your boss Mr Assassin is here,” Gribble squeaked at the nearest Groil, who grunted and made off into the palace. The Groil returned moments later and beckoned Rael enter.
The Assassin slid from his horse and tossed the reins at the second Groil. “See that she gets fed,” he snapped at the Groil. “And I don’t want any claw marks on her flesh, I need her to get to Car Carranis!” The Groil blinked. This was the first human that had dared address it so. Even Caswallon was wary around his Groil.
“Covering a lot of ground lately Mr Assassin?” Gribble dribbled from his perch on the wall.
“Shut yer face, Goblin.” Rael glared at Gribble, who spat down at him as the Assassin ventured inside the palace. Gribble licked his wet mouth and hopped after the man lest he miss out on big news.
Caswallon was sprawled languid on the Glass Throne. Chin in hand with a large goblet of claret tipping and spilling in the other, his eyes were hooded and he looked half asleep. He wasn’t. Instead he watched intently behind those half shut eyes as the Assassin and Gribble approached.
“What happened to your face?” Caswallon asked the Assassin, and Gribble giggled, not having noticed the scars and broken nose until now.
“Messy,” Gribble commented, and Rael made a swat at him causing him jump back out of range.
“I’ve a few scores to settle, truth be told. I was badly let down by your crew at Calprissa. And that Morwellan bitc
h owes me a finger. No matter. I still have nine that I can shove up her arse. I am here to report and then move on to Car Carranis, where I believe the next big fight will happen. Hagan Delmorier is already there.”
“Hagan is worse than useless.” Caswallon sipped his wine. “That Morwellan has failed me three times now. If he shows his hide around here I shall have him lynched.”
“As is your right,” nodded Rael. “But Hagan also has a score to settle with this Corin bastard, so I figured he might yet prove useful, thus I gave him a contract. But you needn’t be involved.”
“Down to you, but I wouldn’t put much faith in that fellow. But forget Hagan and Car Carranis. I’ve more important work for you, Assassin.”
“Name it.”
“Ulan Valek.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s a ruined Urgolais fortress hidden in the midst of The High Wall mountain range. I believe it lies somewhere northeast of Wynais.”
“Very nasty there,” Gribble cut in helpfully.
“Yes it is, Gribble, and we’ll need you to help the Assassin locate it.”
“Bugger that—I’m not flying near that place. It’s full of shadows and ghoulies.”
“Most of which are the product of rumours.” Caswallon waved the goblin be silent. “That fortress has been empty for millennia. That said, there is something there that I require more than anything else. An artifact for which I am prepared to pay a vast sum to the brave venturer that brings it to me.”
“What artifact and how large a sum?” Rael’s green gaze narrowed as he studied the fervour in Caswallon’s eyes. “I am already rich.”
“Two hundred thousand crannels to retrieve for me the black spear, Golganak, and deliver it here to the palace. That’s the job.”
“Bad idea.” Gribble chewed the hairy skin on his knuckles. “That spear is best lost, don’t want to see that again. Nasty thing.”
Caswallon ignored that as he focussed on the Assassin. “And you will have help in the form of Groil and Vaarg the firedrake, who is currently resting and preparing to revisit the realm. He lives in limbo—it’s a long way from here but dragons are fast movers. Besides he can shift through dimensions easily enough.” The Assassin raised a brow at that and Gribble yawned, physics not being his thing.