Broken Stone 02 - Warlock's Sun Rising

by Damien Black

Adelko knew well enough by now not to push his mentor. But he noted the new word the adept had let slip.

  Hierophant. That would be worth looking up when they got to the Grand Monastery in Rima. Of that he felt sure.

  CHAPTER V

  A Brawl Beneath The Rafters

  Dawn gifted the fields a meagre light from turgid skies as they roused themselves to a snatched breakfast. Vaskrian moved his stiff limbs and yawned. He had posted the last watch, but the night had passed uneventfully on the southern fringes of the Blattwood. At least now they were in Upper Thulia they wouldn’t have to worry about avoiding knights answering the call of Graukolos.

  Gazing upon the rolling plains as he untethered Yorro and fed him some oats, Vaskrian reflected that the farmsteads dotted about them looked unkempt compared with those of the land they had left behind. The hamlets were more crooked: as were the peasants who now emerged to toil the rest of the day away.

  Not that it bothered him much. After all, you couldn’t expect foreigners to look after their yeomanry, not like the King of Northalde did back home, or the lords of Efrilund who were loyal to his law. That Dulsinor’s peasantry had seemed just as prosperous scarcely crossed his mind. The squire had to admit, for all that he loved errantry, he was starting to feel just a touch homesick.

  Sir Braxus called curtly for his breakfast. Vaskrian went over to serve him while the bluebloods gathered around and discussed what to do next in Decorlangue. He’d picked up the basics here and there – learning it had been part of his ambition to become a knight after all – but he’d never really had the opportunity to master it.

  And maybe he might just need it after all… hadn’t Adelko suggested that the Earth Witch’s words weren’t to be trusted? A kernel of hope kindled in his breast.

  He suppressed it instantly. Hope was a dangerous thing.

  The heiress of Dulsinor was speaking animatedly, shaking her head as she pointed to where the road forked. Anupe looked just as nonplussed as Vaskrian.

  Typical: the bluebloods speak over us as if we aren’t even here, thought the squire resentfully.

  Presently Braxus filled him in while Adhelina did the same for Anupe.

  ‘The right-hand track leads to Dunkelsicht, where the Eorl of Upper Thulia has his seat,’ explained the knight. ‘We’ll need to take the other road through the crossroads town of Volfburg and thence to another castle called Turstein. It guards the road taking us to Lower Thulia.’

  ‘Why all the debate then?’ queried Vaskrian as they finished their breakfast and began packing up. ‘The choice seems obvious to me.’

  ‘There’s a risk we get spotted and questioned by the garrison at Turstein,’ answered Braxus. ‘Even if we don’t, the road takes us between moorlands and fenlands and it’s prey to highwaymen and robber knights. But my lady love believes we’ll have fewer of the latter what with the tournament at Dunkelsicht – which is why we don’t want to take the other road, it goes right through it. Too many people there who might recognise her or ask questions.’

  His guvnor said no more, but bustled over to help Adhelina into the saddle just as Sir Torgun did likewise. Watching the two knights he revered scowling at one another as they competed for the heiress’s attention, Vaskrian felt his heart sink. Never mind outlaws and garrisons – at this rate they were likely to kill each other.

  He caught Hettie’s eye as she mounted next to her mistress. Not bad at all that one, with her oval face and winsome eyes. Not as beautiful as Adhelina, but maybe not as unobtainable either…

  Hettie averted her eyes with a frown. With a sigh Vaskrian took the saddle, wincing as he jostled his injured arm. The sun rose steadily behind a stifling blanket of cloud as they made their way along the road towards Volfburg. It was rutted and potholed in several places, with pools of dirty rainwater obligingly placed there by the heavens to slow their way.

  ‘Can’t we just strike out cross country?’ Vaskrian complained as they navigated a difficult stretch.

  ‘Look there,’ said Braxus, pointing towards a sturdy-looking manor house not far off the road. ‘I think the vassal who lives in yonder homestead might have something to say about a bunch of foreigners trespassing on his lands, no? Upper Thulia isn’t at war like Dulsinor – no distractions to take advantage of.’

  ‘But what about the knights chasing us?’ asked Vaskrian, ignoring his master’s sarcasm. ‘At this rate they’ll be on us right soon.’

  ‘Not if Wrackwulf succeeds in delaying them,’ replied the Thraxian. ‘And besides that I think our Lanrak friends got sidetracked by the prospect of plunder and slaughter. We’ve a good head start on them.’

  Vaskrian bit his lip at that. His master sounded foolishly optimistic. But then love did strange things to men’s minds. Vaskrian caught him gazing longingly at Adhelina as she nudged her steed through the churned mud that passed for a road. Sir Torgun was on the other side of her. The two knights caught each other’s eyes and glared at one another.

  Sighing exasperatedly, Vaskrian pushed Yorro through the last of the muddy water. Decorum meant riding behind the knights: a pity, as it meant having to look at the sorry spectacle. He still didn’t understand the Laws of Romance. Why get killed over a woman? But then even King Vasirius had been laid low by his love for Queen Mallisande, fighting a war against the Margrave of Gorleon for her hand in marriage. Several of his best men had succumbed to the same mad lovesickness, if the troubadours told it true. Sir Balian and Sir Dwalian had been brothers, renowned knights who held sieges at the Crescent Table. They had ended up killing each other in a futile duel of honour to decide who loved Mallisande the best.

  Vaskrian hoped that was one piece of history that wouldn’t repeat itself.

  Presently the heavens opened, gifting them with yet more rain. At least it gave them an excuse to pull their hoods over the heads – they didn’t pass more than the odd itinerant craftsmen and a few peddlers that afternoon, but there was always the chance somebody of noble blood might recognise Adhelina.

  ‘Most of the high-born folk of Upper Thulia should be at Dunkelsicht for the tourney,’ said Adhelina when he raised the matter. ‘Another good reason for taking the south road.’

  It wasn’t too long before they came across a good reason for not taking it.

  Topping the crest of a hill as the rain eased off they saw four corpses impaled on wooden stakes. Unlike executions in Northalde, the bodies hadn’t been tarred: half-skeletal mouths gaped at them beneath eye-sockets long pecked clean. The rotting remains filled the torrid air around them with a cloying stink.

  ‘A most cruel punishment,’ said Adhelina. ‘My father would never have sanctioned it.’ Her voice choked and she burst into tears, adding their water to the steady patter of rain on her face. Hettie nudged her horse closer to her mistress, trying to comfort her and irritably waving away the two knights as they tried to attend her.

  ‘What crime had they committed?’ Vaskrian asked her, but she ignored him.

  ‘Banditry most like,’ put in Braxus. ‘That means we should keep moving, these aren’t good lands in which to linger.’

  ‘For once I agree with Sir Braxus,’ said Torgun. ‘Let us begone from this accursed spot. The Lady Markward is right, the punishment was cruel and unnecessary. Our King would not have sanctioned such either – a simple hanging would have sufficed.’

  The Northlending put gilded spurs to his horse’s flanks, splashing downhill. Without another word the others followed.

  Vaskrian felt his mood sinking as he descended the hill. If it hadn’t been for his arm he would have heartily wished for the Lanraks to catch up with them. A good fight would have done wonders to lighten his flagging spirits, but as it was he’d probably just make one more corpse. The road mercifully improved, and they spent the rest of the day at a gallop, greedily eating up the leagues that lay between them and Volfburg. They stopped at sunset to eat and water their horses at a stream. The sound of a lone wolf howling came across the darkening fields. The bluebloods
held another conference and decided to press on through the night. Vaskrian dutifully unpacked the torches he’d thought to bring. Somebody had to think about the practicalities of a mission after all. Not that he’d get any thanks for it.

  He was struggling one-armed to get the tapers out and cursed as he nearly dropped them.

  ‘Here, let me help.’

  He turned, half-expecting Anupe… But she didn’t speak his tongue.

  ‘You speak Northlending?’ he gawped as Hettie took the torches from him.

  ‘Don’t look so surprised,’ she said, without meeting his eye. ‘My mistress taught me many things at Graukolos. When we were growing up together… before all this.’

  ‘You speak it well,’ said the squire, doing his best to sound charming.

  ‘Save your flattery for the town wenches,’ Hettie told him. ‘Now show me where you keep your tinderbox – we need to get these things lit…’

  They had just lit a couple of torches when they heard another sound. A couple more wolves had answered the lone call, but this was something else. A distant rumbling. Peering north Vaskrian saw the pinpricks of flickering lights.

  ‘The Lanraks!’ cried Braxus, giving voice to his thought. ‘They’re using the darkness to ride cross country!’

  In a blaze of motion they all retook the saddle. Anupe took a torch and rode up ahead, while Hettie took the other.

  ‘We can’t risk riding on the road at night,’ said Vaskrian. ‘There might be more potholes and we don’t want our horses to get lamed.’

  ‘He’s right,’ said Braxus. ‘But we can follow the road by torchlight. The Lanraks must be doing the same. Hurry! They’re gaining on us!’

  They rode hard for another couple of hours. The land dipped again, dropping away from tended demesnes into rough wilderness, forcing them to circumnavigate. By the time they rejoined tilled fields the moon was high in the sky. Turning Vaskrian peered intently into the darkness, searching for the tell-tale points of light.

  Nothing. Then…

  ‘They’re on the other side of the wilderness I think – I can see their lights!’

  Their tired steeds whinnied disparagingly as they wheeled them around for another hard ride. Steam from their flanks rose up into the night. The clouds had parted, gifting them with summer stars to help light their way. As they rode across the furrowed countryside Vaskrian could see further lights to the south. He felt the tension in his tired body ease as he realised these ones were stationary. As they pushed their horses towards them, the twinkling lights of Volfburg beckoned them towards its welcoming warmth.

  It was possible to see the Lanrak knights in the distance by the light of their torches, glinting off armour as they made their way across the night-shrouded fields. Horskram had even dared to light his lantern, though he kept it half shuttered.

  Presently the Lanraks stopped moving, before veering off to the right, their torches suddenly disappearing.

  ‘They’ve probably hit a patch of wilderness, which should be about right by my reckoning,’ muttered Horskram.

  ‘You’ve travelled often in these lands?’ asked Wrackwulf.

  ‘I’ve travelled often in many lands,’ replied Horskram. ‘Let’s follow them.’

  ‘Why don’t we take the road?’ asked Adelko. ‘Surely we can travel more quickly?’

  ‘You don’t know Thulian roads,’ said his mentor. ‘Maintenance is not the Eorl’s strong point. No, in any case, we can’t afford to lose sight of the Lanraks. They’ll need to stop and rest their horses eventually… And my guess is they won’t be seeking lodgings at Volfburg. Come!’

  Even without Wrackwulf’s sumpter, the going was painfully slow. The freelancer had sold it along with half his weapons and supplies to a peddler on the outskirts of the Blattwood. The delighted vagabond had got the goods for a fraction of their true worth; Horskram had recompensed the knight with Freidheim’s coin worth double that (making everyone a winner at the King of Northalde’s expense, as Wrackwulf had cheerfully remarked). But navigating overgrown dells and thickets by light of moon, stars and lantern did not make for easy travelling, and Adelko felt as exhausted as his whickering horse sounded when they finally dragged themselves from the thorny embrace of wild lands back onto tended fields. Up ahead they could see a fire.

  ‘The Lanraks are camping the rest of the night away,’ breathed Horskram. ‘Their steeds will be exhausted… Chargers are fine for bearing armoured men into battle, but not made for stamina unless they’re Farovians… Let’s keep moving!’

  ‘I don’t think our horses have much energy left themselves,’ protested Adelko, though in truth it was his own aching muscles he was thinking of.

  ‘If we skirt around the knights we can make for Volfburg,’ said Horskram. ‘We’ll probably get there just before dawn. We can get a room at the inn there after curfew finishes.’

  Mention of a warm bed and a hearth swept away Adelko’s misgivings. He had thoroughly enjoyed his stay at Graukolos, and already missed the castle’s comforts.

  The only objection came from Wrackwulf.

  ‘I’d fain pay them a surprise visit while they sleep,’ he grinned, running a gauntleted thumb along the edge of his axe.

  ‘And they’d fain make you welcome with many blades,’ retorted Horskram. ‘You’ll get your chance of revenge, sir knight, but now is not the time.’

  ‘It was just a thought,’ smiled the freelancer as they moved off into the darkness.

  For the umpteenth time Anupe banged on the worm-eaten boards of the taproom door. Vaskrian picked idly at the stinging scabs on his face. There were still patrons up drinking; you could tell by the light seeping through cracks in the ramshackle building’s wooden facade and the sound of drunken singing coming from inside.

  The innkeeper evidently didn’t want to let anybody in after curfew. That was normal for a town, and Volfburg looked pretty much like any normal town. It reminded him of Kaupstad, the last time he’d stayed at an inn. The place where he’d met Adelko and their strange adventures had begun.

  This time the Harijan’s efforts were rewarded with the sound of shuffling and a muffled voice yelling. He didn’t understand the words but he reckoned he understood ‘clear off and get lost’ in any language. Looking down the crooked street that fought for space between hotchpotch wooden houses with rudely thatched rooves, he wondered when the watch would be turning up.

  Anupe yelled back at the person inside and a heated exchange took place. With a restless sigh Adhelina dismounted and stepped over to the door, gently but firmly moving the Harijan aside. It wasn’t seemly for nobles to get involved in common squabbles, all the more so when said nobles were travelling incognito, but needs must Vaskrian supposed.

  In a high clear voice she said something that sounded commanding and imperious. A few seconds later the bolt was drawn and the door flung open. A wizened hunchback of a man stood in the doorway, weak light from tapers doing little for his uncomely frame. His jowls drooped to either side of his face like a dog’s, and his eyes were watered with one ale too many.

  Adhelina had her hood drawn up over her face, but she still knew how to strike a pose. Good job they had thought to pack cloaks for the damsels: she was still dressed in long sequined samite skirts, hardly fit for travelling. She had torn off the bottom part to get more freedom of movement; hopefully the innkeeper wouldn’t look too closely at his new unwelcome guests.

  Fortunately he didn’t: Adhelina obviously knew how to invoke her nobility without giving away who she was. ‘He says to come in and hurry up about it before the watch make any trouble,’ she said. ‘I suggest we do as he says.’

  A bleary eyed stable boy was fetched to see to their horses. Vaskrian sidled into the common room and sized up its contents. There were three knights sitting in a corner, up late drinking and dicing. Probably heading over to Dunkelsicht, though he didn’t know the country well enough to say where from. Apart from that there was just the usual assortment of riffraff dotted about the p
lace: some drinking, some trying to sleep next to the hearth, and more than a couple passed out in a stupor.

  Peddlers, artisans, mendicants and pilgrims… they all looked alike on the wrong end of a few skinfuls. The stench of beer, sweat and boiled meat was welcome to his nostrils: it reminded him of castle life. Civilisation, you might say.

  ‘Don’t suppose there’s any chance of a stoop?’ he asked his guvnor.

  ‘Maybe,’ replied Braxus. ‘I have to see to my lady love first.’

  Vaskrian swallowed his next remark and watched the two knights get flustered around Adhelina yet again. He would need an ale just for watching that. He glanced sidelong at Anupe but the Harijan was muttering something to Hettie beneath her hood.

  We look a right suspicious bunch, he thought to himself ruefully. You’d have to be as blind as Yareth the Predictor not to notice us.

  Much as he hated to admit it, they could have used Horskram. He would have known what to do, maybe even kept them out of trouble. Although come to think of it the old monk had led them into it as often as not. He glanced over at the knights in the corner, but they were intent on playing dice and ignored the new arrivals. Just as well.

  Hettie was talking to the innkeeper, who had retreated back behind the rude board that passed for a counter. The unfortunate fellow yelled something in Vorstlending at a bent-backed crone whom Vaskrian took to be his wife. She yelled back at him and spat on the rushes, before beckoning politely for the damsels to follow her upstairs.

  The squire was watching this exchange with a wry smile, and just thinking about renewing his suggestion of a flagon or two, when he heard a banging on the door.

  Hettie turned at the sound. Heavens, what next? She had just negotiated a couple of rooms and a cold supper; things had started to look a little more civilised. The innkeeper’s wife turned from the stairwell and shuffled over to answer the door. Hettie sighed inwardly. Sleep and food would just have to wait a bit longer.