The Bloody North (The Fallen Crown)

by Tony Healey

  "That's enough Kip," Crowstone said as Rowan drew near.

  The bearcat released him. Rowan pinned the man to the ground with his sword as Kip ran past. "You stay right there, fucker."

  "Please . . . it wasn't my decision!"

  "But you went along with it anyway," Rowan snarled.

  The old woman helped Patti with her clothes. "Don't be under no illusions," she said. "That old codger was about to sell us to them men."

  "He was going to sell you?" Crow asked.

  She nodded, wrinkled old mouth screwed up tight with anger. "Caught me a couple of weeks back. Made me cook and clean for him till he could sell me on. The girl he got two days ago. Said he'd sell us together, the son of a bitch."

  "Why didn't you run?" Rowan asked. He looked away to the old man's corpse.

  So all is not as it seemed. Is it ever?

  "Said he'd kill us if we did. We came through here and got set upon by this lot. I knew we'd end up dead, but I was mighty pleased when they killed him," she said. "Mighty pleased."

  "I'll bet," Rowan said. He shared a look with Crowstone.

  Crow cleared his throat. "Kip! Get away from him!"

  The bearcat had started nosing at the one Crowstone had given a heart attack.

  "He was the one in charge," the old woman said.

  Patti's face burned with anger. "Had his hands all over me," she said, looking down at his body with disgust. "Squeezing and touching . . ."

  "Well he's not going to bother you now," Rowan said.

  She looked up at him. "I remember you. You saved me."

  "Fat lot of good it did," Rowan said.

  "I was on the road when he got me. Clubbed me off my horse," she said, hand touching the sore spot at the back of her head where she'd been hit. "Took all the money too."

  "What'd he do with it?" Rowan asked.

  She shrugged. "Don't know. I know he doesn't have it on him now though."

  Crowstone sighed, looked down at the last living member of the gang. "So what are we doing about yellow belly here?"

  The fire had run out of energy, gradually shrinking back down to what it had been before Crow ignited it. "First thing he's going to do is dig. Can you dig, fella?" Rowan asked, digging the tip of his sword into the man's cheek.

  "Yes!" he squealed.

  "Good. Set to it then. A nice deep hole for these bodies."

  Rowan released him and the man scrambled to his feet, then set to work. Kip growled at him as he passed, teeth bared. The man rubbed at the cuts up his throat made by the bearcat.

  "There's something you should know," Patti said. "I was in a town called Nyfe. Stayed at an inn for a week. Saw soldiers come by the town, pinning up posters. When it was the evening I went down in the street and read one."

  "And?"

  "They're looking for you. It said 'Wanted, dead or alive, Rowan Black, for high treason,'" Patti told him. "Thought you should know."

  "I was set upon by two bounty hunters prior to finding myself in the company of Mister Crowstone here. Anything at the bottom to say who was posting the reward?"

  "Yeah, a Captain Vrand," Patti said. "Does that mean anything?"

  He smirked. It turned into a smile, then a laugh. "It does. And where was this you say?"

  "Nyfe."

  "Not far from here," Crowstone said. "Farther westward than we are heading, but regardless you should expect to find such posters at Greyside when we arrive."

  "That's where you're headed?" Patti asked them.

  Rowan looked at the curve of her hips, her youthful, pretty face. The slip of clothing covering where her breast had, only moments before, been exposed. For the first time in an age, he found himself contemplating the prospect of her completely naked. She was old enough. And he saw there were no more bruises. It had been hard, before, to see what she'd really looked like under all the dirt and bruises. Stanthorpe had treated her like an animal.

  But now he noticed she really was a young woman, not a girl. "You're welcome to come along, if you'd both like."

  "Is that a good idea?" Crowstone murmured.

  "They can come as far as the town, I reckon," Rowan said. "I'm sure they can figure something out from there."

  "Yes," Crow said skeptically. "I'm sure they can."

  * * *

  "What is that? A dog?" the old woman asked, peering down at Kip.

  (what is she? blind?)

  Crowstone chuckled. "No my dear. Kip here is a bearcat. He has been my travelling companion for some years now."

  Patti got down on her haunches and let him sniff her hand.

  (it's all right i won't bite)

  "He doesn't bite," Crow said.

  "Made a good job of that man's throat from what I saw . . ." the old woman remarked, looking on.

  (i only bite arseholes)

  "He, uh, only bites the wrong sort of people."

  She started to stroke him. Kip's eyes closed as he nuzzled up against her.

  "Seems tame enough to me," Patti said.

  "Oh he is," Crowstone agreed. "A regular pussycat when you get to know him."

  Kip opened one eye.

  (jealous)

  * * *

  Crowstone rooted through the dead men's gear, liberating them of their tobacco, their dried meats, an unopened bottle of whiskey. The rest he threw in the pit that their last surviving member had dug. They watched as he dragged his former comrades' corpses into the grave, one on top of the other until they were all together. There was less than a foot from the topmost corpse and the surface. "Now cover them over. Let them all fucking rot together."

  He did as he was told, scooping the dirt back on top with the spade. He patted the mound of earth down.

  "Drop the spade and come here," Rowan said. He tied a rope around the man's wrists, so tight they bit into the skin. "You're coming with us. I was going to kill you, but then I recognised your face. You're Garth aren't you?"

  The man swallowed. "No."

  Rowan slugged him in the gut. "Next time it'll be something a little sharper. You are Garth Tyrer. One of a gang of six. There's a hefty price on your head, son. One I'll be cashing in on when we reach Greyside."

  "No! Please! You can't do this!"

  Rowan climbed up on his horse, still holding the rope. "Only it won't be me taking you in. It'll be one of the women here."

  "When did you know about this?" Crowstone asked him.

  Rowan shrugged. "When he got knocked to the ground. I recognised his face. Saw a poster a while back. The same kind Patti says she saw in town with my name on it. There's a big reward for this fucker."

  "I am impressed," Crow said.

  "Excuse me, Mister," the old woman said. "But why would we be taking him in?"

  "Well, for one I'm a wanted man myself. Though I'll tell you the only crime I've committed of late is defending myself. There's another reason, too. You women don't have a penny to your names. Nothing to start out with," he said and pointed at Tyrer's sorry form, stood there bent forward from the slug in the gut, his hands bound together. "That there is your ticket to a new, fruitful life."

  "I don't know what to say," Patti said atop her horse. "This is the second time you've given me a chance at something new. I'll never be able to repay you."

  "Yeah!" Tyrer yelled, borderline hysterical. "At my fucking expense!"

  Rowan landed him a sharp kick in the face that snapped Garth's head back. He watched Tyrer roll about in pain on the ground, whimpering. Rowan's eyes met Patti's for a moment, and the smile at the corner of her mouth made his heart flutter. He snapped the reins. "Just a thank you will do," he told her, though every part of him said otherwise.

  Seventeen

  "Why are you gagging him?" the old woman – Annette – asked him as he bundled cloth into Tyrer's mouth followed by a short length of rope to keep it in. Tyrer struggled a little, but just one look from Rowan put an end to that. His hands were still bound together and Rowan had taken the liberty of tying him to a rather large an
d heavy tree a little way from the camp. By the middle of the next day they would arrive in Greyside – there was no sense in feeding and watering the man.

  "So I don't have to listen to his horseshit while I eat," Rowan said. "Nothing worse than a man who talks too much."

  "What will he sleep on?" Annette asked.

  He shrugged. "Do you care?"

  "Guess not."

  Back by the fire, Patti had put together a decent enough stew of vegetables and rabbit. Rowan had watched, as late that afternoon, Crow sent Kip down a rabbit hole, only to emerge a moment later with a big buck in his mouth, still alive. Crow had delivered a sharp blow to the creatures back, killing it instantly. Patti had stripped the carcass in no more time than it had taken to kill it.

  "Where did you learn to cook?" Crow asked her, nose over the pot. "This brew smells most appetising."

  "I should think so," she said. "It was my Mother's recipe. Simple enough. But I don't think you can beat a good stew, especially not in this kind of cold."

  "Amen to that," Crow said. He sat down, and Kip settled in across his lap.

  Rowan thought back to the day Quayle and his men had killed his wife and children. Sara had been cooking a stew then. And dumplings. He shook the memory away and walked to the fire, hands out to warm them.

  "Bloody cold," he grumbled.

  "Will he live through the night? Being exposed like that?" Annette asked, glancing back through the bushes to where Tyrer was tied up. "I know I shouldn't give a rat's arse, and really I don't . . . but I'm not one to see others suffering. Never have been."

  "The most he'll get is a dose of pneumonia," Crow interjected. "And if I'm not mistaken, it won't matter a damn. He'll be in the gallows before the week is out."

  "You think?" Patti asked.

  Crow nodded solemnly, absently stroking the back of Kip's neck. "The price criminals pay for coming and going, killing whomever – wherever – they like."

  Privately, Rowan wondered if such a fate might befall him, should he be caught. "You forget I myself am a fugitive of sorts. Not counting my own past before the war, either."

  "You are a fugitive for different reasons," Crow said. "Besides, do you feel any pity for that man, any kinship, knowing you are in the same boat?"

  "No."

  "Well then," Crowstone said. He set to filling his pipe, whistling tunelessly. Rowan had discovered that the mage was possessed of many remarkable talents, but whistling was not one of them. Though he was a fair singer, it had to be said.

  "Dinner should be ready in a bit," Patti said. "I, uh, noticed you had whiskey over there in the pack. If I'm not mistaken, the same you took from Stanthorpe. Could we?"

  "Yeah, of course," Rowan got on it straight away. He went to their gear, retrieved the whiskey and found four suitable vessels from which to drink it. He busied himself pouring it out. "There you are."

  "Thanks," Patti said, taking her jar of whiskey from him, her hand resting over his a second or two longer than necessary, their eyes meeting. Or had he just imagined it?

  Crowstone lifted his tin cup. "To us. Four travelling companions, well met, if I say so myself."

  "I'll drink to that," Annette said and took a long, hard swallow, not so much as flinching at the whiskey as she shot it back.

  Crowstone nodded in her direction. "Now that's a woman who can drink whiskey."

  Rowan laughed. When he looked across at Patti, her eyes were still fixed on him as she drank. In the dusky light the golden fire danced in them. Later, as he lay looking up into the dark while the others slept, they were all he could think about.

  * * *

  Greyside was a modestly populated town grouped around the edges of a wide lake, frozen over. The boats that had been moored at the quay were trapped in the ice, and from up on the crest of the hill, Rowan could see the forms of children playing among them, oblivious to the danger of the icy crust cracking beneath their rushing feet.

  I was just as young, and just as irresponsible once, he thought. Hell, I'm irresponsible now.

  Patti tugged on the rope tied to Tyrer's hands, dragging him along behind her. "So go over it again for me."

  "Head for the lawman's office, tell him you've captured Garth Tyrer. And tell him you want the bounty on him," Rowan said. "Crowstone will be with you."

  Crow jabbed a finger at Tyrer. "One word about what really happened and I'll turn you to dust there and then, do you understand?"

  Tyrer was still gagged but he managed a firm nod of the head.

  "Good man."

  "I'll wait up here for you to appear down there," Rowan pointed to where the road entered the town at the bottom of the hill. "Then I'll come on by."

  "Probably best you keep that hood up," Crow said. "Remember, you're one of them as well."

  Tyrer turned to look at him and something in his eyes gave Rowan pause. He led his horse closer and gave him a jab with his boot. "If they come find me because of something you've said, you better hope I don't share a cell with you. Because it won't be a hanging you have to worry about. Nod so I know you fucking understand."

  He nodded.

  "Good."

  Crow looked at Annette. "We all set?"

  "Yes," she said. "While you and Patti trade him in, I'll see if I can get us a couple of decent rooms. I don't know about the rest of you, but I could use a hot bath."

  "It's been a while," Crow said.

  Annette looked him up and down with visible disapproval. "Yes it has."

  Rowan had to stifle a laugh as they headed off. Then he happened to look down at himself and realised he was no different.

  "I'll leave Kip behind with you," Crowstone said. "Sometimes his presence invokes a less than favourable response from the locals."

  "Understood."

  He watched as they rode down toward the town. Then Rowan got out of sight, the bearcat in tow, and waited for Patti to show herself.

  * * *

  Annette was true to her word. Two hours after entering the town, she showed them to the tavern where they'd be spending the night. They left their horses securely around the back, dispersing small change to a couple of the young boys to tend to the animals. Then Annette led them in, handed each of them a key.

  "All separate rooms," she said. "Fresh sheets. They got a few big baths at the back, the landlady's up there now filling them up. I told them we'd each be having one. You especially."

  Her eyes were hard on Crowstone, but he took it in his stride with a gruff laugh.

  "Understood," he said.

  "We'll let the women go first," Rowan said. "It's only right."

  "Ha!" Annette said. "If you thought I was sharing your water . . ."

  Patti's room was next to Rowan's and he watched as she slipped the key in the door. "So you got it all then? Any questions?"

  She shrugged. "Nothing I couldn't handle. They knew it was him though. Seems the lawman here, a big brute called Brady, met him before. Paid me there and then."

  "You split it out like I said?"

  "Yes. Half each to me and Annette, though I think she's pitching in with me in finding a place," Patti said. "I think we might stay here for a bit in Greyside."

  "That so?"

  "Aha."

  He opened the door to his room. "I can see that working well for you."

  "Listen, Rowan, I . . ."

  He shook his head. "No need. I'll see you soon. Give me a knock, will you? Let me know you're out of that tub? I'm looking forward to it myself."

  "I will," she said with a smile.

  He went inside and shut the door.

  Eighteen

  It was dark outside when Crow lifted the window and peered out. Sure enough, Kip was sat down there in the alleyway between the tavern and the next building.

  (crow)

  "Come on up," Crowstone whispered.

  The bearcat clambered up the side of the building, claws finding purchase in the weathered, pockmarked wall until he reached the ledge under the window and haule
d himself into Crow's room.

  (you told me to wait for dark and that's what I did)

  "Good boy. Now remember, not a sound, eh? I don't think the landlady will take too kindly to having you in here," Crow warned him.

  (don't worry old man)

  "Good," Crow said. "And less of the old."

  * * *

  The landlady was good enough to top the bath up with piping hot water. She gave him perfumed oils and salts. He thanked the maker that he'd got Patti's bath water – the thought of sharing Annette's had been a less than attractive prospect. He sank into the hot water and couldn't help but sigh. How long had he travelled in the cold? It seemed as if the ice and snow of the North had settled itself into his bones, worked its way in there, and never let go. The thought struck him, as he nestled down in the tub with his head barely above the water, that he'd spent so long working his way toward another meeting with Quayle that he'd never considered what it would be like when he finally got to him. He'd learned from an old beggar in town that Quayle's farm lay beyond the border of Greyside, on the road opposite to that which they'd followed in.

  Tomorrow I'll go there. Sword in hand.

  The realisation that he'd finally arrived at the destination he'd been shooting for those years in the wild, fighting alongside Larch West's crew started to sink in. His stomach turned over and over, the way it always had the day before a big battle. To his mind, any man who said they didn't get frightened before a fight was a goddamn liar. In each case, it was highly probable you wouldn't see the other side of it. That it would be the death of you. Rowan supposed his final confrontation with Quayle might be just that – final.

  Well, if that's the case, so be it.

  * * *

  Crowstone looked a different man. Beard trimmed, skin scrubbed clean. His hair was brushed, no sign of his hat this time around. He waved Rowan to his table. Annette was already with him, both of them with drinks. The tavern wasn't full to brim, but enough so to have some hustle and bustle. The atmosphere was friendly enough. Rowan had been in enough drinking establishments over the years to know when there was a bad vibe.

  Not for the first time, he wondered just how old Crowstone truly was. His hair had plenty of grey in it, but it remained predominantly black. With anyone other than a mage, he might have a guess at fifty. But being what he was, and the bunches of wrinkles at the corners of his otherwise youthful, bright eyes, Rowan suspected he was older than that. Thus far Crow had said very little of his past comings and goings, perhaps to keep an air of mystery as to his origins. It was all relative to Rowan. The man had saved him from certain death, nursed him back to health, sworn to travel North with him and help him along the way – he'd done all of that and more.