Ibryen

by Roger Taylor

  ‘Where are they?’ Jeyan demanded, looking round anxiously. She began resisting again.

  The leader stopped and made a pantomime of looking around. ‘Oh dear, they mustn’t have been as dead as we thought,’ he intoned to the increasing mirth of his friends. ‘Now come on!’ He swung his hand at Jeyan’s head, but in partly releasing her to do this she slipped away from him slightly and the blow barely caught her. She tumbled to the ground however, howling, thinking frantically how she could elude her captors now that she was out in the open.

  ‘They’ll come back,’ she whined. ‘They’ll come back. They’ll tell him what’s happened and he’ll send them back for me. They kill people. He’s taught them to. They always do what he tells them.’

  The laughter faded abruptly and the three men looked at one another significantly. ‘Who are you talking about?’ said the leader, bending down and dragging her to her feet. ‘Who’ll send them back?’

  ‘Don’t hit me, please.’

  ‘I’ll do more than hit you, you dozy little sod. Just answer my question. Who’ll send the dogs back?’

  ‘Him!’ Jeyan exclaimed fearfully, pointing. ‘Him. The big man they belong to.’

  There was such alarm in her voice that all three spun round in the direction she was pointing as if expecting to see Hagen’s murderer about to fall on them. One partly drew his sword. Jeyan found herself pulled off her feet again. ‘Who’re you talking about?’

  ‘Him! Him! The one who owns them. They go everywhere with him.’

  The questions became urgent. ‘Who is he? Where is he?’

  Jeyan shook her head and pointed again, mimicking increasing terror. There was another hasty conference, more serious than the last and with some head-shaking and hesitancy, then the leader decided. ‘Show us.’

  Jeyan shook her head violently. ‘I’m afraid,’ she said. The soldier struck her across the face. This time the blow caught her fully and sent her sprawling facedown on the ground. It was a long time since she had been touched by anyone other than the two dogs and she was finding her response to the manhandling she was receiving difficult to contend with without retaliating. Now, for a moment, her face smarting and her ears ringing, a screaming, manic anger threatened to overcome her judgement and she nearly snatched out the knife. She came to herself just as her hand closed about its hilt and managed to release it as, once again, she was dragged to her feet.

  ‘The one you’ve got to be afraid of is me!’ said the leader. ‘Now take us to this man.’

  The reluctance of the others gave itself clearer voice. ‘We should get some help. If this fellow killed Hagen, he’s not going to be some puny little simpleton like this one. And I don’t fancy dealing with those dogs.’

  The soldier holding Jeyan gave a snarl of disdain and struck his companion on the chest with the back of his hand. ‘What do you mean, if? A big man and two mad dogs. Who the hell else could it be?’ His manner became more conciliatory. ‘Come on, move yourself. The dogs caught us all by surprise before. They won’t do it again, will they? What do we need help for? One man and two dogs against us!’ The man wavered and the attack was pressed home, this time with a prodding finger. ‘I’m damned if I’m going to hand this prize over to that bastard captain who thought it such a joke to leave us here. “Wait till nightfall,” he says with that sneer of his. And still less am I going to hand it over to those snots in the Guards. We catch the man who killed Hagen, and there’s plenty of good things will be lined up for us. Reward, promotion, soft city duty instead of flogging through the mountains. Whatever we want.’ He concluded by laying a fraternal hand on his companion’s shoulder.

  The wilting reservation gradually became a shrug of bravado. ‘You’re right,’ concluded the reluctant soldier, brown teeth smirking. He made to cuff Jeyan. ‘Come on, hero. Show us where this great assassin skulks.’

  ‘Don’t hit me any more, please,’ Jeyan whined. ‘I’ll show you. But you’ll keep the dogs off me, won’t you? I don’t want the dogs to get me.’

  The Teeth affected a pained expression. ‘I don’t mind taking on death-pit dogs and some Ennerhald lunatic, but I don’t want to put up with that whingeing all the way.’

  The leader did not reply, but gave Jeyan a telling look and shook her to silence as they set off. After a little while and a few stumbles by Jeyan he tired of holding her arm and let her walk just ahead of him, though he drew his sword and the two others came closer. From time to time, Jeyan stopped and looked around as if thinking where she should go next. In reality however, full of blazing anger and hatred, she was luring them deeper into the Ennerhald. The further they went, the more they would be moving into her own territory, with its many hiding places and secret exits and entrances. Sooner or later they would become careless and then she would be away. With good fortune, a swift stroke would wound the leader to slow down any pursuit. Discreetly she checked her knife.

  They continued in silence, moving along the winding, uneven streets and past decaying buildings with blank-eyed windows and crumbling thresholds. Eventually, the strangeness of this long-dead city within a city began to unsettle the three soldiers.

  ‘This place is giving me the creeps,’ the Teeth said. ‘It feels bad. There’s more places for an ambush here than in the mountains. There could be an army around us and we’d never know.’

  His complaint received no sympathetic hearing. ‘Shut up,’ snapped the leader.

  ‘We should go back. What if killing Hagen was just to lure us into the Ennerhald – the army, that is. A trap.’

  A hand caught Jeyan’s arm and the short procession stopped as the leader turned to deal with this query. ‘Then you can bravely cut your way back to the Citadel and raise the alarm, can’t you? Who’s going to lay traps forus, here, you idiot?’

  There was little note of banter in his voice as he vented his own growing concern on his subordinate. That’s right, Jeyan thought savagely. Quarrel. Fight amongst yourselves. Give me the least chance to bring one of you down. Surreptitiously she looked around, but there was nowhere immediately by that would serve as an escape route.

  ‘I was only…’

  ‘Only what? Thinking? Don’t, it’s bad for you, leave it to me. You just keep your wits about you.’

  Jeyan waited for an angry response but nothing happened. The recipient of the abuse merely glowered. Then the leader turned his irritation back to Jeyan and gave her a powerful push in the back. ‘Come on you, move! We haven’t got all day. How much further is it to where this individual lives?’

  ‘Not far,’ Jeyan said.

  ‘How far?’

  ‘Not far. I think. I don’t know. I don’t come round here much. I’m frightened. He’s dangerous. He…’

  ‘Yes, we know. He kills people.’ The leader seized Jeyan’s jacket with one hand and pulled her forward so that his face was almost touching hers. Jeyan screwed her eyes tight and turned away, genuinely fearful that, so close, he might realize that she was not the youth she had been taken for, but a woman, with all that that implied for her. She had no doubts about her inability to contend with someone so strong, no matter what they chose to do. The edge of the sword came terrifyingly to her throat. ‘Well, so do I. And I’m here, right now, lad. Do you understand?’

  Ironically, relief flooded through her at this conclusion. He hadn’t noticed. She nodded as frantically as the menacing blade would allow until she was eventually released.

  ‘Not far, not far,’ she gasped, pointing. ‘Round the corner, down the hill, through the…’

  There was another angry push. ‘Just move.’

  They set off again, moving further and further away from the city, the three soldiers watchful and uneasy, Jeyan forming and discarding plans for her escape. Having felt the strength of the leader and studied him a little, she was having reservations about being able to use her knife against him. It was sharp, but the uniforms were stout leather and robust-looking, and might be difficult to penetrate with a direct thrust. Fu
rther, the jerkins rose to cover most of the throat. She would have to attack a hand, or the face – the one small, fast-moving and not immediately disabling, the other precious little bigger and protected by deep and ancient reflexes. Whatever she did, she mustn’t let them get hold of her once she made her attempt to escape. She must keep her distance, use her speed and knowledge of where she was to flee and hide. She began to be very afraid.

  ‘This is a waste of time. This idiot’s no idea what he’s doing or where he’s going. We could be wandering round for hours. I’d no idea how big this place was. I say we take him back now. Get back to the purge, before everything worth taking’s gone.’ It was the third soldier talking this time. The Teeth nodded in agreement but did not speak.

  The leader halted and paused. He looked at Jeyan grimly. The third soldier’s opinion meant more to him than Teeth’s. ‘Let’s give it a little longer,’ he said eventually. He pointed his sword at Jeyan. His voice was chillingly calm. ‘Listen carefully, boy, and understand. You may be near the end of your life. You take us to this man now, or I’ll open you from neck to crotch, very slowly.’ The sword point followed the words.

  Jeyan felt sick, and the trembling that had so dominated her after the death of Hagen returned in full. All she could do was nod again. She held out a shaking hand.

  ‘Down there. Across a square at the end, there’s a big building on the corner with…’

  The sword prodded her forward. ‘Just take us.’

  She began to walk a little more quickly, disguising her increased gait, by tripping and stumbling forward nervously over the uneven ground. There were plenty of places around here that she knew. If she could get away she had no doubt that she would be able to elude the three men, and in their present mood it was unlikely they would follow her far into the maze of buildings and streets. But she could not delay much longer; that same mood was becoming dangerously unanimous and increasingly impatient. She stumbled again. As she recovered she turned and beckoned them forward apologetically.

  They came to a pile of rubble strewn across the street where a building had finally succumbed to time, and collapsed. She scrambled up it agilely bending low and using her hands. She stopped at the top and, crouching, turned as if waiting for her captors to catch her up. The leader came first, but having one hand encumbered by his sword his balance was unsteady. Jeyan turned away as if looking where they must go next. At the same time she ran her hand frantically over the rubble, feeling for a suitable stone. For a moment it seemed that she would not find anything and, in mounting desperation, she looked down. The approaching leader noted the movement.

  ‘What’re you doing?’ he said, stopping to steady himself. Jeyan drove her hand into a pile of debris, oblivious of the damage to her hand and, with a wild sweep flung stones and dust into his face. He swore, and his hands came up to protect himself. His flailing sword unbalanced him and also became a momentary threat to his companions. Jeyan did not wait to see the outcome of her actions. She dashed down the far side of the mound, reaching the ground in three strides, and headed towards a nearby building. She was impeded only slightly by the fact that she had landed awkwardly on her ankle as she leapt down from the rubble, though she was aware of the pain and could feel her body’s resources mounting to carry her through this moment regardless, incurring a debt which would demand payment as soon as she was safe.

  The sounds of abuse and vigorous action followed her and she did not look back until she had clambered through the window she had been heading for. All three men had recovered from their surprise and whatever damage she had caused them, though the leader was rubbing his left arm across his face as he ran. There were plenty of potential missiles lying about her and for a moment she was tempted to stand and repeat her assault. The speed of her pursuers’ approach dispelled the idea even as it formed, but she did pause long enough to place her fingers in her mouth and emit a piercing whistle. The sound made the three men falter where a barrage would not have done, and Jeyan turned and fled into the building.

  These men were not slow-witted denizens of the Ennerhald nor startled citizens from whom she might be begging or stealing however, they were soldiers of the Gevethen’s army and had seen active service against the Count in the mountains and in patrolling Nesdiryn’s other borders. Further, though Jeyan did not know this, they were strongly motivated by the knowledge of what would befall them if they returned to their Captain empty-handed and with the puling excuse that they had allowed a mere youth to escape their charge while he had led them a merry dance through the Ennerhald.

  The leader was through the window even as Jeyan reached the doorway at the far side of the room, and the others were immediately behind him. Jeyan’s natural fleetness and her intimate knowledge of where she was should have carried her steadily away from her pursuers, but the pain threatening to seize her ankle took this advantage from her and as she ran along passageways, turned rapidly into doorways and scuttled through openings, she found that she could not elude them.

  Dappling sunlight shone through a hole in the ceiling of a wide hall, and hovering pollens and seeds caught in its beam danced and whirled as Jeyan flickered through it, then rose, as in alarm, in the wake of the three soldiers following close behind. As the motes leisurely returned to their own gentle orbits, the fading sound of the chase suddenly stopped. Jeyan had sped through a cluster of small, many-doored rooms and finally escaped from the leader’s relentless intent.

  No less than six walls and four doors faced him when he finally came to a halt. He beat down his companions’ oaths before they were uttered, as he moved to each door in turn, head forward as he sought for any sound that might tell him which way Jeyan had gone. Finally he himself swore and slammed the last door shut violently. Dust fell from the damaged ceiling, spattering on to his shoulder.

  ‘Gods, I don’t like this place. We should never have let him bring us here. We should’ve taken him back instead. We…’

  The look on the leader’s face ended Teeth’s reproach.

  Apart from the direct threat in it, it reminded him that they would all suffer punishment if this matter was not resolved satisfactorily.

  A whistle reached them, making them all start, but it was not possible to say where it came from within the confines of the room.

  ‘That’s twice. He’s calling those bloody dogs!’

  ‘Shut up!’

  ‘He’s there! Outside!’ The third soldier was up on his toes peering through a high window.

  As Jeyan glanced quickly back, a rending crash exploded into the silence of the Ennerhald and wrapped itself chokingly around her pounding heart as, with agonizing slowness, a door burst open under the impetus of the leader’s charge. The three men tumbled out. They lost the merest fraction of time before they recovered balance and turned to continue the chase.

  Never before thus harried, Jeyan was beginning to be driven by stark terror. It marred her judgement. Fatally, she turned the wrong way. Realization struck her instantly, as did the knowledge that there could be no turning back. The narrow alleyway into which she had run was sealed by a wall which she could not possibly scale and the only doorway would lead her into a room whose exits had been long blocked by collapsed floors. Nevertheless it was the only place she could go and she turned into it with scarcely any hesitation.

  Inside, breath wrenching and trembling violently, she drew her knife and crouched low behind the remains of the door hanging by a solitary hinge. She had no time to decide what to do before a gasping figure lurched unsteadily into the room. Desperate beyond all thinking, Jeyan, clenching the knife in both hands, thrust herself upright, driving the knife towards the intruder’s throat.

  Only his reflexes saved the leader as, unbidden, his left arm extended to deflect the blow. The action saved his life, but his arm was cut almost to the bone. The suddenness and ferocity of Jeyan’s attack sent him reeling, clutching his arm. As he tried to recover his balance, he stumbled on the debris that cluttered the floor
and fell heavily, losing his sword. Jeyan too was unbalanced by the unexpected impact, but she recovered almost immediately and turned to face the next man silhouetted in the doorway. She was vaguely aware of a dirty smudge across his shadowed face as discoloured teeth were bared in a menacing grimace, but she had eyes only for the extended sword. Like a cornered animal she danced from side to side looking for an opportunity to slither past this menace, but the sword point followed her unerringly.

  Driven now by forces beyond her control she was coming inexorably to a state that would lead her straight into a desperate charge regardless of all apparent danger. And feeding this was the fear leaking from the soldier, for though Jeyan could not see his face, he could see hers even in the dull light, and it was a mask of awful and primitive hatred against which his sword seemed to be more an emblem of futility than a weapon. The sight brought into awful clarity for him all the qualms about the Ennerhald that he had been having since they had left the towered building so comfortingly near to the city.

  Jeyan’s mind took in everything before and around her, unbearably heightened in intensity and framed in a silence which shuddered to the pounding rhythm of her heartbeat: the felled and wounded soldier at the edge of her vision, slowly struggling to recover, the man and sword hesitating directly in front of her, and the third figure hovering at his shoulder. There were no details, only a single whole.

  And there was only one way.

  Yet, even as she began to launch herself forward, the scene changed. The soldier outside turned, his actions laboured and slow. Eyes widened in fearful realization and the sword came up in defence.

  Then, like a suddenly clearing mist, the silence was gone; torn away and replaced by a screaming frenzy of noise and terrifying movement. Assh’s bone-crushing jaws were at the sword arm of the third soldier but he was hurled brutally to the ground and hacked down with a single blow. His assailant however, had no opportunity to celebrate this victory, for even as his sword struck the felled dog, Frey was on his back, tearing at his throat. The two fell to the ground in a floundering mass of limbs and fur and foaming blood.