The night fell silent eventually as the sounds of the chase faded away. They did not speak. The trels might still be close enough to hear them and none amongst them had words for what had happened. They lay in the filth, each with their thoughts tormenting them as they drifted in and out of a fitful sleep until dawn eventually found them.
Chapter Seven
Klöss walked on silence. The trip had been grim from the start, even after they’d sacrificed the stealth of moving through the woods for the speed of travelling on the road. They’d passed body after body, torn and broken on the packed earth. They were scattered in groups of two or three, never more than five. The signs of their battles lay in the dirt around them. Blood sprayed wide on the road next to the scorched earth where a trel had fallen.
There had been too many to even consider burying or burning. The creatures might still have been close enough to find the smoke and each body he abandoned was another betrayal, each pair of sightless eyes hurling its own accusation. Coward. You hid!
They had been his men, his responsibility. His mood had grown darker with each man they came across, and they had walked in silence long after they had finally stopped checking for any signs of life in those they passed.
Some had made it farther than others and the trail had lasted for miles. The sun had shone happily down on the bodies and the flies and birds had wasted little time settling on the corpses. The image of the crows pecking out gobbets of flesh, or an eye, only for the flies to settle in the oozing holes they left, stayed with him as they walked. Even now, days later, the sight was there whenever he closed his eyes.
He ached, bruises contending with sore muscles. They’d been on the move for over a week, and their journey was nearly over. The minor cuts and bruises he’d suffered had mostly gone but the worst of his wounds were still healing. Every step brought an aching pain that did nothing to improve his temper. He spent his time alternating between thinking about what he could have done differently and wondering where the beasts had vanished to.
“No signs?” He shot over to Gavin, walking on the other side of Tristan.
His head whipped round, startled after hours walking in silence. “What?” he asked with a confused look. Then, “Oh, no, Nothing. Not for days now. I’ve stopped really looking to be honest.”
Klöss grunted and caught Tristan staring at him with an appraising eye. “What?” he demanded.
“Are you ready to speak about this?”
Klöss scowled at him and took a moment to kick a loose stone off the path, sending it bouncing down the rocky slope towards the river far below them on their left. “What do you mean?”
“You do this, you know?” Tristan explained. “You are a good man to follow. You have a mind for tactics and you never allow greed or anger to steer your course. My thought is that it is because of this that you have not lost many battles, or many men, in the years I have fought with you. When you do though, it is like an insult to you, a personal attack. We do not have time for you to sulk, Klöss.”
Gavin gave a snort which conveniently transformed into a cough as Klöss shot his head round to glare at him.
“I do not sulk.” He bit off each word.
Tristan shrugged. “Brood then. The word is not important. Are you ready to speak about it?”
“What about it?”
“This is not your fault,” Tristan told him, his voice brooking no argument. “There was no way to know there would be so many of them. We did not blunder in there. We took every care. They do not act like a normal enemy though. I do not understand this.”
Klöss frowned. “How do you mean?”
“You have never been stupid, Klöss,” Tristan chided. “Do not start now.”
Klöss bit back a retort as he caught the sly grin. “Go on…”
“These creatures, name them trels, name them what you will. They were massed in numbers higher than the largest reaving. Where were their supplies, their tents? They are not mindless animals. We all heard their speech as they fought, calling out to each other. For that matter, where have they now gone? We must have faced over a hundred as they gave chase. Who knows how many more passed us once we were hidden. There were easily a score of thousand in the valley.” He glanced over at Gavin for confirmation.
“Don’t ask me,” the thief said as with a shrug. “More than I could count, that’s for sure.”
“So where are they now?” Tristan waved his hands around at the silent trees.
Klöss glanced around him as he chewed on his lip. “We’re too close to Rimeheld now, they wouldn’t be here anyway.”
Tristan grabbed Klöss suddenly, grasping his shoulders and forcing him to face him. “They broke through the gates at Rimeheld,” he reminded him. “They came down from the sky to attack the Anlish during the reaping. Now they destroy this village, Skelf. They could be anywhere. They could be in Hesk tomorrow.”
“They’re in Hesk already,” Gavin added in a soft voice.
Tristan glanced at the younger man and gave a nod of approval. “It is time we faced this threat, Klöss. We need for our eyes to be open. Hiding from this will not help.”
Klöss nodded and pulled away from the man to begin walking again.
“That was not my meaning anyway.” Tristan said, looking down at the rocks and the water that dashed itself to a white froth against them. “Those that chased down our men, where did they go? They did not pass us and we have seen no sign that they continued on. The tracks from their feet simply end.”
“Maybe they went back through the woods?” Gavin offered.
Tristan looked to the trees. “I think not. They could have, but why? There is no threat to them here, why take a slower passage for no reason?”
“So, what? They simply vanished?” Klöss snorted.
“I do not know. We know nothing of these trels.” He jerked his head a Gavin. “This one took the idea of using iron for his dagger from old tales. How much more is true?”
Klöss stooped and picked up a stone, turning it over in his hands as he thought. “So what do you suggest?” he asked after several minutes.
“Perhaps it is time we talk to the Anlish,” Tristan offered.
“The Anlish? Why?”
“We both saw them being attacked during the reaping, Klöss. These trels are no allies of theirs. Could it be the Anlish know something of them?”
Klöss sighed and sent the stone flying, following the path of the one he’d kicked. “I can’t see them really being open to a friendly chat, Tristan.”
“So offer them something,” Tristan muttered with a shrug.
“Yeah, the sealord’s going to love that!” Gavin snorted.
“It’s not the time to start peace talks, Tristan,” Klöss told him. “Only a fool negotiates before he’s tried his full strength, and whatever else these Anlish are, they’re not fools.”
Tristan grunted and fell silent. The sun was already sinking and the shafts of light stabbed at their eyes as they fought through gaps in the trees. “It would not need to be peace talks. Just talks would be enough.”
Klöss grunted. “I’ll think about it. Gavin’s right though, I can’t see the sealord going for it.” He looked around. “I’d hoped we’d make it back today but it doesn’t look likely now and I don’t see much point in stumbling along in the dark. Let’s find somewhere to make camp.”
“That is another thing,” Tristan said as they left the road and picked their way into the trees. “You risk too much with the way you act here.”
“What do you mean?”
“The sealord, he is like the tide lapping at a beached boat. He will take what he can if nothing is done to stop him.
Klöss nodded, letting the conversation end as he brooded. They set up a crude camp only a few hundred yards from the edge of the trees. A broad oak provided their shelter, standing at the edge of a small gully. The leaves would keep them mostly dry if it decided to rain and the steep bank would be enough to conceal a fire. After da
ys on the road, and only just missing the warmth of a real bed, Klöss was not prepared to suffer a cold camp. He sank down and let the others worry and light the fire, avoiding attempts at conversation. Despite being bone weary he found he couldn’t sleep and stared into the dying coals of the fire long after the other two had dropped into deep breathing slumber.
They set off at almost first light. The camp was cold when they woke and there was little point in staying any longer than it took to chew down some dried fruit and a ship's biscuit.
The day wore on and the sun seemed to sense his mood and hid behind the thick clouds for most of the morning. The path veered gently away from the river, passing beyond the trees and snaking between the low hills as they drew closer to Rimeheld. The closest of the farms and small villages were visible as soon as the three of them left the trees and the sight alone was enough to lift his mood. Despite the failure that dogged his thoughts they’d made it back.
It appeared, all at once, grim and forbidding in the distance as they rounded a small rise. The sight brought a sense of relief and despite everything that had happened he couldn’t help but give in to a small smile.
The path brought them close to the cliff’s edge, giving a view of the harbour. He looked over to Tristan breaking the silence. “You’re probably right about the sealord.” He admitted, eliciting raised eyebrows in response. “Frostbeard was worried that the fact he sent the Black Fleet meant he was going to try and take more control here.”
“He told you this?” Tristan asked in surprise. “I would not think he was ever a man to express doubts.”
“Not in public perhaps, but yes,” Klöss replied, nodding.
“What did you tell him?” Gavin asked with a curious look.
A smile grew on his dirty face. “I told him that Rimeheld was his. Everything else? It was all politics, appearances. The Ssalord could do what he liked, bringing in ships and calling it the Black Fleet but it was still Aiden the men had named the city after.”
“That doesn’t mean anything now though,” Gavin said. “Now it’s just a name.”
Klöss turned to the thief with a questioning look. “What makes you think that?”
Gavin shrugged. Then, seeing Klöss waiting for more, “I don’t know anything about politics but I know cities and I know power. Hesk has the thane and its stupid lords but they only rule what they can see. Hesk’s underbelly is ruled by the Six and they know more about power than any council member wrapped up in his fur and robes.”
“The Six?” Tristan asked with genuine interest.
“The leaders of the six major gangs in Hesk,” Gavin explained. “They run everything from the pawnbrokers that pretend they aren’t fences on the side, to the whores that stand by the docks.”
“This is all very interesting, Gavin,” Klöss broke in. “But what does it have to do with the sealord and Rimeheld?”
“Let me finish and you might just learn something,” Gavin snapped, and then carried on quickly as Klöss’s face darkened. “The Six rule in Hesk as much as the thane and his council does, but it’s a balancing act. If any one of the gangs were to grow too powerful it would pick off the others or they’d all work together to destroy it. It’s the same inside them. One man leads each gang, more by strength and fear than by brains, though I’ve known that to happen too.” He held up a hand to stop Klöss before he interrupted. “I’m getting to the point, just hold on.
“The leader of the Fishers died a few years ago. Nothing so exciting as being killed or taken down. He choked on a bone. Probably the first time one of the Six died of something that didn’t involve poison or blood. Anyway, his second thought he'd be able to just take over. That leading the Fishers would just pass on to him. He was wrong. The others fell on him like rats on a wounded cat. The Fishers rule the streets and warehouses around the docks. After dark the docklands of Hesk were nothing but knives and blood for weeks. Power belongs to those that take it, it doesn’t pass naturally. It needs to be seized.”
“What are you saying?” Klöss asked with a frown.
“I’m saying that Rimeheld won’t pass to you unless you reach out and take it. The sealord is probably testing you at the moment, seeing if he can use you. If he decides against it then he’ll try and take that power for himself. You’re sitting, nice and cosy and letting him make that decision for you. If you want this you need to act. The sealord can name you Lord of Rimeheld. Hell, he could call you King of Anlan if he likes. Until you take that power for yourself it’s just words.”
“What do you think?” Klöss said, but Tristan walked in silence, eyes on the harbour and a faint frown on his face.
“Tristan?” Klöss tried again.
“Hmm? I was not listening.” He looked back to the harbour. “Klöss, where are the reavers?”
“What?” Klöss shaded his eyes and looked down to the water.
“I see the fishing fleet and some of the smaller ships your uncle had built here but the galley reavers, the defence fleet, they are gone.”
Klöss stared, stupidly, as if just looking could make the view change. Tristan was right. The harbour stood almost bare and the briefest glance at the horizon told the same tale. The ships were gone.
***
They moved as fast as aching legs would allow. The urgency drove him but three weeks of travelling, fighting, and hiding in the dirt had taken its toll. Klöss was experienced enough to listen to his body when it spoke to him. He was definitely not going to ignore it when it screamed at him. That said, Lek had been left in command of a secure city and the task shouldn’t have been enough to move him beyond his precious papers. The fact the fleet had sailed both frustrated and worried him and his irritation at not having the answers he wanted grew with every passing step.
Chains clanked in the distance as the heavy gates swung ponderously open and a double rank of men rushed out, forming up around them as escort.
Klöss recognised their leader, though he couldn’t put a name to the man. He nodded an acknowledgement in place of voicing thanks. Conversation was not something he was looking for at the moment.
The whispers followed them through the streets. They’d began as whispers at the gates when the shocked guards stood at attention as they let them through. By the time they had passed the central market the whispers had grown beyond mutters, and the staring and pointing was beginning to get on his nerves. He dismissed the escort as they approached the keep and let his irritation show on his face.
“Where’s Lek?” he barked at the closest guardsman as he strode through the doors to the keep.
“Lord Klöss, you’re alive!” the man blurted.
“Obviously.” Klöss growled, ignoring the title for once. “Now, where is he?”
“It’s just, we’d heard your party was attacked.”
Klöss didn’t bother to reply. Instead his hand lashed out, grabbing the shocked man by the throat and lifting him up against the stone wall. “Listen, it’s been a really long week,” he grated. “I’ve got blood and dirt in places I can’t even put names to and I really don’t have the patience right now. So how about you just tell me where Lek is?”
Tristan pulled Klöss’s arm down gently as the guard made frantic noises. “Put him down, Klöss. The blame is not his.”
“I really would advise just answering the question,” Gavin suggested with a grin as Klöss let the man slide down the wall.
“Seamaster’s office,” the guard managed in a breathless gasp.
“Thanks.” Klöss growled and left the others as he headed through the halls for the closest stairs. The wide eyes and whispers followed him through the halls as he passed servants and guards and they did nothing for his temper.
The men standing guard outside Frostbeard’s office were smart enough not to voice an objection as Klöss opened the door without knocking.
Lek was an older man whose once formidable bulk seemed to have been drained from him as he’d grown older, falling away like sand through some twi
sted form of hourglass. He jumped up as Klöss entered and stepped out from behind a small desk that had been set to one side of Frostbeard’s. It looked ridiculous and somehow managed to make the large room feel small and cramped.
Klöss stopped with the words still in his throat as he looked at the small desk set beside the larger one. Reports and papers were still strewn about the surface of Frostbeard’s desk, just as they had been when its owner had last sat there.
“Why in the world aren’t you using the desk?” Klöss demanded.
Lek glanced behind him and turned back with an embarrassed smile. “It…just didn’t feel right somehow.” He laughed nervously, a weak and tremulous sound.
“Lords of Blood and Frost.” Klöss exploded. “It’s only a desk, man. You’ve set it up as a bloody shrine!”
“It’s not important,” he said, waving away the apology before Lek really had time to voice it. “Where is the fleet?”
Lek glanced out of the window at the empty docks. “The sealord gave orders for it to move south.”
“He did what?” Klöss demanded. “When? He was on a ship for Hesk only three weeks ago. He shouldn’t have even landed there yet!”
Lek spread his hands. “He returned to Rimeheld barely four days after he left, a day after the reports came in.”
The response stopped him cold. “What reports?”
Lek turned and pulled a handful of papers from his small desk, handing them to Klöss without a word.
“Kellik, Seros, Halfjur… These places are nowhere near each other!” He eased past Lek and went to the map on the wall. The villages were on opposite sides of Rimeheld, and all far closer than Skelf. “We have a fort between these two. How did they slip past us?”
The Riven Wyrde Saga boxed set Page 87