by Damien Black
Glancing at the rest of the party disparagingly the adept frowned again, muttering in between mouthfuls: ‘Those churls know no restraint. If highwaymen are in the area they should certainly have no trouble finding us! I’m beginning to think this wasn’t such a good idea after all.’
Adelko exchanged a meaningful glance with Vaskrian before speaking up. ‘Master Horskram – when we were down by the lake getting water... we heard something in the trees to the south! What if it was one of them?’
‘It may well have been, so don’t go wandering off! We need to stick together – if they are in the area we’ve a better chance in numbers, even with allies such as these.’
‘Aye,’ said Sir Branas. ‘I like this no more than you, master monk – yon churlish louts are more trouble than they’re worth! But have no fear – we’ll not be found wanting if those brigands try to surprise us. Vaskrian, keep your blade handy!’
The old knight loosened his sword in its scabbard. Vaskrian leaped energetically to his feet and went over to their horses, bringing back his master’s shield and a buckler for himself. Placing them on the ground next to both of them he fingered the hilt of his own sword and said in a breathless voice: ‘I’m ready.’
Adelko wondered at his new friend’s excitement – the prospect of being attacked hardly seemed like much fun to him.
Finishing their supper the four travellers sat together in tense silence while the other travellers revelled. Once only did Sir Branas approach them to remind them of the danger and admonish them for their carelessness, but nobody listened. As an afterthought Horskram covered his lantern, Vaskrian following suit and plunging them into darkness on the edge of the firelight.
Their foresight proved well founded. Not long after, an artisan who had gone to relieve himself at the edge of the clearing came yelling and running back to the campfire.
‘It’s them! They’re in the – ’ He fell to the ground in mid-sentence, a crossbow bolt buried in his back.
Just then a hail of quarrels swept across the clearing from the trees on either side of the entrance. Three mercenaries fell to the ground screaming and did not get up again. A fourth quarrel whistled past the shoulder of another and buried itself in the face of one of the merchants, who had risen to his feet on hearing the artisan yell. With a cry he fell backwards into the fire, his body convulsing horribly. Two other mercenaries went down injured; the rest of the bolts missed their mark.
Panic broke out in the clearing, with pilgrims and artisans running to and fro like headless chickens. Some had enough presence of mind to flee back towards the road; others ran into the woods, where their cries soon told of their grim fate.
The remaining seven bodyguards grabbed shields and drew swords, forming a close circle around the remaining three merchants, who hugged each other and trembled. Vaskrian and Branas were likewise prepared for combat, while Horskram gripped his quarterstaff with firm hands as he tried to discern their foes in the flickering firelight.
‘They’re over to either side of the entrance of the clearing!’ growled the knight. ‘They’re staying put – they’d sooner shoot us all than square up to us in a fair fight, the craven dogs!’
‘Let’s charge them!’ cried Vaskrian. ‘We’ll soon flush them out!’
‘Don’t be a fool!’ snarled Branas. ‘We’ve no idea how many they are – they’ll cut us down like cornstalks if we do that! Hold your ground!’
No sooner had he spoken than another volley strafed the clearing. This time the bodyguards, crouched down behind their broad shields, were prepared, although their two wounded comrades were mercilessly despatched, along with several pilgrims and artisans who had not managed to flee the clearing.
The four companions must have been visible at the edge of the fire’s glow, because two of the quarrels were aimed at them: one whistled past Adelko’s head while the other buried itself in Sir Branas’s shield.
At this a dark rage suffused the veteran’s features, and in a stentorian voice he yelled across the clearing: ‘Craven dogs! Are you too afraid to face us in mortal combat, like true men? Is this how the feeble warrior class of the barbarian wastes makes war? I’ve seen more courage in women!’
His proud words must have struck a nerve, because a few moments later a dozen brigands rushed into the clearing. They had discarded their crossbows for swords, axes and shields, which together with their mail shirts glinted menacingly in the light of fire fuelled by charring flesh.
With a roar Vaskrian and Branas charged. The bodyguards, naturally assuming that their paymasters’ booty was the prime target of the assault, broke their defensive formation to meet their foes hand to hand, and soon the night air was ringing with the sound of clashing steel and angry war cries.
Horskram cursed. ‘They’re outnumbered, I have to help,’ he said to Adelko. ‘Stay here – don’t get involved! If any of them come at you, mount your horse and ride!’
Without another word he sprang forwards to join the fray.
Vaskrian squared off against a brigand wielding an axe and a shield. He was hugely strong, and for a while he pressed the squire hard with fierce strokes. But Vaskrian was light on his feet, and wielded his blade with a disciplined precision unknown in the Frozen Wastes. He stayed on the defensive, luring his opponent into making one stroke too many. Then, nimbly sidestepping the last sweep of the brigand’s axe, he stepped in, lunging downwards with the point of his blade above the top of his opponent’s shield. It was an unorthodox move his father had taught him, and caught his assailant unawares – the life went out of him with a gurgling cry as Vaskrian’s sword pierced his throat.
He turned and saw Branas cut down another brigand who fell screaming in a rain of blood, his skull cloven in twain.
‘Sir Branas, watch out!’ he yelled, as the red-haired leader charged the old knight from behind. Whirling around, Branas parried his deadly stroke just in time, forcing him back as he launched a counter-offensive.
Feeling utterly useless, Adelko watched with his heart in his mouth as a Northlander hacked at his master frenziedly. He was a sneering brute who clearly thought a monk easy fodder for his axe. But the doughty adept stood his ground firmly, parrying his crude strokes easily with his iron-shod quarterstaff before ducking under another swing and knocking him senseless with a lightning stroke to the head.
But even so the fortunes of war were not with them, for the remaining brigands had got the better of the freeswords. Two more lay mortally wounded, and the remaining five were hard pressed.
Adelko felt his innards clench as one of the barbarians, the hulking one-eyed brute, spotted him. With an evil leer he bounded across the clearing towards him. Terrified, Adelko clutched his quarterstaff and tried to remember everything Udo had taught him. With a nerve borne of desperation he managed to parry the Northlander’s opening salvo of sword-strokes. His arms shuddered painfully with every blow. Stepping back beneath the onslaught he saw his young life flash before his eyes...
Bellowing a war cry, Vaskrian came at the one-eyed brigand from behind. The Northlander turned and parried the blow, hitting back ferociously and breaking the squire’s buckler with a single fierce stroke.
The force of the blow brought Vaskrian to his knees but he was quick to react. Lunging upwards he would have disembowelled the brigand were it not for his mail shirt. Gripping his quarterstaff Adelko aimed downwards at the back of the brigand’s head but missed, instead catching him a glancing blow on the shoulder. Lashing out with his foot, the one-eyed Northlander kicked Vaskrian in the chest, sending him flying back to sprawl winded on the ground. Turning back to face Adelko with a snarl he was about to renew his onslaught when Horskram engaged him.
And then suddenly there it was. The sound that Adelko now feared would haunt them forever returned, approaching steadily across the lake. For a surreal moment everyone in the clearing ceased fighting, breaking off to stare fearfully into the blackened firmament.
Horskram was the first to recover his wits.
With a low swipe of his quarterstaff he struck the one-eyed brigand hard across the knee, bringing him low.
Turning to Adelko he cried: ‘Make for the horses, now! We cannot fight what approaches!’ Repeating the command to the other two he bounded over to the horses.
The two warriors would probably have paid him no heed, but at that moment one of the merchants screamed and began tearing at his beard.
Following his terrified gaze Adelko saw a ghastly silhouette against the moon, growing steadily larger as it approached on giant membranous wings that seemed to trap the pale light. Its body appeared to be tubular, like a giant eel’s, tapering into a wickedly sharp tail that swished menacingly behind it. It was still mercifully too far away to make out in any more detail but everything about the thing screamed defiance of the natural world.
One of the younger freeswords dropped his sword and fell to his knees, retching. The others backed away, fearfully making the sign and imploring the Redeemer to save them. The brigand leader yelled something in his tongue to the others, and quick as a flash they fled back into the woods.
Reaching their horses, Horskram and Adelko mounted. Shrugging off their terror with some difficulty Vaskrian and Branas followed suit.
Spurring his horse into a gallop Horskram yelled: ‘Back towards the road! Follow me!’
As he rode the adept uncovered his lantern with his free hand. The other three followed the bobbing light through the darkness as it swung madly from the saddle.
Rejoining the main road they tore along it, plunging deeper into the Laegawood. Of the brigands and their own horses there was no sign. With a hybrid shriek the nightmarish thing careened after them.
Though the overhanging branches of the trees prevented it from descending to attack them, their diabolical pursuer was not quite bereft of ways to hurt them. Something wet and viscous flew past Horskram: landing on the path it sizzled and hissed, emitting an acrid smoke that made Adelko gag as he rode in his master’s wake.
The winged devil pursued them above the trees for a while, spitting vile gobbets of unearthly sputum at them through the branches, which burned and sloughed pitifully at its awful touch.
Presently the canopy became more densely clustered, mercifully obscuring them from the terrible creature’s view. At Horskram’s signal they all pulled up on the darkened road. The thing’s hideous shrieks grew fainter as it flew onwards, before growing louder again. Soon it could be heard circling above the trees that now concealed them.
‘We need to stay under cover of the foliage,’ said Horskram, his voice tinged with urgency. Glancing off to the right of the road, they could see the forested land dipped down at a steep incline. They dismounted, dragging their frightened steeds between the trees and down into the undergrowth. By Horskram’s lantern light they found a dell clotted with briars and bushes in which to spend an uncomfortable night. But better uncomfortable than dead. Glancing furtively upwards at the thickly clustered branches, the monk dimmed his lantern. Gradually the demon’s awful voice receded into silence again.
‘We should be safe here,’ he said in a soft voice. ‘Yonder thing cannot see through the natural world, though darkness impairs it not. Let’s tether our horses and rest awhile.’
‘What in Reus’ name was that?’ Branas’s face was cold with horror, while Vaskrian appeared too stunned to speak.
‘A demon of the netherworld,’ replied Horskram. ‘Sent to pursue us by an unknown foe. A fortnight ago my novice and I learned of a calamitous theft, one which could have grave consequences if its perpetrator goes unchecked. I believe that perpetrator is now trying to eliminate us so we cannot warn anyone.’
Branas peered at Horskram in the subdued lantern light. ‘Theft? What theft? You speak in riddles, master monk! What thief could conjure up such horrors?’
‘I am not at liberty to disclose such details until I’ve had a chance to speak to the head of my Order in Rima. Until then, suffice to say that we are in grave danger, for I believe that the brigands we fought just now were also sent after us.’
The old knight’s eyes widened. ‘You mentioned nothing of this when I spoke to you on the road! Are you saying that you are the cause of all this trouble?’
‘Not the cause, more like the catalyst.’
Branas stared at him again in bafflement.
‘Never mind,’ resumed the friar. ‘I had hoped that we would not have to deal with both problems at once – that is why I thought it best to travel incognito in a larger party, for safety. If we’d set out from Kaupstad alone we would have been outnumbered by the Northlanders, our fate sealed. But against a creature of Gehenna only the combined powers of my Order can prevail, and unfortunately I cannot alert them until I have spoken to the Grand Master in person.’
‘But... Rima’s hundreds of miles away!’ the old knight protested. ‘How do you expect to survive such a journey?’
‘Yes, well,’ said Horskram, smiling grimly in the half-dark, ‘that is a question I have been asking myself for some time now.’
‘Well that settles it,’ said the veteran. ‘We must go back to Hroghar and tell my liege of this – he’ll be able to help.’
Horskram shook his head fiercely. ‘No! As you love the Redeemer, I implore you, make no mention of this to anyone! Tomorrow Adelko and I will continue our journey – once we go our separate ways you should both be safe. The only reason why you were attacked was because you were with us – it grieves me to have brought such danger on you all, but I’d hoped that our freesword friends would prove less careless and our enemies less cunning. The noise Adelko and Vaskrian heard earlier must have been a scout, sent to espy our position. I warned those fools not to make a fire!’
‘If they were otherwise good in life, the Redeemer will forgive their sins in the heavenly halls,’ replied Branas, making the sign. ‘But if you insist on continuing your daredevil mission, at least you shall not do so alone. We’ll come with you as far as the Vorstlending border – your journey through Northalde shall not be without trusty swords to accompany you!’
Vaskrian suddenly came to his senses. ‘But, Sir Branas, what about the tourney at Harrang?’ he asked, now looking more downcast than horrified.
The old worthy sighed and shook his head. ‘I’ve lived long enough to know a good cause when I see one. There’ll be plenty more tournaments – but this smacks to me of a quest.’ A glint came into his eye. ‘It’s been a long while since I took a period of errantry. Besides, Vaskrian, you seem to be forgetting that we left our pack horse behind in our haste. I doubt much will be there tomorrow morning – if yon brigands don’t return to steal it, those churlish mercenaries certainly will! I can’t very well turn up at Harrang without spears to joust with, a tent to pitch or a pennant to proclaim my coat of arms, can I? It simply wouldn’t do.’
Horskram was shaking his head impatiently. ‘Sir knight, your offer is a worthy one and denotes a stout heart – but I cannot put you in such danger. We have imperilled you enough already.’
But Branas would not hear of it, and settled the matter promptly by swearing an oath on the spot to accompany the two monks as far as the Argael Forest on the southern fringes of Northalde.
Horskram sighed. ‘Well, if you are resolved in this, I cannot but accept your offer gratefully – while warning you again of the grave dangers to which you expose yourself.’ It seemed to Adelko as if his master was secretly glad of the help, however much he had tried to refuse it.
‘Hah!’ said the old knight with some cheer. ‘Grave dangers are meat and drink to a knight errant! Now, I’d suggest we all try and get some rest – and pray that thing doesn’t come back tonight!’
The four of them settled down as best they could in the overgrown dell. Mulling over the night’s extraordinary events, Vaskrian felt his spirits rise again. It was really a shame to miss the tournament at Harrang, but there were compensations... Squire to a knight errant on a dangerous quest – that didn’t sound too bad at all. If only Rutgar could see him n
ow!
CHAPTER XV
From One Danger To Another
The bloodstained clearing told an even unhappier story than they had expected. All the supplies they had left behind had been taken or despoiled. Branas’s sumpter was also gone. His tent had been cut to ribbons and lay in tatters on the bloody grass alongside his torn and broken standard. Seeing this Vaskrian groaned inwardly: that would put his guvnor in a foul mood and no mistake.
Among the scattered corpses of slain pilgrims and craftsmen they found the bloodstained bodies of all ten freeswords and the four merchants heaped in a grisly pile. Some were transfixed by quarrels, others had been butchered at close range by the returning brigands. The bodies of the three Northlanders had vanished.
‘Those ungodly curs!’ roared Sir Branas. ‘Look what they did to my coat of arms! Reus willing, I’ll soon have a reckoning with those dogs! At least we slew three of them.’
‘Two,’ corrected Horskram. ‘My blow was not lethal. Doubtless my erstwhile opponent will recover presently, although he may find that his wits are addled and his head aches for some time.’
‘Well that only leaves ten of them,’ said Vaskrian. Excited by his new adventure, he felt full of confidence. ‘With one of them injured at least. We’re not that badly outnumbered!’
His guvnor had to smile at this, but the old monk stared at him incredulously before shaking his head wearily. His novice looked frightened.
But then that’s why they’d sworn an oath to protect them. Let the monks do the praying – Vaskrian was more than happy to take on enough fighting for two. Or three, come to that.
Resignedly they salvaged what they could in the way of food, an unappetising task amid the flies and crows that had already begun to feast on the bodies of the dead. Branas’s lamp lay smashed, his spears broken. The Northland brigands had done their work thoroughly.