Black Cross

by J. P. Ashman

  The tall, black-clad figure turned then, looking back out from the cell he was inspecting. He glared at the young knight, who stood rigid in the doorway. ‘They were let out, you say, Sir Bullen?’ Horler Comlay asked for the second time.

  The Castellan bristled under the Witchunter General’s cold gaze. He'd not been a knight for many years, but the title alone usually commanded respect from anyone the Castellan encountered. The witchunters of the Samorlian faith, however, although lacking the power they once had, could still bring about an inquisition if they so chose. Since the Castellan had been brought up by strict Samorlian parents, he knew full well what horrors that could entail, especially if any ‘evidence’ of arcane magic was found. He clenched his teeth and steadied himself before replying humbly.

  ‘Yes, General, it seems the two men being held in this cell had three accomplices who managed to enter the prison unchallenged, assault two of my guards in this very corridor, steal the keys to this cell and make off with the prisoners.

  ‘Where they went, none of my men seem to know. They were last heard passing through the lower chambers and have since… vanished.’ Sir Bullen cursed inwardly, wishing he hadn’t used that word.

  Horler’s eyes widened momentarily and he lifted his wide brimmed hat to scratch at his greasy scalp before replying in a mockingly astonished tone. ‘Vanished?’

  Truth be told, Horler was relieved the prison’s Castellan seemed not to have been told about the Samorlian Church’s cessation of investigations, as per the King’s orders, which made the Witchunter General’s life much easier indeed.

  Sir Bullen clenched his fists behind his back before remembering there were two more witchunters in the corridor behind him. ‘Yes, General, vanished, in the sense that they are not in my prison to be found. I have had guards search every level, as well as every cell, and there is no sign of the escapees or their accomplices. My guess is they somehow made their way back out into the city during the confusion.’

  ‘That’s what you guess is it, my lord Castellan? Well then, I guess my men and I will have a look around the prison. Not that I think your guards have failed to do their job properly, but, well, they have haven’t they, if we are to be honest?’

  Sir Bullen bristled visibly this time and Horler had to hide his satisfaction at the young knight’s lack of discipline and control.

  ‘Very well General, I will have my men show you down to the lower chambers, to see if your expertise can be of more assistance than my guard’s knowledge of their own prison.’

  Horler pulled off his hat, swept it out wide and bowed mockingly as he replied. ‘I am grateful to you, my lord. I do hope my skills can be of assistance and we can have your prisoners, plus their accomplices, in your custody before long.’

  ‘So do I, General, so do I,’ Sir Bullen said, moving aside as the Witchunter General strode from the room. The Castellan motioned for his two guards to lead the witchunters down to the lower chambers, before calling out to the back of the three black-clad men. ‘And what shall I tell the Lord High Constable is the interest of Wesson’s Witchunter General in this matter… when I offer my report later today?’

  All three witchunters stopped at those words. The two at the rear parted as Horler Comlay turned to face the stern faced Castellan – who was now thinking the mention of Altoln’s highest ranking commander might be an aid if the witchunters decided to drag the prison into an inquisition.

  ‘Tell the Duke, I am further investigating the sergeant-at-arms who instigated the damned situation Wesson has found itself in, and if he has a problem, to see the Grand Inquisitor himself. Is that satisfactory, Sir Bullen?’

  Horler didn’t await a reply, but merely turned back and stormed down the dark corridor in pursuit of the two prison guards sent to show him the way.

  Sir Bullen, swallowing hard before licking his dry lips, turned and headed back towards the prison’s barracks, his brow beaded with sweat and his heart only now starting to slow back to its usual rhythm.

  ***

  The knocking sound, which had started again, echoed around the large cavern, making it sound like the group’s pursuers were coming from every direction.

  The ground was rocky in places, but criss-crossed with what seemed to be man-made paths. Those paths cut through the jagged stalagmites which increased in size the further into the cavern the group ran.

  At first, from the viewpoint where Fal had first taken in the amazing sight of the cavern, it had seemed as if the natural space was about as long as Tyndurris was tall. Whilst the group ran and delved deeper into the fast growing forest of stalagmites however, Fal swiftly realised the cavern was much larger. It seemed to stretch for at least a mile into the darkness. Even the light from Errolas’ star stone could not penetrate its farthest reaches.

  The elf shone the beam of light at the ceiling whilst he moved, which cast thousands of dancing bands of light back down to roughly help the group navigate the dangerous terrain.

  No one had asked what the noise was or who or what was making it, there was no time, and as soon as the King’s Spymaster ran, so too had the others. She seemed to know where she was going and who or what was following them, and so they chased after her without question.

  Fal wished he’d his falchion with him or at least his seax knife, and could only take comfort in the fact he still wore the maille and boiled armour he’d ridden out of Tyndurris in; apart from his padded arming cap, maille coif and mitons. Where they were, he had no idea. He brought up the rear of the group, but had no trouble in keeping up with the others despite his heavy, constrictive maille hauberk. They wouldn’t let him fall behind anyway, he was sure.

  The knocking sound was constant now, as were the sounds of falling stones and occasional rocks. The path the group ran curved round to the left, behind a giant stalagmite which almost met an equally large stalactite.

  As Fal ran around the large formation, a small stone clattered off his right shoulder. He’d made it around the corner just in time to avoid a shower of similar sized stones raining down behind him. He didn’t dare look up in case he caught one in the face, so kept his head down and continued to follow Starks who was in front of him. The young crossbowmen carried his crossbow in his hands, but the bow was not spanned, nor was a bolt loaded. Fal was pleased to see how far the young man had come, for if Fal had been running in front of Starks or any other crossbowman for that matter, he surely wouldn’t appreciat a loaded weapon being jerked about behind his back.

  ‘In here,’ Correia shouted from ahead, her black armoured back speckled with rays of light cascading down from the ceiling.

  More stones rained down then, several smaller ones hitting Sav, Starks and Fal as Correia and Errolas ducked into a small, natural looking tunnel which led off to the right.

  Fal had no doubt Correia had known exactly where the opening was, and as he ducked into the dark hole in the cavern wall, a large rock smashed into thousands of pieces behind him.

  Gods that was close. Fal’s heart raced.

  The group didn’t stop there. Correia kept on running after taking the star stone from Errolas and shining it down the small tunnel. The rough stone walls either side were damp and smelt salty as the group started to descend down the tunnel.

  The knocking sound seemed a long way behind them now, and without warning, Correia held her hand up, giving the order to halt.

  Starks almost careered into the back of Sav and only just managed to avoid tangling his crossbow up in the scout’s long legs.

  There was just enough room for Fal to push past and he made his way to Errolas and Correia, whilst Starks – no order needed – bent down and spanned the bow cord of his weapon before fitting a bolt and turning to aim it back down the tunnel. Sav leant forward and drew Starks’ short-sword from the kneeling crossbowman’s scabbard, ready for any sudden attacks at close range.

  ‘What was that all about?’ Fal demanded, as both Correia and Errolas turned to face him.

  ‘Kobolds,�
� Errolas said, who along with Correia, was hardly out of breath. Fal suddenly felt unfit in comparison, despite the heavy maille he was wearing, which restricted his chest as he sucked in another lungful of cold air.

  ‘Kobolds?’ Fal had never heard of such things before.

  ‘It’s the true name for knockers, sergeant,’ Correia said impatiently, and Fal recognised the name from childhood stories; very small goblin folk, known to infest mines and cause havoc when disturbed. ‘We really should move on,’ she continued, ‘they don’t take kindly to their territory being disturbed. Your loud friends back there were probably the reason they attacked.’

  ‘I’m no fool, Correia,’ Fal said. ‘You obviously know these tunnels well, so why did we stop if we were in danger?’

  ‘They’ve never bothered me before, sergeant. Then again, I usually pass through here with pathfinders, rather than men who seem incapable of travelling discreetly, so until today, I didn’t even know it was knocker territory.’

  ‘Enough,’ Errolas said. ‘We’re not your pathfinders, Correia. These men are good soldiers, but you can’t expect them to act like pathfinders when they have never been trained to do so.’

  ‘You’re right, Errolas,’ Correia said, sighing heavily and rubbing at her face with her free hand. ‘My apologies, Sergeant Falchion, but we must move on. Knockers aren’t dangerous in small spaces like this, but out in the cavern we would’ve had hails of stones, crystal-tipped darts and spears raining down on us. They shouldn’t pursue us in here though. If they do, however, it’s their damned knocking that’ll be our downfall, attracting who knows what else from deeper caverns.’

  ‘Shhh,’ Sav hissed from behind. Everyone fell silent.

  Correia pointed the star stone’s light down and passed it back to Errolas, so it dimly lit the area in front of them, but not much beyond.

  Fal crept back to Sav and asked as quietly as he could what he’d heard.

  ‘Scurrying sound,’ Sav said, ‘back down towards the cavern.’

  Errolas was behind Fal and he whispered for them both to keep quiet and for Starks to stay his weapon unless told otherwise. The nimble elf blinked out the star stone and crept back down the passage ever so slowly in the darkness.

  Without warning, the elf – a little ahead of the group – shone the star stone at the floor in front of him.

  A terrible grating shriek burst from the mouth of a strange looking goblin creature, as it covered its large black eyes with small hands. Errolas leapt forward and grabbed the kobold by the neck, hoisting it up at arm’s length. He quickly moved to stand behind Starks, who re-raised his crossbow and aimed down the tunnel.

  The kobold shrieked louder then, and the faint, intermittent knocking from the cavern back down the tunnel increased once more.

  ‘Take the light,’ Errolas said hurriedly to Sav, ‘and give Starks something to aim at if more come up the tunnel.’

  Sav pointed the star stone’s beam past Starks, who watched carefully for any movement that might provide a clear shot.

  ‘Don’t shoot unless they come close and present a danger,’ Errolas added. ‘We’re in their home remember.’

  Correia rolled her eyes behind him.

  The kobold had quietened now and Errolas whispered into its drooping ears. He placed the creature on the floor and let go of its neck, much to the surprise of both Fal and Correia, as well as the creature itself, whose head reached to the elf’s knee and no higher.

  Trembling, the kobold slowly brought its hands away from its black, bauble like eyes and peered up at the now crouching elf. It shifted nervously and its miniature coat of plates rustled as the orange crab shells it was made of rubbed against its dry, grey skin.

  Errolas leant down and whispered into the kobold’s ear again and it nodded meekly before reaching up on tiptoes and whispering back to the elf, who smiled. The kobold shrugged, bowed low to the elf and looked up at Fal and Correia, its fear plain to see.

  Fal managed a smile, although he had no idea why, and so too – much to Fal’s amusement – did Correia, although hers looked much more forced than his own.

  ‘Let him pass,’ Errolas said, and Starks lifted his crossbow to point at the ceiling. ‘They won’t bother us now,’ the elf added.

  The small kobold crept cautiously past Sav and Starks, pulled a stone from beneath its coat of plates and hurried off down the tunnel back towards the cavern, hammering the stone against the wall as it went.

  The knocking sound from the cavern stopped and Errolas laughed quietly to himself.

  ‘What did you say and how do you speak knocker or kobold or whatever?’ Sav asked, clearly impressed.

  ‘I told him that if his tribe let us be, I would return one day with a crystal the size of my head, and would also ensure every time Correia here passed through the cavern with her pathfinders, they too would bring a gift.’

  ‘Great,’ Correia said under her breath. ‘Let’s just hope they haven’t already alerted anything else as to our whereabouts,’ she said to the group. Without another word, she snatched the star stone from Sav and set off down the tunnel again.

  ‘Guess we should follow her,’ Fal said, as he pushed Errolas on down the tunnel. ‘Full of surprises aren’t you, elf?’

  Despite the confusion and questions Fal and Sav still had, they managed to push them to one side until they were in a safer spot to talk. They also managed a genuine and hardly controllable smile as they glanced at each other, their imaginations racing with the possibilities of what the mission they found themselves on could be and where it would lead.

  Chapter 23: Reconnaissance

  Elleth woke with a start and immediately cringed as she felt the dampness between her legs.

  ‘No, no, no. I haven’t done that in years,’ she whispered to herself. What will Mother think?

  She cast her eyes about for signs of the woman in the dark room. The faint orange glow from the small hearth provided just enough light for her to see she was alone.

  Elleth let out a relieved sigh, before realising something wasn’t right with her. The wetness between her legs felt different. Elleth’s heart rate increased as she quickly climbed to her feet, her eyes adjusting further to the gloom. She looked down at the thin, straw-filled mattress on the floor of the kitchen where she’d been sleeping and at her linen night dress, which she pulled up and out in front of her.

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  That’s too dark for wee, she thought, but before she could think on it any more, the shrieking laughter she now realised had woken her, drew her attention upstairs.

  Was that laughter?

  She’d heard a fair bit of laughter from the floors above since arriving at the large house, a fair amount of all sorts of noises whilst the ladies and men played, if she was honest.

  ‘Bastard!’ Mother’s muffled shout came from above. ‘Get the hell out of my house. Ye don’t pay for that ye freak!’

  Elleth held her soiled dress tightly as she froze, listening to a man’s cursing, before someone stomped down the stairs. Another person followed the first, but only halfway down.

  Mother’s voice shouted out again. ‘And don’t come back, ye black cross bastard!’

  The front door opened then slammed shut, and a torrent of abuse poured from a man’s throaty voice in the street beyond.

  ‘Elleth?’ Mother shouted from the stairs.

  Slightly stunned at what she’d woken to, Elleth didn’t respond.

  Mother almost screamed this time. ‘Elleth! Wake up and bring a cloth and hot water to Coppin’s room, now!’

  Eyes now wide and hands releasing her nightdress, Elleth managed to shout that she’d heard. She looked around quickly for a cloth, instantly forgetting worries about herself, what with the mention of Coppin’s name and all. She quickly padded across to the hearth and jumped as Mother’s terrier yelped.

  ‘Sorry doggy,’ she said, realising she’d trod on its tail. She also realised she’d never been told its name. �
�Remind me to ask Mother your name, alright?’ she whispered, as she leaned over it to grab a cloth hanging on the back of Mother’s wooden chair. Quickly dunking the cloth into the small pot hanging over the glowing embers of the hearth, Elleth immediately pulled it out and wrung it, eager to get upstairs to see if Coppin was alright.

  She ran across the kitchen, cloth dripping, and pulled the door open. Oil lamps in the room beyond dazzled her for a moment. Quickly composing herself and covering her right eye with her free hand – which helped reduce the brightness – she turned left and up the flight of stairs. She passed one shut door and ran into the open one she knew to be Coppin’s.

  Elleth froze as soon as she entered the room. The hand shielding her right eye lowered slowly as she took in the shocking scene.

  Coppin sat up in the large bed, her green hair a mess and her eyes streaked with tears. That wasn’t what stopped Elleth in her tracks though, for Mother was leaning over the young woman, holding a blood soaked sheet against Coppin’s left breast, dabbing the bloody mess that had once been her nipple.

  A rush of thoughts and emotions ran through Elleth then.

  ‘Elleth, for Samorl’s sake bring that cloth, the bastard bit her—’

  Mother stopped short as she looked at Elleth properly. ‘Well that’s some good news at least,’ she said, nodding towards the blood stain on Elleth’s night dress. ‘Ye’re finally a woman.’

  Elleth looked down at the stain, her fears of it being blood confirmed in the room’s light, but confusion as to why that made her a woman took precedence.

  When she looked up, her stomach lurched to see Coppin’s tear-filled eyes looking back at her. When those eyes met, Coppin smiled at Elleth the same way she had when Elleth had first arrived at the house, a smile full of sympathy.