Black Cross

by J. P. Ashman

  The sleeping men wore padded jackets under maille hauberks, their arming swords kept close besides them as they slept. Two large windlass crossbows were propped against wooden barrels whilst one man, a knight, had much finer armour laid out by his side.

  The sleeping knight and his team had been patrolling the borders between Altoln and Northfolk when they'd spotted a goblin tribe on the move. The goblins had already sacked several hamlets and seemed intent on continuing their destructive march south. Upon landing back at their encampment near Hinton, the balloon commander had sent dispatch riders to the local Baron, warning him of the threat to his lands. Since then, the balloon had been taking daily flights to monitor the progress of the goblins. Upon seeing them destroy Baron Brackley’s force, the balloon commander had sent more riders out to call for reinforcements; to assist the defenders of Beresford. Alas, no reinforcements seemed likely for some time since Wesson had closed its gates and the next nearest forces were days away.

  With the camp’s riders away trying to encourage neighbouring barons to march to Beresford’s aid, the camp had been left with just the balloon’s crew and two men for guard duty. Those two guards died quickly, as expertly shot crossbow bolts tore into them simultaneously. They both slumped over the barrel where their nine men’s morris stones scattered, and after that there was near silence, apart from a tawny owl which screeched in the distance as three shadows moved quickly and quietly across the camp.

  The man to the sleeping knight’s left, who lay curled up on his woollen cloak, was the balloon’s battle mage. His powers did him no good as his deep sleep left him open to the blade that sliced through his throat. He gurgled slightly as he died and the knight to his right stirred before having his own throat cut by the black clad man who knelt beside him. The rest of the balloon’s crew had their lives taken in the same way, bar two, who were clubbed across the head before their hands were tied roughly behind their backs.

  Horler Comlay grimaced at the sight of the dead men and shook his head, mouthing a silent prayer for their loss as his two companions did the same.

  ***

  Morri and Cullane sat slumped amongst piles of ancient books and scrolls as they slept. They'd searched, with the help of Cullane’s bookworm, which had now dissipated, through volumes and stacks of material on illnesses, epidemics and cures. They'd also been allowed access to the Arcane Listings in a hope to find something similar to what Severun had used to create the spell that had caused the plague.

  Only a couple of other mages sat in the great library, and they smiled at each other as they rose wearily to leave, looking across at the young cleric and sorceress asleep against the stacks of books.

  As they reached the door of the library, what sounded like a distant explosion came from below. They could have sworn they felt a vibration through the wooden floor, but neither worried, there was always some experiment or other going on in the deep vaulted chambers of Tyndurris, and so they carried on, leaving the library before heading up the winding stairs to their bed chambers.

  Morri stirred, his eyes slowly opening to a blurry scene of dusty books, scrolls, parchments and then, as they cleared, to a beautiful face opposite his. He smiled as he looked upon Cullane. He moved to wake her, to tell her it was about time they made their way to their beds as a distant rumble caused her to open her eyes.

  ‘What was that?’ she said, her eyes flitting around the library.

  ‘It’ll be an experiment in the basement.’ Morri stretched away some of his weariness, finally rubbing his eyes. ‘The cheek of them at this time.’

  ‘You’re probably right. I’ve been a bit on edge since the whole Lord Severun using arcane magic thing.’ She too stretched and they both yawned.

  A bell rang on a lower floor and then another on a floor above. The two young mages frowned as they looked at each other.

  ‘Another riot?’ Cullane said, frowning.

  Morri shrugged. ‘I don’t know, let’s go see shall we?’ He pushed his chair backwards and stood, swaying slightly as his head rushed with the sudden movement. Cullane giggled and walked across to the library door as another explosion echoed through the tower. She turned and looked at him with a worried expression. More bells began to ring, followed by heavy footsteps on the stairs. She looked out into the corridor as two men-at-arms ran past, hurrying towards the lower levels.

  ‘Guards,’ she said back to Morri, and he hurried over. ‘Let’s follow them down, come on.’

  Morri nodded and had to hurry as Cullane shot off at great speed.

  Bells seemed to ring on almost every floor now and raised voices came from both below and back above them on the stairs. Mages were coming out of their bed chambers on the higher floors and hurrying down to see what was happening.

  ‘Hold the gate,’ someone out of sight shouted, as Cullane raced into the entrance hall, Morri close behind her. They saw six fully armed, shield bearing guardsmen pile out of the front door and into the courtyard beyond.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Cullane demanded of the duty sergeant-at-arms, who was fastening his sword belt around his waist.

  ‘Not sure yet, milady. Bells ringing from the courtyard and shouts about fire-bombs. I think we’ve another riot on our hands.’

  Cullane looked back at Morri.

  ‘Is there anything we can do, sergeant?’ Morri asked, but the sergeant shook his head, still looking down at his belt as he finished looping the tip down the back of the buckle.

  ‘Not at the moment, master cleric,’ he said finally. ‘Just be ready to treat injuries if ye please.’

  ‘Of course,’ Morri said, as more mages reached the bottom of the stairs. He ran across to them to explain what was happening as the tower shook with the largest explosion yet.

  The sergeant ran outside shouting orders and dogs started to bark.

  ‘Of course, Master Orix,’ Cullane heard Morri say. She turned to see the old gnome hurry back up the stairs.

  ‘They are off to collect some equipment and want us to go and prepare the barracks below. Come on.’ Morri hurried past the young sorceress and she followed swiftly as the tower rocked once more. She thought it strange and a little frightening that the rioters’ fire-bombs could cause such explosions.

  ***

  Sears hit the straw covered ground hard as Coppin used the large man’s weight and momentum to throw him off her.

  ‘Good,’ Longoss said, moving round the two in the small room.

  ‘Aye, bloody brilliant.’ Sears rubbed his left shoulder as he climbed to his feet. Is that how Biviano feels every time I thump him? he thought, suddenly wondering how his friend was getting on. His stomach knotted at the thought of Ellis Frane being left by the two of them. Shaking it off, he forced himself back to the moment, to concentrate on the task at hand; helping Coppin learn to defend herself and ultimately finding out who the Black Guild’s mark was.

  Coppin beamed at Longoss’ praise. ‘I had no idea I’d be able to do that to anyone so fast, let alone someone like Sears.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Fat,’ Longoss said.

  ‘No,’ Copping protested quickly, ‘just big-built I meant, with chain armour on too.’

  ‘Maille,’ Longoss said.

  ‘Of course he’s male.’ She rolled her eyes.

  Both men laughed and Coppin kicked out at Longoss – the closer of the two – who grabbed her bare leg and pulled, dropping the woman to the ground and inadvertently causing her robes to ride up high.

  ‘We need to get ye some clothes,’ Sears said, blushing slightly. Coppin nodded, quickly pulling her robes back down as Longoss seemed to revert back into himself, taking a seat and looking away from the green haired girl.

  ‘I’ll say it again, Longoss,’ she said, taking Sears’ offered hand as he pulled her to her feet. She clenched her teeth as the course material of her robes rubbed on her wounded back, which hadn’t healed as quickly as the men’s wounds. ‘Ye did all ye could for Elleth.
Not many men would’ve even thought about freeing her, or me.’

  Sears cleared his throat.

  ‘Present company excluded of course,’ she said.

  Longoss nodded slowly. Aye lass, not many would, and that’s partly why I made a career of killing the bastards, but all those lives I’ve taken and I fail to save just one. He sighed heavily and looked back to Coppin, offering her a weak smile.

  ‘Where’s the gold in that?’ she said.

  Longoss smiled again, gold teeth shining and Coppin laughed. ‘That’s more like it, now climb to yer feet and show me how to take Sears down some more.’

  ‘Grand,’ Sears said.

  ‘Yer back’s bleeding again, Coppin, ye need rest.’

  Coppin waved Longoss’ concerns away. Knowing what it was like to soldier on in times of adversity, the former assassin stood and continued her training.

  Whilst Longoss went through some more defensive moves with Coppin, using Sears as a sparring partner, he thought more about the word he’d given to Elleth and about how easily he’d given it. He hadn’t thought about the consequences, hadn’t thought about much really, apart from making the young girl smile and getting her out of that place, that life. Where they would have gone he had no idea. Would she have even wanted to stay with him? He doubted it, but gods how he’d hoped so. He knew he would have done anything for her, but why? Because she smiled sincerely at him once or twice? No, there was more to it, he was sure. More than his head could make sense of though, but enough for his heart to have known that everything he did for her in that short amount of time was worth anything… including his life.

  But Coppin’s life, yer sister? Longoss thought heavily. Have I doomed her by swearing to you, Elleth? I won’t kill because I won’t break me word to ye, yet in not doing so, I got ye killed and now I’ve dragged Coppin into a shit storm with the Black Guild. I can’t even fight effectively to protect her…

  Longoss was snapped back to reality by the thud of Sears hitting the ground.

  ‘How was that?’ Coppin asked excitedly, as she struggled to pull Sears back to his feet.

  ‘Aye, lass,’ Longoss said, nodding, ‘that was good.’ And it’s gonna have to be a whole lot better, he decided, for I ain’t letting ye go through life a victim no more. If there’s one last thing I can do for Elleth, it’s to train Coppin like I once trained—

  ‘No shit, Longoss,’ Sears said, breaking the former assassin’s thought. ‘She’s a quick learner is Coppin, I’ll give her that.’

  ‘Ye reckon ye can train me to do more, Longoss?’

  ‘The last lass I trained was one of the best warriors I ever fought once I’d finished with her,’ he said, smiling sincerely for the first time since they’d found Elleth murdered.

  ‘Oh aye and who was she?’ Sears asked, his chin lifted in anticipation.

  ‘None of your beeswax, guardsman. Now, ye alright for her to continue, or are yer wounds playing merry hell with ye, fat boy?’

  ‘I’m good to go,’ Sears said. ‘You?’

  Longoss nodded once. It was only then he realised how physically well he did feel. Well ’morl’s brass balls, Sears, that juice of yours is something else. He prodded the areas where he’d received wounds during the fighting retreat through the cathedral. No pain, none at all. When he looked back up at Sears, the guardsman winked at him, before swiftly sidestepping Coppin’s thrown fist.

  Longoss laughed despite his grief and Sears joined him, whilst opening Coppin’s fist and tapping his finger on the palm of her hand, finally advising her that using that would save her breaking her knuckles on his or anyone else’s face.

  Coppin, ye’ll do just fine. A sudden rush of nostalgia rose within Longoss regarding the woman he’d trained all those years ago.

  ***

  ‘We’re nearly through, General,’ the young witchunter said, as a row of prisoners behind him hacked at the rock with picks and shovels. Rubble littered the ground around their feet in the torch-lit tunnel.

  Exley Clewarth and his men had travelled for hours down a long, ancient tunnel before awaiting a sign from above. One warrior monk, the youngest and fastest, had been sent back to the surface by Exley, to inform men he had in place there that the Witchunter General had found the tunnel and now was the time to make their move.

  Egan Dundaven had worked out the approximate distance to the area where Tyndurris stood, but not exactly where to dig up from, and had been worried they could end up breaching the main sewer pipe, or dig up for weeks just to come out in the middle of a road or another building.

  As they'd waited in the small, torch-lit tunnel, the ceiling above and behind a spot they'd passed earlier had begun to shake, releasing earth in clouds and clumps alike. Exley had prayed for it to be the lowest subterranean floor of Tyndurris, for he'd previously given an order to his men on the inside of the guild – once they received the signal – to create as many explosions as they could in the lowest level, which he’d hoped would allow him to dig up from the correct spot in the tunnel.

  It had worked well, and his planned riot had not only worked as a signal to his men within Tyndurris, but had kept the guild’s men-at-arms at bay whilst his insiders did what was needed in the lower chambers.

  Exley had been informed by those on the inside that the lower chambers had no defensive spells to stop anyone from breaking in, so once he’d heard several explosions and was sure they were where they needed to be, he'd ordered the prisoners to dig up and into Tyndurris.

  A shard of light broke through the ceiling suddenly and one of the prisoners fell away, only to be covered in falling rubble. Exley gave an order and the rest of the prisoners – picks and shovels in hands – clambered up and over the half-buried man, entering the lowest chamber of Tyndurris.

  Two young guardsmen stood grinning at them as they climbed through the hole, their faces black with soot as a handful of pots lay smoking on a thick table in the centre of the room. The hole had opened up just to the side of the table, and as Exley came through, the young men bowed low.

  ‘You have done well, both of you,’ their Witchunter General said. ‘I had feared you would be captured once you started, but you proved me wrong. Sir Samorl be with you both. Now lead the way, gentlemen, we have His work to do now.’

  Both of the men – the guild’s livery emblazoned on their padded gambesons – opened the bolted door of the lower chamber and raced outside, swords drawn.

  ‘What’s happening in there?’ a man outside asked, but instead of an answer from the two men in the guild’s livery, the magician who'd asked the question had two short-swords thrust into his stomach. He collapsed to the floor writhing in pain before Exley Clewarth, striding out of the chamber behind the two impostors, finished him off.

  ‘On me!’ the Witchunter General shouted as he followed his two insiders up the stairs. They both hesitated before the next floor, but after a brief pause and a nod to one another, they burst through the door and instantly threw themselves to the ground.

  A young magician dropped a book as the two men crashed through the door and hit the floor hard. He ran over to them immediately, crouching to see if they were alright, but he never got back up after Exley ran from the darkness of the stairwell and thrust his rapier into the magician’s back.

  Exley’s two men shoved off the dying man and continued through the novices training chamber and on to the next door, which led to a set of narrow, winding stairs.

  ‘Is this chamber clear?’ Exley demanded, as he looked around at the other doors around the room.

  ‘Yes, General. He was the only one working down here tonight. The next floor is the treasury though and heavily guarded, although some of the guards went to assist with the riot outside.’

  Exley nodded. ‘Very well, let’s mob them on the next floor. Master Dundaven?’

  Egan Dundaven came forward, pushing past the prisoners on the stairs. ‘Yes General?’

  ‘I want the prisoners up ahead, behind these two.’ Exley
motioned to the two men-at-arms at the door.

  ‘Very well, General.’ Egan moved back and shouted for the prisoners to come forward. Once they'd filled the novices training chamber, Exley addressed them himself.

  ‘This is it, you dogs, your chance to win your freedom. We want the next floor taking, and let me tell you what floor that is…’ he left a dramatic pause before continuing. ‘The treasury.’

  The prisoners’ eyes widened and more than half grinned wickedly, some rubbing their hands together at the thought of what lay in wait above.

  ‘I won’t lie to you, it’ll be tough going to get in there, but when you do, whatever you find is yours.’ The prisoners started to cheer and Exley hissed at them to shut their mouths, and then motioned for them to follow the two men in front, adding, ‘Do whatever it takes, boys… whatever it takes.’

  The two traitorous men-at-arms ran up the stairs with the prisoners – picks and shovels still in hands – seemingly chasing them. They burst through the doors onto the treasury’s floor and called frantically for aid.

  The treasury’s outer chamber tapered to a narrow doorway on the right, with an open door straight ahead which revealed more stone steps. The two crossbowmen facing up those steps turned then, surprised at the sudden outburst behind them. Upon seeing the prisoners chasing their fellow guards, they instinctively loosed their deadly bolts, taking down a prisoner each. It wasn’t nearly enough though and before they could even reach for their swords, they were overwhelmed and beaten to the ground.

  The slits in the tapered walls snapped with the sound of loosed bolts as the crossbowmen behind them shot two more prisoners who were battering the fallen guards.

  Exley’s inside men ran to the treasury door and hammered on it as the prisoners advanced, but the men inside had strict orders not to open it to anyone once the outer chamber was breached. The two young men, although technically on the same side as the prisoners, were hacked down mercilessly as the group of murderers, thieves and rapists attempted to batter the door down with picks, shovels and the swords and crossbows of the dead.