by Jon Sprunk
Caim stayed low as he moved. He didn’t believe in coincidence. Maybe Keegan and his outlaw friends deserved whatever trouble they stirred up, but Liana was there. Damn the girl. Why couldn’t she have stayed with her father?
As Caim turned onto a crooked lane, he spotted three lookouts; two loitering on the street and one perched in a second-story window across from the shop with a hammer-and-nails placard. Spotters. And if they knew what they were doing, the man up top would have a bow….
What are you doing, Caim? Just turn around and walk the other way.
But he dipped into an alley three doors down from the shop and followed it to another backstreet behind the storefronts. Peering around the corner, he saw a fourth lookout huddled behind a snowbank. Caim considered his knives, but then put them away. Instead, he reached out to the shadows. They crowded around him as if eager for his summons. He wove a few around him in a cloak and dismissed the rest, who drifted away slowly.
Hugging the wall, Caim moved down the narrow alleyway. The sentry continued rubbing his hands together and blowing into them, but he didn’t make a sound as Caim passed him.
When Caim got to the back of what he thought was the right shop, he looked for a way up. One of the second-story windows was cracked open. Despite protests from his leg and arm, he started climbing. The bottom half of the shop was faced with rough river stones interspaced with deep groves, which made it easier. The shadows stayed with him, concealing his efforts as he reached the windowsill. He eased open the shutters and climbed inside.
Caim sent the shadows away as his feet touched down on the dusty floor of a small room with a sloped ceiling. The shop was quiet. Nudging the door open with his toe, he stepped out into an L-shaped hallway. A cool draft blew across the back of his neck as he slipped around the corner. Voices wafted from the downstairs. A man and a woman. He didn’t recognize the male, but he knew Liana’s voice at once. He went down the steps without any pretense at stealth.
The ground floor was occupied by a long shop area. All manner of wooden furniture—chairs, tables, wardrobes, chests—crowded the floor. Two shaded windows were set in the front wall on either side of the outside door, with another door in back. Liana and a man about twice her age looked up from a desk in the corner as Caim came down the steps. Liana jerked upright as if she’d seen a ghost. Her hair was damp and glossy in the low candlelight. The man stepped in front of her with a frown.
“What do you want?” he asked.
Caim looked past him to the girl. “Where is Keegan?”
“Look—” the man started to say, but Liana stepped from behind him.
“It’s all right. He’s a friend.” Then to Caim, “What’s wrong?”
“This place is being watched. And there are soldiers on the way.”
Liana looked to her uncle. “They’re down in the cellar. Keegan and a few of the others. I can’t say they’ll be glad to see you.”
“They don’t have to be. Collect whatever you need. We’re leaving.”
Caim went to the rear door. The back room was a work area cluttered with tables, vises, sealed barrels, and racks of tools. Unfinished pieces hung from hooks in the ceiling over a floor covered in sawdust and hardened puddles of beeswax. There were no other ways out except the doorway where he stood and a single window high up on the wall. Liana brushed past and showed him the trapdoor to the cellar. Trying to ignore the sweet scents of soap and fresh flowers about her, he pulled on the iron ring in the center.
Murmurs wafted up through the square hole. Wooden steps descended between walls of mortared stone blocks. Liana watched as he started down. The stairs came to a short landing before turning into a low cellar that ran the length of the shop above. A few more than a dozen men gathered in the chamber, some sitting on piles of lumber and old crates. They wore city clothes—long tunics and baggy breeches, heavy winter cloaks thrown back over their shoulders. One man was clad in a thick brown robe. Keegan was addressing them.
“—on the way we saw other signs of plundering by the duke’s men.”
“We saw the same thing coming down from Prond’s Cross,” someone said from the back of the group.
Several others added what they’d heard, painting a picture of destruction all across the region—homes burned, livestock killed, people driven off or butchered. Caim shifted around a wooden support beam, staying out of sight. A board creaked behind him as Liana came down the steps. He motioned for her to remain quiet.
A slight, balding man with a halo of thin gray hair around his oily pate slouched forward. “Where is Ramon? He said he would be here.”
Keegan clutched his hands together behind his back. “He was at the meeting spot, but I didn’t see him leave.”
“That’s no surprise, unless you’ve grown eyes in your backside.”
“I’m no coward, Grendt,” Keegan mumbled.
His interrogator, Grendt, combed his fingers through the wispy goatee covering his weak chin. “Just passing strange how you always escape with your hide intact, boy, while others do the dying.”
“What are we going to do about Caedman?” Keegan asked. His voice had a plaintive whine that made Caim wince.
The robed man puffed out his whiskered cheeks. “He’s as good as gone, locked up in that hellhole. If he’s not dead already.”
“Caedman,” Grendt said. “Another good man who stood his ground and fought while you ran off, boy. And now you spin us tales of shadow-men and the Hunt.”
“I’m telling you the truth!”
That’s enough.
Caim stepped out of the shadows. Keegan jumped back, his hand fumbling with his weapon. A couple of the men in the audience looked over and then scrambled to their feet. Caim didn’t move as they produced an array of knives and cudgels; one man brandished what looked like a boat hook. Caim didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. This was Keegan’s insurrection? At least the woodsmen had seemed somewhat capable, if disorganized and undisciplined. The men confronting him now were clerks and shopkeepers who didn’t look like they could overthrow a produce cart.
Caim showed his empty hands. “I come with a warning.”
“Caim!” Keegan said. “You shouldn’t be here.” Then he saw Liana behind him. “Li! What were you thinking?”
“She’s helping to save your life,” Caim replied.
The others shouted, some threatening to throw him out and a couple demanding to know who he was.
Grendt looked to Caim. “You two know this man?”
“This is the one I told you about,” Keegan said.
“He doesn’t look like much. If he’s so dangerous, why didn’t he stand and fight beside our brothers?”
Caim met the man’s gaze. “Why weren’t you out there alongside them? Maybe it’s easier to sit in another man’s basement and complain rather than put your own life on the line.”
Grendt poked a finger in Caim’s direction from ten paces away. “I don’t need to answer to you. I’ve done my share.” He looked around at his fellows. “We’ve all done our share and more. I say we bind up this strutting cock and throw him out in the street with the other night leavings. Who’s with me?”
Caim dipped his left hand beneath his cloak and produced a suete knife. His right hand twitched, wanting to go to the sword at his shoulder, but he kept it by his side. The men shuffled about, but no one made a move. Just as he suspected, they didn’t have the heart for a scrap against someone who would fight back.
Keegan looked around, and then back to Caim. “You said you had a warning.”
“Soldiers,” Caim replied.
That set all the men to talking among themselves. Only Keegan kept his composure.
“Coming here?”
“Looks like it. You need to get out.”
“It’s a trick,” Grendt said.
Another man stepped forward. He was short and thickly built, wearing a long woolen coat and black boots. “How do we know he didn’t lead them here?”
Caim pointed
upstairs with his knife. “Any moment a company of troops is going to burst through the front door. Are you going to let me help you, or are you going to stand around asking stupid questions?”
Keegan surprised him, and perhaps them all, by speaking out. “We can trust him.”
“Ell’s balls,” Grendt said. “He’s working for Eviskine. This is a trap.”
“I’m leaving!” another man shouted as he went over to the wall. He flipped back a sheet of canvas nailed to the brickwork. Behind it was a stout door that looked like it led out into the alley beside the shop.
“Open that,” Caim said, “and you’ll get us all caught. There are lookouts on the street.”
The man froze with his hand on the latch.
“Fine,” Grendt said. “Then we’ll barricade the doors.”
“Then they’ll just burn you out.”
“You say we can’t stay,” Grendt said. “And we can’t leave. So what do you expect us to do?”
“Disappear,” Caim replied.
A few men muttered in the back of the group.
“We have to vanish,” Caim said. “And the faster we do, the better it will be for Keegan’s uncle.”
“What about my uncle?” Keegan asked.
Caim looked him in the eye. “What? You thought you could involve him and not make trouble for him down the road? Are you coming or not?”
Keegan frowned, but Liana nodded. “Yes, we are.”
Caim sheathed his suete. “Then come with me. The rest of you can do whatever you want.”
He went back up the stairs without waiting to see who followed him.
Caim pulled aside the window shade and looked down at the street in front of the store. He didn’t like the idea of going back out tonight, which struck him as the oddest thought he’d had since he came to this winter-cloaked land. The night was his time, his home, but the darkness outside held no love for him. But he didn’t have a choice.
That was a lie, and he knew it. He had a choice. He could slip away like a wraith. All he had to do was leave these people to their fates. This wasn’t his fight. He thought about the pendant around his neck. I said the same thing about Josey. And where did that get me?
As soon as his mind touched that sore spot, he threw himself in another direction. The room in which he stood was the bedroom of the owner, Corgan, Keegan and Liana’s uncle. It was small and cramped as befitted a carpenter, with only an old bed and a chest of drawers with a hazy vanity mirror, and a stand holding a vase of dried flowers. They might have been carnations, but now they were caked with dust. Was he married? No, the walls are bare. Nothing on top of the chest except dust and a few coins. Maybe widowed, but long ago.
Caim looked across the room. Liana and Keegan stood at the bedroom’s other window overlooking the alley. The rest of the outlaws were spread throughout the shop’s second story. There wasn’t time for a plan, so he’d been forced to improvise, and the odds weren’t in their favor. Privately, he thought they’d be lucky if one in five made it out alive. He clenched his right hand into a fist. The forearm throbbed in response.
He studied Keegan. “What was your plan?”
Liana glanced over. “What?”
Caim kept his gaze on Keegan, but the young man did not look up from the alley.
“After you assembled your men here in the city, what was the next step?”
“I don’t know. Ramon was supposed to be here.”
“What if he’s dead? Who’s next in line?”
Keegan blew out a puff of air. “If we lose Ramon, there’s nothing left. We might as well run to the hills and never come back.”
Caim turned back to the street. The front of the shop still looked clear, but he knew better. There was movement in the window across the street.
“Someone’s out there!” Liana whispered
But Caim didn’t need her warning—he heard the commotion below—but it was good to know the girl was on her toes. He’d pulled no punches when he briefed them on the situation. Tonight might be their last in this world.
Caim lifted the strung bow in his hands. An arrow lay across the shaft, its steel point gleaming in the wan starlight. He pulled back the string until the fletching tickled his cheek. He exhaled. The windows were almost at a level. No wind to speak of. Sixteen paces. An itch prickled the back of his neck as the shadows announced their presence. Despite his misgivings about his phantom allies, he didn’t push them away. He would likely need them before the night was through.
There. Another hint of movement within the window across the street. Caim made out the dim silhouette of a shoulder. The tip of the arrow drifted down half an inch and a touch to the left.
He fired, and couldn’t tell if he hit anything.
Heavy pounding echoed up from the floorboards. But no sign of movement in the far window. Then something moved in the alley across the street. Caim nocked another arrow as six men converged on the shop, carrying a short wooden ram. Caim took a shot at them, but he rushed it. The missile ricocheted off the cobblestones behind the soldiers. As he reloaded, a second squad took up position around the storefront while the first group applied the beam to the door. Loud booms resounded up and down the street.
“Be ready,” Caim said.
The crash of shattering wood was the signal. Keegan shoved open the window, and Liana clambered through. Brother lowered sister with a knotted bedsheet. Then Caim set his bow aside to lower Keegan. As he swung a leg over the sill, Caim heard others dropping to the street from other windows. His instructions from this point had been clear: everyone scatter and meet at the rendezvous point, which was another safe house outside the city. Caim wished Kit was here. Dammit, where is she?
He didn’t want any more surprises. And yet it seemed as if life was determined to keep serving them up. Hanging by his hands, he took a breath and let go. As he fell, Caim realized he had left his bow behind.
He bit down on his tongue as a stabbing pain tore up his injured leg. Limping, he ran as best he could, following the rabbit-fur fringe of Liana’s hood down the alley. The next street was empty. All the doors and windows were shut up tight, lending the feel of a ghost town. Caim passed a heavyset outlaw in a bright green vest—not the best choice of colors—and almost tripped over a mongrel dog nosing around in the gutter. After he leapt over the pup, he looked ahead and stumbled to a halt. Two blocks away, a line of soldiers was advancing down the street. Caim made out the slender outlines of long spears. The night was overcast; none of the outlaws would see the trap until it was too late. With a curse, he sprinted after the siblings.
He caught up to Liana first.
“Stop!” he whispered as loud as he dared.
Liana heard him and slowed. Caim accelerated past her to grab the tail of Keegan’s cloak. The youth spun around and slashed with his sword. Caim caught the boy’s wrist.
“Hold, damn you!”
The youth wrenched his arm free. “What?”
Liana caught up to them with her uncle in tow. There was no sign of the others.
“Soldiers ahead,” Caim said. “I’m guessing they’ve cordoned off the neighborhood.”
“What do we do?” Corgan asked. The older man was panting heavily, but he stood upright, a stout cudgel in his hand.
“We have to tell the others,” Liana said.
Caim picked out distant shouts and sounds of fighting. “They’re already finding out. We need to get off the street.”
He took them down the first narrow alley they found. If the soldiers weren’t searching every nook and side street, they might miss this one. He just hoped he hadn’t picked a dead end.
Caim went as fast as he could, but they didn’t have his keen night vision. After the second time Keegan tripped over something, Caim wanted to bash the youth upside his head. Just as he made the next turn, a bright light stabbed at him through the darkness ahead. Through the gleam he could make out several tall figures coming his way. Their armor creaked and jangled as they marched in loo
se formation. Caim counted four plus the lantern-holder, but there could be more behind them. He drew his knives as a voice with a thick western accent bellowed for him to hold fast.
“Find another way!” he yelled over his shoulder.
The siblings and their uncle stopped behind him. Corgan and Keegan started back the way they had come, but Liana just gazed at him. It took Keegan pulling her by the arm before she would leave.
Caim eyed the soldiers. The alleyway was wide enough for three men to walk abreast, but the soldiers approached two by two with the lantern-bearer at the rear. They gazed at him over the tops of oaken shields held shoulder to shoulder, their spears overlapped to form a quadrant of sharp steel. A feeling of peace washed over Caim as he shifted into a lower stance. This was what he did best. This was home. The shadows chittered to him from the darkness. They wanted to be let free. Not yet.
When the soldiers were within five paces of him, Caim stepped sideways into the darkness under a balcony.
He reappeared behind them, quieter than a whisper. The lantern-bearer dropped with a startled gasp as Caim cut into his back with both suetes, their sharp points sliding between the lungs and kidneys. The lantern crashed to the ground and went out. And Caim went to work.
Up close where their spears were useless, he weaved between the soldiers, slashing one across the face and stabbing another low. The men tried to fall back from the sudden onslaught, but their comrades at the front of the formation hemmed them in. Caim ducked underneath a spear swung like a quarterstaff and came up with both knives extended. He wasn’t seeking to kill—that’s what he told himself—but that didn’t stop him from making quick cuts to either side of the soldier’s neck. The soldier fell to the bricks, blood spurting between his grasping fingers.
Caim’s breath came in short puffs as he fought through his pain, pushing himself to move faster and strike harder. One soldier brought his spear up to block; another dropped the long weapon and grabbed for an axe belted to his hip. The suete blades sliced through stitched leather, and the axe-man collapsed against a wall, leaking from twin holes in his stomach. The other soldier stepped back missing three fingers on his left hand. He threw his spear and ran. Caim reacted without thinking. As the soldier was about to reach the next corner, a swarm of shadows fluttered from the darkness. There came a low moan from the end of the alley, and then all was quiet.