by Martin Owton
He watched her face, his heart heavy within him. Her eyelids flickered and she opened her mouth as if to speak but no words came. Time enough to worry about that when we get back to Nandor.
Edith opened her eyes and smiled at him. “She’s here in Keshan. She’s in that place we went today.”
“Caldon’s compound?”
“Yes. The one with the red soldiers. I recognised their livery.”
“How is she?”
Edith sat up. “Angry. She got away from the bandits who took her and found her way to a farm outside Keshan. They took her in, fed her, bathed her and then sold her. I’d like to find the place and burn them out.”
Aron’s anger flared in response to hers. “We’ll do that if we get the chance. Maldwyn should hear all this.” He stood up. “I’ll fetch him.”
Maldwyn flew up the stairs three steps at a time with Aron behind him.
“You’ve found her?” he said the instant he burst into the room
“She’s here in Keshan,” said Edith. “She’s in Caldon’s compound.”
“We could get her out tonight,” said Maldwyn.
“We need to find out a lot more about that compound before we try to get into it,” said Aron. “Did you get a chance to see how heavily it was guarded?”
“Not really,” said Edith. “I stayed with her a long time. I barely had time to find where she was. There were guards at the gate, that’s all I saw.”
“Any dogs?” asked Aron.
“I didn’t see or hear any.”
“Why would Caldon be holding her?” said Maldwyn. “It makes no sense.”
“Has anyone told her what they going to do with her?” asked Aron.
“Not a word,” said Edith. “She’s been there less than a day, and no-one has talked to her.”
Aron paused for a moment, struck by a thought. “You said the farmer sold her. Did she say how much? Maybe we can just buy her back.”
“One hundred and twenty gold crowns,” said Edith.
“Have we got that much?” said Aron. He knew from the look on Maldwyn’s face what the answer was.
“No,” said Maldwyn. “And my honour burns at the thought of paying it.”
“It’s cheap compared to losing someone trying to rescue her,” said Aron. “Speaking as the person who’ll be first over the wall.”
Maldwyn looked at him for a moment and then dropped his eyes. “We haven’t anywhere near that amount.”
“Could we borrow it?” asked Edith.
“Not without solid proof of who we are, and without something valuable to hand over no moneylender here will even talk to us,” said Aron.
“What about a fight like you did in the Holy City when we needed money?” asked Maldwyn. From the way Edith looked at him, Aron suspected she hadn’t heard the story.
“Possible, if they have them here. It wouldn’t be my first choice, but we’re out of easy choices.”
“We could just go over the wall and get her tonight,” said Maldwyn.
“We could,” said Aron. “But we’re not going to. I want to know a lot more about the layout of the place and how it’s guarded. That means Edith has to walk the mist again and she can’t do that tonight.”
“I don’t mind,” said Edith.
“You can’t just take another dose,” said Aron. “It doesn’t work like that. You need to wait, let your spirit recover. We should all get a good night’s sleep, tomorrow we’ll find out more about Caldon’s compound and how things work around here.”
***
Aron woke with Maldwyn snoring gently beside him and beyond him Edith curled up against the wall. He eased himself out of the bed, pulled on his boots and walked quietly down the stairs. Barty was alone in the taproom sweeping the floor, his slow brushstrokes and flushed complexion suggested that he was not feeling at his best. He looked up as Aron walked in.
“Good morning,” he said. “There’s porridge on the stove. Bridie’s gone to the market, so you’ll have to wait if you want anything cooked.”
Aron fetched himself a wooden bowl of porridge and sat down at a table.
“Gelem says you’re heroes,” said Barty, leaning on his broom. “What’s the real story?”
“Corsair boat came up on us. Archer drove ’em off. Dropped a couple and pinned another. Then they went away.”
“Only one ship? Still it was good work. Every honest sailor should thank you. Not that there’s many round here. Do you want a mug of ale with that?”
Aron nodded and Barty filled two mugs.
“Hair of the dog that bit me,” he said, raising his mug. “He’s a bad man, that Gelem. Always drink too much when he’s here.” He looked at Aron over the rim of his mug. “Come up the coast with him from Nandor?”
“Yes.” Aron took a mouthful of ale. It really was rather good, dark, sweet and nutty.
“Thought so. Recognised the accent. But why? You’re not sellswords are you?”
“Why do you say that?”
“They haven’t the look. You have, but not the rest of ‘em. So what’re you doing here?”
Aron took a mouthful of ale while he thought about his answer. “We’re here to find someone. They’re in trouble. They were sold, we’re here to take them home.”
“Any idea where they are?”
“In Caldons’ compound.”
“Are you sure?”
“They were last night.”
“Caldon’s ship sailed fully laden first thing this morning for the north.”
Aron’s stomach turned to ice. “You said yesterday Caldon is buying everything for his campaign here and shipping it north. Would that include molly girls?”
“What are molly girls?”
“Women for the troops’ pleasure?”
“Ah yes. It would so I’ve heard. The person you’re looking for is a woman?”
Aron nodded. “Sister of the archer and the tall fellow.”
“They could well be on that ship.”
A cold certainty filled him. There was no other reason for Caldon to be trading in women. Edith could check tonight by walking the mist, but he knew what she would find.
“How would we get up north?” he asked, hoping that there was another answer than the one that filled his mind.
“Only one way,” said Barty. “Join Caldon’s army.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Wiston almost wept at the sight of Cuiport as he and Kusso crossed the wooded ridge and began the descent to safety. A second look filled him with dismay as he measured the height of the unfinished stone walls behind the wooden palisades. They would not present much of an obstacle to the demon that had destroyed his troops. The mages must defend us then, he thought as his stomach turned once again at the memory of the demon’s stink. Time for Master Tabian to show us what he is truly capable of. He had had very few dealings with Master Tabian, but the lesser mages, Faraz in particular, were utterly respectful of him.
Twice today Wiston had thought that he had heard Faraz’s voice calling him. His command link with the mage had not been refreshed for several weeks so it was not surprising that he had been difficult to make out and impossible to respond to, but it brought him comfort. They know I’m alive at least, and people will be looking for me. They will have patrolled the road, but it is no surprise that they’ve not found me. Kusso had brought them here through thick forest and bog far away from the road, finding paths where none seemed to exist.
A patrol rode into view on the road below them, their helms and speartips glinting in the sun, but they were too far off to hail.
Wiston pointed to them. “We should get down to the road. There’ll be other patrols along and we need to get to Lord Merrek as quickly as possible.” His stomach growled; he had eaten nothing since before the attack. Kusso had offered a handful of roots he had dug up, but Wiston had declined. He would have eaten them now.
***
“Tell us what happened,” said Lord Merrek. “Take your time and leave nothing
out.”
His voice was calm, friendly even, but Wiston was in no doubt that he was on trial. He stood on the beaten clay floor facing a wide table, sweat trickling from his armpits despite the chill of the room. There had barely been time to put on a clean shirt and grab a hasty meal before he was summoned. What he really craved was a long soak in a hot bath, but the only bathhouse was part of the Duke’s house and he was most certainly not going to be going there. They can probably smell me from there.
On the far side of the table sat Lord Merrek, his young cousin Lord Teire on one side of him, Lord Claran on the other with Faraz next to him. A scribe with blank parchment and inkhorn sat at the end. Wiston looked in vain for Master Tabian. The scribe raised his quill.
“We’re waiting,” said Lord Claran.
Wiston took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and began. “I was in command of the mule train and escort carrying silver-lead ingots from the mines to Cuiport. There were forty five mules. I had thirty mounted men-at-arms and two scouts. On the second day the train was approaching the pass over the Duillin Ridge. The path there is steep and narrow and the train was in single file. I had eight men at the front with me, pairs of men distributed along the line and six at the rear.” The quill scratched frantically and Wiston paused, waiting for the scribe to catch up. “There was low cloud, with the heights of the ridge covered. They hit us from out of the trees just after we went into the cloud.”
“How many of them?” asked Lord Teire.
“I don’t know,” said Wiston. “I think they hit us along the length of the train, but with the mist and heavy cover I couldn’t see. That wasn’t the problem; given time we could have contained and defeated them. It was what happened next.”
Wiston paused, picking his next words carefully.
“Which was?” said Lord Claran.
“Something attacked us out of the mist. I didn’t get a clear sight of it, but it was huge. Taller than the trees around me. It moved fast and stank like burning horsehair. My scout said it was a Warua, a fighting spirit summoned by a magician.”
Faraz looked up at this, but said nothing.
“So it was this ….Warua that killed your troops?” said Lord Claran.
“I presume so,” said Wiston. “Or at least scattered them for the tribesmen to pick them off.”
“You presume?” said Lord Claran, one hand stroking his drooping moustaches.
“My horse took fright and threw me. I hit my head and didn’t see what happened to my men. There was only my scout near me. He pulled me into cover and got me away.” Wiston knew it sounded weak as he spoke the words.
“You fell off your horse, hit your head, lost your troops and your scout had to save you,” said Lord Claran. “That is not what I expect from commanders of your experience.” He paused, leaning forward in his chair. “But to spin us this flimsy bard’s tale of evil spirits to conceal your incompetence places your behaviour far beyond anything tolerable.”
Wiston could feel his cheeks reddening. With anyone else he would have immediately demanded to answer the slur on his character with his sword, but Lord Claran was a renowned blademaster and duellist; Wiston knew he couldn’t match him. He forced himself to say nothing and stare at the rough wooden wall above Lord Claran’s head.
“Peace, cousin,” said Lord Merrek. “Our purpose here is to establish what happened, not assign blame. If there is the slightest chance that what we have heard is true, then the consequences are most serious. What is your opinion, Faraz? This sounds like powerful magic. Would it leave traces to be found?”
Faraz appeared surprised to be consulted. “Within a day, there would be a residue. This long after? No, my Lord.”
“But you would be able to deal with such a creature?” said Lord Merrek.
“It is not an area I’ve studied much, my Lord,” said Faraz. “I would need to consult Master Tabian.”
Wiston heard the doubt in his voice. If the mages can’t defend us, then we’re doomed.
“If you would, Faraz,” said Lord Merrek. “I need to know what we could be facing. It’s unfortunate that Master Tabian isn’t with us, but I can entirely sympathise. The cold and damp here gnaws my bones too.”
“You’re not giving this tale any credence?” said Lord Claran.
“All I know is thirty trained soldiers and a whole mule train have disappeared without trace,” said Lord Merrek. “This is the first account we had of what happened, and I want to know more. If this is a new threat, then I need to know how to deal with it.”
Lord Claran snorted and sat back in his chair. “We need to flood the area with troops. Burn these barbarians out.”
“Possibly,” said Lord Merrek. “What do you think, Wiston? You know the ground.”
“With respect, my Lord,” said Wiston. “It’s not the sort of ground you can flood with troops. It’s thickly wooded, boggy in the valleys with steep hills, gorges and narrow paths.”
“Perfect country for ambushes,” said Lord Merrek. “Even without a demon.”
“Exactly so, my Lord,” said Wiston. Lord Claran glared at him, but said nothing.
“It has been proposed that strongholds should be built along the road to the mines,” said Lord Merrek. “Garrisoned with thirty to fifty men to control the area. What do you think of this idea?”
“I see no reason why not,” said Lord Claran. “It’s what we’ve done in Darien, and it works very well.”
“Without a mage to protect them, my Lord,” said Wiston. “They are penned lambs awaiting the wolf.”
“This is a waste of my time.” Lord Claran pushed back his chair and stood up. “I refuse to listen to another word.” He strode to the door and the guard barely had time to open it for him.
Lord Merrek took a deep breath as he watched Lord Claran leave. “Thank you, Wiston. That will be all for now,” he said when the door closed.
Wiston walked from the room barely trusting his legs to carry him, aware of the silence behind him. He went straight to the mess room and invested in a flagon of red wine. He was halfway down his second glass when Faraz arrived and came straight over to the corner table where he sat alone.
“I wanted to ask you some more questions about what you saw,” said the mage.
“Sit down,” said Wiston. “I’ve only one glass.”
“I’ll leave you the wine,” said Faraz. He pulled up a stool and sat down. “The creature smelled strongly you said.”
“Absolutely stank.” Wiston took another mouthful of wine to wash away the memory. “Do you believe me?”
“I believe you saw something. I want to find out what it was. Your mention of the smell reminded me of something I read.” He smiled. “The trouble is, I can’t remember what it said or where I read it. Do you remember anything else at all? Anything you heard or felt?”
“I remember being more afraid than I’ve ever felt. Fear so strong it was like falling into icy water.” Wiston shivered despite the warmth of the room. “I think you need to remember where you read that. I can’t see that we have any defence against it if it comes back. My scout said it needs a very powerful sorcerer to control it.”
“I would think so,” said Faraz.
“This hasn’t been reported before, so the sorcerer is probably still learning how to handle it.” Wiston took another mouthful of wine. “It’s only going to get stronger as he learns.”
“Unless the first time killed him.”
“Is that possible?”
“Summoning demons is filled with danger. For that reason, Master Taiban will not teach anything about it.”
“But he knows about demons himself? He would know how to combat one?”
“I really don’t know.” Faraz shrugged. “He may do, and if not he may know someone who does.”
“I pray he does. We are in deep trouble otherwise.”
“If it was a demon.”
“I thought you believed me?
“I don’t disbelieve you.” Faraz spread his han
ds in a gesture of conciliation. “I need to confer with Master Tabian.” He stood up. “And this time of day is a good time to catch him. I will tell you of his thoughts about this creature.”
Wiston watched him leave. He felt completely drained. I have done nothing but my duty, and yet face ruin. He poured himself another glass of wine, emptying the flagon, and called out to the steward for another.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
What am I going to say to them? Aron climbed the stairs with a heavy heart. I have no proof, but it is the only way it makes sense.
He pushed open the door. Edith was sitting on the bed brushing her hair; she looked up at him as he walked in.
“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” she asked. Beside her Maldwyn sat up and rubbed his eyes.
“That big ship in the harbour,” said Aron. “Caldon’s ship. Sailed first thing this morning. I think Celaine was on it.”
Neither of them spoke for several breaths.
“We should have gone after her last night,” said Maldwyn.
“But we didn’t,” said Aron. “And the reasoning was sound last night. We just have to deal with things as they are.”
Another silence.
“What do we do next?” Edith asked quietly.
“Right now,” said Aron. “Have breakfast, then find out if there’s a temple of Iduna in the city.”
“I think I’ll miss breakfast,” said Maldwyn. “And I’m definitely missing the temple.”
“You should come,” said Edith. “She helped us before.”
Maldwyn pulled a face at them, lay back down and rolled over. Edith thumped his back with her hairbrush, then stood up and marched past Aron.
“Time for breakfast,” she said.
***
“You’re very quiet,” said Edith as they walked down the steep street away from the tavern. “What didn’t you tell us?”
Aron paused before answering, looking at the worried frown on her lovely face as seagulls screamed at each other from the rooftops. “How difficult I think it will be to get her back. Difficult and dangerous.”