by D. M. Murray
“How did he die?” Sarbien asked.
“I’m sorry, my lord.” The young guardsman avoided the eyes that searched him. “Lord Capriath appears to have been beaten to death, perhaps by many assailants.”
Olmat released a sorrowful sob.
“My lord,” the guard continued, “that is not all.”
“What then, damn it?” Harruld snapped.
“The bodies, sir, they are sickened with something. Some kind of illness.”
Olmat suddenly broke from his sorrow. “What do they look like? Have you seen them?”
“No, not with my own eyes. The message had been passed to me that there were blacked lumps upon each of the bodies. These lumps burst open, even in death.”
“Did you go near the bodies, or one who did?” Olmat asked of the guard.
“Corporal Yannis, my lord, who bid me pass on this message, discovered the bodies.” The guard’s voice had taken on a panicked edge.
“Did he touch you?” Olmat’s bony knuckles turned white as he gripped the table before him.
“My lord?”
“Did Corporal Yannis touch you at any point?”
The young guardsman began to shake from his hands up, and his breaths quickened as fear gripped him.
“Speak!” Harruld barked.
“My…my arm, my lord. Yannis gripped my arm.”
Olmat shook his head almost imperceptibly to Harruld before he took a breath and slowed the beat of his heart. He smiled. “What’s your name?”
“Guardsman Herrick, my lord.”
“Herrick.” Olmat looked thoughtfully at the guardsman. “I recognise the name. Your father was also in the household guard, wasn’t he?”
The young guardsman’s hands ceased to tremble and he relaxed a little. “Yes, my lord. You knew him?”
“Aye, lad. Is he well?”
“He is, my lord. He was given his pension and now runs a small stoneware shop with my mother.”
“Excellent. I should like to see his shop.” Olmat smiled. “Until then, however, be sure and pass on my regards to your father, would you?”
“Of course, my lord.” The young man smiled, his fear seemingly having diminished.
“Guard Herrick,” Harruld commanded the man’s attention. “When does your watch end?”
“Sunset, my lord.”
“Good. I’ll send someone else to fetch Brother Anthony. You seem a steady lad, so I have another task for one such as you. I want you to stand guard at the basement of the keep. No one gets in or out without my command. Clear?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Good. Now, you know that talk of this will cause those of a weaker heart to fall to fear. There is no need for this, so I want you to remain steadfast. Keep your head, man, and for the love of Dajda, make sure others keep theirs. Touch no one, and don’t let yourself be touched. It’s just a precaution.”
“Yes, my lord.” The guardsman saluted and left the room.
As the guard closed the door behind him, Olmat looked to his two companions. “That lad is already dead. Our enemies have brought plague on our city, and delivered us death.”
*
Governor Harruld’s order to lock down the High Command spread quickly, as did his instruction for every guardsman who had entered the basement, or those that were in contact with them, to assemble at the lower level of the High Command. Soon, near forty mean stood in rank before the governor, amongst them, Guardsman Herrick. Some men’s brows glistened with beads of sweat, whilst others tried their best to stifle coughs, causing their companions standing beside them to shift uncomfortably, a fact not lost on the sweating men.
Governor Harruld stood before the men as Olmat and Sarbien wove their symbols in the air in front of them, requesting Dajda’s aid to protect these young men. He knew it mattered not, for there was no power forthcoming whilst Dajda slept, and so each of their chances came down to the hand of fate.
“Men, we have had to shut the High Command from those outside. It will no doubt be clear to you all that we have been attacked, once more by stealth and guile. Our enemies have brought disease into our house and we must now fight it before Carte falls into death by this ill doing.”
Some of the men sobbed, whilst others stood tall, their faces set in an unwavering display of calm.
“Carte needs her sons and brothers to protect her against this enemy. Carte needs your sacrifice.” Governor Harruld looked upon the men, his challenge laid out to them.
Some of the men nervously eyed the stone and mortar that rested by the corner of the large room they occupied.
“What must we do, my lord?” one guardsman asked, stepping forward from his rank.
“What is your name?” the governor asked.
“Corporal Gillen Habston, a man of Carte, my lord,” the guardsman answered proudly.
“Gillen Habston, a man of Carte,” Governor Harruld repeated. “Yes, we men of Carte are proud and strong.” The governor approached the younger man. “I need you to help contain this enemy within these lower reaches of the High Command. We must block out the basement. Seal up the passageways and staircases,” the governor said.
“And then we must block ourselves within the lower level, my lord,” Gillen added, smiling calmly at the governor as all others stopped and stared at the steadfast guardsman.
“You are heroes of Carte, as much as those who bleed on her battlements,” Governor Harruld said. “Tuannan have cast powers of protection over you. Some of you will succumb to this foul enemy, whilst some of you will survive. Those of you who get sick, please, take yourself away from those who are not. We ask you to do a most brave thing.”
A brief sob could be heard. Guardsman Herrick wept with fear before one of the more resolute men stifled the sound.
Governor Harruld continued, “Those who succumb must take themselves to a remote part of the lower level. There are large fire places in the armoury. It’s ideal.” He paused a moment and looked into the faces before him. “What you will need has been set aside for you. There is enough fire oil here to soak your clothing, and there are daggers waiting.”
More sobs escaped from the ranks before him.
“If you are ill, you must take yourself to the armoury, and set a flame to yourself. Once you have done so, use the dagger, and commit the ultimate sacrifice. Set loose your spirit, rather than suffer the flames. Sarbien will show you how to do this quickly.” Governor Harruld looked upon the men before him, his face and heart clashing with a mix of pride and sorrow. “If by the next passing of seventh-day you have been fortunate, we will set you free. We will have men on hand to help you if you signal. If not, my brothers, then may Dajda take you into her embrace quickly and without pain.”
With that, Governor Harruld saluted his men and left the lower levels of the High Command.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“I can feel a presence. One of them is near, within the walls of the city,” Evelyne said to Kalfinar as they stood together on the forward deck of the ship.
They approached the harbour of Nabruuk in the mid-hours of morning. The sun was hot, despite the early hour, and it glittered off the water with dazzling effect.
“It’s truly a sight to behold,” she said, looking at the stunning white that glared from the walls of Nabruuk. The shine of blue glaze and mother of pearl tiles that coated the roofs of the city set the city scene ablaze with almost painful intensity.
Kalfinar grunted in response, his focus set on the many merchant ships that sat low in the waters of the harbour. He felt Evelyne’s question before it passed her lips. “More grain ships bound for Carte, Terna, and everywhere else there is hunger in the Free Provinces.” He reflected upon the nationwide need for imported grain, and the ruthless profiteering of the neutral nation of Canna. “A rich nation grows richer still on the hunger pains of another. Doesn’t seem right, does it?”
“We need to eat, Kal. The people need to eat,” she said. “What else can we do?”
; He changed the subject. “Can you sense where we ought to go to await the coming of the next one?” Kalfinar asked, drawing his eye from the harbour as they were piloted in.
“I know of a safe house in the east quarter. Some of my Tuannan brothers and sisters use the house from time to time. If the sensation is as it was last time, we should be able to rest there and await their coming.”
*
The group donned headscarves and long white robes, as was the custom in Canna. Chentuck drew a veil across his face to hide his unusual appearance, lest he draw too much attention to their party. Evelyne and the child were dressed like Chentuck, masking their gender, should that serve to reveal too much to seeking eyes.
They rode through the bustling streets towards the safe house in the east, with every street of Canna’s capital awash with commerce. Exotic smells and sounds met them at every turn. Kalfinar remembered the thrill he experienced when he previously visited Canna, although this time he was not able to relive the feeling, such was his raised sense of alarm.
The streets were cramped, with busy stalls of fruit, bright mounds of spices and silks on either side, all being towered over by tall white-washed buildings. Their progress through the busy streets was slow and Kalfinar shifted uncomfortably as they passed the countless individuals wearing long, robes and headwear. The many open balconies and narrow alleyways off to the side of main streets only served to swell Kalfinar’s unease. Perfect for surprises.
As if sensing his discomfort, Evelyne nudged her mare up beside Kalfinar’s. Being careful not to take up too much space on the crowded streets, she leaned in to him and whispered, “We’re not far. It’s at the end of this street and then the next left. The entrance to the courtyard opens onto a square. We should have a good vantage point from the roof.”
Kalfinar nodded in acknowledgement and carried on, his eyes ever watchful.
They passed the remaining distance in minutes and approached the safe house without any fuss. The house was a three-storied affair, and like all the buildings in Nabruuk, it was washed in pure white. Evelyne shared some hushed words with the man guarding the entrance to the courtyard, and they quickly passed within the walls.
“One of your Tuannan?” Kalfinar asked as they made their way to a room within the lower reaches of the building.
“Yes,” Evelyne replied, still holding the child to her body. “Everyone you see within this building is Tuannan.”
*
“We’d best keep watch for the coming of the next one,” Evelyne said. “They draw ever nearer. We must be ready.”
Kalfinar looked at the small child who clung to Evelyne’s leg, fingering the material of her skirt and looking up at Kalfinar with her deep green eyes. He absently toyed with the amulet around his neck with one hand and rubbed his head with the other. His headache was beginning to return, albeit slightly. Jalsinum, I can smell it. Drift away, drift away to sleep, and no more pain.
“Come, let’s go to the roof and keep watch. Chentuck, you stay here and keep a watch at the entrance to the yard. Let us know if it looks like there’s anything happening,” Kalfinar ordered before heading up the narrow, winding wooden staircase towards the roof.
Hours passed as Kalfinar, Broden and Evelyne waited patiently on the roof of the safe house. The child remained present, inseparable from Evelyne from the moment she was awoken back in Enulin.
“Something’s wrong,” Evelyne softly said.
“What is it?” Kalfinar asked.
“The feeling I had, it has somehow diminished.”
“Diminished? As in they’re not coming?”
“Perhaps so. I don’t sense the coming together as I did in Enulin.” Evelyne’s face was a puzzle, her ice-blue eyes unsure and searching for answers. “There is more. I sense alarm within them.”
“What can we do?” Broden asked as he surveyed the emptying square. The bells of the holy houses tolled as the sun set on the bustling capital. “It’ll be dark soon and the Cannan’s will be at prayer.”
“Perhaps we should move towards them?” Kalfinar supplied.
Evelyne looked at Kalfinar, locking eyes with him, although she did not voice any disapproval.
“We can sense their presence, and we can see them,” Kalfinar made his case. “If they’re not coming to us, then we should go to them.”
“I’m not so sure, Kal,” Evelyne added.
“There’s no telling how long we could be sat here,” Broden said, his eyes imploring Evelyne to act. “We can’t simply sit about and wait if there’s a problem, can we?”
Evelyne’s silence seemed endless as she sat considering the best course of action. The night could be fraught with danger, for their enemies could send foes against them at any time. However, the longer they waited with no understanding of what was taking place, the worse the situation could be. She considered their options, looking down at the child who clung to her. Evelyne smiled at the two captains and inclined her head towards the child. “Which one of you wants to tell her she can’t come?”
*
Kalfinar shifted his belt and sheathed sword uncomfortably under his Cannan robes. Despite the long garments restricting the quickness of his draw, he was reluctant to expose the weapon lest it draw unwanted attention to him and his two companions as they negotiated their way through the dusk-lit early night.
The bells of the holy houses had ceased to toll and now the air was filled with the faint hum of reverential chanting from all around. Despite his present unease, Kalfinar enjoyed the song of the city.
Evelyne stopped from time to time as they came to empty street corners, the Godstone drawing her ever closer to the sleeping one. Kalfinar and Broden kept a steady watch of the roads, balconies and alleys. They shifted around her randomly as they walked. If there were to be a strike against them, they would see that there would be no easy targeting of Evelyne.
“You two are making me dizzy!” she cried, rubbing her eyes. Their blue shine leapt out in contrast to the white veil and headdress.
Kalfinar found himself distracted by her eyes, and shook his head, clearing the thought. “Evelyne, with the greatest respect, it is not your becoming dizzy I am concerned with, but that of the crossbowman who watches us from above,” Kalfinar retorted.
“Where?” Evelyne asked, her voice an urgent hiss.
Broden answered, “There is no crossbowman that we know of.” The two men continued to circle Evelyne, swapping directions erratically. “But what we are doing, although making you dizzy, is preventing any crossbowman from easily planting a bolt in you.” The big captain smiled apologetically.
“Come, we must move on,” Kalfinar said. “What way?” he asked.
“Towards the south. This way.” Evelyne pointed at the street to the right of the crossroads ahead.
As she finished speaking, an explosion sounded in the distance, flashing an orange haze across the fully darkened night sky. Another explosion followed, flaring in the sky, followed by several more. The gentle hum of reverence was torn by a rage of noise and light.
“What in Dajda’s name was that?” Broden exclaimed.
“It came from the docks,” Kalfinar snapped as he shot off in the direction of the blasts, the opposite of where Evelyne directed. The docks, the docks. Yes! At last.
“Kal!” Broden called after his cousin, but it was no use, he had set off at pace and was not stopping.
*
“Kal, you damn fool! Why did you run off?” Broden asked, arriving by his cousin as he glanced around the corner of a building overlooking the harbour front. “You could’ve got yourself killed.” Broden heaved for breath.
Kalfinar regarded his cousin and then Evelyne. She breathed lightly, untroubled by her exertions. “Sorry. Knew something ill had happened. Look,” he said, pointing to the scene unfolding upon the water of the harbour.
Broden’s eyes widened as they beheld the scene before him. “Dajda! The grain!”
The Cannan merchant ships heavy with grain
were on fire and sinking. Ragged looking corsair ships manoeuvred within the harbour alongside vessels baring the banner of Solansia. They cast explosive naphtha barrels onto the remaining ships. Explosions birthed flashes of light and noise into the sky, sparkling on the water and shining light onto the enemy forms revelling upon their decks.
“The fucking Solansian fleet!” Kalfinar whispered.
Evelyne tugged at Kalfinar’s robe. “Kal, come on! We can do nothing here. Let’s go.” She placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed, urging him to draw his eyes from the harbour and press on with their objective.
“You’re right,” Kalfinar said, his eyes fixed on the harbour. “We’d better be quick,” he muttered, finally turning his head towards his companions, “they’re coming ashore.”
They moved swift and quiet through the lamp-lit streets, avoiding the many Cannan’s filtering out of holy houses. Cries could be heard behind them as the raiders made their presence felt, most likely bringing death to any in their way.
Evelyne directed them as quickly as she could to where the sensation was strongest. She barked an order, turning them down a dimly lit side street. The back of Kalfinar’s skull burned. He exchanged a knowing glance with Broden.
Trouble.
The two captains and Evelyne had just enough time to shift their robes and draw their swords before the assault came. Their attackers had made a fatal error, spilling out onto the alley from narrow doorways on either side. The skirmish was brief. In an explosion of noise and blood, it was over. Six bodies lay heaped in the doorway recesses at the feet of the captains, lengths of wood and lumps of stone for weapons.
“They’re not Solansian’s,” Broden grumbled.
“No,” said Kalfinar, “nor are they pirates.”
“They’re Cannan,” Evelyne whispered. “The spirit still hunts us.”