by A. J. Smith
* * *
He was woken sharply with a light kick to his legs. Standing over him, a loaf of bread in his hand, was the Karesian prisoner, Al-Hasim. He was dressed in light leather armour, presumably acquired from the men of Wraith, and he had found a scimitar from somewhere.
‘Eat,’ Hasim said, throwing the bread into William’s lap. ‘It’s fresh and you need to get something other than an axe in your belly.’
‘Thank you,’ William said, looking up at the Karesian.
He was unsure about the prisoner. He’d stopped him being raped in Ro Canarn and had found him little trouble on the way north, but he was still a criminal and had thrown his lot in with Wraith Company.
‘Our positions seem to be somewhat reversed, Hasim, wouldn’t you agree?’ He tore off a chunk of warm bread with his teeth.
Hasim pointed to a length of chain that had been attached to William’s leg while he slept. It was fastened to a steel bracket on the wall and was a clear message that the knight was a prisoner.
‘I should probably thank you a second time, Verellian.’ The Karesian sat down on the stone floor next to William. ‘If I hadn’t been brought north with you and your men, I’d probably be Pevain’s wife by now.’ He was smiling and William found the situation bizarre, maybe even a little funny.
‘So, what happens now?’ he asked the Karesian.
‘I think that depends on you. Horrock doesn’t appear to be in any rush to kill you, but he’s angry at the incursion. This is Ranen, not Tor Funweir.’
Hasim was a Karesian and further from home than William, making the Red knight wonder what had caused him to travel this far north.
‘Where do you fit into this, Hasim?’ William asked plainly.
He smiled and offered William a bottle of dark liquid. ‘It’s Volk whisky. I stole it from Horrock. Drink it, it’ll help.’
William had heard about the Volk and their habit of brewing harsh liquor using frosted barrels, but his oath to the One precluded him from tasting alcohol. He waved his hand weakly, refusing the offered drink.
‘Ah, yes, that’s right, your god prefers blood to booze,’ Hasim said, taking a deep slug from the bottle.
‘Don’t moralize, Karesian. I’ve fought the Hounds and we both know that Jaa is perfectly capable of bloodletting when the mood takes him.’ William was a realist, but wasn’t inclined to put up with hypocrisy. ‘Not drinking alcohol is a fairly minor restriction in the grand scheme of things.’
‘Okay, okay. Maybe we should start with what we do have in common. Neither of us is Ranen and this is not our land. Agreed?’ Hasim asked with a friendly tone to his voice.
‘Agreed,’ William conceded, but he was unsure of the point Hasim was trying to make.
‘So, you and yours did ride into Hail and start a fight,’ he said grimly. ‘You have to accept that they had as little choice as you.’
‘Twenty or more of my men were killed. Don’t expect me to forget that today or tomorrow.’ William was a prisoner and planned to survive, but he still considered the Ranen his enemies.
‘And the forty or so men of Wraith you tore apart are, what, insignificant?’ Hasim shot back quickly. ‘You’re one of the few Ro who doesn’t make me sick, but stop thinking you’re the only men in this world. Everyone bleeds, Verellian: Ro, Ranen, Karesian… even Kirin. Our blood is the same as yours.’ He was clearly angry and William realized he’d never really taken an outsider’s view of his own people.
The Red knight looked around the basement and saw bloodstains being scrubbed from the floor and the residue of a dozen or so bodies that had lain there. Near the doorway leading up to the courtyard was a young woman with blood on her hands and forearms. She was just sitting, looking at her reddened palms with wide eyes and with tears rolling down her face. There were others in the basement, mostly sitting or lying against the walls with a variety of exhausted and despairing expressions on their faces.
William was not a stranger to battle, or the aftermath of blood, bandages, screaming and death, but he had never seen women crying over their lost loved ones or common folk trying to save the lives of part-time warriors. His experiences had always involved the healing powers of the White clerics and an orderly triage with well-tended recovery time. These people had good healing skills, but their one priest was dead and bandages would only go so far with serious wounds.
He turned back to Hasim and gave him a shallow nod, before quietly saying, ‘Okay, I’m sorry for my flippancy. This is new to me.’
‘You’ve never been captured before?’ he asked.
‘I’ve never been defeated, let alone captured. I had a few bad injuries a couple of years ago, but I’ve never been on the losing side of a confrontation.’ William found the position of defeated prisoner an uncomfortable one.
‘Well, I’ve been in gaols and dungeons in more than one country, so take my word for it, things will get worse before they get better.’ Hasim offered the bottle again.
‘I’m not giving up on my oath just yet, Karesian,’ William replied, with another wave of his hand. ‘I still have an obligation to try to escape and return to Ro Canarn.’
Hasim directed a questioning look at the Red knight. ‘Optimism, I respect that, but don’t do anything stupid. It’d be a shame if you got yourself killed after I’d stuck my neck out to keep you alive.’
William rocked back against the wall and closed his eyes, letting air fill his lungs and trying to regain some strength by tensing his arms and legs. He was still tired and thought Hasim had woken him prematurely.
‘Where’s Horrock?’ he asked.
‘Probably sleeping off the first half of this bottle,’ Hasim replied, indicating that the bottle of Volk whisky was nearly empty. ‘It’s still early morning and we were up late discussing what’s to be done with you. Bronwyn, you’ll be pleased to know, agreed with me and thinks you should be spared.’
‘She’s been named to the Black Guard, like her brother.’ William realized that the laws of Tor Funweir meant little here, but it was easier to cling to duty and the last orders he had been given than to accept defeat. ‘Unless something changes, she’s a criminal in the lands of Ro.’
‘I’m sure she gives a massive shit about that, Red man,’ Hasim replied, with a good-humoured laugh. ‘I’ll leave this here, just in case you change your mind.’ He placed the bottle of whisky on the floor next to William. ‘Get some rest. Horrock will come and get you when he’s ready.’
He stood up and, with a mocking salute, left William alone in the basement.
With a deep breath, the Red knight closed his eyes and felt sleep rapidly come over him. Being forced to see the aftermath of the battle from another point of view had been an eye-opening experience, and William felt humbled as he tried to shift himself into a more comfortable position.
He was no closer to a decision about what he should tell Horrock Green Blade. If he told the man of Wraith about the impending invasion of the Grass Sea, he would be no more or less likely to be executed and he might indirectly save many lives, though he had a nagging suspicion that the Ranen would choose to stay and fight rather than run for safety from the knights.
Commander Rillion would probably assume William had been lost. Unless Fallon made it back to Ro Canarn and orchestrated a rescue, he would be a prisoner for the foreseeable future. That made the decision about what to tell Horrock a little easier, because he knew he wouldn’t be donning his Red armour and marching into battle any time soon, and any information he did give would not help the Ranen hold their lands against a concerted assault by seasoned knights.
* * *
William was glad Horrock had given him time to rest. He had no illusions that the man of Wraith was being charitable, but he needed time to clear his head and alleviate the extreme fatigue bought on by his wounds and the loss of blood.
He’d woken every few hours and had shaken off a little more of his weakness each time he’d done so. Ranen folk had come and gone throughout the next m
orning and, aside from the occasional insult or questioning look, the knight captain had largely been left alone, still chained to the wall and with only the remains of Hasim’s bread for sustenance. He’d seen Micah Stone Dog several times, going up into the ruined town, and Freya had come to check on his dressings twice during the morning.
William was cold and he had to remind himself that he was further north than he’d ever been – across the Grass Sea of Ranen – and that he was a foreigner in the Freelands. He thought of Ro Arnon and the security he’d always taken for granted as a knight of the Red. He thought of Fallon and of his dead men, their bodies probably stacked on a pyre by now. He didn’t want to admit that he’d been defeated and captured, but reality was a hard mistress and not gentle when a man was finally forced to admit defeat after years of victory. The most disquieting thought, though, was the rapidly growing empathy William was feeling towards the simple men of Wraith Company. As a churchman of the One God, William had always been insulated from what happened to the enemies of the Red knights; and now to see them bleed and die, trying to save their loved ones, had deeply affected him.
‘Can you stand?’ asked Stone Dog from nearby.
William felt his legs and rubbed his wounded chest before answering. ‘I think so.’
‘Well, up you get, then. Horrock would like a chat,’ he said, producing a large iron key to unlock William’s chain from the wall.
‘Are you going to unlock that as well?’ William pointed to the manacle around his ankle.
‘Don’t think so, you may do something stupid with a full stride.’ Stone Dog’s smile was good-natured.
‘Don’t worry, I’m perfectly capable of doing stupid things whether I can walk or not. My father lost both his legs to a Karesian Hound and he did stupid things for many years afterwards.’ William was not trying to be especially friendly, but, reluctantly or not, Stone Dog had saved his life and so was worthy of politeness at least.
‘So, stupidity runs in the family, Red man… I may get a chance to kill you yet.’ The idea clearly still appealed to the young man of Wraith.
William pulled himself heavily to his feet and instantly vomited on the floor as a wave of pain flooded through him. It was not too pleasant, but William instantly felt better, despite the laughter from Stone Dog.
‘Is that how tough churchmen try to escape, puking on their enemies?’ he asked, with a broad grin.
‘It’s the first stage, yeah,’ replied William as he spat on the floor, trying to clear the unpleasant taste from his mouth.
Stone Dog picked up the end of the chain attached to William’s ankle and ruffled it as he would a dog’s chain. ‘Come on, boy, let’s go for a walk.’ He was enjoying the power he exercised over the Red knight.
‘Don’t push me, Ranen, I’m not planning to do anything stupid just yet, but I may change my mind if you talk to me like a dog again,’ William said with an intimidating grin.
For a second he actually saw a hint of fear in the young Ranen’s eyes, before he turned and led William of Verellian from the basement where he’d been chained for almost twelve hours.
He led him out of the room and down a long corridor where numerous exotic and mundane weapons hung on the stone walls. There were tabards and suits of armour also, and William narrowed his eyes at the presence of clerical and knightly armour among the trophies, showing that this was not the first fight these men had had with churchmen of the One.
Stone Dog led him along the corridor and through a heavy stone door and up the stairs beyond. William could hear talking above and he began to see the brightness of daylight spreading down the stairs. He’d been in a dark basement with no windows and he found his eyes a little sensitive to the light.
William moved his injured hand up to his face to shield it from the sunshine when they emerged at the top of the stairs and on to a stone balcony. The view was a sombre one as he looked through the bright, cold morning at the broken town of Ro Hail.
It had, long ago, been a mighty fortress of the Red knights, from where the subjugation of the Ranen people had been orchestrated. Centuries after that, it had been held by Duke Hector’s ancestors in an infamous siege when they had defended the town for thirty days against the Free Companies.
It was now little more than a stone relic, with less than a handful of buildings still standing in any kind of recognizable form. William understood why Wraith Company lived underground and he guessed that they knew the city well enough to be able to appear and disappear with ease among the ruins.
Sitting in a casual circle on the balcony were Captain Horrock, Al-Hasim and the Lady Bronwyn. There were two other men of Wraith whom William didn’t recognize. All present were armed and armoured. Horrock’s deep blue eyes struck him as somehow more piercing in the daylight, despite the residual food lodged in his huge beard. Bronwyn had dressed herself in leather armour and looked more like a Ranen warrior woman than a noble of Tor Funweir. Al-Hasim was yawning extravagantly as he leant back in his chair.
‘Have a seat, Red man,’ said Horrock in a casual, almost familiar, tone of voice.
Stone Dog threw William’s chain to one of the other men of Wraith and quickly left the balcony. Verellian surmised that the young Ranen was not a senior member of Wraith Company, although he had not heard mention of any rank or chain of command beyond Captain Horrock.
William’s chain was held loosely by an axe-man who leant on the balcony’s railing. He made no particular effort to keep the chain taut or to restrict the knight’s movements, but merely motioned for him to sit in one of the empty wooden chairs.
‘My name is William of Verellian,’ he said, sitting down carefully to avoid aggravating his chest wound.
‘So?’ replied Horrock.
‘So… I prefer it to constantly being called Red man.’ William maintained eye contact with the man of Wraith and tried his best to convey that he wasn’t going to be cowed merely because he was a prisoner.
‘Fair enough,’ said Horrock, with no hint of humour. ‘So, William of Verellian, how are you feeling?’
The Red knight laughed a little and held his arms wide to survey his various wounds. He still wore only woollen leggings and a cloak draped around his shoulders, making the large dressing across his chest stand out.
‘Your axe sheared my breastplate, but, so long as I have time to heal without making it worse, I’ll survive.’ He looked at his injured hand and continued, ‘Though I doubt I’ll be drawing my sword any time soon.’
One of the Ranen warriors whom William didn’t recognize snorted with amusement and said, ‘Your sword got shattered as we moved the bodies, Red man. How about an axe?’
This caused a ripple of laughter from the Ranen, though neither Hasim nor Bronwyn joined in. Horrock merely smiled and directed a tolerant glance at the other men of Wraith.
‘This is Haffen Red Face, my axe-master. He’s here to kill you if I decide he needs to.’ Horrock showed no emotion in his piercing blue eyes.
‘And what conditions need to be met for me to die?’ asked William, stony-faced.
Hasim and Bronwyn both looked at Horrock and William guessed that neither of them had any particular desire to see the knight executed.
‘I probably won’t order you killed,’ the captain of Wraith Company said quietly, ‘but I try to keep my options open when dealing with Ro… and Haffen is itching to kill another knight.’
As if to emphasize this point, Haffen grinned wickedly at William and twirled the chain in his hands.
‘Well, I plan to live beyond today,’ said William, still looking directly at Horrock.
‘Can we dispense with the posturing, please?’ asked Lady Bronwyn with a slight shake of her head. ‘Sir Verellian, I know you had orders to apprehend me and, from what Hasim says, you’re not a dishonourable man; but you are a knight of Tor Funweir in the Freelands of Ranen, so please… tell me what Sir Rillion plans to do with my home.’ Her voice had a slight catch to it and William felt a moment’s pity
for the young woman. Her father was dead, her brother outlawed, and her home all but destroyed.
‘It’s not Rillion and it’s not about Ro Canarn,’ William replied, his eyes directed at the floor. ‘It’s the king.’
This immediately caught the attention of all present, even Al-Hasim who must have suspected that King Sebastian Tiris was involved.
‘Speak plain, Verellian,’ said Hasim. ‘The king wasn’t there when we left.’
‘No, but I know the signs. His guardsmen had arrived and, if rumour and implication are to be trusted, the king plans to march into the Grass Sea.’ William did not doubt this was true, but he had no solid proof, so he stated it in as simple and unadorned a manner as possible.
Horrock sat forward. It was the most animated William had seen him since they had fought. The two other Ranen directed angry glares at the knight, and Bronwyn gasped in surprise.
‘He wouldn’t be so stupid,’ said Horrock. ‘That would just lead to blood and nothing else. He has nothing to gain.’
‘Neither he nor Rillion confide in me, but I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that the Karesian witch has something to do with it,’ responded William.
Horrock and Bronwyn both looked at Hasim, and William guessed that the Karesian was as concerned about the enchantress as he was. Al-Hasim gave Horrock a shallow nod before he turned to address William.
‘I knew she had Rillion’s balls in her hand, but to invade Ranen… what’s the objective?’ asked the Karesian.
‘There is none,’ replied Horrock, unable to comprehend why the king would break the truce. ‘Algenon at his back and the Free Companies at his front. Even if he won, he’d get thousands killed and would still get stopped at the Deep Cross when winter came.’
William chanced his luck and interrupted the man of Wraith. ‘If you believe that I’m an honourable man,’ he said, glancing at Hasim and Bronwyn, both of whom seemed to confirm that he was, ‘then believe what I say. King Tiris intends to invade and, I would assume, he’ll be at the head of a large force of knights, clerics and yeomanry – Darkwald, Hunter’s Cross, he’s got no shortage of pressed troops.’