by D. M. Murray
“Can’t say I recall that.” Kalfinar’s voice remained steady, in spite of the rage and shame that swelled inside him.
“What’s wrong with you? Carrying a wound, eh?”
“Aye. When we were attacked at Hardalen. I took a blade in my shoulder,” Kalfinar replied in a level tone.
“Attacked.” Sergeant Thosfed rubbed at his white stubbly chin thoughtfully. “Aye, no doubting you’d have me present you in front of the High Command, eh?” Thosfed moved closer, the foul rot of his teeth reaching Kalfinar’s nose.
Delightful, thank you.
“I would. That’s the point of our being here.” He held back his reaction to the smell of the old soldier’s teeth.
“A man in yer position need not be so clever.” The sergeant drew a heavy short sword and moved its tip under Kalfinar’s chin. “You’d better be careful and hand me yer papers. Nice and slow, mind, or I’ll add another nice scar to yer pretty face. Would you like that?”
As the question hung between them, a tall man with long blonde hair and a neatly shaven face broke between the guards.
Broden glanced across and a smile dawned on his face.
The tall man approached the sergeant and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Thank you, Sergeant Thosfed. I received your message. You can relax. They are as they say they are.”
“Aye, Major.” The old Sergeant sheathed his blade and stood down. He signalled the crossbowmen to lower their weapons.
“Just in time,” the newcomer mouthed to the party.
Kalfinar moved towards the tall officer. “Bergnon, it’s been too long, old friend.”
“Indeed it has. Much too long.” He clasped Kalfinar’s hand.
“I’m glad you came when you did!” Broden rumbled a laugh. “I thought Kal was going to have another hole ripped in him.”
“Aye, Sergeant Thosfed’s not known to be one to take chances. That’s why he’s leading the Night Command.”
Thosfed saluted the captains. His scarred face split in an ugly smile, revealing his rotting teeth, blackened headstones in a graveyard of a mouth. “At yer service, sirs.”
Bergnon looked grimly at his comrades. “Gentlemen, gather up your weapons and horses. You’d best come with me. We’ve a bit of a situation at hand, and I fear it has reached as far as Hardalen also.”
“What exactly is the situation?” Kalfinar pressed as he retrieved his sword.
“I heard you say you were attacked. So were we.” Bergnon stopped and looked about at the many guardsmen gathered about. “This is not the place for such talk. Let’s make for the keep. In the meantime, do you need help with your wound?”
“Aye, I’ll need to get it seen to. I think I burst a couple of stitches.” Kalfinar remembered Olmat’s orders to visit the physician at the University. “Olmat gave me the name of a physician to visit, but perhaps I could take a tonic until then. I’ve been using falidweed. Not the nicest of remedies.”
“Never heard of it. Don’t worry, we’ll get it seen to. Let’s head on, there’s much to discuss.” Bergnon’s face was grave as he led them beyond the guardsmen. A dozen horsemen sat waiting as escort.
“A little old for a chaperon, aren’t you?” Broden asked.
“Sign of the times.” Bergnon mounted his horse, and they set off.
*
They rode within the centre of the escorts as they trudged through the rain-slick cobbled streets of inner Terna towards the High Command. The tall buildings of drab, grey granite and dark wood lined the narrow streets.
A crash sounded down a side-street, and Kalfinar turned in his saddle. He peered down the black alley as he passed but could see nothing. The screech of fighting cats issued from the darkness.
“Just a cat.” Broden said.
The weather-whipped lanterns that sparsely lined the streets or hung from buildings cast a dull and swaying light.
They rode onwards towards the keep, as it was modestly known. It was, in reality, a massive concentric castle, a huge outer wall surrounding an inner wall and a grim central keep. Built as the Noehmian headquarters of the Military High Command, it also doubled as regional house of government after the sister nations broke from Solansian rule and formed the Free Provinces. It housed the regional governor, Lord Abbonan, and his staff, as well as the main military headquarters for the region, commanded by Chief Marshal Solskaen.
Kalfinar noted his surroundings as their horse’s footfalls echoed around the high buildings. There was no one about. Normally the streets would remain busy with citizens. Even later into the night, Terna never really slept; drunks, thieves, and whores going about their business through the swill and detritus. Tonight, there was nothing.
“Bergnon,” Kalfinar said. “Why are the streets so empty?”
“Curfew. The Night Command will arrest anyone out after sundown.” He looked around to the four soaked soldiers riding behind him. “I can’t tell you more until we get to the keep. There may not be bodies in sight, but I‘ve little doubt there are eyes and ears in the shadows.”
Kalfinar looked all about him at the empty streets. This place reeks of fear.
*
“Get the horses brushed down and see that they’re fed and watered,” Bergnon said to a pair of stable boys as they entered the keep.
They dismounted and handed the reins across. Broden fidgeted at a bag tied to his saddle. He unfixed the stubborn knot, and then slung the bag over his shoulder.
“The High Command is waiting,” Bergnon said.
Following behind the major, they hurried into the military quarters of the keep. As they passed into the heart of the building, the smell of fresh bread and roast meat hit Kalfinar’s senses. His stomach began to protest at the recent neglect.
Bergnon halted and turned to them. “Perhaps it’d be best if the lads here fetched a meal and a bath. They needn’t delve into politics just yet. What say you, lads?”
“I would appreciate that very much, sir,” Thaskil replied to the tall major. “I’ll not deny the journey’s been hard, sir.” He smiled modestly at the three experienced soldiers.
Arrlun nodded his agreement. “Aye, Major Bergnon, sir. I’d appreciate some food and a bed. I can wash tomorrow.” The young northerner smiled.
“Major Bergnon, sir, eh? A man from Ultima North, I presume.” Bergnon smiled towards Arrlun. “That’s a Gerloup accent, if I’m not mistaken.”
“That’s right, Major Bergnon, sir.”
“Well Arrlun, as much as you wish for a bed, I recommend that you experience our baths. They’re very good indeed, and the bed’s embrace will be all the sweeter after a soak. Come, we’ll find someone to look after you two.” Bergnon led the group down a wide stone corridor towards the kitchens. As he entered, he called a housemaid over.
Kalfinar turned back to the young soldiers, “I’ll see to it tonight that you both receive your commission.”
The two young men smiled.
“I’ll have Rallik and Petran commissioned also.” Shitting hell, that’s the least you can do for them, you got them into this, got them killed. He smiled to the lads. “Now go and get some food.”
*
Bergnon led them up a tight and winding stone staircase towards the rear of the keep. “It’s best the lads don’t hear too much. We’re trying to keep this as quiet as possible for now,” Bergnon said as they hurried onwards.
“This isn’t the way to Chief Marshal Solskaen’s study.” Kalfinar felt a nervous twist in his stomach.
Bergnon stopped and turned to his companions, his brows furrowed. “No, it’s not. Solskaen’s dead. Murdered. Governor Abbonan alone leads the High Command in Terna now. As you can imagine, some of Solskaen’s senior staff are a bit upset at Command falling solely to the Governor, now that he’s a civilian.”
“What? Forty years commanding in the fleet is so soon forgotten?” Broden asked.
“Same old politics.” Bergnon grumbled.
They reached a large wooden door flanked
by two guardsmen and stopped. Bergnon spoke to one of the soldiers as they approached, “Fetch me the physician at once. Tell him to bring a tonic of, ah, what was that name?”
“Falidweed,” Kalfinar supplied.
“And bring some food up. These men are hungry.”
The soldier saluted crisply and headed down the stairs. They opened the door and entered. Two dozen men and women sat surrounding a long wooden table in the centre of a large room. The stone walls of the room were covered with many elaborate and bright tapestries depicting sea battles. Their colours danced vividly from the light of the oil lamps lining the upper walls. A large fire crackled and glowed at the rear of the room, and several large grey wolfhounds lay across the rug-lined floor. The senior officers of the Terna High Command were locked in debate. Relations appeared strained. Several officers sat with their heads in their hands. Papers and maps cluttered the large table, and with the room’s focus lost in discussion, the entrance of the three men went unnoticed. Kalfinar saw Governor Abbonan at the head of the table, thick hands rubbing grey-haired temples while the others argued.
Clearing his throat, Bergnon announced their arrival, “Captain’s Kalfinar and Broden have travelled from Hardalen to bring us news. It appears the assassins have reached as far as the mountains.”
The debate ceased and all in the room turned their attention to the two wet and mud-splattered men in the doorway.
CHAPTER FIVE
Kalfinar looked around the table. There are so few. It can’t be so. A flush of alarm washed over him as many of the faces he would have expected to see in the Terna High Command were absent. Good soldiers, and some friends. A quick glance towards Broden confirmed that he too had noticed the loss.
“Sit, gentlemen, please.” Bergnon ushered Kalfinar and Broden to a pair of seats at the far end of the long table. The officers of the Terna High Command remained seated, each nodding their heads in solemn greeting to the men. Several of those who sat around the table fixed hard eyes on Kalfinar. It was clear the depths of his fall remained fresh within the memory of many of those gathered.
“It’s good to see you both. I’m relieved,” Governor Abbonan said, his voice weary as he rose, stretching his long, broad frame from his chair with some stiffness. “Bloody knee,” Abbonan grumbled as he reached down and rubbed the offending joint. “The old fleet injury has been playing up with this weather.”
“Governor. Good to see you. You’re looking well, old knee aside.” Kalfinar shooed the wolfhounds resting on the floor and moved towards Abbonan.
He grasped the governor’s rough, calloused hand. The retired admiral’s body bore the stature and marks of one having served long at sea. His skin was weather-beaten and his steel-grey hair appeared fixed in a permanent stiff sea breeze.
“Ah, kind of you to say. Of course, thanks must go to my new wife, Pila. She keeps my feeling young a priority of hers.” He smiled, a feeble effort to inject some good humour into the solemn atmosphere. “Your father does not approve, of course.”
Kalfinar’s brows furrowed at the mention of his father.
“Broden, I see the mountain living has been good for you. You appear to have lost some of that excess meat about you.” Abbonan grinned to the big captain who approached him.
They clasped hands firmly. The bag around Broden’s shoulder drew the attention of one of Governor Abbonan’s hounds, and it sniffed with interest.
“Indeed it has,” Broden said as he shooed the hound away from the bag. “All that chasing after Kal keeps me lean.” He gently grasped his cousin’s good shoulder and gave it a shake. “He’s had a new lease of life up there.”
The smiles at the reunion were true enough, however the trouble that had forced such an occasion was palpable. The smiles evaporated quickly.
“Major Bergnon, if you will, please recount to our two travellers what has occurred,” Abbonan said as the three men settled into their seats.
“Certainly, sir.”
Bergnon cleared his throat and spoke, “This is unlikely to come as a great shock to either of you. Five nights before this, we were attacked. It was discrete, and it was well planned. Twenty-three officers and veteran non-commissioned officers were slain. It appears most were killed as they slept. They were all campaign experienced.” Bergnon paused and drank some water, his hand trembling ever so slightly as he raised the goblet. “The Night Command was only alerted by guards who heard the roars of Chief Marshal Solskaen as he fought his attacker, sadly, in vain. If it were not for the alarm being raised at this point, many more of us may not be here tonight.”
“Did anyone see the assassins?” Broden asked.
“Fleeting glimpses. Nothing more,” Bergnon answered. “The Chief Marshal’s guards reported seeing a figure, masked and dressed in black, leaping from the window. The assassin had tied off a rope beyond the reach of the guards and was able to scale down the side of the keep. Before the Night Command could reach him, he was off, away into the night.” Bergnon paused and sighed, shaking his head. “These were killers of exceptional skill.”
Abbonan spoke up, “Wouldn’t have thought what remains of the Solansian forces could manage the level of sophistication it would have taken to carry out such an attack. Their armies were routed and collapsed after the last campaign, and what was left of their navy fled never to be seen again!” Abbonan looked up at a tapestry of two ships locked in fiery combat. “We could never find the bastards. Sailed all around the Yellow Sea and the Salt Coast, and nothing.”
Bergnon spoke on, “As you’ve seen, Terna is on high alert and we’ve enforced a curfew. Although we’ve not captured any of the killers, we believe there may still be a chance some have failed to escape the city.”
“Were all those attacked killed?” Kalfinar asked.
Bergnon’s response was quiet, “Yes. None survived.”
Abbonan interrupted, “Thank you, Major, I’ll take it from here. We’ve been sweeping the quarters of the city. We’ll find the bastards, if they’re still here.” Abbonan filled his goblet with wine from a beaten copper jug and slugged at it. “The weather has been treacherous, so there was no point in sending pigeons. They wouldn’t have made it five miles. Word was sent to Carte by ship four days ago. We feared this may not have been isolated, and now it seems as though our fears are to be realised.” The governor looked to Kalfinar and Broden as they sat before him. “Well, now it’s your turn to spill out your tidings, grave as they may be.” Abbonan sat into his chair. He rubbed his temples with his thick forefingers. “Damn these days.” Abbonan patted the nuzzling head of the hound by his side. He regarded the beast wistfully, “An easier life.”
“The governor is correct.” Kalfinar’s voice felt gravelly. “Our report is not one to cheer the heart, I’m afraid. This attack is not isolated to Terna. It has reached as far as Hardalen also.”
The officers of the High Command began to babble amongst themselves. Theory and conjecture hummed around the room.
Kalfinar rubbed at his eyes as the pain of his pounding head cored through them. Flares of bright yellow and white swamped his vision. Where’s that damned physician?
“Commanders, please!” Bergnon encouraged silence. “Let Captain Kalfinar finish.”
As the muttering ceased Kalfinar continued to recount the events of the previous week, “Five nights before this, assassins made their way into the garrison at Hardalen. The attack appears to have only targeted myself and Broden. If there were to be others, they failed.”
“You’re both alive. What of the assassins?” Abbonan asked. His face revealed a hunger for answers. As did the eyes of the other members of the High Command.
“Dead,” Kalfinar replied plainly. “We managed to kill our visitors.”
“No harm to either of you?”
“It was a close thing for me. I took a knife to my left shoulder.” A little lower and to the right.
“And Broden?” Abbonan asked.
Broden was drinking from a goblet. Wipin
g beads of wine from his beard, he smiled and answered, “No. No holes in me, my lord. I’ve not been much of a sleeper since I’ve been at Hardalen. I managed to stick him before he stuck me.”
Governor Abbonan returned a thin smile. “Stick or be stuck. The most simple and honest distillation of combat there ever was. Well, blessed be your restless nights,” Abbonan replied. “You have dispatches?”
“Aye, sir.” Kalfinar reached inside his coat and pulled out both Lucius’s and Olmat’s reports. He handed them to Abbonan. “Before you read them, sir, I must tell you that the situation developed somewhat since they were written.”
“Oh?”
“Last night we had sought shelter in one of the final route caves before Terna. A mountain wolf attacked, and we lost two of our party before we could dispatch it. They were both awaiting commission.”
“I’m sorry,” the governor said. “If you give me their details before the night is done, I shall see they receive posthumous commissions, complete with a death endowment for their families.”
Kalfinar nodded his thanks and continued, “I’m afraid that is not all.”
Abbonan’s eyebrows raised and his eyes widened.
“It appears the confusion following the wolf attack presented the opportunity the assassins needed to attack. I suspect they were undone by the storm, and, in desperation, sought to complete their mission and obtain shelter. They were weakened by exposure and hunger. It was no hardship to defeat them. One of the party did live long enough to speak.”
Abbonan leaned in from his seat. “What did he say?”
“He told me that there was a red season coming for the Free Provinces, and that the true God has risen.”
“The true God?” Abbonan asked. “What did he mean by that?”
“I don’t know,” Kalfinar said, “but he also said that the true God would claim us all.”
“For all our differences, the Solansians are still children of Dajda. Did he say anything else?” Abbonan asked.