The Long War 02 - The Dark Blood

by A. J. Smith

  The few watchmen brave enough to stand against the hounds were killed quickly, and the crossbowmen on the battlements were thrown from the walls to be despatched below. The rest of the pack fanned out into Cozz, looking for people to kill and wealth to plunder, flooding through the well-tended streets.

  Dalian kept close to his unit at first, not wishing to appear suspicious by leaving them to seek out the blacksmith. He made sure not to be at the very front so as to avoid the worst of the violence, as the common folk began to run and hide or drop to their knees in terrified surrender. He saw a dozen men die within the first few minutes and many more mutilated or tied up for later amusement. Izra actively encouraged her hounds to rape and torture, and Dalian had to fight the urge to defend some of the weaker citizens. He felt a deep surge of hatred towards what was being carried out here and he knew that Jaa would be watching with equal anguish.

  Sounds of slaughter, oaths of challenge, cries of pain and of surrender filled the air. Doors were kicked in and the occupants – mostly commoners – were brutally dragged from their homes and businesses, to be executed or tied up by the faceless hounds of Karesia. Dalian saw a young man of Ro attempt to defend a woman and have his head severed as a result. He saw the woman stripped and added to a growing number of trophies corralled by the gate.

  With a deep breath, he turned from the spectacle in the central squares of Cozz. Despite the number of hounds, it was not a small town and he knew that it would take Izra’s pack most of the day to cover the whole of the enclave. That gave him a chance. If he could locate Culver’s Yard and find the blacksmith, he was confident that he could smuggle him out of Cozz and not be spotted in the chaos.

  He turned sharply away from his unit as twenty-three kicked in the door of a jewellery shop and charged in to kill or steal whatever they found within. He paused, his back against a wooden wall, and waited for a moment to check if his absence had been noticed. When no one emerged to find him, the wind claw concluded that they were too preoccupied to worry about a missing hound.

  He ran down the adjoining alley and away from the bulk of the pack. The noise of the rape of Cozz could still be heard, even as Dalian turned from the main squares and hurried along a tree-lined street that led away from the markets. To his left was a green hill that rose above the rest of the enclave, housing the majority of the merchant lords’ estates. That was where Izra and Kasimir had taken most of the seasoned hounds. Within the hour, all the revered merchants of Cozz would be dead or imprisoned.

  A watchman, armed with a crossbow, suddenly stepped out in front of him. The man was young and Dalian saw wide eyes and shaking hands as he fired his weapon wildly. He dropped the crossbow and fumbled at his waist to draw a short sword. Dalian stepped forward, punched him solidly in the stomach and grabbed him by the throat.

  ‘Where is Culver’s Yard?’ Dalian barked. ‘Tell me and live.’

  The young man looked as if he were about to faint and the Thief Taker saw a steady trickle of urine beneath him. This was not someone who should have to fight for his life. He was a simple child of the One, and Dalian decided not to kill him. He relaxed his grip on his throat and allowed him to stand up straight. Then he removed his faceless helmet and glared at the man. ‘I’m not a hound and I’m not here to kill or steal. Culver’s Yard, where is it?’

  The young man now looked every bit as confused as afraid, and he pointed weakly to his left, down the cobbled street and further away from the markets.

  ‘More specific,’ growled Dalian through clenched teeth.

  The watchman stuttered over his reply. ‘It’s the third yard down. The biggest one,’ he blurted out.

  ‘I’d go and find a very dark place to hide in, young man,’ said the wind claw. ‘There are many men in this town who will kill you for holding a weapon. Consider yourself lucky that I am not one of them.’ He left the young man in terrified silence and ran down the cobbled street.

  He was startled momentarily as a serious of explosions sounded from the centre of the enclave. The watchmen of Cozz had shown that they were far from helpless, and Dalian smiled. Marshal Wesson’s mutilation would be a spur to these common people to fight against the Karesians. Izra’s pack would at least get bloody as Cozz was annexed.

  He didn’t slow down, though weeks of sleeping rough and tough living were beginning to catch up with him. Whatever it was the Ro were using to blow things up – Ranen pitch most likely – made his ears ring and he was tired and sore. Even the brief encounter with the young watchman had left him breathing heavily.

  ‘Lord, I would have been much more use twenty years ago... when my feet weren’t so sore.’

  As he began to feel the pain of exertion in his side, he reached the bottom of the incline and turned away from the grassy hillock. In front of him, on level ground, were a dozen fenced-in yards containing open wooden structures and blacksmiths’ equipment. Culver’s Yard stood slightly higher than the others, flanking the grassy avenue that led back to the market squares. He turned abruptly into the dusty yard and stopped.

  In front of him were anvils, forges and racks of freshly forged weaponry. The craft of the Ro was advanced compared with that of the Karesians, and Dalian paused for a moment to discard his hound scimitar and avail himself of two short swords. He preferred the feel of two lighter blades than one heavy one.

  ‘Get away from those weapons, thief,’ barked a voice from close by.

  Dalian spun round and saw three burly men approaching him. They were all Ro and likely the owners of the yard. Each hefted a large hammer, more like smithing equipment than weaponry, but intimidating and well-handled nonetheless.

  ‘Cozz won’t fall without a fight,’ said the largest of the three, a barrel-chested blacksmith with bright red cheeks.

  ‘Which one of you is Tobin?’ asked the Thief Taker, tucking the two short swords into his belt.

  Two of the men looked at the barrel-chested smith, answering Dalian’s question without speaking. He admired their willingness to fight for their home, but he didn’t have the time to take them for a drink.

  ‘I am not a hound,’ he said, advancing with his arms spread wide in a gesture of peace. ‘And I am here for Tobin. You can stay and die or you can come with me and live.’

  Tobin the smith narrowed his eyes and relaxed his hammer. ‘Who are you, Karesian?’

  ‘My name wouldn’t mean anything to you, but I seek Rham Jas Rami and Al-Hasim. I understand you know these men.’ Dalian was pushed for time and could hear the approach of steel-shod feet, indicating that at least one squad of hounds was nearby.

  ‘What’s he talking about, Tobin?’ asked one of the other blacksmiths.

  Before he could answer, six anonymous hounds rushed into Culver’s Yard. They made a quick assessment of the four men before them – one Karesian in hound armour and three Ro – and attacked.

  ‘Stay back,’ shouted Dalian to the three men of Ro. ‘Let me prove to you that I’m not an enemy.’

  The hounds were more surprised than the blacksmiths as the wind claw interposed himself between the two groups and drew his new swords.

  ‘What are you doing, old dog?’ asked one of the Karesians from behind his plain steel helmet.

  The Thief Taker didn’t respond with words. He thrust a short sword through the hound’s throat, sending blood over the floor and the man to the ground. Then he wheeled round and severed the next man’s leg, just above the knee. Dalian was impressed at the quality of Ro steel – and equally impressed that a tired old faithful of Jaa could kill two hounds in less than two seconds.

  The remaining four all attacked at once, but succeeded mostly in getting in each other’s way. Dalian sprang backwards and let them flounder for a moment. He then rolled forward, tripping up the first two men and forcing the other two back. He couldn’t match them for youth or fitness, but he was clever and had killed more men than he could remember.

  The two fallen men let out grunts of frustration as they tried to stand in th
eir heavy steel armour. The last two died quickly, as Dalian parried a clumsy thrust and cut upwards between the first man’s legs. Kicking the final hound in the chest, he finished him off with a downward thrust into his head.

  Before he could turn, Tobin and the other two men of Ro had jumped on the two fallen hounds and were pounding them to death with heavy blacksmiths’ equipment.

  ‘More will come,’ said Dalian between heavy breaths.

  He was exhausted now and hoped he wouldn’t have to do much more fighting. As he grew older, he had come to the uncomfortable realization that, although he was still capable of killing any man who faced him, he would likely need a rest before the next one.

  ‘Who are you?’ demanded Tobin, as he surveyed the six dead hounds.

  ‘I...’ he began, trying to slow his laboured breathing, ‘am Dalian Thief Taker, greatest of the wind claws.’

  None of the men knew what the title meant and they were none the wiser as to the identity of the strange man who had saved their lives. They looked at each other until the sound of more hounds approaching shook them out of their confusion.

  ‘I need to find Rham Jas Rami,’ repeated Dalian in a hoarse whisper. ‘Can you help me or not?’

  Tobin nodded and turned to his two friends. ‘Help us get out of Cozz and I’ll help you find the Kirin.’

  ‘We can’t just leave... I built this yard with my own hands,’ said a second man of Ro. ‘How do we know Wesson isn’t kicking their arses at this very moment?’

  ‘Wesson is dead,’ replied Dalian simply, ‘and your town is overrun.’

  News of their lord marshal’s demise hit all three of the blacksmiths hard and each looked at the floor with the sudden realization that Cozz would fall and would probably be razed to the ground.

  ‘We need to leave,’ said Dalian, standing upright and flexing his sore back. ‘Get moving. We head for the eastern gate. They won’t be there yet.’ The men of Ro returned blank looks. ‘Move!’ he shouted.

  As blacksmiths, they were built for strength rather than speed, and even a tired old warrior like Dalian could keep up with them as they ran east out of Culver’s Yard.

  The streets of Cozz were erupting in chaos. Men and women ran from their homes, clutching any belongings they could carry, as the hounds of Karesia stole anything they found and killed any that stood against them.

  ‘Keep to the side streets,’ said Dalian, shoving Tobin behind him. ‘If you die, I’ll kill your friends and join in razing Cozz.’ He didn’t mean what he said, but he needed the three men of Ro to be more scared of him than they were of the hounds.

  Dalian poked his head out of the side street and could see the eastern gate a few streets away. Between them and the safety of the eastern plain were several dozen hounds. Izra’s pack had spread quickly through the merchant enclave and now the scene before Dalian was one of violence and destruction. Men had died defending their homes and families, women had been dragged into stables and violated by several clumsy rapists at a time, and buildings had been set on fire. He flinched as he saw two female hounds rape a man of Cozz with their scimitars.

  ‘They’ll die for this,’ growled Tobin from behind. ‘This is Tor Funweir.’

  ‘It was,’ replied Dalian in a deathly quiet whisper. ‘Now it belongs to the Seven Sisters.’

  The Thief Taker ducked back down the street, grabbing Tobin as he did so, and turned away from the scene of slaughter. They quickly ran down three adjacent side streets until they reached the outer stockade of Cozz. The wooden walls were secure, but several small gaps were in evidence. Dalian ushered the blacksmiths behind him and stepped out into a narrow alley that ran along the length of the eastern wall. No hounds were within his field of vision, though the sounds of their assault echoed from all around him.

  ‘Move quickly,’ he said to the men of Ro, ‘and try to keep quiet.’

  With the wind claw in the lead, they moved from the side street and quickly reached a gap in the palisade. By moving two planks out of the way, it was a simple matter to squeeze through, though the bulky blacksmiths made the operation a slow one.

  Dalian dragged the men through the gap, and they fled east across the grassy plains of Cozz.

  * * *

  As the sun went down and the smoke rising from Cozz faded over the horizon, Dalian allowed the three blacksmiths to stop for a rest. He had been planning to travel through the night and gain some ground on the assassin, but Tobin the smith had stubbornly refused to tell him anything until he’d had a chance to eat and sit round a fire.

  Somewhere in the world, under a rock, in a tavern, or killing one of the Seven Sisters, was Rham Jas Rami, the Kirin assassin. Dalian was impatient, but he tried to keep his temper while the big men of Ro wheezed and complained, lamenting the loss of their home. The man of Karesia sympathized, even if he expressed it poorly because he was running out of time and needed to keep moving.

  They had found a small forest directly east of Cozz, and now they sat within the tree line, huddled round a fire. The mountains of the Claws were just visible across the fields, towering over the eastern landscape, and Dalian was in unfamiliar territory, deeper into Tor Funweir than he had ever been, and far from the lands of Jaa. It was not especially cold, but the weather across the flat lands was temperamental and the wind never seemed to stop, putting the old wind claw in a foul mood.

  ‘You should eat something, Karesian,’ said Tobin, offering a bowl of Gorlan stew.

  Dalian was not convinced of the blacksmith’s culinary expertise. He thought the spiders he’d used had been far too small to make a flavoursome broth, and the men of Ro did not seem to understand the concept of seasoning. ‘I’ll pass, thank you,’ he replied, as politely as he could.

  The blacksmiths were in melancholy mood, ruminating on the destruction of Cozz, and on family and friends who were most likely captive or dead by now. Each had family elsewhere, however, and Dalian had heard a dozen plans as to where they would go and how they would finance their future blacksmithing endeavours. They were tough men, and the old Karesian admired their spirit, if not their stamina.

  ‘How long do you need to rest before you’ll tell me what I want to know?’ he asked.

  They each looked at him and exchanged concerned glances. None of them had asked him anything about himself or why he’d been in the merchant enclave in the first place, and it was evident they were simply glad they’d managed to escape. ‘You saved our lives, Karesian,’ said Tobin, nodding in subtle gratitude.

  ‘I am a servant of Jaa, it was the Fire Giant that saved you,’ replied Dalian. ‘You should thank him.’

  Tobin smiled. ‘There isn’t a god of blacksmiths. When they invent one, I’ll follow him... but I’m not thanking a Giant for anything.’

  The remark made Dalian chuckle ironically. He’d kill any man in Karesia who made a similar comment, but these were simple men, and the clerics of the One clearly allowed a more flippant attitude than the wind claws of Jaa.

  ‘This country is strange to me,’ said the Thief Taker with a smile.

  ‘Never been to Karesia,’ replied Tobin, taking a mouthful of stew, ‘but I’m fairly sure that we’d find that place strange too.’

  ‘Can I push you for some information, or would that be rude... given that your town was recently destroyed?’ asked Dalian, trying to remain patient.

  The three men of Cozz looked downcast, and it took a moment for Tobin to reply. ‘You’re after Rham Jas?’ he asked.

  ‘I am.’

  Tobin looked at his fellows, who evidently did not know who Rham Jas was. ‘He passed through my yard... maybe three weeks ago, with a mobster from Tiris. Glenwood, I think his name was,’ volunteered the blacksmith.

  ‘Tobin, you been fixing for criminals again?’ asked one of the other blacksmiths in a judgemental tone.

  ‘My steel isn’t as good as yours,’ replied Tobin. ‘A man has to make a living.’

  ‘But fixing for assassins? That’s dirty work.’ Th
e other two were shaking their heads, and Dalian snapped his fingers to attract Tobin’s attention.

  ‘The assassin, where is he?’ he repeated, more insistently. ‘Or the Prince of the Wastes, a Karesian friend of his.’

  ‘Yeah, I know them both,’ Tobin conceded reluctantly. ‘I’ve not seen Al-Hasim for a while, though. He was running bootleg wine out of Tiris a few years ago.’ He paused for a moment and ate some more of his thin and watery stew. ‘Rham Jas was on his way to Arnon and then Leith, something about some women that need killing.’

  ‘Did he give you any names?’ asked Dalian, hoping that the women in question were the Seven Sisters.

  Tobin shook his head. ‘I don’t ask for names. All I do is provide food, steel, repairs, supplies... I don’t ask questions.’

  ‘How do I get to Ro Arnon?’ asked the Thief Taker, planning to leave in pursuit as soon as possible.

  ‘Why are you after him?’ pressed Tobin with narrow eyes. ‘Has he pissed you off?’

  ‘I’m not going to kill him, if that’s what you’re asking,’ replied Dalian.

  Tobin chuckled to himself and looked unconvinced. ‘I’m not worried about that. Rham Jas is a slippery fucker. You’re tough, but I know people who think he’s unkillable.’

  ‘I’ve very glad to hear that.’ Dalian looked to the sky. He estimated that it was approaching midnight. ‘I’ll leave in the morning.’

  ‘You’re better off heading to Leith,’ said Tobin. ‘You’re a few weeks behind and you’ll miss them in Arnon.’

  ‘So how do I get to Leith?’ he asked.

  ‘Take the road east, towards Arnon. When you cross the river, head south past the Claws. You’ll have to rough it a bit, but it’s a pleasant enough journey.’ Tobin was chewing on a stewed Gorlan leg, but remained suspicious as to why Dalian was looking for the assassin.

  The Thief Taker smiled, content that he had the information he needed. ‘Thank you, blacksmith,’ he said. ‘Find somewhere nice to live. Start a business, meet a woman, drink wine, eat food and raise children.’