by Jon Kiln
A few minutes later he heard a set of horses ride hard through the intersection between the darkened buildings. He leaned forward, and though he followed the cloud of their passing dust, he wasn’t sure their destination. He could not get a count of their numbers either, but they were more than a few. They must have seen the shape of the barn as they passed, but they had not yet been moved to approach it nor to search it.
Nisero did not know if they were the same killers. It could have been a few of his brothers in the Elite Guard breaking away, though not likely in the opposite direction of the capital. It could have been knights fleeing the captured manor after a pitched battle, but also unlikely. Most night riders were the type that were up to evil, and these were probably the same and worst kind that had fallen on his party earlier in the night.
Nisero thought he would not sleep, but then the exhaustion of extreme emotions and a night of hard running overtook him finally.
***
He startled awake at the first color of morning, slicing pink and then burnt orange along the edge of the sky. He did not feel rested and all his muscles felt heavy.
Nisero leaned up to see knights in light armor standing about the buildings at the intersection of the roads. Citizens stood outside as the warriors cast furniture out the doors. These people were either being punished or being searched to see who needed punishment. Nisero did not know the area well enough to register if the knight's bore the crest of the local manor. Forseth had insisted on riding this far in the dark because he claimed to know the place, and know it was safe. Nisero was not sure if the knights searched for him, or the bandits that waylaid the road.
Two of them approached the barn. They walked along a proper wagon trail through the fields of ripe grain.
Nisero scrambled across the loft in the low light. He spied below. A milking stool and bucket were in place in one of the cow stalls, but he did not see a son or maid. The doors to the barn were open, letting in light. He saw a smaller door through a tool shed at the back of the barn. This would likely be his path of escape, but if he surprised a farmer in there Nisero feared that any number of tools in the tight space could do as much or more damage than his sword.
Nisero decided he would move fast enough to surprise, but not be speared. He had no intention of doing harm to an innocent farmer or his family.
Nisero turned and planted his feet outside the support rails of the ladder and slid down to the packed dirt floor of the barn in one smooth motion. As he landed, a few of the animals startled and bumped the sides of their pens.
He turned and looked through the rear of the barn through the open shed, to the back acres of the farm. The way was clear as far as he could see.
Nisero turned and looked through the open front doors. He could spot the knights in the distance. Closer in, a boy stood with a full pail of milk at his side. His mouth was agape and his eyes were wide and as white as his milk. The boy dropped the bucket and spilled the contents over the rutted ground, creating sickly puddles of milky mud.
The lieutenant thought about stabbing another boy in a barn on the far side of the kingdom some years ago. He had been with his former captain at that moment. Nisero felt more lost and alone in this barn near the heart of the kingdom.
The boy shouted and waved his arms. “He is up here! He is in our barn!”
The knights broke into a run.
Nisero turned and charged out through the shed. It smelled of old wood and oils for treating metal tools to stave off rust. He exited to air that smelled sweet with grain and dew. He pumped his legs and passed the storage buildings. He tore through brambles and thick brush beyond the worked land.
He turned sideways to rip through some of the tangles, and continued onward as fast as he could.
The ground sloped away toward the east. He could identify that now from the burn of the sun across the horizon. A thick fog clung low to the ground through the unruly brush. Nisero made his way down the contour of the land, hoping to find a path that would allow him to gain some ground if the knights chose to pursue through the thickets.
If Nisero were giving chase, he would send men around on the nearest road to attempt to cut off the human prey. He hoped the local knights were not as versed in tracking human targets as Nisero and other members of the Guard were.
He could not be certain that the local crested knights intended him harm, but after the losses of the previous evening the lieutenant could not afford to gamble his life on the uncertainty. If they caught him, he would find out then, but he would use his freedom to investigate the truth for as long as he was able.
The land broke at the base of the slope between two hills. Through the gap, Nisero saw the doors and one corner wall of an isolated temple. This appeared to be unconnected to the surrounding villages and was probably dedicated to some minor god that did not possess the support to be patroned within a city. Such sects often had to build apart from claimed land or repurpose some other abandoned structure. Such places could be found peppered between populations throughout the kingdom.
Nisero hazarded a glance back over his shoulder. He did not see anyone in pursuit. That did not mean they were not still tracking, nor that he was safe.
He slowed his pace as he moved through the trough between the hills and approached the road across from the temple. A low bell or gong sounded in a slow rhythm within the shrine. The worshippers were either already gathered or one, lone priest maintained the morning rituals.
He cut his eyes in both directions, peering through the dying fog. He saw no one along the roadway.
Nisero hesitated. He still did not feel entirely comforted.
As he crossed the road toward the doors of the temple, he tried to think what his next move should be. He was being pushed farther from the capital. He knew of no friends in the area. Without the other guardsmen, his list of allies was very thin in most directions.
There would be no real chance of sanctuary in this particular place of worship. Even if this minor priest were obliged to extend it, the local populations probably did not recognize this god’s power. And the men that would slay the King’s Elite Guard along the highway would not respect the minor holiness of this temple, either.
Notices marked the scarred, wooden doors at the top of the stone steps. It was not an uncommon practice to use the doors of temples as a post for information. Temples that were respected and forgotten alike made good rallying points to gather news and to leave it.
Nisero looked again in both directions as he mounted the stairs. He did not expect to find any useful news about his plight, nor was he looking to buy a local cow or acre. But he thought he might be able to get an orientation about the names of the nearest villages and lords. He could possibly better understand where he was, and who might be around to approach or avoid.
The lieutenant scanned the aging, weathered papers, finding that most assumed readers would already know the village names and who their lord was. Nisero frowned.
His eyes froze upon a new posting in the center of the others. An empty space around it showed that the ones who had posted it had torn down the other notices to make room. It was crudely drawn and some of the words were misspelled, but the fact that it was created this quickly meant that Nisero was in greater peril than he thought. The scribes of his enemies had been busy.
The drawing was of his face. It was rough enough that it might be most any man, but seeing his name and rank blocked above it made it seem more clearly his visage. The words traitor and murderer stood out in bolder script from a rambling list of charges that laid the previous night’s violence at his feet.
This represented a greater threat to him. It was either a deadly mistake or a deliberate misdirection by those that sought him harm. Either way, it meant that those that sought Nisero were powerful and had reach. He would be marked as an outlaw as far as these notices had traveled. The fact that they were up at all made him believe that they had been posted quite far in every direction. The knights he had see
n were seeking him out either by mistake or design.
Nisero turned away, hearing the birds twitter outside and the low tone sounding against the stones inside.
He stepped off the stairs of the temple and circled around behind, still pressing eastward. He was not far enough from trouble yet to plan any sort of path.
As Nisero placed trees between him, the notice, and his pursuers, he said out loud to birds, “I should have stolen one of the horses.”
Chapter 3: For Want of Sanctuary
Nisero crawled forward on his belly and peered through the grass. He was between the trees at the roadway below the hill. The party blocking the road wore the crests of the kingdom regular forces. As they searched under the canvas on a merchant’s wagon bound westward toward the capital, Nisero contemplated his plight.
If the regulars had been called up and placed on search leading into the city, then the King was aware of the incident that brought down the Elite Guard. Those that served the King had obviously bought into the narrative that Nisero, the fugitive, was the one that needed to be captured in connection to it.
He could still press his harrowing approach toward the city and the palace, but he would eventually run out of cover. He could try to reach the King and explain his version of events, but making it that far and being believed were two unlikely fantasies.
His primary drive in trying to make it to the capital was to warn the King, but the royal authority clearly knew all there was to know, short of Nisero’s own confession. His motivation for trying to reach those in power evaporated as he watched conscripted army searching barrels and grain sacks for him.
“The bandits that laid us low were backed by someone more powerful,” Nisero whispered. The King himself? A lord seeking to replace the royal family with his own? A foreign power seeking to divide the kingdom? None of that made any sense to him, but he knew there had to be more at play than bandits with a grudge against the Elite Guard or the Eastern prince.
If the King knew of the incident, then the Eastern king would soon, if not already. Perhaps this roadblock had more to do with searching for agents of retaliation than it did about Nisero alone.
He had passed copies of the same misspelled notice calling for the lieutenant’s capture posted on every tree and fence as he came towards the road. He could have used the drawing of his own face to guide him back to the capital, if he did not already know the way.
Maybe the attackers were backed by some rebellious force within the Eastern kingdom, seeking to remove the prince and possibly ignite a war between the kingdoms? Perhaps such a conflict would aid in replacing that king upon the throne?
Nisero bowed his head and stared at the ground trying to formulate a plan. Preferably one that that did not end with him in the dungeons awaiting execution. He had sent many men there himself that would be most interested in meeting Lieutenant Nisero again.
His only idea seemed like a greater fantasy than marching single-handed into the King’s throne room to declare his innocence.
He pulled himself back from the edge of the hill as the regulars searched the bundles of the next rider arriving at the roadblock. He crawled back into the trees before taking to his feet and traveling eastward again.
He had to cover some distance before he found a point where he felt safe in crossing the road to turn his course north.
Nisero followed the trees clustered along a creek that wound between farmland. He stopped and hid a number of times, avoiding children playing, people fishing, and workers gathering water from the creek. After they had passed on their way, Nisero emerged from hiding and continued on.
He stole clothes from a line set too close to the trees. He considered shedding his own uniform entirely, but the idea broke his heart and he feared it would be discovered and point to his trail. He settled instead for covering his uniform with the stolen clothes.
He followed this course for three days. He ate berries and stole fish and game from traps he encountered. Once making his theft, he covered as much ground as he could before building a low enough fire to cook, eat, and continue on.
The creek led upstream to a lake. It wasn’t large and wasn’t one that Nisero knew. A number of houses marked its shoreline. He broke loose of the cover and traveled wide around it, going north before connecting back up to a deeper river which fed the lake. He followed its bank drifting away as crafts floated down stream toward the lake. He considered taking a boat or building a raft of his own, but it wouldn’t do him much good going against the current.
“Always going against the current now, it seems,” he said to no one. Going with the current the last few years led me right into the jaws of death. And I took my captain and the other men right in with me.
Nisero came in sight of a larger village, but it was not the one he sought. He had not seen any of his posters this far north, but he decided not to risk trying to buy passage just the same.
He turned northeast and stayed far enough off the road to avoid being seen, but close enough to still follow its course. He finally spotted Brambudton. A wide highway led eastward through another larger city Nisero couldn’t remember by name. From there, it reached the border of the Eastern kingdom which had recently lost its prince and heir under the lieutenant’s watch. Smaller trails led out of it every other direction to outlying farms and clusters of economic activity.
Nisero cut another wide path around Brambudton. It would have been far quicker to pass through, but his destination was north of the village.
He rejoined the trail beyond the village and pressed his journey on the road, despite the added risk of discovery. He was close, it was afternoon, he was hungry, and desperation was growing in the pit of his stomach.
Nisero reached the gate of a cottage ground that was not particularly impressive in its size. There was a barn behind it although livestock was its primary function. There were plowed fields that were worked by hired men when work was required, but it was not a farm that provided much profit despite being larger than sustenance level.
The man of this house was a warrior that dreamed of a life of family and peace. He had a reputation for courage and loyalty. Nisero had once hoped to be thought of in that way as well. If the master was home, Nisero was not certain that help was to be found here either.
He had no options, so he crawled over the gate and approached up the path in the open like any other guest.
Nisero climbed the stone block steps. He expected them to wobble, but they were solid and built by a man that knew how to create security.
Nisero swallowed and faced the door. He rapped his knuckles against the wood and waited to speak to the first person he had revealed himself to in days – since the night he watched all his brothers murdered for which he was now blamed.
The door opened and the woman’s mouth dropped open. She brought one had down to the swell of her belly and leaned against the door for support. Nisero stared at the evidence of her pregnancy maybe a couple of months shy of birth.
“What do you think you are doing here?”
He found his voice which he had not had much use for in the preceding days. “Is your husband home?”
“He is called up on duty looking for you and guarding against a coming incursion from the east, due to what they say you did.”
Nisero looked away. “Do you believe I did those things?”
“I do not, but my husband is not inclined to hear my opinion on the subject, nor the King either, I suppose.”
“Is he in Brambudton? Returning tonight?” Nisero asked without looking at her.
“East,” she said. “Part of the company of regulars assigned to guard Spire.”
Spire was the name of the city Nisero could not remember. He only knew Brambudton and this house because she lived here, and he had been keeping track of her.
“I need to find your father, Arianne,” Nisero said returning his gaze to her eyes. “I know he is farther north in the mountains, but I’ve lost track of him.”
&
nbsp; “You and everyone else. By his design and desire, I might add.”
“But you know where Captain Berengar is, don’t you?”
It was her turn to look away. “He is not a captain any longer, and wishes to avoid entanglements from that past.”
Nisero nodded. “I imagine I am no longer truly a lieutenant myself after all that has happened. But I have no other options. The truth of what happened the night I was somehow marked an outlaw is more complicated than even I can decipher, having witnessed the treachery and murder with my own eyes. I need Berengar, and the kingdom needs him.”
“The kingdom always needs him for something,” she muttered. “And that is why he has chosen to hide.”
“I have not come seeking him before now,” Nisero implored. “I did not come seeking you either. I did not come to disrupt your wedding. I did not come see your husband or home. I did not come to question why you married a warrior after leaving me for being one. I only come now for there being no other options for myself.”
“You did not come, but you kept track of me enough to know exactly where to come,” Arianne countered.
“Just as I am sure you have kept track of your father’s location. And as I am sure he remains close enough to keep track of you. Am I wrong on either of those counts?”
Arianne sighed and looked around behind him. “Come inside, outlaw, before some traveler sees you and reports us to the authorities, or me to my husband.”
Nisero stepped inside and Arianne closed the door behind him.
“Your husband is called Dreth, correct? What rank does he hold now in the army?”
“Don’t,” she said and shook her head.
“Very well.”
She wavered on her feet and Nisero reached out to steady her, but she pulled away from his reach. “Come back to the kitchen. Voices do not carry outside from there. We don’t have any workers scheduled for today, but I do not want to take the chance.”