Shadows of Men (The Watchers Book 1)

by M. Lee Holmes

  “I’ll not be handing over my good sheets to get blood stains all over ‘em!” She huffed angrily.

  Rhada sighed and pulled her coin purse from her belt. She removed five gold pieces, which was more than enough to cover any expenses Madam Liscal would have due to her actions, and set them on the table in front of the innkeeper.

  Madam Liscal’s eyes widened as she reached forward and slowly counted the five pieces, almost not believing her own eyes.

  “Sheets?” Rhada asked impatiently and Madam Liscal snatched up the gold and disappeared into the back of the inn once more.

  “I know this man.” The young boy said. He was mopping the blood next to the second man Rhada had killed but was staring at the deceased’s face rather than the floor he was trying to clean.

  “You knew him?” Rhada asked, only half interested. She suddenly felt exhaustion creeping up on her and a strong desire for this night to end so she could forget it ever happened.

  “Yeah. His name was Mulvaus Haksin. He was from Elipol. He helped my father plow his field sometimes. He and father grew up together.” The boy had stopped mopping as he spoke.

  Rhada felt a lump catch in the back of her throat. She suddenly regretted allowing him to aid them.

  “I am sorry for your loss.” She said, not knowing what else she could say to ease the suffering of the young man.

  But the young man did not seem to be suffering. He looked up to Rhada with a small grin and said; “not my loss.” He turned his head and spat at the corpse.

  Mayvard stepped forward and placed a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Do not disrespect the dead!” He said in anger.

  “Disrespect?” The boy asked, shaking his head and pulling free of Mayvard’s grasp. “Believe me, this man showed no respect for the living during his life. He took my sister’s innocence before she even knew what innocence meant.” His face contorted in hatred as he gazed back down at the man. “I would have killed him myself if I ever saw him again.” He said in a quieter tone.

  Rhada looked down to the deceased as well and suddenly felt a slight release of pressure. Imagining that the man deserved his fate put her mind a little more at ease.

  “What is your name, boy?” She asked.

  “Gerrim Wentby, Madam Protector.”

  “What is your purpose here in North Fort?”

  Gerrim looked down to the dead man at his feet before replying, “I was coming to see my betrothed. I arrived in North Fort only an hour ago and decided it too late in the night to go knocking on her door, so I booked a room here at the inn. I’m glad I did, elsewise I never would have witnessed the death of this man.” He gestured again to the corpse at his feet.

  Rhada realized he must have come in whilst she and Mayvard were in their baths. She looked to Gerrim with curiosity. “You are to be married?”

  “Yes, Madam Protector.” Gerrim looked up at Rhada. “I am betrothed to Lady Emely Mendis.”

  “Protector Fendrel’s daughter?”

  Gerrim nodded.

  Rhada glanced at Mayvard with apprehension before saying to Gerrim; “Protector Fendrel is dead.”

  Gerrim’s gaze hardened at these words. Rhada was surprised to see loathing in his eyes as he stared at her now, the same loathing he had reserved for the man Mulvaus. It was as though delivering this news was as great a crime as molesting his young sister.

  “Did you kill him?” Gerrim asked with hatred in his voice. He suddenly dropped the mop in his hands, unwilling to help her any longer.

  “Of course not!” Rhada replied, a bit more defensively than she meant to sound. “These men,” she gestured to the two corpses on the floor, “came here to North Fort to deliver the news to Emely. I only know of his death from their lips.”

  “So it may not be true.” Gerrim argued, his tone softening slightly.

  “It is true enough.” Rhada said. She would not explain to him how she knew it was true. He would just have to believe her word.

  “They deviated from their duty of informing Fendrel’s daughter of his death in order to attempt an assassination on me.” Rhada gave Gerrim a look of regret. “If you show me where she lives, I shall deliver the news myself.”

  Gerrim furrowed his brow. “I do not think receiving the news from you would soften the blow for my beloved. I shall tell her. It will be easier coming from me.”

  “As you wish.” Rhada said, ashamed to admit that she was relieved.

  “How did it happen?” Gerrim asked.

  Rhada shook her head. “The details were not given to me.” She would not repeat the same fictional story the three assassins had told to her.

  Gerrim stared at Rhada for a few moments with hollow eyes before turning back to his mop. She got the sense he did not believe her.

  Madam Liscal returned with three sheets in hand. She handed them to Mayvard who began unfolding them and stretching them out over the bodies. Rhada took the third sheet from him and told him she would take care of the body outside. When she stepped back out into the cool night air, she sighed with relief. She had begun to feel the inn was suffocating her.

  She walked briskly to the body of the last man she had killed, glad that the hour was still late and everyone in the small town of North Fort remained in their beds. She had no desire to attract a gathering out here.

  Rhada stood over the body of the man that had pushed himself into her blade, allowing Bloodbinder to spill his own blood. His eyes remained opened as they had in his final, choking moments. The pain remained frozen forever in his blank stare. His skin had already turned gray and cold and as Rhada knelt beside him, unfolding the sheet to cover him, his last words rang in her ears.

  Someone else is plotting to kill me. Someone else is seeking revenge. She had never met these men before and wondered who it could be that they all knew. Protector Fendrel would have been her first assumption but Protector Fendrel was dead.

  Lord Doran. She had never thought the man capable of such malice but she had destroyed his beloved city and killed many of his people; acts that could cause anyone to act with such boldness. Has Lord Doran hired assassins to track me down? She knew her journey north would have been a perfect opportunity for an assassin to strike. She was away from the comforts of home, with only Mayvard to protect her.

  Her eyes studied the dead man at her feet as though he would tell her all his secrets if she gazed at him hard enough.

  He will have to hire men of much higher skill than these three if he wishes to kill me. Or send his entire army after me. Rhada shuddered at the thought. Assassins, she could handle, but a small army…?

  Rhada quickly covered the body with the sheet and spun around to fetch Mayvard. A deep fear had grown within her and she did not desire to stay and find out what Lord Doran had planned for her. As she walked, she scanned every alleyway and dark corner she came across, fully aware that a man could be hiding in the shadows, waiting for the most opportune moment. Perhaps Lord Doran is here, hiding in the darkness, watching my every move. The rational part of her mind was arguing that she was being paranoid, but still, she could not shake the feeling that her death waited around every corner.

  She pushed the door to the inn open and gestured for Mayvard to follow her. She ignored the curious gazes of Gerrim and Madam Liscal as they ascended the stairs towards Rhada’s room. She shut the door carefully behind her and locked it. She grabbed her discarded traveling clothes from the floor and began to quickly dress.

  “What is going on?” Mayvard asked as he watched her precarious movements.

  “We are leaving.” She replied without looking at him. She was pulling on her leather boots.

  “Are we not going to take the dead men to the undertaker?”

  “Let them worry about it.” She said, gesturing towards the door. “I will not stay here another moment whilst there are assassins creeping about.” She reached down and pulled on her leather gloves, fastened her cloak to her back and grabbed her traveling bag from the end of her bed, slinging
it over her shoulders.

  “Rhada,” Mayvard began in a gentle voice, “These men acted on a whim. No one else would dare attack you.”

  Rhada looked up to Mayvard and scowled. “You do not know that for certain.”

  “These men were not assassins. They were farmers and merchants who happened to be carrying swords and a grudge.”

  “And how did they acquire their swords, I wonder?” Rhada asked. “Do you not think it possible that Lord Doran gave them weapons?”

  Mayvard shook his head. “No, I do not.”

  “Then you are a fool.”

  Mayvard sucked in his breath and held it for a moment, trying not to let Rhada’s words sting him. He understood the pressure she was under and wondered how he would react if an attempt on his life had just been made. Finally, after he felt calm once more, he said; “If Lord Doran wanted to kill you, don’t you think he would have hired more competent men? Men who were better suited for the task? He has seen you fight in battle with his own two eyes. He knows what you are capable of. He would not send three farmers with cheap steel to attack you.”

  Rhada’s shoulders slumped and her hard gaze softened. She looked around the room for a moment as though she were lost but when her eyes fell back on Mayvard she knew she was acting irrationally. She regretted calling him a fool, for he was no fool, she knew. But she decided it best not to say anything. She hiked the bag higher upon her shoulder and said; “all the same, we are leaving. Pack your things and meet me at the stables across the street. I will prepare our horses.”

  With that, Rhada stomped away from him and out the door, letting it fly open to hit the wall with a loud bang. Mayvard sighed and looked down to the floor with sadness. He would never understand what it felt like to be as hated as she was- never understand the feeling of strangers that wanted him dead. And so he decided, as he stared at the dried blood on the floor of her room that had come from the healer’s stab, he would obey without question. He was her protector, and he would do his duty until he no longer could.

  Gerrim sat on the porch of Emely’s small hut with her shaking body wrapped in his arms. Her sobs filled the otherwise beautiful sunrise with dread. He could feel her tears splashing onto his arms and he tried whispering comforting words to her but they did little good.

  “I must know what happened.” She finally said, whispering between sobs. “My father’s death cannot go unpunished.”

  “It won’t.” Gerrim promised, stroking her golden hair. “Those three idiots from South Fort tried to claim the High Protector’s life, but any dolt with half a brain would know that you cannot simply kill her.”

  Emely nodded. “My father was traveling to Mordrid to meet with Lord Ivran. They are discussing a rebellion.”

  Gerrim kissed her head gently. “I am aware.”

  “Will you go?” She asked, raising her head to meet his gaze. “Will you avenge my father?”

  Gerrim looked to his lover with stunned eyes. “You wish for me to leave- to ride off into battle and perhaps never return? You want me to face the High Protector- to stand before the edge of Bloodbinder and fight her?” He laughed, though he did not mean to and shook his head. “What can I do against such a foe? Let the men who are skilled take care of her.”

  Emely scowled. “Are you really such a coward?” She asked, sitting up and pulling away from him. “Did you not love my father as if he were your own?”

  “Yes.” He admitted.

  “And did my father not take you in and care for you when you needed someone most?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “Then you should avenge him!” Emely said. She grasped him by the shoulders and squeezed. “Join the rebellion and do all you can to bring those who are evil to justice. It is what my father was working towards. You would do him proud.” Though her cheeks were streaked with tears, she smiled and stroked at a strand of his hair.

  “Go to your father and take up the sword you have abandoned. It is time you became the man you were meant to be.”

  At the thought of returning to his father, the man he swore he would never see again, he shuddered. But when he looked into Emely’s eyes, he knew he belonged to her; that he would do anything she desired of him. And if taking up his sword, the sword promised to a bastard son, meant that she would see him as a man, then he would do it without hesitation.

  “Elipol is a long journey from here, my love.” He said.

  “But it will not be lonely. I will go with you.” She smiled and they kissed until the sun rose over the horizon.

  Three days outside of North Fort and already their feet touched frozen ground. Their breath could be seen like a wisp floating in the chilled air. Their hands were clothed in their thick leather gloves and Rhada wrapped her black bear-fur cloak around her arms tightly, hoping she would not have to give in and pull out her blanket. She had traveled north during the winter months before, but a lifetime lived in Axendra always made her underprepared for the cold.

  Mayvard seemed to be less affected by the cold and Rhada found herself looking to him with envy. All he had to cover himself with was his green, woolen cloak and his leather gloves. He sat atop his horse, joyfully whistling a light tune as they went.

  By the time they stopped for the night, Rhada felt certain the tip of her nose would fall off and ordered Mayvard to make a fire. He combed the area for dry wood but was only able to find a couple of logs. They made the best of it however and soon they were eating strips of smoked venison they had left over from the deer Mayvard had found in the bog. Now Rhada looked to him admiringly, wondering what she would ever do without him.

  “Six more days and we shall be in Tyos.” Mayvard said quietly as he stared up at the stars that surrounded them. The sky was clear, with not a cloud in sight and the stars shone brilliantly. Rhada watched him with admiration as he gazed up to the night sky.

  She nodded her head. Bloodbinder had started vibrating the night the three men tried to assassinate her and it had not stopped since then. The sword could sense they were getting close to their destination.

  “Are you afraid of what we might find there?” Mayvard asked concernedly. Rhada, though she was afraid in her heart, shook her head.

  “Myranda was very clear there was much death and destruction in Tyos- that is what I expect to find.” She sipped her tea as she stared at the flames before her. She had asked Mayvard to make some of his mint and juniper tea for her- not caring for the flavor but wanting the warmth of the liquid. The more she sipped it, the more she began to grow accustomed to the bitter flavor and after a while, she found herself actually enjoying the drink.

  “What I meant was- are you afraid that whatever caused all the death and destruction might still be there?” Rhada stopped sipping her tea and peered over the edge of her cup at Mayvard. Of course she had thought about this possibility more than once but merely shrugged her shoulders.

  “That is why we must be ready for anything.” She replied. She knew that Mayvard was worried.

  The day that followed was bright and clear. The sunlight reflected off the layer of snow that covered the ground, causing Rhada to be blind against it. She tried raising her arm to shield her eyes but it did her no good. She made Mayvard walk ahead of her and allowed her horse to follow while she pointed her gaze downward, away from the harsh sun.

  It wasn’t until two days later that clouds began to roll in- thick, black snow clouds that appeared above their heads and promised to dump their burden on top of them at any moment.

  It was nightfall before it started to snow and no longer could they build a proper fire. Rhada was glad for the snow however. With the cover of the clouds, the cold had somewhat dissipated. She sat huddled against the trunk of a tree, wrapped in her cloak and her blanket and watched as Mayvard shivered underneath his thin blanket. His eyes remained closed and he snored slightly but Rhada finally decided she could stand it no longer. She stood, lifted her blanket and wrapped it gently around his shoulders, trying her best not to wake hi
m. When he was properly covered, she turned and walked away from him, down the path and to the edge of the hillside they were camped on. She sat with her legs folded underneath her, pulled out her pipe and lit the dry leaves. The flame lit up the world around her and she could see that the snow fell in large, round flakes. It blanketed the world, silencing any sounds that normally would have been carried over the valley and caused everything to be visible to her. She could see across the great white lake that stretched out before her, all the way to the pines that decorated the horizon. She could no longer see the stars but she decided the snow was much more beautiful to look at. A slow, content smile began to spread across her face as she sat and enjoyed the smoke of her pipe and the silence of the world.

  It occurred to her then she almost felt safe in that moment. Though her recent past and her near future seemed to loom in the distance around her, she was safe from them for now. The snow that blanketed the world around her blanketed her as well and shielded her from her memories and from the knowledge of what lay before her. Even the wounds on her shoulders were becoming less bothersome and the time to remove the stitches was approaching.

  When the last of Rhada’s pipe was gone, she sighed with relief and wrapped her cloak tightly around her shoulders, hunkered down in the soft snow and drifted off into a blissful sleep.

  When she woke the next morning, she was buried in a thin layer of snow and she stood to brush it off. She looked around and saw Mayvard, still huddled underneath the blanket, leaning over a fresh but small fire, making tea for both of them. She smiled and made her way to him.

  “Thank you for this.” He said pulling the blanket from his shoulders and handing it back to her. It was wet from the snow that layered it and she shook it off and held it over the fire to warm it- knowing that a wet blanket would do them no good. The snow had stopped for the time being but the thick clouds remained and Rhada knew it would begin again before the day was out. She wrapped her blanket and packed it away tightly, keeping it hidden from the snow that was to come.