The Executioner's Rebellion (The Executioner's Song Book 4)

by D. K. Holmberg

  Finn sighed. It had been his idea. “We need to know more though. If this Black Rose thinks to attack—”

  “It’s not only about you, Finn,” Meyer chided. “Remember what you saw in the city.”

  Meyer was right. It wasn’t just about him. “I remember.”

  “They gathered here,” Meyer bent down next to the crooked iron gate of the wool warehouse. Finn had wanted to come back to see it since he’d been attacked. Meyer was staring at something, though Finn couldn’t tell what it was. “But they didn’t go any farther.”

  Finn squinted out over the shining water. “Because the Archers were on the far shoreline.”

  Meyer straightened, and Finn saw that he was carrying his walking stick. He didn’t need it, but he had seen Meyer carrying it when he wanted a weapon.

  All of this had Meyer feeling more unsettled than he was letting on.

  “Too many were lost,” Meyer said, shaking his head. “And all for what? Haven’t found much about the Black Rose movement while you were gone. It’s tied to the king.”

  “Not the Archers?”

  “Not the movement. They care more about what the king has done, or so they say. But when the Archers cut down the protesters, it escalated. Next we’ll see protesters executing Archers.” He shook his head.

  “They wouldn’t.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. Men get angry enough and they’ll do things they wouldn’t tolerate otherwise.”

  “You still think this was just a spontaneous protest? Even with the posters and the coordinating whistles?”

  Meyer shook his head, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Probably not, though it could be. When I was still in my training, living north of here, there was a protest. A man was cut down by the Archers.” He shook his head again. “The Archers claimed he was guilty, though evidence later proved that he was not.”

  Finn watched Meyer. This was similar, though on a much greater scale. Maybe that was Meyer’s point.

  “It was difficult reporting to the magister and the jurors that the Archer was guilty,” Meyer said.

  “We’ve seen Archers bribed and worse.”

  “We have. It was that event that helped me see that any man can be tempted.” Meyer headed deeper into the section, moving slowly. His gaze swept from one side of him to the other, looking at areas of the ground that Finn couldn’t quite identify. It wasn’t until Meyer stopped again that Finn realized what he was doing. He was looking at bloodstains. Some of the cobblestones appeared entirely maroon. “This occurrence has a different feel to it. The king was here.” Meyer kept his voice soft, but there was still an edge within it. “They should not have known.”

  “How do you think they learned? From men like those who jumped me outside the city?”

  “That is what we have to uncover.”

  “They have posters around the city. You’ve seen them, I’m sure.” When Meyer frowned, Finn looked up. There would have to be one somewhere. He found one three buildings down, and motioned for Meyer to follow him until they reached it. The building had the smell of a butcher, though there wasn’t a sign out front to tell him what it was. The poster was on the corner of the building. It looked no different from any of the others he had seen, featuring the shape of the black rose marked on the white background. “These posters,” he said.

  “I don’t think there’s anything to them,” Meyer said. “We’ve been seeing these for months.”

  “We have, but now we’ve got someone with that same mark who tried to kill me.” And take his sword. It occurred to Finn that though they had been seeing them for months, they had been increasing in frequency lately. More and more of these posters had started to appear. That couldn’t be a coincidence. “It’s all tied to the Black Rose.”

  Finn was convinced of it, but he didn’t have the feeling that Meyer was.

  They continued along the street, and Finn counted several more of the black rose posters. There didn’t seem to be any pattern to them, nor was there any sort of organization to their distribution. Some were plastered to businesses, others to abandoned buildings, and one was on what looked to be a crumbling temple.

  Finn heard a shout down the street and looked up. He tensed immediately, thinking back to the protest, but it was only a child running along the street, chased by two others. One of them laughed, then they disappeared around the corner.

  “Is there a reason you’re taking all of them?” Finn asked, looking over to Meyer.

  “I want to study them later. I am curious if the design is the same for each of them. It is possible that some of these are copies of others.”

  “You’re trying to see if you can figure out who printed them.”

  Meyer nodded. They had looped back around and stood along the river. “Why don’t you finish whatever you have for the day and we can meet up later?”

  Finn nodded and they parted ways. There were supplies to gather, and he had to stop at the prisons to see whether there were any new prisoners.

  Return to normal.

  It felt different though.

  There was a strange energy in the air, and Finn didn’t care for it. He passed one man who pulled a knife from his pocket. Most of the shops were closed. Most people he passed looked away, refusing to make eye contact. It was as if everybody in the city was on edge. He understood that, for he felt much the same way, feeling some of that tension, uncertain whether he could do anything about it.

  As he made his way toward the prisons, he noticed a black trail of smoke rising into the air. It wasn’t in one of the outer sections.

  Finn started off toward it.

  He had seen too much fire in the city, and had seen how destructive it could be. He wasn’t about to sit by and watch fire consume even more of the city. There had to be something he could do.

  Finn wasn’t entirely sure what that was though. He wasn’t on the fire brigade, and he had no idea if there was anything nefarious about this fire. It might simply be accidental. But the timing of it, along with everything else that had been taking place in the city, made him question it.

  He crossed the bridge, heading toward the center of the city, keeping the smoke in view. He followed the river, then veered inward.

  Finn realized where he was going.

  His heart started to beat faster.

  He hadn’t gone very far when he saw the fire licking at the sides of the stone building.

  The Archers’ barracks.

  The fire brigade was already there, and they were pumping water to put the fire out. The stone had been blackened, and the windows on the front of the barracks had shattered or melted, leaving much of the building itself destroyed.

  Finn strode forward, hurrying toward one of the head Archers. He recognized Tolsten.

  “What happened?” Finn asked.

  Tolsten turned. He was tall, though not quite as tall as Finn. His eyes glared until he realized it was Finn, then they softened slightly. “Hunter,” he mumbled. “Didn’t think to see you here so soon.”

  “I saw the smoke.”

  “Bastards didn’t burn down the barracks. But they tried.”

  “What do you mean, ‘they tried’?”

  “They were throwing bottles of flaming oil. If they think they can intimidate us, they have another thing coming.”

  There was a dark glimmer in his eyes, and Finn resisted the urge to shiver.

  How far would this go?

  “Did you catch them?”

  Tolsten glowered at him. “My men did. Nelshan. Yestel. Risah.” He nodded, and Finn saw the three men standing on the far side of the street, five people lying in front of them.

  “I need to ask your men questions,” Finn said.

  “Good luck,” Tolsten said.

  Finn frowned at him, but Tolsten strode away, heading over to talk to one of the members of the fire brigade.

  Finn watched him for a moment.

  He understood the frustration. Had the protesters targeted Meyer’s house, h
e’d feel much the same way. In fact, if they targeted one of the prisons, he’d also feel possessive in a similar way. This was the Archers’ base. This was their home, and Tolsten was their leader.

  When he and Meyer had worked to try to expunge all within the ranks of the Archers who had been influenced by bribery, he didn’t know if they had fully succeeded. Tolsten had remained. Finn didn’t know the man that well, though he and Meyer had quite a bit of experience together over the years, and Meyer had vouched for him. Finn figured that was more than enough reason to trust the man.

  Others, though, were still being vetted.

  Finn breathed out a sigh of frustration, making his way over to the three Archers who had captured the men responsible.

  “You three are Nelshan, Yestal, and Risah?”

  They all turned toward him.

  “Who’s this?” one of the shorter men asked. He had a broad face and a bald head.

  “That’s the Hunter,” the taller man said. “You not met him yet, Risah?”

  Risah grunted. He scrubbed a hand over his bald head, glancing down. “Nobody wants to meet an executioner.”

  “Don’t mind him,” the taller man said. “I’m Yestal. We were the ones to drag them down.”

  “I need to talk with them,” Finn said.

  “Good luck,” he said.

  Finn frowned. It was the same thing that Tolsten had said to him. “Why?” He started to wonder what had happened before looking past the three Archers, but didn’t need to look long to understand.

  Three of them had crossbow bolts sticking out of their chest. The other two were lying motionless.

  “They’re dead?”

  “What can I say?” Yestal said, shrugging. “You bring it out here, you’re going to face the consequences.”

  “Are you sure these five were involved?” Finn asked, sliding between Yestal and Risah. The third man still hadn’t spoken yet. He crouched down next to the nearest of the bodies, checking for a pulse. There was none. He had no idea how long the man had been dead, though his body was still warm.

  “We saw two of them with bottles in their hands,” Nelshan said.

  Finn looked up at him. He was the thinnest of the three, and the only one with the stripe on his shoulder. He had rank.

  “What about the other three?”

  “What about them? They were with the other two.”

  Finn moved past the first man. The next had a crossbow bolt in his belly. Finn checked him for a pulse.

  There was a weak one, though it was still there. “I need you to gather a cot. We need to get this man to Declan.”

  “He already got his sentence,” Risah said.

  Finn stood. He had to handle this carefully, he knew, but he also needed them to realize they couldn’t take action without the king’s authority. Killing men in the street was not how the Archers were supposed to fulfill their obligations. “Gather a cot. Bring him to Declan. I will question him. If you challenge me, I’m going to have words with Tolsten, then you will find yourself in Declan.”

  Risah glared at him, but Yestal grabbed his arm and they headed off.

  It left him with Nelshan.

  He tested the next man. The crossbow had struck him in the upper chest. There was too much blood. He knew he was down already.

  “I see the crossbow bolts in these three,” he said. He knew that three crossbow bolts were a result of the actions of the three Archers. “What happened to these two?”

  “They ran,” he said.

  “And you chased them down?”

  “Can’t have them get away. One of the bastards did get free. We’ll find him.” He nodded to the others. “Besides, Hunter, you saw what happened earlier in the city. I heard you were there.”

  Finn checked on the first of the two without a crossbow bolt protruding from him. His neck was twisted strangely.

  That wasn’t the result of a fall.

  He hurried around and checked on the next.

  His head had been caved in.

  Brutal attacks.

  “What is this?” Finn said, standing.

  “You see what it is,” Nelshan said.

  “I see what it is,” Finn said, “but this tells me that you took these other two down with far more force than necessary.”

  “Who is to say what kind of force was necessary?”

  Finn clenched his jaw. Was this retaliation for something?

  “Did it not occur to you that we could question them?”

  “Question them for what?”

  “For what’s going on in the city. The unrest. The protests. The attack.”

  “There’s not a whole lot to question, is there?” He pulled himself up and held Finn’s gaze. “We have five men who attacked the Archers’ barracks. Seems to me it was pretty straightforward. Are you telling me that the jurors would see it differently?”

  Did he really think to challenge Finn?

  Finn glanced over to where Tolsten was talking to one of the fire brigade before turning his attention back to the Archer. “I’m saying that you had no reason to slaughter these two men. No reason, probably, to slaughter all five of these men. Not until the king has his justice.”

  “Slaughter?”

  “That’s right,” Finn said, taking a step toward him.

  The Archer reached for his sword.

  Finn stared him down. “You do that and you’re sealing your own fate.” He said it quietly, but loudly enough for him to hear it. “I’m not going to drag you into Declan, but you and I are going to talk officially.”

  Nelshan remained tense.

  “You need me to call out to Tolsten?” Finn asked.

  He glowered at Finn. Finally, he relaxed, lowering his hand. “We didn’t mean to kill them,” he said.

  “I’m sure you did not.”

  The other two Archers came out from somewhere carrying a cot. They looked over to Finn, who motioned to the still-living man and waved a hand. “I expect him to make it to Declan alive. If he doesn’t, the two of you will end up staying there until I have answers.”

  Finn checked over the other bodies, knowing he wouldn’t have the chance later. He found a tattoo of the Black Rose on one of the men’s wrists, but only one of them. The others didn’t have the mark. No other identification. No money. Nothing that would help him figure out who they were.

  He would only be able to ascertain that from the man who’d lived.

  If he could keep him that way.

  After spending the better part of ten minutes doing his search, he made his way over to Tolsten. “I’m going to need to talk to you and your men.”

  Tolsten shot him a look. “Under whose authority?”

  “The very same authority that I always operate under: that of King Porman.”

  “You’re not talking to anybody unless the hangman is here.”

  Finn forced a smile. “I will make sure Master Meyer knows that is your preference.” He nodded to the other three Archers, who were now hurrying away, carrying the fallen man toward Declan. Finn had more work to do. “Make sure none of them disappear.”

  Finn stormed away, making his way to Declan. He crossing the bridge toward the prison when he caught sight of his sister. He raised his hand, then lowered it.

  Lena was walking with a tall, bookish-looking man.

  He frowned. A priest.

  She wasn’t just visiting with him. She was walking with him. They headed across one of the neighboring bridges, making their way toward the center of the city. She looked up at the priest, smiling, and at one point, he almost heard a laugh from her.

  Lena never laughed.

  Maybe he didn’t have to worry about her. If she was finally putting herself out into the world, letting herself find someone, then there was no reason for him to worry about his sister. She deserved happiness. More than almost anyone else he knew.

  As he continued onward toward Declan, he pulled Reginald’s journal out of his pocket and thumbed through it. Finn remained c
onvinced there was more to what was in the journal than what he’d seen so far, though he hadn’t uncovered anything yet. His time out of the city hadn’t given him any great insight, which he found disappointing. He stuffed it back into his pocket as he neared the prison, where he saw a dozen Archers had gathered.

  Finn pushed through them.

  “What happened?” he asked, looking over to the Archer with the stripe on his shirt. The man was short and stocky, and he knew him.

  “We got three men down,” Horace said. “Look, Hunter.”

  Finn looked at where he was pointing.

  Three Archers. Each of them lay bound, heads tipped to the side, throats slit.

  Nelshan, Yestal, and Risah.

  Finn didn’t need to examine them to know that all three were dead. There wasn’t anything he could do for them.

  The injured man was gone.

  There would be no way to learn the names of the men involved in starting the fire.

  “These two found them while on patrol,” Horace said, pointing to two Archers. Both of them looked young, and one of them looked ashen, shaking slightly. “Just like this. Bodies still warm.”

  How did they act so quickly?

  The Black Rose.

  That was how.

  Now they had Archers dead. Protesters dead.

  And soon the city would explode.

  Finn had to stop this. Somehow.

  “Have your men move the bodies,” Finn said.

  “You aren’t going to investigate?”

  He debated what to say to them. These were their friends, he suspected.

  “I don’t need the bodies to investigate.”

  Horace held his gaze for a moment before nodding. He motioned to the others, and they quickly got to work carrying the bodies, two Archers to each.

  When they were gone, Horace remained.

  “They were good men,” he said.

  Finn knew the truth was more complicated than that. It always was. “I’m sure they were.”

  “They served the king.”

  Finn looked over to him, wondering where this was going. “We will find who did this.”

  “You damn well better,” Horace said.

  “I know my duty. And I expect you to do yours.”