by Brandon Barr
He saw in his mind’s eye the faces of those caught before, as they laid their necks on the block for the executioner. One of his earliest memories was seeing fifteen headless bodies sprawled beside the road, the dirt crusted with their blood, their heads impaled on stakes nearby, the empty eyes staring at the passersby.
It was over. They were all going to die.
“Come over here, Harvest,” Rozmin said. “I can see you hiding there. If you try and leave, I’ll slit your lover’s throat and chase you down.”
Desperately, Aven scanned the nearby shadows. There was no sign of Harvest. She must have ducked between two trellises when Rozmin grabbed him. Had she fled? He hoped so. He hoped her family and his ran before they were captured, too. There was no point in all of them dying.
He shifted his position slightly, thinking that maybe he could surprise Rozmin, catch him off guard, and find some way to get away. But when he did, Rozmin pressed the knife harder against his throat.
“Easy there,” he said. “You wouldn’t want me to slip and cut your throat, would you?” He chuckled in Aven’s ear, the sound cold and merciless. “Why don’t you call the girl in, lover boy? Maybe if you cooperate, the Baron will go easy on you.”
Aven didn’t believe that for a moment. All was lost. He would rather have his throat cut than be beheaded. He raised one arm and readied himself to smash his elbow into Rozmin’s ribs.
A flash of movement halted him. Harvest leaped out from the vines, holding something in her hands that glinted in the moonlight. A pruner’s saw, with a long handle for reaching to the tops of the vines. She swung it at Rozmin, who loosened his hold on Aven and raised his knife to meet this new threat.
Aven twisted free and grabbed Rozmin’s arm as Harvest hit him with the pruner’s saw. Rozmin blocked the blow and kicked Harvest, who spun and fell. Aven tried to grapple Rozmin, but the man pulled free and punched him hard in the face.
Aven staggered then threw himself at Rozmin again. Rozmin turned toward him—then cried out in pain as Harvest sliced him across the shoulders with the saw.
Aven managed to knock him down while Rozmin was distracted by her attack.
Aven and Harvest froze, not sure what to do next. In that moment, Rozmin brought something out of his shirt and put it to his lips. A piercing whistle tore through the night air.
He’d raised the alarm.
“Run!” Aven yelled, taking Harvest's hand.
Together, they ran blindly through the vineyard. Rozmin’s footsteps crashed close behind them as he got to his feet and gave chase. Aven soon realized that he was gaining on them. He’d catch them before they could reach Harvest’s home. He needed to do something to slow him down.
“Go home!” Aven shouted, taking the long-handled saw from Harvest’s hand and pushing her forward. The stump was just ahead. “Warn them!”
“Aven!” she cried out, pausing only for a moment before whirling and continuing on.
He had to buy her time. Time for her to warn their families. They might still be able to escape. He hefted the saw and turned to face Rozmin as the captain burst out from between some vines and ran toward him.
An ugly smile touched the man’s face as he slowed to a stop. “You think you can take me with that?”
“I’m going to try,” Aven replied, his eyes fixed on the knife in Rozmin’s hands. He jabbed at him.
“It won’t do you any good, you know. It’s only a farmer’s tool, and you don’t even know how to hold it properly to use it as a weapon.”
Rozmin lunged for him, stabbing with the knife as he did so. Aven tried to block him with the saw, but Rozmin slapped it aside. The next instant, Aven felt a burst of pain in his forearm as the knife cut deep. He cried out, almost losing his hold on the saw.
Rozmin swung the knife again. This time, Aven barely managed to twist aside and avoid the attack, the knife snagging momentarily on his shirt. He brought the saw around and managed to hit Rozmin in the ribs, but it was a weak blow from a poor weapon and didn’t do much beyond knocking Rozmin off-balance.
Aven took advantage of it to pull back and put space between the two of them.
“I know what you’re doing.” Rozmin advanced once again, the knife held out before him. “You’re trying to delay me. You think your lover will be able to escape. But she won’t. It’s hopeless. The others are coming. Can you hear them?”
From the direction Harvest had gone, Aven heard a woman’s shout. It wasn’t Harvest.
He swung wildly at Rozmin, driving him back a step, then turned and ran after Harvest. Rozmin wasted no time in pursuing him.
He broke out of the vineyard just in time to see Harvest enter her family’s hovel and swing the hatch shut behind her. Running across the clearing before her home was another figure holding a torch in one hand and a sword in the other.
It was Rose, Rozmin’s lieutenant. She was young, only a few years older than Aven, and even more heartless than Rozmin. He had thought her beautiful when she first arrived in the valley to join the Watch, but her cruelty had soon scoured that from her.
She turned at his approach. A cold smile appeared on her face. “What are you doing out here, waving that thing around?”
Aven came to a halt, knowing there was no way he could get past her. He heard Rozmin come running up behind him and turned, moving so that he could keep an eye on both of them.
“What’s the charge?” Rose asked Rozmin.
“Conspiracy to leave the valley.”
“Pity,” Rose said. “I always kind of fancied this one. Be a shame to see that pretty face no longer attached to a body.” She took a step closer, the sword weaving intricate circles in the air before her. Aven watched the blade, knowing he would have no chance against it.
“I caught him and his lover talking about it,” Rozmin said. “But I don’t think it’s just them. I think there are others planning on running, too.” His gaze flicked to Harvest’s hovel, then back to Aven. “How many are in there, boy?”
“No one,” Aven said. “It’s only the two of us. It was only talk, I swear!”
Rozmin and Rose both laughed. “No one believes that.” Rozmin turned to Rose and said, “We need to get that hatch sealed shut. We don’t know how many of them there are, or who might be coming to help them. There might be too many of them for us to handle by ourselves.”
Aven heard the voices of more people coming. It had to be more of the Watch, responding to the alarm. He realized he was quickly running out of time. If he didn’t act soon, he’d be out of chances.
But what could he do? There was no way he could defeat Rose and her sword with only a pruning saw—especially since Rozmin would attack him from behind as soon as he did. In a few moments, the others would be here, and he’d be surrounded. His parents and Harvest’s parents were trapped in the hovel. They wouldn’t be able to help much.
An idea came to him. “Harvest is Pike’s sister,” he said. “That’s Harvest’s family in there. Pike’s family.”
“So?”
“Pike is the Baron’s son. If you hurt Pike’s family, you’ll anger the Baron.”
Rozmin snorted. “Of all the stupid, futile excuses I’ve ever heard, yours takes the prize. Some lowly farm boy is the Baron’s son? I don’t believe that for a moment.”
“Then how do you explain how much time the Baron spends with Pike now?”
Rozmin shrugged. “I don’t. It’s no concern of mine what the Baron does.”
Aven could hear the others getting closer. He was out of time. It was clear he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Rozmin and Rose, but there was one other person he might be able to get through to. It was a long shot, and it terrified him, but he had nothing else. If he didn’t do something, they were all as good as dead.
He made a sudden decision.
Rose was closest, and she had the sword. He threw the saw at her. She batted it away, and he took off running. She started after him, and his heart fell. But a moment later, a shout came f
rom Rozmin.
“Let him go! We can catch him later. I want you here to help take care of the others.”
Aven ran as hard as he could, pushing himself even after his breath became ragged, and a painful stitch appeared in his side. He didn’t have much time. He had to get there fast, before it was too late for his family and Harvest’s.
He cut through a patch of woods, leaping over fallen trees and rocks only dimly visible in the poor light. Twice he tripped and fell headlong, each time jumping to his feet and charging onward. Just when he thought he couldn’t run much further, he saw it up ahead, at the end of a row of low hills. The fortress. It was the only hope, and it was only half a plan.
He was going to fall before Baron Rhaudius and beg for mercy. Maybe the Baron would show mercy to Harvest’s family because of his son, Pike. And maybe that mercy would carry over to Aven’s family.
The odds were slim, but better than his chances of defeating trained soldiers with a pruning saw. The Baron and Pike seemed close these days. He had seen them out riding together on more than one occasion. Maybe that was enough to make a difference.
The fortress was a sterile, ugly sight. Cold and impenetrable. An interconnected mass of bleak, gray walls conjoined to a towering edifice the farmers called the Watchers’ Tower. He found the stone enclosure especially hideous at night, as if it lurked in the darkness like some ugly beast preparing to spring.
The main entrance was a thick iron gate in the high wall that encircled the fortress. Before the Guardians arrived twenty or so years before, bringing with them the promise of a new era of peace, the fortress was necessary to ward off attacks from other Barons whose lands were nearby. Aven’s parents had told him stories of a time when they had to flee into the fortress because another baron had come marauding, razing crops, and putting to the sword everyone they found. If anything positive could be said about Land Baron Rhaudius, he had been ruthless in repelling attacks and protecting his farmers. Even if it was only greed and self-preservation that motivated him.
Now the raids had stopped, but that meant the only people left for the Baron and the soldiers of the Watch to clash with were his own farmers. Aven heard rumors of other Barons disbanding their soldiers. Not Rhaudius. As his father always said, when you cheat the people under you, you’re always looking out for insurrection.
Aven knew almost nothing of the Guardians. But if they were truly peacekeepers, and truly powerful enough to have ships that traveled the stars, why didn’t they intervene here? Help the farmers against the Baron’s tyranny?
There were three soldiers manning the gate. One with a shaved head moved to intercept him. On his way to the fortress, Aven had thought about what he would say. They certainly weren’t going to just let him in to see the Baron. And it probably wouldn’t do any good to tell them that the Baron was Pike’s father, and Pike’s family was in danger. He was going to have to lie.
“Captain Rozmin sent me,” said Aven. “I have a message for the Baron. It’s urgent.”
The guard stared at his face, as if waiting for a nervous twitch to reveal some lie in what he’d said.
“Now he’s sending farm runts to deliver his messages?” the one with the shaved head said.
“The captain uncovered a plot between several families. They’re trying to leave the valley. He says he needs reinforcements from the Baron as soon as possible, before it’s too late.”
“See this, boy?” The soldier held up a curved knife. “If you’re lying to me, the Baron’s going to gut you. So, you want to stick by your story, or turn for home while you’re still alive?”
“Captain Rozmin will do the gutting if I don’t deliver his message.”
The soldier swore and grabbed Aven’s shirt, yanking Aven close and staring into his eyes. Aven didn’t flinch, and after a moment, the guard released his shirt and shouted up at the gatekeeper. The doors opened a crack, and Aven and the guard slipped through.
They passed through a courtyard and entered the main building. Sputtering candlelight lit the hallway, casting dark shadows in every corner. The hallway led to a large room. Though ugly on the outside, the fortress’s interior decor was extravagant. The fiery glow from a handful of lamps touched upon fresh-cut flowers in ornate vases and ancient-looking tapestries of nobility on horseback. Shields with the Rhaudius family crest engraved on them, swords, war axes, quarter staves, and lances hung on the walls. The second room the soldier led him through was lined with the heads and pelts of various large predators the Baron had hunted and killed, all of them snarling, mouths gaping wide. A few servants saw them pass, and they all stepped hurriedly aside, keeping their faces turned away.
The next room they entered was a dining hall. Word of their arrival must have traveled ahead, because a servant woman was lighting lamps in the room. Another entered carrying a decanter of wine and a glass. The room was enormous. A high vaulted ceiling stretched above, the wood beams fading into gray shadows. A long white table of some unknown stone ran the length of the room with enough fur-lined chairs for several dozen guests.
“Baron Rhaudius is being roused,” one of the servants said to the soldier escorting Aven.
The soldier turned to Aven with a grim look. “For your sake, you better hope the Baron is in a good mood. He doesn’t like being disturbed. If you anger him, you’ll be leaving feet first.”
Aven stood there, nervously wringing his hands, his stomach churning. He noted the soldier watching a door at the far end of the room. Aven did the same, feeling like a rabbit waiting for a wolf.
The wait wasn’t long. The door swung open, and the Baron entered, followed by one other person and a girl. Aven froze when he realized who the other person was. It was Pike.
The Baron looked at Aven like a cat might look at a mouse. But Pike gave him an openly hostile glare.
“Rozmin sent you?” asked the Baron. Before Aven could reply, he added, “Rozmin knows better than to disturb me during the evening hours.” He gestured toward a chair.
Aven walked to the chair and sat.
“Get up, you fool!” the soldier hissed, yanking him out of the seat. “That’s where you’re to stand. The chairs are not for farmers.”
The Baron sat down in his chair, Pike taking a seat beside him. The young girl—she was pretty and barely clothed—took up a spot behind Pike, running her hands over his neck and back. One of the Baron’s concubines, Aven guessed. Pike, still eyeing Aven coldly, swatted the girl’s hands away, and she silently left the room.
The Baron reclined in his chair. His tidy beard and combed hair were speckled gray and looked wet with oils. He took a big drink of wine and fixed his gaze on Aven.
“Talk to me.” There was a threat in his words.
Aven took a deep breath. “Captain Rozmin…Captain Rozmin didn’t send me, Baron.”
The Baron leaned forward, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Why are you here, then?”
“Tonight the captain, he…caught my betrothed and I talking about…about…”
“About what?” the Baron asked. The light made his teeth look very yellow.
“We…that is, our families were planning to leave the valley,” Aven said weakly. He was so frightened he thought his legs might give out on him.
“So it is true,” the Baron said, stroking his beard. “But why come here? Why not run? You know the punishment for breaking your contracts.” Instead of angry, he looked almost elated.
“I came to beg for mercy,” Aven said.
The Baron stared at him for a moment then burst out laughing. “Mercy? Are you simple, boy? Whyever would you think that would work?” Pike laughed along with him, but there was something uncertain in his eyes.
“Because…”
“Speak up, boy. I don’t want to sit here all night.”
“Because we were going to flee with my betrothed’s family.” He nodded at Pike. “My betrothed is his sister. She and her parents were going to go with us.”
Confusion churned in Pike’
s eyes. Instantly, his face glistened with a sheen of sweat. Would Pike be his ally, now? If Pike cared at all for his family, he would. His hope was short-lived.
“That’s a lie!” Pike shouted.
The Baron silenced him with a gesture. He stared at Aven, his face stone. “What’s your name, farm boy?” he said at last.
“Aven, the son of Lynx.”
“You’re bold, Aven, lying your way into my presence to ask for mercy. Boldness does not befit the peasantry. You know what your family and all who are involved are owed. The sharp edge of my executioner’s blade. However, I have a bottle of wine in my belly and am in the mood for entertainment."
He leaned back in his chair of furs and smiled. "I have a proposition for you. If you can describe an alternative punishment befitting your crimes, I’ll consider it over decorating the market with your heads. But the punishment must deliver a message to the farmers. I will not allow the inspiration of more fools.”
Aven looked down at his hands, hope and terror twisting his stomach into knots. His thoughts were whirling. He couldn’t think.
“Well?”
“May I have some time to think?” he asked.
“You have until I grow bored sitting here,” replied Rhaudius. He turned to a servant, “More wine.”
Pike suddenly stood, his eyes murderous. “He’s only saying that to try and save his own skin. My parents—the ones who raised me, they’d never break their contract. They are loyal to the Baron.” He turned to the Baron. “I know this sape picker’s mother and father. They complain openly, in the field and at the market. He’s lying to save them. Don’t give him another moment.”
“I’m not lying,” Aven said desperately. “It’s the truth.”
Pike stared at Aven as if a mortal wound had been slashed across his heart. “They were going to leave and not tell their son? I don’t believe it.”
“But they weren’t going to. They were going to tell you. They were going to give you a chance to come.”
The Baron put his hand on Pike’s arm. “I leave your family in your hands. You can deal with them as lightly or as harshly as you wish.”