by CF WELBURN
A middle-aged man with a red face and soft paunch opened the door. His jerkin was stained, his trousers held up by a piece of baling string.
“Can I ’elp?” he asked, scratching his curly head. He still had a bit of food in the corner of his mouth. “Ain’t got more rabbits ’til tomorrow, if that’s what ye’re after.”
“Shame. Rabbit would have been nice. But I’m here for another reason.” Oben leaned sideways so the man could see the four large Taliskans standing at the treeline across the yard.
The man’s face dropped.
“Get in!” he hissed, “Skalgs!”
“There’s more where they came from.” he said.
“Wait, ye’re with… them?” He fumbled to slam the door, but Oben’s foot was in the way. “What have you done? I’ve me family inside. Why’ve you brought ’em ’ere?”
“Oh, they were coming anyway. I’ve done you a favour. What‘s your name?”
“Tobin.”
“Who is it Tobe?” a woman called from inside.
“Shhh,” he hissed.
“Look, let me tell you how it is. The Skalgs are here, nothing to be done about that now. Help me, and you have my word they will leave you and your family in peace.”
“Your word ain’t good for nothin’. Bloody traitor is what ye are.”
“You met a Skalg before?”
“Course I ain’t met a Skalg before. I'm alive, ain’t I?”
“I’ve met plenty, and whilst you are right to be afraid, they are people of their word. Do us one favour, and no one will be harmed.”
“You… promise?”
“Tobe?” shouted the woman again. “Who is it?” a rotund woman with the makings of a moustache pushed her way into the doorway, her eyes widened, and she began to scream.
* * *
There were four of them in all. Slow Tobin, his sweaty, worrying wife; his almost identical sister, and his nephew who could not have been much older than Bayron though looked to weigh twice as much.
The four of them sat on the bed like castigated children as Gulmorgon, Gadziel, Lief and Blin picked through their sorry wares and sucked the rabbit bones on last night’s unwashed plates. Blin loomed over the family demanding to know where they kept the alcohol.
Any guilt Oben might have felt was assuaged by his knowledge of what the Skalgs would have done had they passed this place unchecked. He’d gifted Tobin and his family their lives; all they needed to do was follow his instructions.
27
A STABLEMASTER’S SON
Tobin was not much of a conversationalist. Oh, he talked enough, in endless circles until his mithering began to grate.
“You should be ‘shamed of yerself! Da’ll turn in his grave, he will! Savages, in the south! Trinity save us! Got the look of the Harvester in ’em. Who’ll set the snares today?“ And ultimately: “What if they don’t believe me?” Were some of his most common complaints. As for the last one, Oben told him, that he’d better make sure they believed him. The more time he spent in the poacher’s company, however, the more he worried that perhaps he’d picked the wrong man for the job.
Still, they were here now. Now was the moment of truth. The moment for Tobin to shine brighter than anyone so grimy had the right to.
As they approached Corwen’s walls, Oben wasn’t sure if the man had stunk this much of urine all day or if the proximity to the keep had increased its potency.
* * *
It was late afternoon and the sun made long shadows of the small figures standing on the empty field. Several lookouts had spotted them. Horns had been sounded. Tobin, an unlikely man, stood next to an unassuming grey horse, upon which slumped a prisoner, bound and trussed in enough rope to restrain a bear.
A Jade Knight called down from the battlements.
“State your name and business.”
“Tobin, sir. Not ‘sir’, sir, that be you. Just Tobin. That’s all.”
Even from the distance the knight looked pissed off.
“Who’s that you have?”
“Don’t rightly know. Has the look of a fugitive, I’d say. Thought he might be of interest.”
The man on the battlements leant on his pike and peered down.
“He is known to us, and if all is as appears, you shall be rewarded. How did you capture him?”
Tobin hesitated. Even though Oben had the heavy slouch of one mortally wounded, he could see the desperate cry bubbling on the poacher’s lip like a pot coming to boil.
“Focus, Tobin,” he whispered. “Think of your family.”
“They know,” Tobin said from the corner of his mouth like an amateur ventriloquist. “They know I’m lying. Hear how he said—”
“Shh! Do this for them!” Oben hissed. “They’ll die if you don’t.”
Tobin muttered something to himself, then straightened.
“He was injured. Came knockin’ at my door, asking for ’elp. We fed him up all right, and trussed ’im up when he fell asleep. My wife said there might be a reward in it, him looking like a Skalg and actin’ all suspicious like. We got no money see, just thought it might—”
The knight did not allow him to finish.
“Then you have done well. Tell me, does he live?”
“He’s breathin’, sir, aye. But got a fever. Some of them wounds were nasty. That’s how we did it, see. Normally wouldn’t dare, but he was weak, and my wife said that—”
Even feigning unconsciousness, Oben could not contain his grimace. If Tobin kept rambling, he was going to make a mistake. Fortunately, the knight had even less patience.
“Your wife seems wiser than you.” Some muffled laughter rose along the walls at that, but Tobin just frowned. “Stay where you are. We are sending men out to collect him.”
Chains rattled and the gate was lifted.
“They’re coming…” Tobin whispered.
“Stay calm.” Oben replied, straining to listen to the hoofbeats. “How many?”
“Four.”
“Shit.”
“Too many?”
“Not enough.”
Tobin looked at him like he was mad.
“They’ll kill you. How’s that gonna ’elp me family?”
“Come closer and I’ll tell you.”
Tobin frowned, but leant in, and when he was next to the horse, Oben kicked him hard in the face. The fat poacher yelped and staggered back clutching his bleeding nose.
“Sorry, Tobin,” Oben said, shaking the ropes off. “Had to make it look real.”
“You kicked me.”
“For your own good. Now stick to your story, and your family will be taken care of.”
“My nose. You son of a bitch…”
But Oben was no longer listening. He turned Justice, dug his heels in and galloped north.
* * *
The mounts of the Jade Knights were powerful beasts. Oben knew that over a great distance he would be caught, but they didn’t have far to go. He kept Justice just far enough ahead that they would follow.
He had hoped to draw more of them out, but four would have to do. Just then, however, three more knights appeared over a rise in the road, heading back to Corwen. That would help, but if he didn’t hurry, they’d cut him off before he could reach the fork.
He glanced back to make sure the other knights were still behind him, and spurred Justice on. “Come on, girl!” He’d asked a lot of her, more than he had a right. They were no longer horse and master, but fellow fugitives, and road-weary companions. He needed her more than ever right now.
The three returning knights had spotted him and reached the fork before he could make it. They drew their blades, and blocked the road, forcing Oben to veer off at the last instant. The ground was uneven and overgrown. But Justice saw the watery ditch, and the fallen tree, and nimbly avoided them, cutting through to the path he had led her to. He reined her up, and when the knights behind him came into view, he patted Justice and took off west through the forests of Bikton Hills. Gadziel bett
er bloody be ready.
When the sandstone cliff rose on his left and a wide stream ran on his right, he heard the short whistle, stopped, drew his axe and waited. His heart mimicked every vibration of the rooted earth. The battle-ready destriers tore into view, seven of them in all, ridden hard by Jade Knights armoured in green plate and feathered helms. They slowed upon seeing him, perhaps sensing it was a trap. But it was already too late.
Fifty Taliskans roared and leapt from the sandstone ledge. The knights spun, drawing their blades, but the Taliskans dragged them from their mounts and chopped them down with heavy axes. Steel clanged and men screamed as the northmen tore into them. Two of the knights managed to gain their feet. Oben saw a Taliskan he thought he recognised take a hammer in the chest, caving it in and leaving him wheezing on the bloody ground. The other knight pushed a Taliskan from the trail into the river and stabbed him repeatedly so that the water turned red with frothing blood. Gadziel yanked the knight off, and held him down below the cold, knee-deep water, hands clenched around his neck until his boots stopped kicking.
Then, it was done. Six knights and two Taliskans lay dead.
“Quick!” Gadziel shouted, pointing to the path where receding hoofbeats could be heard. Fuck.
All of this would be for nothing if the seventh knight reached the castle. Oben was the best horseman, and already mounted; he took chase, Justice’s hooves spattering mud and blood as she leapt the fallen bodies.
He wasn’t sure when the knight had broken away, but when he emerged from the forest, he saw the man some distance ahead on the road. Oben lowered his head, and squeezed with his legs.
“You can do it.” he said, between gritted teeth, his hair and beard ruffling in the wind.
The knight heard him and turned in the saddle. At the last instant Oben realised the man had a fire lance pointed at him. He heard it hiss then whistle, and he jerked Justice’s reins, swerving sideways, just as the ground exploded next to them. The sharp crack sent a shower of stinging gravel into the side of his face, and when he looked back there was a smoking crater in the road. He clenched his jaw, bent in the saddle and galloped on, trying to close the gap before his enemy could reload. The knight saw Oben was gaining on him and left the road, cutting across the grass towards the keep. Oben followed, closing the gap inch by inch. The great walls came into view.
“Come on!” Oben screamed, and Justice galloped faster than she ever had. The knight slowed to cross a small stream, but Justice leapt, landing on the other side in a crumbling of soil.
He was almost on the knight, whose steed laboured beneath the weight of its jade armour. Oben dug in his heels, and when he caught up to the snorting destrier, he stood up in his saddle and leapt.
Oben hung suspended in the air for a vivid moment, long enough to doubt the wisdom of his decision, long enough to know that if he missed, the knight would escape.
He landed on the back of the knight’s saddle with a metallic crunch. The knight had no time to draw his blade. Oben swung a leg over the huge horse, as they tilted sideways. The horse couldn’t turn at such pace, it fell with a jarring clatter, Oben grunted as the wind left his body, but managed to roll free of the careening destrier. He scrambled to his feet, axe in hand. The Jade Knight wrenched his foot out from beneath the kicking horse. He stood and stumbled, gasping as he put weight on his shattered ankle. He reached for his sword, but it was gone. With a snarl, he tossed his dented helm aside and met Oben’s eyes. They were of an age, but he had that hard look all Jade Knights had once they had completed their training.
“To the Plague with you traitor!” he roared, staggering forward. Oben waited, and at the last moment, swung his axe into the man’s plated side. He stepped back, regarded the jagged hole in the jade armour, watched as blood flowed out, and waited as the man collapsed.
For a moment the only sound was his own laboured breathing, then Justice whinnied. The winded destrier slowly regained its feet and Oben moved to calm it before it could bolt. He stroked its mane and the top of its muzzle, and once all three were ready, they returned to greet six Taliskans clad in Persuasion armour riding out from the treeline.
“Are we good to go?” Gulmorgon asked, from behind a lowered visor.
“Are the others in place?” Oben asked.
“They’ll be ready.” He recognised Gadziel’s gruff voice from behind the jade helm.
“Good.” Oben nodded. “Then let’s bloody do this.”
28
TEMPLE OF BLOOD AND JADE
The gates opened as the seven returning knights and one beaten, bloodied prisoner returned. The timing had been tight; he hoped the Taliskans had thoroughly washed the blood from the jade armour and hidden any obvious damage.
They only needed to get inside.
A tired-looking soldier waved them in, and received a hatchet between his shoulder blades for his trouble. Oben winced as the man crumpled to the ground.
Witnesses stood shocked, then ran screaming in all directions. A soldier up on the walls sounded a horn.
“Well, they know we’re here.” Blin said, taking her jade helmet off and throwing it to the cobbles. “How do they breathe in those fucking things?”
Gadziel sounded a horn, and Oben peered back through the gate towards the treeline as thousands of Taliskans emerged and rushed towards the open gate.
As they waited, they received no resistance. A few soldiers ran into the courtyard, skidded to a halt, then scattered into alleyways as quickly as they had come. There was no sign of the Persuasion; once the warning horn had been sounded, the knights would know what to do. Their priority would be to protect the High Priest, and the temple was the best place to do that.
Oben retrieved his axe from Gulmorgon, and rode ahead with her, leading the way.
* * *
Smoke began to rise from random buildings, and here and there a scream pierced the air as someone had the misfortune of crossing paths with one of the savages.
They surged through the inner bailey and the deserted marketplace and slowed as the temple came into view. It was surrounded by immaculate green gardens that formed a precipitous hill. The temple loomed at the top of a steep golden stair, shimmering emerald and glinting in the sunset. As suspected, the High Priest was being borne up the final steps on his gold and jade litter. Several hundred Jade Knights stood at the top and many more flanked the stairs with fire lances and hammers at the ready.
“Fuck me.” Gadziel said, from beneath his helmet. Gulmorgon stared up, and even she seemed lost for words.
“Could they not have built it lower down?” Blin said, glaring up at the monstrosity. “Just how many steps are there?”
“Nine hundred,” Oben said, unable to pull his gaze from the Persuasion’s forces. “Three hundred for each deity.”
The foot of the stair was bordered by two imposing statues of the Sower, the first of the Trinity.
“Nothing for one who has climbed Sundered Peak, huh?” Oben turned to see Tre stood just behind him. The blond Kazra smiled, and Oben felt glad that he seemed to have forgiven him.
“True,” he said. “But Sundered Peak wasn’t full of armed Jade Knights.”
“Then this should be more interesting,” Tre said, raising his twin axes.
Oben noticed Ortho standing next to Tre.
“You’re not very good at running away, are you?” he said.
“Looks like I’m the only one around here with any sense.” Ortho said, visibly swallowing as he gazed up at the temple.
“At least you can’t steal my horse this time, you bastard.”
Ortho scowled, and looked away.
Jank, Grinchell’s old drinking partner, grasped Oben’s shoulder.
“I trust in you, Conduit.” he said. “Grinchell did too, you know.” Oben raised his brow, but had no time to respond.
“Do not stop until we are inside!” Gulmorgon cried. “And do not let the High Priest escape. If I fall, take up the banner. Keep pushing, no matter what hap
pens. We have Ishral on our side. And the Conduit is here! Victory will be ours! It is written! Charge!” she cried, and with a roar the Taliskan force surged up the stair.
Each step was almost as tall as it was deep, and it became arduous very quickly; the air burnt in Oben’s lungs and his calves were on fire.
The knights began shooting fire lances from the ground near the base of the steps. One flaming spear tore through three men at the head of the Taliskans before exploding, and the wounded men tumbled down into the rest of the warriors, knocking several off their feet and almost starting an avalanche of bodies. The air smelt of burnt hair and scorched flesh. Smoke from the black powder hung in thick plumes. The knights who had let fly their lances drew their swords and hammers and leapt in with a clash of metal. Screams sounded from both sides. Oben ducked as a hammer sailed over his head and connected with Arnor’s chest. His former trainer spun, gushed blood from his mouth and disappeared beneath surging, tumbling bodies. Oben blinked. A man so skilled, so easily felled. What fucking chance did he stand.
“Move!” Gadziel roared besides him, shoving him in the ribs. A spear destined for Oben’s throat glanced over his shoulder. Gadziel grabbed it, hauled the Jade Knight forward and plunged his dagger under his breast plate as he fell. “Focus farmer!” he spat, turning to deflect another blade. Oben nodded, shoved his axe up under the chin of another knight, knocking his helm to the side, before Gulmorgon chopped his neck almost completely through.
The Taliskans were more numerous, but the Persuasion had the advantage of being positioned above them on the stair, and their attacks were synchronised. They loosed another hail of lances, ripping and tearing the Taliskans apart. Blood splattered Oben’s face, got in his mouth. Someone screamed next to him. He saw Blin on her knees, pulling her blade from the inner thigh of a knight, who stumbled and collapsed, his flailing gauntleted hand catching Oben’s cheek, staggering him.