21.
The sun was barely an hour in the sky when the column, at the instruction of the legate, halted below the top of the ridge that was crowned with small groves of oaks and punctuated by jutting tors of rock. Captain Murlet sent a quiet command back along the column, “Dismount and picket your horses.”
Then Murlet, Kristo, Riana, and Glora, accompanied by the legate and his guards, went up near the crest of the ridge where they moved off the road and behind a tall outcropping of rock that jutted up like the turret of a castle. From this vantage they peered eastward. After some time, they backed carefully away from the crest and descended the slope to the column.
To Brenyn’s surprise, Murlet sought him out. The captain’s sharp eyes were serious and solemn as they met Brenyn’s gaze. “Sergeant Kristo tells me that you are very clever with that bow of yours,” he said. “He states that you seldom miss your shot.”
“With all due respect to Sergeant Kristo,” Brenyn answered, “he is not quite accurate in his statement.”
Murlet frowned. “How so?”
“I never miss,” Brenyn answered.
Murlet shook his head. “I have no time for swagger,” he said. “Rather, I need a sure hand.”
“I am not boasting, captain,” Brenyn replied; “I truly cannot remember the last time I did not put an arrow into something that I meant to put an arrow into, be it deer or man.”
This surprised Murlet. “You’ve slain a man before?”
“I have slain three,” Brenyn answered.
Murlet fixed him with his gaze. “What was the reason for those killings?”
“They attempted to prevent me from crossing the river.”
“Who shot first?” Murlet wondered.
“They.”
“And what was the distance?”
Brenyn considered. “Perhaps a hundred paces, maybe a few more.”
Murlet lifted his gaze and glanced west, where the sun was sliding behind the distant hills before bringing his attention back to Brenyn. “What about at evening, or even at night?” He asked. “Are you as accurate when the light is dim?”
Brenyn shrugged. “If I can see that which I mean to slay, I will not miss.”
Murlet turned and indicated Glora, who had accompanied him along with Riana. “This is my sister, Glora. I have never seen her equal with a bow.” He looked back. “But there are two sentries upon the second ridge, in watchtowers. I need a second bowman.”
Brenyn looked at Glora. Seen this close, she was a striking woman, tall, with large brown eyes, a small straight nose, and long dark hair that was pulled back into a single braid. Most men, he realized, would think her beautiful. He saw all these things in but an instant, and then he looked into her eyes.
There were shadows there, long and deep, and of ancient vintage. They were like the shadows that live beneath the mass of a great oak and seem to leave an imprint even when the sun moves beyond the reach of the spreading branches and finds that bit of earth. And those shadows in Glora’s eyes were similar, Brenyn realized, to those that he had often seen in her brother’s gaze.
What, he wondered, had happened to these two people?
Brenyn looked back at Murlet. “My talent is likely not equal to hers,” he confessed, “but I will kill whatever man you wish slain, nonetheless.”
A slight smile tugged at Murlet’s lips at this answer, but he quickly banished it from his face. Instead, he nodded. “Right – get your weaponry and come with me.”
The last of the sunlight was just tipping the heights of the hill where the tor of rock jutted up, lending the grasses and brush a hue of gold. Reaching the tor, Murlet peered around it, studying the vale beyond where twilight gathered and the top of the hill that rose above that gloomy depth. Then he looked back, examined the disappearing sun, and motioned to Glora and Brenyn.
“Wait until the sun goes and then come up,” he said.
When the sun dropped over the edge of the world, so that they would not be silhouetted against its fading light, Murlet eased away from the rock outcropping and squatted in a patch of brush upon the crest, motioning for Brenyn and Glora to join him.
“There are two watchtowers upon either side of the road over there,” he said, “with a man in each. See them?’
Brenyn looked out through the branches of the brush. The towers sat perhaps twenty paces away from the stonework of the pavement where the road crested the distant ridge. They appeared to be hastily erected constructs, perhaps twenty feet high with a railing around the top. In the failing light, he could make out the figures of the men that stood upon the top of each structure.
Then he lowered his gaze, leaned forward and studied the swale that lay in between the two ridges. There was a small stream down there, winding through the center. Open, grassy areas lined that stream, but back from its banks, the vale was largely filled with patches of brush and scattered copses of trees. In the deepening gloom of twilight, Brenyn could see little difficulty in working down through the valley and climbing the far slope to where he could get off a clean shot.
He turned his head to find Captain Murlet watching him.
“Can you do it?” Murlet asked quietly.
Brenyn nodded. “I can.” But then he frowned as a thought came. He started to speak but Murlet anticipated him.
“You’re wondering how you will coordinate your shots, are you not?” The captain asked.
Brenyn nodded once more.
“I trust what you say you can do, Brenyn – but I know what Glora can do,” Murlet went on, “so here is what will happen. Glora will go first, down to the right where she can remove that guard on the righthand tower. After she is in place, you will go down and to the left. When you are sure of your shot, take it. When Glora sees your man fall, she will take her shot. Once those guards are dead, the rest of us will move up and into position upon that next crest. From that position we will examine the situation that lies before us. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
Murlet looked at his sister. “Go.”
She turned away, moved along the crest, and then went out of sight down the slope to the east.
“We will give her a few moments,” Murlet told Brenyn, “and then you will go.” He looked up at the darkening sky and then over at Brenyn. “There will be naught but twilight when you take your shot,” he stated pointedly, “and I need to you to make it count.”
Brenyn nodded as his eyes narrowed. “The guard will die, captain,” he promised, “and quietly.”
After another few minutes, during which Murlet studied the dark slope where Glora had gone, he looked over at Brenyn. “Go,” he said.
Brenyn nodded silently and went to his left, around the tor of rock, staying below the crest when he passed that outcropping. Several paces along the ridge, there was a small copse of twisted junipers, thickly clustered upon the crest. He eased up and into this stand of trees, slipped over the top of the ridge, and squatted down, studying the slope that fell away below him.
There were many scattered patches of brush and stands of juniper, but there were many open areas as well, and the evening had not yet completely surrendered to full night. If the eyes of the guard in the tower were sharp and if he was diligent in his duty, then Brenyn might be seen crossing one of those open stretches of earth. To his left, however, there was a narrow ravine that cut into the hillside and ran down toward the stream at the bottom. This ravine began but a few paces from the edge of the juniper thicket. If he could gain that ravine, he might get quickly to the bottom of the valley and then begin his climb to within arrowshot range of the tower.
Lifting his gaze and looking across the valley, he studied the guard. At the moment, the man was leaning upon the railing atop the tower, looking in Brenyn’s general direction, though he seemed to be gazing downward, toward the bottom of the vale. His posture was one of boredom, even indolence, as if he were very reluctantly fulfilling the task to which he had been appointed.
After but a f
ew moments, the man turned and went to the opposite railing and looked the other way, into the unseen valley beyond the crest upon which the tower stood. At once, Brenyn abandoned the juniper thicket and slipped into the ravine, where he turned and quickly made his way to the bottom of the vale.
Where the ravine opened out onto the floor of the narrow valley, he halted behind a patch of brush and looked at the tower.
The guard was still looking eastward, into the valley beyond the ridge. Brenyn lowered his gaze and studied the slope opposite. There was no convenient ravine but there were several patches of thick brush which, because of the angle of the slope, would grant him more opportunities to hide while he made his way up and into arrowshot range.
Though there were no gullies that cut through this eastern slope, the slope itself was not even but rolling, corrugated, and the northern aspect of one of these corrugations, immediately in front of Brenyn, was thickly covered with brush.
He did not hesitate. Moving forward, keeping one eye upon the movements of the guard, Brenyn climbed toward the crest of the slope. There was another stand of thick juniper that crowned the eastern slope no more than thirty or forty paces from the tower, bringing him nearer and decreasing the angle of his shot.
Reaching the crest, he slipped into the concealing shelter of the junipers and glanced at the guard, who was once more gazing westward, and then he looked down into the valley beyond. The valley beyond the crest where the guard towers stood was wider than the vale through which Brenyn had just come – much wider. There were buildings down there that clustered along the banks of a small river and the dark indications of outlying farms. The town was not a large town, but it was sizeable.
Light came through the windows of a few of the buildings, indicating the presence of candles or lamps, but most were dark. One structure, near the center of town, set in a broad space that was apparently the town square, was alive with activity. Raucous laughter resounded, punctuated now and then by screams of fear or pain that seemed to Brenyn to originate in the throats of women.
As he listened to those sounds, anger surged in him as he remembered what Murlet had stated of the ruffians that had taken control of this little corner of the world.
He moved to the south end of the patch of juniper, found an opening in the branches, and unlimbered his bow.
The guard was once more leaning on the railing and gazing west. It was a clear shot.
And Glora was waiting on him.
Brenyn nocked his arrow, breathed deep and slow, and then held his breath, drew back the bow and took aim.
He released.
The arrow slipped silently through the night air in a perfect shallow arc, speeded on its way by the power of the bow that his mother had wrought for his father. It struck the guard in the side of the head, piercing the man’s skull, knocking him over the railing, and toppling him from the tower without a sound. The man’s body thudded onto the earth. He twitched and then moved no more.
Brenyn then looked southward, toward the tower that sat upon the south side of where the road crested the hill, just in time to see the second guard clutch his chest and crumple. The only sound that emanated from that man was a short whimpering bleat, like that of a rabbit caught in the talons of the eagle.
He collapsed onto the deck of the tower.
He did not move again nor make any further sound.
Brenyn turned away and hurried back to the western side of the vale where he found Murlet waiting by the tor of rock. Glora arrived at almost the same instant.
Murlet nodded to his sister and then looked at Brenyn.
“Well done,” he said simply, and he turned to Kristo. “Bring up the men. Tell them to leave the horses picketed. We will be on that next ridge.”
“Yes, cap’n.”
Murlet went over to the pavement and started down the road toward the east. “Come,” he said to Brenyn, Riana, and Glora.
When they came up to the crest of the next ridge, Murlet, followed by the others, moved off the road and squatted in a patch of brush while they studied the town in the valley below. As they watched, a woman, who appeared to be completely naked, without clothing of any sort, ran out of the building in the center of the town where there was an abundance of noise and activity. Four men appeared from the same building and pursued the nude woman.
She ran wildly, blindly, fleeing for the darkness at the edge of the town, but the men were faster. Barefoot, she stumbled upon a rock or other impediment and went down. The nearest man to her caught up to her, and, in one quick movement, drew a dagger, lifted her head, and cut her throat.
Her naked body went quiet.
The figures of the four men studied her for a moment. Then, leaving the dead woman lie, they made their way back toward the center of the town. The distant sound of rough laughter sounded in the still air of late evening and made its way up to those watching from the ridgetop.
Captain Murlet gave out an odd low sound, almost as if he growled deep in his throat.
Brenyn, sickened by what he had seen, looked over.
Murlet’s eyes, as he looked back, shone in the twilight, as if lit by the inner fire of his fury at what he had just witnessed. “None live,” he said. “We take no prisoners. None live.”
Brenyn, still recoiling from the shock of the awful thing that they had just witnessed, simply nodded.
The rest of the band came marching up the road just then and Murlet moved down off the slope to address them. The troop formed a semi-circle about him, where all could hear him, and then he spoke quietly. First, in quiet tones, he told them of what had just happened, and then he stated, “We will take none of these men alive. Such criminals deserve no quarter, and we will give none.”
Looking around at them all, he continued. “It seems certain that none of the male citizens of that town will have survived the actions of these vicious men,” he said, “so any man we encounter will be one of those we have been sent to evict from this region – and we will accomplish that eviction by killing them all. Do not harm any woman or child that you may encounter but slay every man.”
He looked eastward, into the gathering gloom of the night. “They do not expect us,” he went on, “of that I am certain – and they will not see us coming in this darkness. We will form a long line, two deep, and enter the town silently. Slay every man you meet, quietly at first, and then speedily once the alarm is raised – I want to lose none of us to such scoundrels as these.”
He looked at Brenyn. “You will go into town upon the right end of the line,” he said. “Once inside the perimeter of the town, find a roof and employ your bow. How many arrows do you have?”
“Nineteen,” Brenyn replied. “The one that slew the guard could not be recovered.”
Murlet nodded. “Make them all count.”
Brenyn returned the nod silently.
Murlet then looked at Glora. “You will be upon the left,” he told her. “Find a rooftop and make your missiles count.” He looked back and forth between them both. “It is rumored that there is a sorcerer here. Kill him at once, should he appear.”
He then looked around at them all. “Questions?”
There were none.
“Alright, then,” Captain Murlet said, and he drew his sword. “Let’s move.”
22.
Quietly, the band moved down the road in a column until they reached the point where the road angled around to the north and went toward the outskirts of the town. Here, they broke the column and formed a line upon both sides of the pavement. Brenyn went to the extreme right end of the line as the band began to move toward the town.
There was yet plenty of raucous activity that occurred in the large building at the center and in a few surrounding structures but most of the town was dark. Whether the inhabitants had all been murdered and the houses were empty, or if the survivors were simply hiding out from the ruffians that had taken over their world could not be known. Captain Murlet gave quiet instructions to pause and listen
at each dark and silent dwelling. If no suspicious noise emanated from them, the troop was to move on toward the noisome tumult at the center of the town.
When they came to where the large and brightly lit central building could be clearly seen, Brenyn came upon a dark and silent structure that might, at one time, have been a market. Leaving his shield on the ground while keeping his sword slung upon his back and slipping his bow over his head, he climbed one of the posts that held up the porch. Moving out onto the roof, he climbed up and slipped behind a chimney where he had a clear, direct view of the town square, the entrance to the large central building from which the woman had fled earlier, and the structures that surrounded it.
Here, he unlimbered his bow and nocked an arrow.
Below him, the rest of the mercenary band, swords at the ready, advanced toward the brightly lit building at the center of the town, from which laughter and shouts emanated and around which men lounged in the light that streamed forth from it.
Many of the buildings around that structure also showed signs of activity. As the band reached these outer buildings, they slowed and began to search through them, seeking prey.
As Murlet had wanted, the killing began quietly, with men discovered either sleeping off the effects of too much liquor or in the company of women – most, if not all of whom, no doubt, were unwilling companions to such men.
Eventually, however, one of the enemy managed to escape the thrust of a sword and ran out of the house where he had been discovered, sprinting across the square toward the building at the center, shouting the alarm.
Brenyn, arrow at the ready, dropped the man as he fled, an instant before Glora’s missile flashed through the spot where the man had been a moment before and careened off the ground. But the alarm had been sounded, and the men that lounged about the outside of the building ran for the entrance, shouting as they ran.
A Plague of Ruin: Book One: Son of Two Bloods Page 20