An Army of Heroes

by Scott J Robinson

  Johnny swallowed. “She’s a sorcerer?”

  “Does she look like one of the warriors?”

  Rawk got the conversation moving again. They didn’t have all night. “We’re on a mission. When I tell this story to the kids, would you like to be someone who got killed because they were in the way? Or would you rather be someone who helped end the war.”

  “Do people in stories get some type of payment?”

  Rawk sighed. “For Path’s sake, if your whole life is about money, then yes. But if you would just like to do the right thing...”

  “Who says killing Weaver is the right thing. Seems to me that’s just a matter of opinion.”

  “Who says we’re killing Weaver.”

  “We may be poor, Rawk, but we aren’t idiots.”

  “Well, what’s your opinion on the matter.”

  Fix shrugged. “He don’t hurt me none.”

  “Well, if he wins this war, do you think the city will survive? Who will do all the work that the dwarves currently do?”

  “Well, maybe me and Johnny can get a job then.”

  Rawk wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that, but he realized he didn’t have to worry when Fix started laughing.

  “I reckon you’ve got enough people here that nobody else would bother you— we got the biggest group going these days— but we’ll escort you anyway, just in case.”

  Rawk nodded “That would be nice. But let’s hurry up about it because we’re running out of time.”

  “Of course.”

  “Friends of yours?” Sylvia asked as Fix headed up the hill.

  Rawk grunted and hurried to keep up. Johnny and another couple of ruffians brought up the rear. The alley seemed to have found its own course over the years, like a river carving its way through the mountains, here narrow, there wide, weaving and turning. Rawk heard all sorts of sounds from the buildings on either side, but didn’t have the time to wonder what they were.

  “How is your daughter?” Rawk asked Fix after a couple of minutes.

  The thief didn’t reply for a moment. “Can’t say that I know.” He cleared his throat. “One of the City Guard caught her yesterday. Mali Hagarth saw it all. They took her to the Quod.”

  “Oh.”

  “When this is all over...”

  “I’ll see what I can do for you.”

  “I’d appreciate it.”

  Fix held up his hand and Rawk stopped as the other man moved slowly forward. He stopped at the end of the alley, cloaked in shadows, and looked out into the world of regular people. He came scuttling back a moment later. “There’s a guard station set up just up the hill. Looks like they intend to stay there for a while.”

  “How many? Can we go out through one of the buildings?”

  “About eight of them.”

  Fix had a bit of a think about the second question. He nodded slowly. “We could go through a building. But it would take time. And, while I’m realistic enough to know how I feel about real work, a lot of folks around here have fooled themselves into thinking the dwarves have taken work that is rightfully theirs. Right now they’re on Weaver’s side.”

  “Right. So...”

  Fix waved Johnny and his companions over. A few more came from further back, where they’d been stalking them through the alley. “I reckon we need to distract those guards, boys.” He sucked on his teeth.

  “What’s the plan then?” Johnny asked.

  “We’ll just go out there and throw some stuff at them. Then we run.”

  “And what if some of them stay behind.”

  “He has a point,” Frew said. “If they are the City Guard and not mercenaries then they probably like the idea of staying put and letting someone else do the exercise.”

  Rawk shrugged. “Well, if any stay behind then hopefully we can out run them or there’s enough of us to finish the fight quickly.”

  “Good. Let’s go then.”

  While Fix went through a pile of rubbish and pulled out some bottles and half rotten fruit, Rawk checked with Rake and Kristun about where they were going next.

  “The access hatch we want is on the corner of Ocean Rd and Long Rd,” Kristun said. “From there it will be about two hundred yards.”

  Rawk nodded. He shifted his grip on Kaj’s hilt, then wiped his hand on his breeches.

  Fix had handed around the weapons of choice. “I think we should pretend to be drunk, so they’re less likely to suspect a trap.”

  One of the thieves put up his hand. “I think, technically, I am dunk.”

  “I never doubted it, Tench. Come on then.”

  Seven thieves and cutthroats moved out of the alley, leaning against each other and singing a bawdy song. They staggered towards the guard post.

  Rawk waited out of sight. He heard the pause, then the crash as the first bottle was thrown. For a minute there was all sorts of commotion, then the sound of footsteps and shouting. Fix and his companions ran past, followed by a handful of guards. When the pursuit had moved on, Rawk stuck his head around the corner and discovered five guards still hiding behind the makeshift barricades. The men were looking jittery, but Rawk didn’t give the time to think. He hefted his sword and charged.

  Weaver’s men held the better position, stationed behind a low brick wall and with pikes standing at ease before them, but they were out numbered and stood looking shocked for a long time. By the time Rawk was just fifteen yards away they decided their location was no longer as comfortable as it once had been and they vaulted over the wall and took off up the street.

  Rawk was inordinately pleased.

  Drace wandered up to Rawk and looked up the street where the men had gone. “What if they tell Weaver they saw you here?”

  Rawk shrugged. “If he hasn’t already got someone guarding the sewers he won’t think of it now. Rake? Where’s the next entrance?”

  “It isn’t far.”

  -O-

  Rawk waited silently, looking up as Rake and Heron worked on the heavy, round cover, but inside he was all over the place. This felt like the point of no return. Once he climbed up to ground level inside the keep, there was no turning back. But he couldn’t have turned back after crossing over the river in Gabe’s boat either. And he couldn’t have turned back after releasing Sylvia. Or after killing the guard in the riot. Or... He realized the real point of no return, the first point of no return, had been a long time ago on the day he killed the wolden wolf, when he first went to Sylvia for help. Once Weaver found out, which had always been inevitable, Rawk knew the prince was never going to understand his friendship with any elf, let alone Silver Lark, or forgive him. And that was when he had really started to realize that he and Sylvia weren’t so different after all. That had been the moment when he had really started to leave ‘the good old days’ behind.

  It seemed to take forever for the two dwarves to remove the hatch and it made a lot of noise as they slid it aside. When the column of dim light lit up the sewer Rawk pushed them out of the way and stuck his head up into the palace. Gray light was starting to seep over the top of the wall and half a dozen torches sputtered the last of their energy around the walls.

  He was looking out between the spoked wheel of a wagon, but from the little he could see he knew he was in the Yeoman’s Yard, about thirty yards from the big, double doors that gave entry to the keep. He quietly hauled himself out of the hole and crawled to the back of the wagon where he was given some cover by four barrels that had been unloaded and left where they were. The only people in the yard were two guards over by the door and they seemed to be half asleep.

  “Do you know where we’re going?” Frew whispered when he was crouched behind the barrels as well.

  Rawk nodded but pulled out the map Thacker had given him. He couldn’t see anything with the light and his eyes conspiring against him. He cursed for a moment, then pulled his reading spectacles from a pouch on his belt and slipped them over his eyes. He cleared his throat when he saw Frew looking at him and quickly t
urned his attention to the map. “Weaver’s private study is in the middle of the keep. His rooms are above that. I’ve never gone there from here, but it shouldn’t be too hard.” According to the map it wasn’t hard at all. But unfortunately the map didn’t tell him how many guards there were or where they were.

  “Let’s worry about these two guards before we start getting too excited,” Rake said quietly as he joined them too.

  Rawk took off his spectacles as he tried to gather his thoughts. “If there’s only two guards here, maybe Weaver’s feeling a little bit over-confident. He might have everyone down near the river or out harassing innocent civilians.”

  “Do we just rush them, then?” Rake asked. “It worked last time.”

  “We don’t want them warning anyone though, if possible,” Frew said. He turned to Red Raven whose head was poking up from the drain. “Can you shoot both of them?”

  The elf examined the distance, cocking his head to the side. He looked up at the wagon above his head then back over his shoulder. “Of course I can shoot them,” he said, “but if one turns at the wrong moment...” He climbed out of the hole and Kristun’s head appeared where he had been.

  “What’s happening?” the engineer asked quietly.

  “Raven is going to shoot a couple of guards.”

  Kristun craned his neck to take a look. “Does he need help?”

  “Can you hit one of the guards from here?” Raven asked.

  Kristun shrugged. “I think so. And if not, we won’t be any worse off.”

  Raven nodded. “Very well. I shall still prepare to fire two arrows.”

  “Suit yourself.” Kristun hauled himself up and readied his bow as well. His was a much shorter, thicker affair with all sorts of odd attachments.

  “Does that even work,” the elf asked. The look on his face suggested he wasn’t sure how he felt about it, no matter its functionality. His was just a regular thing, a piece of timber held to a curve with a piece of string.

  “Of course.” But he glanced at Raven’s longbow and suddenly didn’t look sure. He grunted softly. “It’s something I’ve been working on for a while.”

  After a moment, the elf and the dwarf knelt side by side. They took deep, synchronized breaths and rose smoothly as if they had been working together their whole lives. Raven stood straight up, Kristun took a slight step to the side so he was no longer behind the wagon, and they fired.

  The elf’s red fletched arrow stuck one man in the throat. His second arrow thwacked into the next man just a moment after Kristun’s took him in the chest. Neither of the guards made a sound, except for the soft thump as they hit the ground.

  “Well done.” Rawk rose to his feet and looked around. He listened to the silence, which was broken only by the sound of everyone else climbing up out of the drain. When his companions were all above ground he strode across to the door and opened it enough to stick his head through into the large hall beyond. He noticed Kristun pause for a moment to look at the man he had killed, but the dwarf quickly moved on.

  Shadows clung to the corners despite half a dozen torches lining the walls. Sleeping pallets crowded the floor, but luckily they were empty. It looked like they had not been slept in for a while. A woman with a washing basket on her hip passed through at the far end of the room, hurrying towards a door, not noticing anything other than what was right in front of her. Rawk slipped inside, leaving the door open so the others could follow.

  “Through that door at the end there,” Rawk said quietly. “Then we go right and through another two halls. Then a hallway and into Weaver’s office.”

  “Will there be guards?”

  “There was last time. And that was before there was a war.”

  “How many?”

  “Just two.” There would probably be more now. “Come on.”

  They were halfway across the hall, weaving around the sleeping pallets, when half a dozen men came through the far door. Rawk noticed at the same time that Red Raven let loose his first arrow. He roared and charged forward. Another man went down with an arrow in his throat. And almost everyone else rushed past Rawk before he reached the enemy. He was forced to stand back and watch, cursing loudly as he looked for an opportunity to get involved. He shouted warnings that would never be quick enough. But it was all over quickly and Rawk tried to calm himself down.

  “Is everyone uninjured?” Sylvia asked.

  There were only minor injuries. Drace healed a cut on Frew’s arm, hands shaking as he did so. Everyone else declined any assistance.

  “Come on then, let’s keep going,” Rawk said. “And next time, make some room for me.”

  Frew grunted. “You worry about Weaver. How would you feel if one of us had to deal with him?”

  Rawk ignored him, checking through the next door and heading down the short passage. His best chance of getting into the fights was to make sure he kept leading. Red Raven strode along by his side and Rawk wondered what would happen if he upped his pace. Would the elf match him? He imagined them racing down the hallways, trying to be the first to stick their head through the doors.

  At the end, Rawk paused with his hand on the door handle. “A hall through here. It isn’t as large as the next one but...” He shrugged and carefully opened the door and looked around the edge.

  About twenty men occupied the room beyond. None of them saw Rawk as he retreated and closed the door again. He swallowed and took a deep breath. “I suspect that not everyone is down at the river.”

  “You suspect?” Sylvia asked, raising her eyebrow.

  “Perhaps Weaver isn’t so sure of success that he will leave himself unguarded.”

  “How many?”

  Rawk rubbed at his beard. “Would thirty be too many?”

  Drace’s eyes went wide. Rake nodded.

  “Well, don’t be concerned because there are only twenty. Give or take a couple.”

  Rake pushed his helm back and scratched at his head. “Are they awake?”

  “Mostly?”

  “Most of them are awake? Or all of them are mostly awake?” Crisp asked.

  Rawk shrugged. “I didn’t have time to do a survey.”

  Red Raven pulled out some arrows. “How close were they to the door?”

  “The closest were about five yards away.”

  The elf nodded. “How many of those pistols do we have?”

  All the dwarves had one, as did Sylvia. Six in total.

  “So, we go in there and fire.” Raven shrugged. “Anyone who is not dead or running after that gets killed the old fashion way. And any assistance from the sorcerers will be appreciated.”

  “That sounds like one of my plans.” Rawk shook his head.

  “You’re still alive, so they must have worked.”

  “Any other ideas? Sylvia?” Rawk was conscious of the fact that someone could come through the door at any moment and all options would be taken from them. “Anyone?” He sighed. “Come on then.” He shifted his grip on Kaj and reached for the door. It started to open before he had touched the handle.

  Rawk swore and charged forward, glad for the small mercy that the door swung away from him, and went through. The unlucky victim of the door wasn’t going to be doing a lot in a hurry, by the looks of him, but Rawk took three steps to where he had fallen and stabbed him anyway. Leaving his sword sheathed in the man’s chest, he dropped to one knee, like he had seen the front ranks do on the bridge, and covered his ears just before the dwarves fired their pistols. The six weapons, in the confines of the room, were almost deafening. He thought he could feel the heat of them. The black smoke stung his eyes. And the enemy panicked.

  Rawk grabbed Kaj, pulling it forth with a sucking sound, as Raven let loose his fourth arrow. He charged towards the frozen or fleeing City Guard.

  Rawk cut a man down. It was Danner. He was getting on and his daughter had recently had her first child. Masket was next. The big man was still thinking about the noise but managed a distracted, half-hearted swipe. Rawk
ran him through as well. And Tippa still owed him ten ithel from a card game. Well, he wasn’t getting that money back.

  After what seemed a lifetime, much more than the seconds that it really was, Rawk lowered his sword in the newly born silence and drew in a deep breath. He knew most of the dead men. He’d talked to them, drank with them.

  “Is everyone well?” Sylvia asked. She was looking for somebody to help, but Kristun was already tearing at Frew’s sleeve to look at a wound beneath. It wasn’t as bad as the blood suggested.

  Rawk took a deep breath and tried to not look around. “Come on. The sooner this is over the better.”

  But before they could go anywhere, another group of the City Guard entered the room. It took everyone a moment to gather themselves. Rake and Heron had reloaded their pistols and they both fired. An arrow scratched out from Red Raven’s bow. Where the former had the survivors rooted to the spot, the latter got them moving again. Another arrow flew as the guards started to charge. Then Raven dropped the bow so he could draw his sword.

  Rawk blocked out the faces. For a moment he was surrounded and laying about himself without thought. He danced blades with a little man that he refused to recognize, dodged blows from other blur-faced monsters. Then Red Raven, torn sleeve flapping, cut a man down from behind and the pressure eased. And others crashed into the defenders.

  Men were falling. A dwarf went down. Guardsmen. Frew was almost stabbed as he fought to keep someone away from Dace. But the guard’s dark hair caught on fire and he stumbled away screaming and swatting at himself madly. Thunder from another pistol. Smoke billowing. The smell. Rawk thought he might get used to the noise, but the smell...

  Soon the room was littered with corpses. There was hardly room to walk.

  Rawk hunched over, rubbing at his knee. “We can’t keep doing that,” he said quietly, watching as Sylvia knelt over Poe. She wasn’t hurrying because it was obvious there was nothing she could do. Rawk swore silently.

  Rake motioned to the door they were supposed to go through. “We can’t go through there, either,” he said. He was equally quiet, perhaps just moving so he didn’t have to think.