The Bellringer

by William Timothy Murray

  Robby could not see Billy until one of the horses moved aside, and he saw him sitting on a great stool, his legs dangling off the floor and his arms tied behind him. He slouched, his head down against his chest. A stone balcony of sorts ran all the way along both sides of the room, and Robby backed away, then hurried back to the stairs in the corridor and quickly climbed them, each step shin high. As he re-entered the great room, easing along the righthand balcony, he heard the men talking. He kept low in shadows well away from the edge and carefully continued to the far end. Suddenly there was a low rumble, and it seemed to Robby that the entire hill shook, and, indeed, dust fell from the ceiling above.

  "The creature is restless, Bailorg," said the Conundrum Box man.

  "Yes, he must sense we are here," said Bailorg.

  "Why you insisted on this place is beyond me. If that thing gets loose!"

  Bailorg laughed.

  "You worry too much! The chains that hold him will continue to do so. I picked this place for just such reason. People fear to come here, so it has been a good place to watch from. Besides, the only one who could possibly free the old thing sits right here, and he's obviously in no condition to do so."

  "Yes, he looks well tied-up."

  "And so I have kept him."

  "Well, has he given you what you seek from him?"

  "Not yet," Bailorg said. "But he soon will. I have allowed him to rest a little, but it will be the last he gets for a long while. See in the fire? My tools are warming up. Soon he will tell me all I need to know."

  Robby reached the far end of the room and inched to the edge of the balcony. Now the fireplace chimney was in front of him, where the balcony ended. Billy was almost directly below, apparently unconscious. His shirt was stained with blood. The two men were standing about six feet away from their prisoner, looking at him. The one called Bailorg stood with his arms crossed. He was pale, tall, and his blond hair draped over his shoulders. Underneath his burgundy cloak he wore a fine black velvet jacket buttoned up to the neck of a puffy-collared red blouse. He wore high, close-fitting boots and as he unfolded his arms, one hand came to rest on the hilt of a sword.

  "What I don't understand," the Conundrum Box man said, "is if this is the one, then why can't he escape the ropes?"

  "I am no fool, Stingorn! My rope, as you call it, is woven of snakewood fibers and will release their knots to none but me."

  Hearing this, Robby instinctively passed his hand down to Swyncraff and realized that he was not weaponless after all. But how to free Billy without Bailorg's help?

  "Snakewood? I thought those trees were all gone. Stuff of tales."

  "The plants are long passed from the earth, but there are a few charmed remains that can be made into such things. Now tell me, are you sure about the box?"

  "Oh, I'm sure. This one showed no signs of opening it, but the other opened it right off, and knew the writing, too. And wasn't fooled by it. You saw it. A double test."

  "So there are others in the region who possess the power. This one will soon name them, though. And he is the one who rang the Bell, according to his imbecilic friend, so obviously he has the greater cunning."

  "Yes. And so this red-headed one must have suspected our ploy, as I said earlier," nodded Stingorn, "and sent the other one to open the box and take the choker."

  "I wonder if he told the other one why he wanted him to open the box?" Bailorg mused aloud.

  "I don't follow you."

  "I'm thinking that if this one knew we were close, he might have been trying to set up another one to take his place."

  "Oh, I see. And it nearly worked! If it had not been for that captain fellow coming along when he did, we would never have caught on."

  "Yes, yes!" Bailorg said impatiently. "But what I mean is that this one is not so nice to his friends. He might not be so hard to squeeze, after all."

  "Oh, well. Er, that may be so. That may be so, indeed. But, well—"

  "I suppose you want your pay."

  "Well, I really should be getting along now that I'm given away, as it were."

  A dark shape suddenly flew into the room, causing Stingorn to flinch and Robby to drop to his belly, recoiling from the edge of the balcony. It was a large black bird, bigger than any Robby had ever seen, and it flapped to the opposite side of the room where it perched atop a broken column in the shadows. It seemed completely black, from its talons, to its crooked beak, and all of its plumage in between. All except its uncanny eyes which, whether from the firelight or from their own accord, glowed dull red as the creature looked down at the gathering.

  "Ar! What a fright that thing gave me!" Stingorn put his hand to his chest. "A most unpleasant pet you have. Whew! Now, as I was saying—"

  "You'll get your bounty," Bailorg stated, unperturbed by the bird's arrival. He turned to Billy. "And I think it might be good for our guest to see you get paid, so that he knows he is sold away and is entirely in my hands. Wake up!"

  Robby inched closer, taking care to make no noise, peering over the edge of his hiding place.

  Bailorg gripped Billy by the hair and pulled his head up. Robby saw dried blood caked around Billy's nose and mouth, and he did not miss the blaze of defiance in his friend's eyes as he looked at Bailorg.

  "Ah, yer back are ye? Whar did ye go? An' we have company?"

  "Yes, are you feeling more talkative, now?"

  "Ah, very musch sho. Let'shee, what wash I shayin'? Oh, yeah. I wash tellin' ye 'bout the hill, Haven Hill, Tulith Attish."

  "Attis."

  " 'Ash what I shaid, Attish. Anywaysh, sho I whar thar, all alone, like. An' nesht thing I know, great big wolvesh whar comin' at me from ever direcshtion. I had nowheresh to go."

  "Yes, yes, we've been over all that."

  Robby's chest tightened as anger's heat coursed through his body, and his eyes stung at the sound of Billy's slurred voice through his swollen lips. Leaning over the side as far as he dared, Robby saw that it was at least a thirty foot drop to the floor, a little less to a nearby table. His impulse was to jump down anyway and take on the two men, but he would be worse than useless to Billy with a broken neck. Part of his mind raced with his quickened pulse, trying to form some reasonable course of action. Another part was paralyzed, unable to turn away, and he could do nothing but watch the awful thing play out. Below, the conversation continued.

  "Ish that the Conundrum Boshx man, over thar? It wush a trick boshx warn't it? Ye let poor Ibin an' the resht think they'd opened it up when allsh along ye jusht whar playin' with 'em."

  "I told you he was cunning," said Bailorg to Stingorn. Smiling at Billy, he continued.

  "I just wanted you to know that you are all alone here. No one is coming for you, and your friends have all abandoned you. Stingorn, here, is only interested in the pay that I promised him to carry out our little detection work. Now that his work is done, he is only here to collect. Once he is departed, it will be just the two of us and no one else."

  "Well, what d'ye want then?"

  "I want you to tell me the name of the traitor of Tulith Attis and the names of all those who know it."

  "Ah! That'sh what it'sh all about, eh? I shushpected ash musch all along. I wondered how long it'd take ye to get 'round to it."

  "Well?"

  "Well, I don't think I'll tell ye. Anywaysh, everyone in theshe partsh knowsh all 'bout that. Ye can jusht go ashk some other feller an' lemme go."

  "Not until you tell me. You see, I already know the answer."

  "You do?" asked Stingorn in obvious surprise. "Then why all this?"

  "Shut up!" Bailorg glared at Stingorn. He turned back to Billy. "Yes, I do know. But I want to hear it from you. And I want you to tell me about everyone else who knows. It would spare you a lot of pain."

  "But it won't shave me life, I'll warrant."

  "No, it won't," Bailorg said, dragging a wooden chopping block closer to Billy and sitting down on it. "But I will tell you what it will do. It will save others from unne
cessarily enduring the pain you now suffer, and the pain you will suffer if you continue to be stubborn. Do you want your friends to hurt? Do you want them to die as uselessly as you?"

  "Ye whar the one what shent them ridersh into Boshkland, along with that ol' Dragonkind man, warn't ye?"

  Bailorg sat upright.

  "Yes, I sent them."

  "An' it whar ush what killed 'em," Billy said. "Me an' me friendsh. An' shoon yer head will join tharsh over the gatesh of Boshkland!"

  Bailorg stood up, smiled wryly, and struck Billy with his fist, sending fresh blood splattering out of his mouth onto the floor.

  "Speak only what I wish to hear!" Bailorg hissed at Billy. "Now look!"

  Billy raised his head, tears of pain and anger mingling with blood, and watched Bailorg back away toward Stingorn.

  "I told you we would be alone," Bailorg said, standing beside the Conundrum Box man. "I will not have him witness what is about to happen here, so I will conduct my business with him first."

  Stingorn, who was nervous and obviously had no stomach for the scene, grinned and nodded.

  "Yes, I should be on my way, indeed. And so I'll take the purse you agreed would be mine."

  "Well, here, take your pay, then," said Bailorg as Stingorn eagerly stepped closer. In a quick, easy, almost casual movement, Bailorg brought out a long, narrow-bladed dagger from his belt and plunged it through Stingorn's throat and as quickly removed it, sudden blood spurting from both sides of the man's neck. Bailorg let the gurgling Stingorn fall and returned to Billy.

  "See how quickly death can come?" he said kindly, sitting back down as Stingorn became quiet. He wiped both sides of the blade on Billy's pants, then inspected it. "Just a little nick, and it's all over. All the pain, all the regret, everything. And off to the place of your forefathers you shall go! If you tell me what I want to know, I'll make it quick and easy. But I am patient."

  He got up, slipped the dagger back into its sheath, and walked over to the fire, pulling and shifting the many long iron implements that were heating there.

  "Do you think your friend, the one you call Ashlord, is the only one who watches? I, too, and my master have watched these lands these many years. From this place, I have often ventured to your little shire, even to the place of Tulith Attis itself, though not so close to give myself away. No, no. My master, from far away, watches, too, in his way." Bailorg threw a smile at the black bird. "But I have had help. Yes, your own Barleymen have helped me, right up until just recently. Though I have never met a lazier, more drunken sort of creature than the Barley farmer. I had the recent misfortune to hire one a while back. Alas, I found that I could not trust him. He was too loose with my money and his tongue, and he was too obsessed with his bratty niece to be of much use. I was forced to, well, to release him from my service, you might say. Since then I have found others willing to help."

  Bailorg gestured at Stingorn's body.

  "Yes, I am patient when need be, but only as long as being patient is useful. And now that it is just the two of us, I can give you my undivided attention."

  He slipped on a thick leather glove and lifted one of the iron bars from the fire, gazed at the glowing hot tip, and then slowly waved the tip a few inches in front of Billy's horrified face.

  "You there!" a voice cried out from the doorway. Bailorg turned and saw a Passdale militiaman entering with a confident stride. "Put down that iron and release our man!"

  "If you come one step closer, he will die!"

  Robby stopped about twenty yards from Bailorg. Billy turned his head and managed a weak smile.

  "Heh-heh-heh," he chuckled.

  "As you can see," Robby said, trying to muster as much courage as he could, "I am not armed, save for this little knife. The exits to this place are all blocked by my comrades. I convinced them that you would not give up your captive easily. They are prepared to fight and will storm this place very soon unless I emerge with him. If you harm him further, or if you refuse to release him, you will die."

  Bailorg hesitated, then smiled.

  "You are too few to block all exits, and the north one is guarded by my own men."

  "They are captured, and a few of them are dead. The rogues you chose did not serve you well. Ashlord has known of this place for a long while, and his plan to assault your lair was carefully made. The routes of your escape are blocked eastward by the militia and by Boskmen. The west exit is blocked by men of the King's Post Riders along with soldiers recently of Vanara under the service of Thurdun of the House of Fairlinden. The other passages, some of which even you may not know of, are blocked also, both those above and those below," Robby stated bluntly, and, he hoped, convincingly. He also hoped the quiver that he heard in his own voice did not give him away. "You do not have much time, for they have given me only a few moments to bring Billy Bosk back to them."

  "Fairlinden? Here? Ashlord, too? I sense that you are bluffing. That you are alone and that you followed my late unfortunate helper, here," retorted Bailorg.

  "If you knew anything of my people, you would know that I just this morning renewed my oath. I will speak the truth," Robby shot back angrily. "I suffer your insults only to obtain the release of my friend. Though you may be without honor, I am bound to deliver this message to you. If first you release Billy Bosk, then, within the hour, the west exit will be open to you. You are assured that we will make no effort to take you. So by our honor are we bound."

  "I do not trust you," Bailorg said. "If you take him eastward, how will you clear the west passage?"

  "I will send a rider."

  Robby turned around and walked out of the hall and into the darkness of the passageway. Bailorg strained to see, but could not, and he heard Robby call out.

  "Come!"

  Soon Bailorg heard hooves pounding closer and closer, but could not tell from which way the sound came. They clatter of hooves slowed to a halt.

  "Stay here and await my word. Prepare to ride on to the west exit so that it may be cleared," Robby's said loudly, his voice echoing into the room. Bailorg could also hear the stamping of an impatient horse. Robby re-entered from the gloom and approached.

  "Now! Release him!"

  Bailorg shoved the iron back into the fire, then removed and threw away his glove angrily. Then, more reluctantly, he moved to Billy and drew his dagger. Robby reached for his and stepped forward.

  "Only to cut his bonds," said Bailorg holding up the knife in one hand and his open palm as supplication. Robby nodded. He could not see behind Billy's back, but knew that the action of cutting the rope-that-was-not-a-rope was a ruse. Bailorg stood upright once again with the limp rope in one hand and eased his dagger back into its sheath. Billy struggled to his feet and swerved left and right to Robby who put his arm around him.

  "Hold on just a little longer, my friend," Robby said to Billy, taking his eyes from Bailorg only long enough to glance at Billy and see his swollen and blood-caked mouth. "My advice to you, sir," Robby said to Bailorg, trying his best to stifle his anger, "is to flee these lands. Your warrant for safety is only for this day and this night alone. Some of this man's kin have sworn to track you down, but I think they will go no farther than the Thunder Mountains if you can reach them before sunrise on the morrow. Good bye!"

  Robby turned to leave, trying to be gentle with Billy and yet seeking to hurry him at the same time. Bailorg watched them retreat, his face red with a scowl and his fists balled up at his side.

  "Pray we never meet again, Barleyman!"

  Robby continued on into the gloom of the passage where Anerath waited.

  "Listen," he told Billy quietly, helping him up into the saddle. "Take Anerath here and fly to my mother. She will take care of you. Send word to Ullin. Tell him where I am. I will follow you as soon as I can. I want to make sure Bailorg goes west."

  "What of the othersh? The one'sh guardin' the waysh out?"

  "Shh! There are no others," Robby whispered emphatically. "I lied."

  "Lied?
Ye lied? But, Robby," Billy protested, "I can't leave ye!"

  "You must! Go, Anerath!"

  Robby slapped Anerath on the flank, and the obedient steed flew down the passageway with Billy. Robby watched them disappear into the gloom, the pound of Anerath's hooves turning into splashes as they exited, then he ran up the stairs to see Bailorg quickly and noisily putting some things into a saddle bag. The villain was unhitching the horses when suddenly the corridor and chamber were filled with the rumble of hooves once more. Bailorg looked up in frightened surprise and dismay, and Robby shrank away as twenty horsemen rode boldly into the chamber. The large bird, passive until now, raised its wings as if to take off, but as the chamber filled, it settled back onto its perch. The men were all dressed in flamboyant garments of velvet, leather and steel, coats and jackets of blue or green or orange, and sporting all manner of caps and feathered hats. They were hard-looking men with beards and long hair, some stout, others thin, old and young together, all with determined looks on their faces. Leading the group was a large man on a black horse. He wore a fancy black coat with silver buttons and polished boots over blue breeches and sported a broad tan hat with a long fluffy blue plume. He dismounted and strode toward Bailorg.