Legacy, p.25
Legacy, page 25
‘Yes, I’ll be alright, I think. Whatever she was doing to me, it’s stopped. Gods, I’ve never felt fear like that before, and all because of a decrepit old crone. I’d be laughed out of every tavern in the land if word of that got about.’
‘Better get moving then, before she shows off anymore of her tricks,’ Torben said, gently encouraging Gwilym forward with a hand on the dwarf’s back.
‘This seems like a bad idea,’ Eleusia murmured darkly. ‘How can she be so carefree about taking the roads? I would think twice about taking the main road through Bar-Dendra, even in peaceful times. Given what happened back at the caravan, I think it’s safe to say that we don’t have the luxury of peace anyway. Like as not, Sharisar’s cavalry will still be patrolling the road if Queen Alliona hasn’t already committed more troops to her burgeoning war.’
‘True, but I think whatever throws itself at her on the road wouldn’t do much to harm her, even a company of well-trained, well-equipped horseman,’ Antauros said.
‘It’s not her I’m worried about,’ Eleusia stated. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s hoping we’ll all be killed; then she can search us at her leisure and take the Keystone.’
‘Well, we’ll just have to pray that we get lucky then, won’t we?’ Gwilym growled.
The road from Gallenford curled round the forest edge for several miles before plunging into the tree line proper, as if the people who’d built the road had needed to psych themselves up before intruding upon the borders of the forest.
By the end of that day, they’d made good progress though, given the situation, it was hard for Torben, Gwilym, Eleusia and Antauros to feel particularly elated by this.
When she finally called a halt, Hrex led them off the road, into the forest, the only sign that she wasn’t being too reckless about their safety. Whilst on the road, the four of them had agreed that one of them should be on watch at all times during the night—to observe Hrex as much as watch for attackers.
Torben took the first watch, but he managed to get little rest after he was relieved by Antauros. His forearm still ached with a gentle burning sensation, just strong enough to keep him from falling into a fitful sleep. During the brief periods when he did manage to sleep, he was troubled by strange dreams and the ghostly echo of Hrex’s words when she’d enchanted him.
With sunrise, they took to the road again and soon connected with a larger road, the main artery through Bar-Dendra, which they had been travelling along only a few nights previously. The trampled earth of the road was pitted and scarred by the vast numbers of heavily armed men, horses and wagons that had travelled it. At first sight, Eleusia had knelt and inspected the tracks, but even Torben could tell that this wasn’t the passage of a trading caravan or a raiding party but of an army, marching north to Karpella.
After a few hours of walking, they reached the spot where the caravan of Guild House Fisel had been ambushed. The looted wagons had been tipped and rolled, and many of them were lying broken and upended in the dense undergrowth. What had remained of Fisel’s guards had been unceremoniously thrown off the road, left for the forest and its creatures to slowly reclaim.
Once they’d passed through the battleground, the rest of the day passed in grim silence with only the occasional sound of an animal or bird breaking the monotonous drone of their footsteps. The road was well maintained, despite its isolation from the main hubs of civilisation in the Kingdom of Dazscor and Aramore. They were able to make quick time as their speed wasn’t dictated by the lumbering pace of heavy wagons.
By the time that they stopped for the evening, they were near the edge of the forest; as darkness approached, they could see the dim orange glow of hundreds of campfires smudging the horizon, a worrying sign of how close they were to the Sharisian army.
‘They’ll be moving slowly, deliberately slowly,’ Antauros said as he stared at the glow from their makeshift camp. ‘They’ll have scouts riding on all sides, a screen of skirmishers behind; they’ll subdue any threat as quickly as possible, without committing the main body of their army. Nothing will be able to come within several miles of them on open ground without being spotted. This is no hit-and-run raiding trip, but an open declaration of war. They’ll eliminate anyone that doesn’t get well out of their way, lest spies are able to record their movements and count their numbers. We’ll be sitting ducks once we leave this forest.’
‘As much as I hate being stuck amongst these trees, you’re right, Antauros,’ Gwilym said, his gaze on the fire, attempting to coax life into it. ‘With that army between us and Karpella, we haven’t got much chance of moving anywhere quickly. Even if we were able to edge past them, we’d be at risk of being cut down as spies of the Aramorians. Like you said, better to guess that someone is snooping for the other side, rather than risk letting agents freely gather information in your country.’
‘Fear not, young ones; there is no need for any of you to die yet.’
The proximity of the hostile army and the lack of direct interaction had tricked them into forgetting that Hrex was travelling with them. She’d not spoken since they had left Gallenford, except to herself in a hoarse whisper; the sound of her voice made them recoil, afraid of what she might say or do.
‘I’ve made arrangements for us to regain access to the city, regardless of the games silly little kings and queens are playing with each other,’ Hrex continued flatly. ‘Just follow me and all will be fine.’ She grinned evilly before disappearing into the undergrowth.
‘I’d like to know what she’s doing out there,’ Gwilym said, staring at the place where she’d disappeared.
‘Are you sure about that?’ Eleusia asked dully. ‘As long as she leaves us alone, I’d rather be oblivious to whatever mischief she’s creating. I’d be more interested in knowing what arrangements she’s made. If we’re not careful, then Karpella will be under siege by the time we get there.’
‘Surely there must be other ways of getting in though?’ Torben asked.
‘Well yes, of course there are, but most of those ways in are either known about by the City Guard, in which case they’ll be very well protected, or they’re extremely difficult to get to, especially when you’re looking over your shoulder, expecting to see enemy soldiers.’
As the sun rose the next morning, the sounds of thousands of soldiers from the distant army camp could be heard readying themselves for the day’s march. The noise and growing strength of daylight dragged Torben from a restless slumber. He rubbed sleep from his eyes as he sat up and tried to remember what it felt like to be human.
Hrex had returned from her nightly wanderings and was squatting near the remains of the small fire, trying to bring it back into life, clearly unconcerned as to whether it would give them away to watchful eyes.
Gwilym and Antauros talked quietly to one another, casting evil glances at Hrex, who seemed oblivious to the dreadful fate they were doubtless wishing upon her.
Seeing that Torben was awake, Antauros threw him some bread and water. ‘Here, not exactly a delicious breakfast, but we haven’t got much else.’
‘Thanks,’ Torben said with a grateful smile.
‘Gods, but I wish we’d packed more of that salt beef.’ Antauros sighed loudly. ‘I’m sick of this diet of stale bread and bugger all else. No one says anything, you know, about the dire quality of the food when you sign up to be a mercenary. All they tell you is how heroic it is, how many stories you’ll be able tell around tavern fires, the thrill of battle. Nothing about how the piss-poor diet will make you wish you’d never been born and that you’ll break your teeth on terrible hard bread.’
‘Where’s Eleusia gone?’
‘Scouting,’ Gwilym answered. ‘Assessing what our chances are of crossing the plain without being spotted. My money’s still on that being slim to impossible, but I don’t think we have any choice other than to give it crack now, do we?’
Gwilym had clearly aimed this last remark at Hrex, but the witch continued to stare into the steadily growing flames, apparently lost in thought. She was muttering inaudibly, her lips moving ever so slightly. Occasionally, the fire swelled up, as if in response to what she was saying; streaks of unnatural colour—purples, blues and greens—occasionally flashed amongst the flames.
It didn’t take long for Eleusia to return, her face furrowed in thought as she descended into the clearing from the road.
‘What’s the situation?’ Gwilym asked, springing to his feet.
‘Bleak at best, but if we’re going to make a dash for it, we should do so now. I reckon that the Sharisians will be ahead of us enough so that we won’t be immediately spotted by their patrols, but not so far away that we can’t slip past them during the night. If I remember rightly, small woods are about fifteen miles to the north. If we can reach there, then we’ll have somewhere to hide until it’s dark enough for us to sneak past the scouts—’
‘No, girl, we shan’t be doing that,’ Hrex interrupted, looking at them for the first time. The fire spluttered and then went out, thin tendrils of smoke whirling around her head and partially obscuring her face. ‘There is a village eight days walk to the northwest of here; that’s where we shall go.’
‘But that’ll take us well out of our way,’ Eleusia said. ‘If we do anything but follow the tracks of the army, then we’ll never make it back to Karpella before they lock down the defences and stop letting people in.’
‘Don’t worry girl. I told you, I’ve made arrangements.’
‘What arrangements? Unless you’re not planning to get into the city at all, then those arrangements are useless unless we overtake those troops … and we can’t do that if we go strolling off into the countryside!’ Eleusia’s face flushed an angry red colour.
Hrex stood slowly and took a few steps towards Eleusia, who just managed to hold her ground as the witch approached. ‘Tell me, did I ask for your opinion on my orders?’
‘No, but you might as well use the expertise of those around you, even if you are holding them hostage!’
‘Expertise, ha! The body of your expertise is smothered by the huge mass of your ignorance.’
‘I beg to differ—’
‘Silence!’ Hrex screeched the word, the piercing sound sending a flock of birds flying in panic from a nearby tree. In her fury, her eyes glared wildly and she drew a wickedly pointed dagger from the sleeve of her robe. ‘You seem to have forgotten that your opinions mean nothing now; they are worthless to me and I do not want to hear them being volunteered again. Perhaps you need reminding of the consequences for not doing what I say?’
Before any of them could move or speak, she slashed the side of her face with the dagger. Eleusia was spotted with flecks of blood as a wound appeared on Torben’s face. He grunted in pain, but gritted his teeth, not wanting to show weakness.
‘Next time you dare to cross me, girl, it’ll be his throat! Get moving all of you. We leave now!’ Hrex strode past them onto the road, not waiting for them to collect their things.
Torben swore as she left, checking his cheek to see how badly he was bleeding.
‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for her to hurt you,’ Eleusia said, dashing over to him.
‘It’s fine, just a scratch. I’ll be alright.’
‘We need to go—you heard what she said,’ Antauros growled, staring angrily up the road where Hrex was waiting.
‘I’ll be fine, honest,’ Torben said, taking the bandage Eleusia was using to dab his check and pressing it to his face. ‘Don’t worry about me; I’ll enjoy it all the more when we work out how to get ourselves out of this fix.’
16
The rain drummed the thatched roofs of a small cluster of houses that made up Findale. The dirt road that ran through the heart of the village had come alive with little streams of water that flowed down wagon ruts and disappeared into hedgerows that shielded Findale from the outside world. Little else could be heard over the rain.
House doors were barred shut and shutters had been fastened over all windows. The village seemed deserted but, here and there, small slivers of light could be seen shining through cracks in a shutter or illuminating frayed areas of thatch on roofs.
The villagers of Findale had not just barred themselves against the weather; all around, crops had been trampled, roads and tracks scarred by a myriad of hoof prints from a large body of cavalry that had swept through the countryside earlier that day. With no way to defend themselves, the villagers had retreated into their houses, praying at kitchen altars for the troops to pass by and leave them unharmed.
For the most part, the Sharisian cavalry had ignored the folk of Findale. They were just farmers, too young or old to be of threat. In any case, if Queen Alliona was to rule the Kingdom of Dazscor and Aramore she needed stability, a large part of which relied on a cowed but very much alive peasant population.
The majority of able-bodied men and women had fled before the Sharisians arrived, fearful that they’d be killed as suspected spies or militia. Like as not, they’d gone into hiding in the fens that lay a couple of miles to the northwest, a place where cavalry wouldn’t follow. They’d be back soon enough, and the Sharisians knew this; it would be far less trouble if they came back to find their villages and livelihoods mostly intact. Peasants who emerged cold and wet from their hiding places to find their homes still standing were much less likely to listen to a handful of renegades that would be rallying them against the invading force.
Having said that, the bald patch of dirt that marked the village centre was now home to a crude wooden scaffold. Swaying ever so slightly in the breeze were four bodies suspended by their necks. Three bodies were male—two humans and a dwarf caught by the Sharisian cavalry when they attempted to reach the safety of the fens. They’d not offered any physical resistance to the Sharisian soldiers, but a hard day of riding in the rain with little diversion had meant the troops wanted to blow off steam. Littered around the scaffold were empty wineskins and shattered mugs; the Sharisians had watched and jeered as their captives danced their last.
The fourth body was that of a woman, her hair streaming in front of her face in the wind, covering the grisly visage of death. She was the only one of the four who’d resisted, striking a soldier who had beaten her father into submission … and for that act of selfless courage, she had died.
The village hadn’t had time to mourn their loss yet. When the men and women returned from hiding, the scaffold would be torn down and used as a funeral pyre for the dead but, until then, all they dared do was remain in the houses and pray for the souls of the departed, lest the Sharisians returned to find their handiwork undone.
Late that night, a small group of people appeared on the road into Findale, not that any of the villagers saw them approach, nor heard them pass the houses over the din of the rain. Hrex had led the group for seven nights and eight days over the plains of Dazscor once they had left Bar-Dendra, unconcerned by the threat of marauding cavalry or the army they patrolled around.
With every passing mile, she seemed to grow bolder, stood taller, and her strides longer and longer. Behind her, the figures of Eleusia, Antauros, Gwilym and Torben looked tired and very wary of their surroundings. The past few days had been long and weary, the nights sleepless and nerve-wracking. The slightest noise had woken them, and often they stayed awake for long stretches, staring into the gloomy blackness, expecting to see a horseman charge forth at any moment.
Hrex, too, had appeared to be sleeping very little from what they could tell. Since they’d starting travelling, she hadn’t spent the night with them, something that they were all grateful for. At first, Gwilym had proposed that they give her the slip, but it had become clear that she was never too far away. Occasionally, they’d heard her voice echoing through the night, speaking in the unknown language that she’d used to curse Torben. When she had re-joined them, her arrival had always been sudden and unannounced. She appeared very keen to keep her movements as unpredictable as possible, which added to their sense of unease. Even Eleusia, with her excellent well-practised tracking skills, found that the elderly witch eluded her. She told them that the few nights she’d attempted to trail Hrex, she’d simply melted into the darkness of the night without a trace.
As the group continued to make their way through the houses, Hrex stopped in front of the gibbet, surveying the grim display with a smile.
‘We’re not stopping here are we?’ Gwilym’s voice echoed around the dwellings, sounding far too loud, even over the rain.
‘This is the meeting place, whether you like it or not.’ Hrex didn’t turn to address Gwilym, but instead walked up to the legs dangling above on the scaffolding. She reached out and caressed one of the pale feet, her eyes closed and her snout twitching as if she were trying to pick up a particular scent.
‘That lot are giving me the creeps,’ Torben muttered, his eyes darting nervously between the corpses and Hrex.
‘Looks like a patrol passed through here not too long ago,’ Antauros rumbled. ‘I’d suspect that they were the horsemen that passed us in the morning. I knew they were up to mischief.’
‘What are the odds they’d come back this way?’ Eleusia asked, bending to inspect the debris the troopers had left behind.
‘Slim, I would think. If the Sharisian army is still holding the course that you saw them taking at dawn, then I’d guess that they’re at least ten miles away from us now. It would be a bold cavalry troop that would range so far from the safety of their army this deep into hostile territory. Anyway, I doubt there are many cavalrymen stupid enough to be riding out in this.’
‘No, it would seem that only we and our four sorrowful companions here are stupid enough to be out in this weather.’ Gwilym flashed a grim smile at Antauros.
‘I’m not sure sorrowful is the way I’d describe them … ghastly more like, poor buggers.’ Torben was still staring concernedly at the bodies, his back pressed to the wooden wall of a house, trying to get under the relative shelter of the overhanging thatch.
