The mercenary trilogy bo.., p.43
The Mercenary Trilogy Boxed Set, page 43
part #1 of The Mercenary Series
He rolled out of sight and scanned the clearing ahead. Nothing. No sound or sign of movement. Nogel cursed himself for a fool. Those boys had been right, he shouldn’t have risked being out here alone. But rage gripped him at the thought of robbers lurking in his forest.
Bow in hand, King Nogel clambered and crawled through the undergrowth until he reached a broken cluster of rocks. These he climbed quickly and lay on his belly at the top of the biggest. He scanned the trees, a dark green canopy. Already the light was shifting from black to gray, the pre-dawn looming.
What was that? A flicker of movement below. Someone running beneath the trees. He turned his head, saw his horse had returned to the glade and was grazing head down at the grass. He waited. Somewhere an owl called out and the wolves answered. They were nearer now.
Nogel waited half an hour as a pink light filtered through the trees, changing their hue. The horse cropped down there in the glade. The outlaws were waiting for him to return. But their time was running out and come sun up his men would scour every tree for their lord, and these villains would be hanging from one. But how many were there?
Nogel determined to find out. He was a warrior king, not one to let his men deal with such vermin as this. He waited longer and at last he saw movement. A figure creeping back through the trees. An archer. Slowly, Nogel raised his aching body by his arms and then crouched in a position where he could shoot. The man was still visible, flitting beneath those trees, making for the glade where Nogel’s horse stood silent.
The king set arrow to string and loosed in one swift movement. A scream cut short announced him on target. He glimpsed movement in the bushes, heard a thud. There would be others, including the swordsman he’d first seen. But after waiting another half hour, and the sun’s first golden glow promising the first dry day in a week, Nogel stood up, swept the forest with his keen eyes, and then walked down to that glade.
Cowards usually skulked in shadows. The sun has driven them away. It was time for a new kind of hunt. Nogel smiled. He was going to enjoy this morning. He reached the horse, patted his neck and put one foot in a stirrup. He froze when a huge figure crashed out from the trees, a double-headed battle-axe held high.
Nogel freed his foot from the stirrup, dropping the bow and reaching out to slide the long heavy boar spear from the saddle. The axe man swung for him. The king blocked that cut with his spear, fending off with the oak shaft while distancing himself from his attacker. A giant clad in freshly oiled ring mail, not what he’d expected from outlaws lurking in the forest.
The big man swung out again with his axe. Nogel stepped out of reach and leveled the spear, lunging forward and forcing the enemy back. Someone laughed, and Nogel heard movement behind. He circled, the spear gripped in both sweaty palms. The swordsman stood watching him—beside him was an archer, arrow nocked and ready, his face red with rage.
“Put one in his gut,” the swordsman said, and Nogel saw the shadow of the axe man rising behind him. He spun about as the string twanged and an arrow thudded into the dirt by his foot. The axe swung across. Nogel trapped its beard with the iron halter cross-piece of his boar spear and yanked, pulling the man forward. Nogel twisted around, and the axe man groaned as a second arrow thudded into his back. He sank to his knees, and Nogel kicked him hard in the face.
“That was careless,” a casual voice said. The king turned, saw the swordsman smiling at him, the archer once more pulling back on his bow. Nogel cursed, nowhere to go this time. But just as the bowman made to release the killing shaft, his companion twisted his sword up into the man’s belly, goring him open.
“I hate working with amateurs,” the small man said, tugging his sword free of the archer’s corpse. Nogel leaned on the boar spear, fighting for breath. To his right, the axe man struggled to his knees. Nogel rammed the butt of the spear into his skull and the man slunk prostrate again.
“Your turn,” King Nogel said to the swordsman, who watched him with an amused expression from the edge of the glade. The man swung his sword in circles through the air with an arrogance that amazed Nogel.
“Our game has barely begun,” the swordsman said, then looked up as the sudden sounds of horns and hounds baying announced that Nogel’s men were arriving.
“Looks like we’re going to have to postpone this visit.” The stranger grinned at him again and vanished in the undergrowth. “I’ll see you soon, my lord!”
“Who are you, villain?” Nogel roared at the trees, receiving no answer. A few minutes later his nobles arrived, their faces grim and alarmed at the corpses.
“I was attacked,” King Nogel said. “That one still lives.” He pointed to the prone axe man.
“That’s not the worst of it, Highness.” Yail Tolranna vaulted off his horse and approached his king. “Lord Staveport is dead.”
Chapter 6 | Concerning Kings
Corin watched the road as a rider trotted his horse between steep banks, his green cloak resplendent and polished mail glinting in the sunshine. It was three days since he’d discovered the dead lord and made good his escape. Despite his gleaming attire, the rider looked worried, glancing anxiously along the high ridges leaning over the road, a perfect place for ambush as could be found between the border cities of Reln and Port Wind, and just three miles from where the road bridged the River Kelvannis, entering Kelthaine in a maze of woodland and high hills ahead.
“You doing this—or shall I?” Hagan was watching the rider too, both of them lying low, concealed by bushes, their horses tied, and the steep bank shouldering their shadows.
“I’ve got it,” Corin said. “Just you keep both eyes out for his companions.”
“Messenger, lone rider,” Hagan said.
“For whom, I wonder?” Corin slipped from his hide as the horseman approached. He walked out into the open, standing with hands down his sides, Clouter slung across his back. The rider jerked his reins, halting his steed abruptly. The beast was skittish and danced this way and that until its rider steadied the pacing.
The horseman unslung a bow from his saddle sheaf and stringed an arrow. “You won’t need that,” Corin told him, but the rider pulled back on his bowstring.
“Bad idea,” Hagan said, emerging from the afternoon shadows of the bank. The rider glanced about with wild eyes.
“Yes, lots of us lurking around here.” Corin motioned the high ridges flanking the road. “A robber has to make an honest living. Now kindly dismount friend, and hand over your purse.”
The rider hesitated, guiding his horse around.
“Do like he says and your throat stays uncut,” Hagan said. “And, do it fast else we order our friends to fill you with arrows.” The rider’s eyes lashed the ridges again. He nodded, dropped the bow, and slid from the horse.
“Well done,” Corin said. “Now I’ll be taking your coin.” The man reached for the purse hanging from his belt, untied the loop and passed the pouch across. Corin caught his arm, twisted it behind the man’s back, and brought him to his knees. He unsheathed Biter and held it to the rider’s throat.
“Grab the coin,” Corin said to Hagan, and the Morwellan joined him.
“It’s all I’ve got,” the man coughed, as Corin nicked his skin with Biter’s edge.
“We’ll take it,” Corin said. “But that’s not what we want from you, old son.” He removed Biter, allowing the man to clear his throat.
“I have nothing,” the rider said.
“A fine-looking steed and nobleman’s garb,” Corin said. “A tad risky riding this road alone—must be a reason.”
“I’m a messenger,” the man said. “An envoy, and you need to let me go. King’s business.”
“What king would that be?”
The man looked at him as though he was mad. “King Nogel, of course.”
Corin nodded slowly. “Well then, who’s this message for?” The man looked uneasy, and Corin grabbed his cloak by the fur-lined trim. “Thing is, you’re riding north. Alone. And rumor is King Nogel has returned to Wynais after some unfortunate business in the Wood between Waters, so it strikes me as odd you heading in the opposite direction.”
“Told you I’m a messenger,” the rider said. “King Nogel wants to inform the High King of Dal Terini’s murder.”
“Why would the High King give a toss about some low-life tax collector?” Hagan loomed above Corin and gazed down at the messenger. “I think you’re lying.”
The man shook his head but Corin prodded his cheek with Biter. “Your message is for Caswallon—yes?”
The man shook his head vigorously, but Corin dug deeper with the steel until he threw up an arm in panic. “Please, spare me. I will tell you everything I know.”
“Good idea,” Hagan said.
“I do serve Caswallon,” the messenger said. “He sent me to Wynais a year ago to join King Nogel’s rangers. There have been rumors of Nogel’s disloyalty to his overlord, and Caswallon needed to ensure this wasn’t so. I’ve concluded my audit and am now returning to inform the High King’s councilor that his misgivings were unfounded.”
“You’re riding back to tell him the plot on Nogel’s life failed,” Corin said. “I want answers, matey. And quickly. You see, we lads have been blamed for some atrocity in those woods, and the only way we can prove ourselves innocent is by catching the real culprits. And I know you are aware of who these people are. Enlighten us, traitor, and I’ll spare your life.”
The man nodded slowly. “I accompanied the king to Cragowan Castle. My orders were to rendezvous with Keel, the man tasked with organizing Nogel’s accident. Something went wrong, I didn’t see Keel, but the king was ambushed and two men were killed, a third captured. Good men from Kelthaine, I don’t know what happened.”
“But Keel escaped?”
“Yes, and now Nogel is scouring Kelwyn for any sign of him and his surviving men. I have to report this failure back to Caswallon. His scouts were the ones I found murdered in the forest, and the man captured is an ex-Tiger called Dastan.”
“How many men remain with Keel?” Corin asked, but it was Hagan who answered him.
“Five,” he said. “Those others must have been late arrivals in case our crew didn’t work out. I doubt they’ll last the week unless they’ve slipped across the border.”
“We have to find them,” Corin said. “Especially Keel, and Nogel needs to know this was Caswallon’s work and not some robber party.”
“No doubt the captured one will squeak it out,” Hagan said. “We need to get going, Corin—so slit that bastard’s throat and let’s move.” The messenger paled hearing that.
“Dastan won’t talk,” the man said. “But I can help you.” He screamed then as Hagan’s sword cut into his throat, spraying Corin’s face with blood.
“What the fuck did you do that for?” Corin leaped to his feet and squared on Hagan, who stood his ground, face a grim smear.
“This was taking too long. Achieving nothing. We need to cross that bridge and vanish into Kelthaine. Stay in this country another day and we’ll be hung, or worse.”
“Yeah, well—you go,” Corin said. “I’ve a job to do and men to kill.”
“If you mean Keel then you are deluded.” Hagan’s face was grim. “Even you’re no match for that one, Corin an Fol. Come with me, we’ll make for Fardoris and take ship south. Only safe thing to do. Then we’ll get drunk in some godsforsaken tavern and I’ll kill you in your sleep.” He laughed briefly.
Corin ignored the barb and turned his back on Hagan, walking across to the bushes that concealed Thunder and the other horse. Corin stowed Biter and launched himself on Thunder’s back. “Be seeing you Hagan,” Corin called out to his companion, who was standing in the middle of the road, the corpse still at his feet. “Have a care, the king will be after you.”
“He won’t know unless you tell him,” Hagan said. Corin urged Thunder to trot back down the road. “Corin!”
He turned and glanced over his shoulder, seeing Hagan still standing there. “Stay alive so I can kill you next time we meet,” Corin called back, and Hagan saluted him, then vanished from the road.
***
King Nogel paced the throne room at the Silver Palace in Royal Wynais as his daughter watched him from the doorway, a week after his return from the hunt and the death of Lord Staveport. Young Ariane looked radiant in her green dress and coifed dark hair. Short of build, slender, and keen of eye—his princess, his precious jewel. The only one left alive that he loved.
“Father, what ails you?”
Nogel stopped pacing and turned to stare at his daughter. Ariane stood with feet braced and a determined look on her face. So like her mother. Yet Princess Ariane was tougher, shrewder. Those attributes came from him. Queen Cailine had been a dignified, peaceful soul, whereas her daughter was sharp and probing, not one to rest idle.
Today Ariane looked flustered and uncomfortable in the dress, and Nogel knew she’d prefer to be in riding leathers or practicing in the sword hall. After losing his queen, Nogel had doted on his daughter, even allowing her to train with his warriors, a thing unheard of in Wynais.
He smiled reassuringly. “I’m just restless child. Do not fret.”
“Did the man talk?”
“What man?” Nogel felt a flash of irritation. He’d meant to keep last week’s events from his daughter, but no doubt Ariane had charmed the details from his nobles. He’d have a word with Yail Tolranna and Tamersane later.
“The one you almost killed,” she said. The axe warrior.”
“He’s told us nothing,” Nogel said. “The man’s half crazy. A rogue wolf and renegade, part of a bandit crew living in those woods.”
“So he wasn’t sent to kill you by that warlock in Kella City?”
“Ariane you really must stop this nonsense,” Nogel snapped at her, but his daughter stood her ground, her lips tight and dark eyes determined. He noted her small fists clenched at her side.
“It’s the truth—isn’t it?”
“The truth is I’m no friend of Caswallon.”
“Is that a joke—he sent men to kill you, Father.”
“We have no proof of that,” Nogel said, walking over to the high table to pour a brandy, his daughter’s probing gaze following him. “There were other robbers in the woods, but we will hunt them down and justice will be done. Past time I cleaned up that border country.”
“But the governor was murdered, and our dear Lord Rowan.”
Nogel’s face softened and he walked over and clasped his daughter close. “He will be avenged, my love. We will catch these villains.” He stroked her dark coils and kissed her lightly on the forehead. “But I need you to stop worrying, girl. Leave this to our fighting men. Meanwhile I’ll keep both eyes on the north—see what Caswallon’s up to.”
“He’s wicked, Father.”
“That he is,” Nogel said. “And were we living near Kella City, I would be worried. But this is my country, Daughter, and you will rule here one day. You need to study statecraft, lore and court ethics, stop these idle musings.”
“It is only that I worry about you.”
“I know, and I appreciate that, child. If it’s any consolation, I have people watching events up in Kella. Good people. Should anything happen to the High King, we will be ready. Now then . . . will you allow me to peruse—I’ve a kingdom to rule?”
“Of course, Father.” Princess Ariane curtsied and left him.
The king watched her leave, a flood of emotions washing over him. Dearest Ariane had only seen twenty-one summers, and many of those had been without a mother. The girl was rebellious and headstrong, and he’d had complaints from court about her frequent ugly language, something that made him smile. Ariane would make a fine queen one day, but not for many years. The girl had a lot to learn, and Nogel would look for a suitable husband, maybe from Raleen or Morwella. He knew Tolranna had his eyes on Ariane, but no way would Nogel allow those raffish brothers to set hands on her. The boys were wild and irresponsible, especially the youngest, and like his daughter he indulged them too much. Lord Staveport had often told him so. “You’ll rue that one day, Highness.” Poor Rowan.
But what had happened in those woods? A botched attempt on his life by would-be assassins, or merely thugs as he’d told Ariane? Nogel knew she was right. This dark business stank of Caswallon. Only logical that he would go after Nogel, Staveport had been right about that. And Dal Terini murdered in his own chamber? That made no sense. Terini was a petty baron. Half thief, half tyrant—but useful. Killing him had served no purpose.
But having seen that swordsman in the woods, King Nogel suspected him the perpetrator. There’d been an uncanny look to the man. Not your common brigand or cutthroat. Almost, the man had a noble appearance, like some disinherited prince wanting revenge. A riddle, and one he intended to solve.
The name Keel meant nothing, which in itself was odd. Surely an accomplished villain like that would be known? Nogel’s contacts knew every assassin and mercenary captain in the Four Kingdoms, yet this man was a mystery. A psychotic killer who enjoyed his work and had promised the king they’d meet again. Hopefully that would be soon and Keel would be swinging from a rope.
Nogel rubbed his tired eyes. He’d sent parties of rangers into those woods near Kelthaine, yet no word of the brigands had he yet received. Frustrating how they’d gone to ground. He watched from his window for a time, out at the wide vista, the city below and lake shimmering deepest blue beyond, framed by sunshine and mountains—his beloved Kelwyn.
After long moments perusal, Nogel sat at the desk with glass in one hand and quill the other. He wrote the note, then bid the guard outside the door arrange it be sent via pigeon right away.
***
Silon read the contents of the note written in King Nogel of Kelwyn’s distinct and bold hand:
S
You were right to warn us,
Caswallon has showed his hand.
We need to act against him before all is lost.
