The noble scars, p.29
The Noble Scars, page 29
Helbet, however, decided he couldn’t wait any longer to indulge himself. He folded his hand and proceeded to escort Oriilya up the stairs, tossing a sack of coins to the innkeeper along the way.
He looked down upon the crowd of men from the stairwell, basking in their envy.
Not once did Zerin’s gaze leave him. Even Escura was watching as Helbet fondled her cheeks on the way up the stairs. He gritted his teeth but knew what had to be done.
“All right then,” Escura said quietly, “let’s get up and walk out of here, one at a time.”
Herg and the other pirates went first. They drew little attention from the soldiers, managing to sneak out undetected.
“Follow me,” Escura said to Zerin, “we’ll walk out together.” They threw their hoods up and slowly ambled through the crowd. Zerin watched as Oriilya disappeared into one of the rooms above.
A thousand thoughts swirled through the sailor’s head. He remembered all the starving people he’d helped over the years. He reflected on all the deaths, the victims of Bardek’s tyranny—Chezra, Mathen, and possibly Nantrait. But he also remembered his promise to defend, with his life, the honor of any woman living in Noble. He remembered why he constantly risked his life to help others, knowing that you can’t save an empire while forgoing the welfare of the individual.
Zerin turned back to the pirate. “Bloody Belth! I can’t let her go through with this.”
“Damn,” the pirate said, “let’s have at it then.”
Escura and Zerin marched off toward the stairwell, only to be interrupted by the innkeeper. He put one hand on Escura’s chest while holding the sack of coins in the other. “You’ll have to wait your turn if you want a round with her, and it’ll cost you one of these.”
Quicker than the innkeeper could blink, Escura snatched the sack of coins from his hand and kicked him in the crotch so hard he lifted him a foot off the floor.
“What goes there?” bellowed one of the soldiers, turning to see Zerin flying up the stairs three steps at a time and the innkeeper keeled over on the floor.
The soldiers drew their blades and rushed the stairwell to face Escura just as Zerin kicked in the door where Helbet and Oriilya were. The soldiers paused for a moment at the foot of the stairs, squaring off against Escura, who still had his hood up, until they saw Helbet fly from the second story room, plunging through the air, flattening the card table and scattering gold coins across the inn. They looked up to see Zerin on the balcony, hand-in-hand with Oriilya.
“What’s your name, rogue?” demanded one of the soldiers, but his reply wasn’t needed.
“It’s Zerin!” someone yelled.
“Aye,” said the pirate, “and he doesn’t fight alone!”
Escura dropped his hood and struck out at one of the guards, cutting him throat to armpit.
“Balls and Belth! It’s the bloody pirate! Lock the doors. No one gets out.”
One of the soldiers ran to the door and locked it with a cross beam while the others rushed toward the stairwell. Escura fought a slew of soldiers while three more ran up to confront Zerin. The sailor kicked the first one in the chest, toppling all three of them downward. An arrow flew by so close to his head that he could hear it. He leapt off the balcony and landed on several guards that were battling Escura before tumbling onto a table that was full of ale-filled mugs. The mugs catapulted across the room, smashed above the bar, and collapsed the innkeeper’s shelves of spirits. Zerin rolled to his feet and sprinted to the pirate’s side.
They fought like animals, guarding each other’s back, battling the dozen soldiers before them. But then the fighting came to a stop, interrupted by a crack so thunderous they thought the tavern itself was coming down. Standing alone in the doorway, covered with splinters and the shattered cross beam at his feet, was Galvin. He stormed into the tavern with Herg and the other pirates. The battle ensued, blood was spilled, and screams echoed through the tavern, but in the end, the overmatched soldiers were defeated, and the inn was cleared out.
“Did we get them all?” Escura asked.
“I don’t know,” Zerin said, “but any one of the people who just ran off could recount us being here. We best make for the woods.”
Zerin raced out of the inn, dragging Oriilya with him, fleeing into the woods with the others close behind. They stumbled through the darkness, tripping over downed tree limbs, hacking their way through thick foliage until they found a clearing. Once they were settled in the woods, Zerin and Escura confronted Oriilya.
“Selling yourself is not the answer!” Zerin exclaimed. “I promise you, Oriilya, any woman who does that lives to regret it, and after you’ve done it once, there’s no turning back.”
“But I’ve no money for food.”
“You do now,” Escura said, tossing her the pouch of gold coins he’d taken from Helbet.
She fondled the bag clumsily before pulling the draw strings open. “But I have no way of repaying you.”
“Yes, you do,” Zerin said. “Promise me you’ll wait for the right time, for love.”
Oriilya wrapped her arms around the sailor. “Are you going to tell Lady Thia about this?”
“As long as you keep your promise, I don’t see the need.”
“I will, I swear it,” she said.
Zerin smiled and then turned to the others. “Tonight, we sleep in the woods.”
While they sorted through the clearing, gathering wood for a fire, Herg quietly approached Escura. “Cap’n,” he said under his breath, “Did we just kill all those soldiers to save a whore?”
“Aye,” the pirate answered.
“I don’t understand this Zerin. Is he fool, nobleman, or madman?”
Escura sought Herg’s eye. “He’s the same man who saved our boatswain from the sharks.”
Chapter 43
Zerin stirred early, eager to face the day’s quest, yet fretful over the previous night’s events. Certainly, word of the tavern brawl would get through to the Fergasmythe militia. Security around the town and consequently the Bell Tower would be enhanced, but the scrolls were all he could think of, and they were within his grasp. He placed a great deal of faith in the old prisoner’s testament. He prayed it wasn’t in vain.
The rest of the group woke shortly afterward. The aroma of damp moss and tree sap hung in the air, a reminder they’d been denied the luxury of the inn’s lodgings the night before.
“Where are you going?” Oriilya asked.
Zerin turned to see she’d awakened as well, the daylight reminding him how young and how pretty she was.
“We move with urgency today. Do you have a safe place to go?”
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” She smiled. “Will I see you again?”
“I certainly hope so. Either way, you must remember your promise.”
Oriilya smiled assuredly. “Yes, Zerin. I shall wait, I promise.”
“Very well then, goodbye, Oriilya. I trust we’ll see you soon.” He squeezed her shoulder.
She turned from Zerin and sauntered up to Escura, speaking softly so as not to be overheard. “Thank you once again for coming to my rescue. I am very grateful for your help.”
“Well, don’t be,” Escura snapped as he packed his gear. “Your gratitude is wasted on me.”
“Then why did you help me?”
“I didn’t want you to throw your life away.”
She stood there for a moment, hoping he would say something else, but he didn’t. “Do you think we will see each other again?”
“No!”
“And why not?”
“Don’t waste your time on me. It takes more than a pretty face to impress me.”
“What could I do to prove I’m worthy to you?”
“Nothing!” Escura barked as he walked away, stopping after a few steps. “Prove you’re worthy to yourself.”
Oriilya stood quietly as she watched him leave.
She approached Zerin one more time. “Does he find me unpleasant? Do you find me unpleasant, Zerin?”
“Not at all, Oriilya, but my heart belongs to another.”
“To Lady Thia?”
“Aye.”
She smiled. “Then you’ve found real love.”
“We shall see.”
Oriilya hugged him one more time and bid him farewell. He watched as she ran off into the woods. When she was out of sight, he gathered with the others to discuss the tactics of the day.
“By the time we get to Fergasmythe, the markets will be filled. Thia and I will slip in among the crowd. The soldiers will be less likely to expect trouble midmorning. If all goes well, we’ll be in and out of the Bell Tower without incident.”
“I’ll not be far off,” Galvin said, his axe resting on his shoulder.
“Is it sharp?” Escura asked, glancing at his axe.
“Still expecting the worst?” Zerin asked.
“He hardly slept last night,” spoke one of the pirates, before being chastised with a glare from Escura.
“Are you having the same dreams?” Zerin asked.
“I don’t remember!”
“Do you think he’s here?”
“Do I think who’s here?”
“You know damn well who, the bloody wizard.”
“I can’t be sure.”
“The mission comes first. We get the scrolls, and we get out of here, understood?”
The pirate briskly walked away. A lack of dispute would have to suffice.
Zerin gave the order to depart, but the men just stood there, quiet, uneasy.
“What is it?” Zerin asked.
The men were silent for a bit, then Galvin sighed and spoke. “Zerin, maybe this isn’t the best time. They’re sure to know we’re here after last night’s events.”
Zerin took a moment and glanced at each man in the group. It was obvious they shared the giant’s sentiment.
“We are here now! We don’t know if we’ll ever make it back. If you haven’t the courage to do this, then Thia and I will do it ourselves.”
Zerin strapped on his sword and finished gathering himself. Escura and Galvin glanced at one another and, without another word, followed along.
They made their way through the woods and side streets until they found the back of Thia’s home. Zerin knocked on the door, anxious to see her once again.
She answered quickly, as if she’d been waiting for them. Her hood was up. She wasted no time on pleasantries. “Let’s go. The markets will be full shortly.”
She closed the door behind her and marched through the group of men, heading toward the city’s center.
Zerin caught up to her, speaking softly so the others couldn’t hear. “Is everything all right?”
“My father has told me about the welfare of our town. You were right. Bardek cannot be trusted. My people continue to live in fear as they always have.”
“I’m sorry, Thia.”
“I had hoped there was room for compromise, that matters could be resolved peaceably… I was naïve.”
“I am learning as well, Thia. Some men can’t be bargained with; they must be opposed.”
“I can only pray the Grand Spirit has a plan for all of this.”
“I think our trust would be better placed elsewhere, Thia.”
“I know you don’t believe, Zerin, but the spirit burns bright in you. I can feel it.”
Zerin smiled to appease her but said nothing to agree. Before long they found themselves upon the fringes of town.
High towers with copper and silver roofs adorned the skyline. The marble-tiled center square was lined with stone pillars etched with deep carvings. Ivy hung from every structure in the city. Trees towered over lush gardens that displayed a variety of flora.
Many roads spiraled down through the city until they met in the square like the spokes of a wheel. Standing free from other buildings in the middle of Fergasmythe was the Bell Tower. The lower portion was large enough to hold meetings of worship and commerce. But the tower itself, which extended high into the air like an ivory chimney, was the architectural pride of Fergasmythe. The column was carved from alabaster and crystal. Every angle returned a blinding reflection at high noon. Inside was a spiral staircase that led to the top. Shielded underneath a black metal roof, encased within exquisite architraves, was the bell itself. Immense, its resounding timbre harmonized the people of Fergasmythe, uniting them in times of trouble and jubilation.
Recognizing its spiritual significance to the citizens of Fergasmythe, Bardek forbade its use. Its peals hadn’t been heard in two dozen years.
But Zerin and Thia hadn’t come to marvel at its beauty; they’d come to uncover its treasure. They stood off to the side, hidden between two buildings. The streets were bustling. Lavish dresses and uniformed suits provided patrons the luxury of appearing as whatever gender they preferred that day, and the more extravagant and convincing, the better they were received. Zerin, however, could not afford the distraction, regardless of how enamored he was.
Very few guards had been seen, and only in groups of two. The time was right.
Zerin pulled up his hood and entered the crowded square, heading toward the Tower with Thia at his side. When he got halfway across, the crowds became even more dense. He couldn’t understand why until he saw soldiers approaching from all directions. They came around buildings and through doors, on foot and on horseback. It was a trap.
Someone from the inn must have warned the guards, or maybe it was one of the slave traders from the Elquire Bridge. Damn, even Escura had warned him of something amiss, but Zerin hadn’t listened. He was so intent on finding the scrolls and fulfilling his quest that he had once again endangered others, including Thia. They tried to run but were quickly surrounded.
Angered with himself, Zerin tore off his cloak and ripped out his sword and dagger. Civilians ran screaming for cover. Escura was not far behind, pinned in by the border of guards. He shed his wrap and ran to Zerin’s side, followed by the other pirates.
One soldier advanced, and a battle ensued, commencing a clash of steel that hadn’t been seen in the central square of Fergasmythe since the days of King Janith’s revolt.
Soldiers fell, but their numbers grew as more rushed to the skirmish, overflowing from the streets into the square. Zerin and Escura fought back-to-back, slashing and hacking with two swords each, fighting like demons to withstand the insurmountable peril they had put themselves in.
At the edge of the square, another wagon roared its way toward them. This was not a standard one-horse cart but a large-scale war-wagon built to carry an entire garrison. The spokes of its wheels stood taller than most men. But when the wagon got closer, Zerin could see it had no driver and no horses. It rammed into the body of soldiers, crushing dozens of them. Standing in its wake stood the source of its propulsion. Galvin had strengthened their odds with a single maneuver.
The battle raged on, and with the giant at their side, felling several of the enemy with each swing of his axe, their odds improved. They continued to fight, pushing back their adversaries, their bodies spattered with blood, until the fighting came to a halt.
“Withdraw!” bellowed a voice from the rear.
The soldiers parted for a rider on a black horse, the color of his armor matching his steed’s. On his head sat a polished black helmet, crowned with a large spike and a white bandanna that flowed several feet behind him. The helm covered most of his face but couldn’t hide his dense facial growth.
“Soldiers, withdraw!” he said again.
His underlings complied as they were bid. The soldiers retreated and were in turn joined by more men that flooded into the square, outnumbering Zerin and his comrades by hundreds.
The city was silent. There was no sound save the clopping of Trenwulf’s horse upon the marble tiles as he approached. Zerin turned in each direction, searching for a way out, but there was none. Trenwulf stopped his horse several paces away from the sailor.
“I told you, Zerin, that one day you would die by my sword, and that day has come.”
“There’s plenty of day left, Trenwulf.”
“Not for you, I’m afraid. I’ve been commissioned to kill you or bring you back in chains, but as you can see”—he turned to face his men—“I didn’t bring any chains.”
His men broke out in laughter.
With blood dripping from both his suede tunic and his sword, Zerin strolled up to Trenwulf, looking up at him on his mammoth steed, speaking so all of Fergasmythe could hear him.
“And how will you order our deaths? Will you have your bowmen take us from a distance, or have you the guts to get off that horse and fight us yourself?”
Trenwulf’s eyes squinted beneath his helm while his men and the entire populace of Fergasmythe waited for him to address the challenge.
“Don’t you want to know which one of us is the best swordsman?” Zerin continued. Had there been a mouse in the square you could have heard it squeak.
“Fighting you would only bloody my armor, Zerin, and as you can see, I’ve had it polished for this day. Besides, I don’t want to deprive my men of their kill. As you can see, they hate you almost as much as I do.”
“Well, if you change your mind,” Escura interjected, “I suggest you fight Zerin and not myself.”
“And why is that, rogue?”
“Neither you, nor your pitiful excuse of an army, could stomach the death I’d bring.”
“Besides,” said the giant, “the only blood your armor would see would be from the inside.”
“Enough!” Trenwulf yelled.
The soldiers regrouped. Forty men with ten-foot spears closed in. They raised them throat high and waited for Trenwulf’s command. Zerin and the others held their weapons aloft, readying for an assault they couldn’t possibly defend.
