Tale of a blackbird, p.7
Tale of a Blackbird, page 7
“No, we haven’t done anything!” Birdie shouted their innocence as they were forced out of the hall.
They turned down into a narrow laneway and came to a squat stone building at a far corner of the outpost. Birdie took a final breath of fresh air as they were pushed out of the daylight and into a dark corridor. They passed down a stone stairwell, the air becoming damp, sickly and metallic. Torches flickered and spat as they passed into another corridor below, where green slime dripped down the cobblestone walls and puddled in places. They passed by rusted doors, groans and moans sounded from behind some, but most were silent. A yellow pool drained out from beneath one door, which Birdie wisely avoided and was pushed by a rough hand.
A jingle of keys as the guard unlocked one of the rusted doors and then the woman disappeared into the cell, her pale face held proud as the door closed. Birdie was shoved into a tiny, musty cell a few doors down, and couldn’t help but dig her fingernails into her palm as the door ground shut, leaving her trapped in the darkness.
* * *
A rat scurried against her foot. Birdie shouted at it, making it disappear back into its hole and she turned her attention back to the lock, peering through the small hole and listening. Footsteps strode down the corridor, and the light eclipsed from view as the guard passed. Birdie had stopped trying to call out to the woman hours ago. Another shadow passed, making Birdie flinch away from the hole. There’d been no other footsteps, just a shadow, then a muffled grunt, and silence. The lock clicked, door slowly opened and the invading light made her fall back. Light stung at her eyes, and her vision settled on a figure standing in the doorway.
“Quickly now, we must go. Keep this in your hand. Don’t hesitate.” The guard who’d searched them handed Birdie back her knife. Out in the corridor, she stepped over a dead guard’s body and looked towards the woman’s cell.
I can’t abandon her, not after saving my life.
Stepping as light-footedly as possible, Birdie willed the good fortunes to favour her and not let any guards appear in the doorway. Outside the cell, she looked back at the guard who was now staring at her, motioning for her to follow. But Birdie shook her head and pointed at the door with her knife.
The guard pointed to her cell. “I’m sorry. I could only get your key.”
She ignored him and got down on her hands and knees. “It’s me,” Birdie whispered through the slit under the door.
“Who’s there?” the woman’s voice was a soft whisper.
“It’s me, the smart arse. Someone’s helping us escape.”
“Who?”
“The guard who searched us, he killed the guard on patrol.”
The guard grabbed Birdie by the arm and tried to drag her away, but she shoved him off. “I’m not leaving her!”
Her voice echoed down the corridor, through the lower floors.
The man shook his head. “You can’t get her out, it’s impossible.”
“It’s alright, Birdie, go! I’ll be fine,” the woman slid something under the door.
Birdie reached down and picked it up. The pendant was a bit rusted, well-weathered, but there could be no mistaking the blackbird in the centre. She shook her head, feeling like she was in a dream.
“This is the House Black symbol,” she leaned closer to the door.” There were footsteps echoing up the stairs now, the guard was frantically pulling at her to follow him. “How’d you know my name?”
“We need to go!” The man pulled at her again.
“Go,” shouted the woman. “We’ll meet again soon, Gods-willing. I’ll explain it then!”
The footsteps were closer.
“What’s your name,” said Birdie.
“Ariss, now go! I’ll be okay, I promise.”
The man grabbed and dragged her along the corridor. Glancing back, he flicked his hand and with a flash of metal, a knife hissed out of his sleeve and past her. It thudded into something solid, and turning she saw a guard collapsing through the doorway, clutching the knife in his chest.
Back up the spiral staircase and out they went, through the heavy doors and into the cool night air, abandoning the only friend she’d left in the world. They passed through the maze of lanes and passages, coming to a dead end. The man searched the floor, pulled up a wooden board that had been covered with hay, showing a hole dug into the ground. He pulled off his padded armour so he could fit into the hole and didn’t look back as his thin frame slid into the inky black. Birdie shimmied down after him, dropping into the small tunnel.
With no means of light, and no space to hold a torch even if they did have one, Birdie blindly crawled on her hands and knees through the cold dirt, following the man’s shuffling and heavy breathing. Walls pressed in on both sides, she could bloody feel the damn things closing in. She didn’t know how long had passed when she bumped headfirst into a wall, but looking up, relief washed through her as the small gap shone faint light down onto her head.
“Quick, the alarm has been raised,” the man hissed, fear heavy in his voice as he helped pull Birdie up into breaking dawn. The grasslands were still dark, but the first rays of light touched the mountain peaks on the distant horizon.
A cold wind bit through her tunic, and she cursed the men in the outpost for taking her heavier clothing and cloak. An alarm bell tolled in the outpost, its walls on the ridge in the distance alight with figures holding torches. The man ran in the opposite direction, Birdie followed, clutching her arms to keep warm, teeth chattering.
They came to a small pool in a hollow and two tethered horses looked up at them disapprovingly. The man pointed to the smaller horse. “Get on!”
“I’ve never ridden a horse!”
The man looked bewildered, but heaved her onto her horse and shoved her feet into the stirrups. “Just don’t let go! Ride to the mountains. Follow the trail to a crossroads. Keep straight and stay on the path until you come to the Bone-Portcullis. It’s a short-cut through the mountain passes, so be wary for vagabonds. Talk to no one, you’ll have to give them this at the portcullis…” He reached for something inside his cloak, when something whizzed through the air between them.
An arrow!
It thudded into the other horse’s ribs, making it jerk wildly. He slapped her horse and ran behind her to mount his own. Birdie’s horse took off so fast she almost fell from her saddle. After a few minutes she looked back, dark blots moved in the distance, but no sign of the man or his horse appeared to be following her. Birdie set her sights on the mountains ahead.
A sensation came over her. It was that dreaded but all too familiar feeling—like that night escaping the cottage. It was loss.
Losing something that was home in a way, something safe. The woman had been a means of safety for her. But there wasn’t safety in the world anymore. Not for her.
Only evil.
Chapter 10: Ambushes and Insubordination
After the first week of marching the army recruits looked a sorry sight. Some of the soldiers lacked weapons, having been traded or gambled away at the various encampments and outposts. To stop this problem getting further out of hand, Kye ordered any soldier found without proper gear equipped would be given twenty lashes.
Any who failed a second time would be hung.
While his methods weren’t winning him favour with the recruits, it was effective in hampering any further loss of supplies. He didn’t care if they hated him. Kye needed their obedience, not their friendship.
Two weeks on the march and those mountains peaks slowly drew closer. General Markova, proud leader of the Golden Circle army, decided they should skirt the mountain passes, as few of the routes were wide enough for the army and those prone to landslides this time of year. Markova held sway with most of the officers, so when Kye said they should use the passes to their advantage through ambushes and guerrilla tactics, he was laughed out of the command tent. The next day they marched south-west, Kye grumbling vengeances from his saddle, as they stomped across the desert flatland. While they wouldn’t be able to replenish water supplies for some time, the few days spent crossing the dry plain could give them a well needed advantage.
Hopefully they’d catch the Eclipsi horde off balance and slaughter them.
On the first night in the flatland Kye entered the officers’ tent, bleary eyed from dust. Markova sat beside the fire, browsing the scrolls scattered about on the table and sipping from a goblet threatening to overflow with wine. He frowned beneath his bushy eyebrows. “War Monger, enjoying the journey? Still getting used to life as a real soldier?”
Do I look like I’m enjoying myself, you fat fucking swine? Thought Kye, wiping the dust away from his cloak with a small laugh.
Kye treated the old fool to his silver smile. “I studied in Dogesk, general, hard travel and I are well acquainted.”
Markova sat back. “What can I do for you?” The officers scattered about the tent went back to their conversations, ignoring Kye.
“I’ve received word from one of my agents. It seems that a number of the Eclipsi have reached the passes. If some of the officers had sided with me, I might’ve laid down traps to catch them in.” A nearby captain sneered across a map table at Kye. Kye ignored the captain and reached inside his cloak. “Because of your mistake they’re going to learn where we are and catch us from both sides.” He threw the scroll onto the general’s desk.
“You can’t move that many men through high terrain.” Markova waved away Kye’s statement as he sat forwards, unrolling the scroll and scanning the scrawled message. “We fight on open ground, War Monger. Not back alley shadows and mountain peaks. You’d know that if you’d ever been in a real battle.” He looked up from the scroll. “This is a joke, right? You think you can take control of the army? You might be given special treatment by the ministry but out here you’re just a pile of bones not yet picked clean. We’ve been the ones keeping the cities safe. I’m not signing this…” he pushed away the scroll.
Kye whipped out his sword and rested the point against the general’s throat, right beside the throbbing vein. “I am taking command. This will be signed by your name or your blood. Your choice.” Markova held up his hand to stop his men, who’d drawn arms the same time as Kye. “I want ten thousand of your best men ready to march into the mountain passes by dawn.”
Markova picked up a quill and dipped it in ink. “If you want to go chasing those damn animals around the passes, be my guest. But don’t expect any of my men to help you. Take your recruits and freeze up there, for all I care.” Markova handed Kye the scroll. “I’ll remember this, War Monger. One day, one day soon, you’ll find the knife at your own throat.”
Kye gave the general one more smile, just because they were starting to warm to each other. “I look forward to it, general.”
* * *
The sound of snow crunching under boots echoed through the narrow pass. Above the pass large mounds of rock had been loosened, and behind these hundreds of men hid, waiting. Kye crouched behind one of outermost boulders. Hundreds of the enemy cautiously crept through the pass, bows in hand, emboldened by the lack of ambushes so far and the false information Kye had given to one scout party which he’d been forced to sacrifice. The enemy believed this pass was scarcely guarded.
The Eclipsi made their way through the pass, their white furs blending in with the falling snow. Kye gave the signal, and with a single blast of a war-trumpet the soldiers began leveraging their boulders with poles. The valley filled with a grinding echo as the scores of boulders began rolling, tumbling down and into the pass. One man jumped aside, trying to dodge a falling boulder, but only landing in the path of more dislodged rocks. Boulders were rushing down into the pass, squashing, crunching bones and filling the pass with screams of death. And as the enemy fled, even more boulders rolled into the slanted pass.
A score of the enemy reached the mouth of the pass. Kye turned to the flagman beside him. “Release!” The flag was raised and archers perched around the entry let their arrows fly.
After one more volley, the pass was silent.
“Good work,” a newly appointed captain nodded as Kye headed back to where the horses were tethered and mounted the beast.
Only a drop in the bucket.
The horse looked back at Kye, baring its teeth. He dug in his spurs and slowly moved along the trail, past sheer drop-offs, swinging rope bridges that groaned under their weight. The mountain passes were a maze of carved pathways on the cliff’s edge, criss-crossing tunnels with fifty-foot archways in places. Ancient runes etched into the stone of these archways were almost faded away entirely, their meaning lost through the ages. Supposedly all ore had been mined from these mountains and the ancient race moved their human workers elsewhere.
Kye could almost picture the people who’d spent their lives on these peaks. Hardier men than him, surely, not knowing the kiss of sunshine in summer. Not knowing the smell of grasslands after rain, or making love with the twin moons shining down on naked flesh. Only the haft of a pickaxe in your hand, and the promise of fresh snowfall to cover your world without colour.
Kye gripped the reins tightly in his gauntlet and pushed those thoughts away.
She was gone.
Those days were now as bleak to his mind and empty of colour as these rugged mountains.
* * *
Back at base camp, streams of men came and went, as the mountain passes were dotted with makeshift bases, where Kye’s minutemen officers could hit the Eclipsi and run before more arrived. Ambushes laid in wait everywhere, from frayed wires on rope bridges, to awaiting landslides which would claim the lives of the enemy.
Kye left his horse tied outside his own tent and went in. A small fire was still burning in the metal grate at the centre of the tent, and Kye smiled as he warmed his red hands.
“It’s the small things.” He shrugged off his thick, snow laden cloak and padded armour, and was about to pour himself a well-deserved goblet of wine, when a loud cough outside the tent drew his attention. “Yes?”
“A message from Vines, sir.”
“What are you waiting for, frostbite?”
The messenger entered, handed him a metal vial, saluted and disappeared. Kye slipped out the parchment inside.
Sir,
General Markova received intel that the enemy army is further north than anticipated. The general has taken command of the army and began marching north to bypass the mountains and meet them head on. Morale of the refugee recruits left behind has begun to wane, as the Golden Circle took most of the supplies. I eagerly await your orders.
Your Loyal Servant,
Vines
Kye threw the scroll into the fire.
Markova, you damn fool. You bloody traitor, I’ll see you hung for this, thought Kye.
“Bad news?”
Kye spun around to see a figure standing in the corner of the tent. A hooded fur cloak hid most of the woman’s face. Kye saw nothing but scorn in those eyes, a gaze near as sharp as the knife in her hand. But he knew that voice…
“You?”
“Me,” she nodded, pulling down her scarf. “You look surprised to see me.”
Kye glanced to his dagger on the table. Much too far. She’d have her knife inches deep in his heart before he took his second step. “I thought you were dead, or worse, had betrayed me. After all, I gave you men and passage. All you had to do was find his house and bring them back. After all those missions spent gaining our trust in the ministry, you threw away the one opportunity that would’ve sealed your place in our ranks.”
The woman raised a snow-covered eyebrow. “Oh, really? I’m sorry that it took me so long, but I was busy trying to, you know, not die.”
“What happened?”
“The Eclipsi made it to them before us. I only had time to warn them, their scouts were coming through the forest. Only the girl escaped, the sister died in the fire. I tried getting her safely to an outpost, but… it seems this sage, Felt, moves faster than we thought possible.”
“The girl’s alive, then? And Maddox, where’s he?”
“I need safe passage to Mala, and gold. I know the girl’s headed that way, and wherever she is, he is.”
“You’re not going to let me down again, are you? You might be one of my best agents, but if you fail again, you’ll wish Nefaro had tortured you to death all those years ago.”
“I want the blue seal of passage first, signed by you. You give me that, and I’ll give you them both, alive. Also, I’ve some other useful information that might just help you out against Felt’s army.”
“Tell me. If it’s good enough, you’ll have your seal of passage.”
“Ah-ah-ah!” the woman shook a gloved finger. “What kind of girl do you take me for, Kassova?”
The way she said his name gave him shivers along his spine. He smiled and she didn’t flinch. “Hmm, still stubborn at least… Wait here while I see to the document and payment, and I’ll take that.” Kye pointed at the knife still in her hand. The woman came closer, spun the knife into the air, catching it at the tip and offering it to him. Kye went to take it, but she pulled it away and flicked it back into her hand, resting the point in the hollow of his neck.
“I have your word, don’t I, Kassova? You know I’m not one to mess with… Remember that captain off the coast of High Shoals, hmm?”
Kye cleared his throat, trying not to focus on her scent of sweat. “How could I forget… You can have safe passage, but I’ll have to send an escort along. A larger one, of course. I wouldn’t want any more… unfortunate events happening to one of my best agents, now, do I?”
The woman nodded, flicked the knife around and stuck it into his belt, resting mere finger lengths away from his groin. The woman walked over to the fire and began to warm herself. Kye adjusted the knife before leaving to get the seal prepared.
So, his agent was still alive? She’d been promised a high place in the ministry’s spies and a roomful of treasure to track down Maddox and his family. It had been that or torture in the Hall of Faces after she’d revealed the information to Nefaro and promised to deliver the Black heir. But after a week of contact she’d vanished, along with her escort of six hardened, experienced soldiers, making Kye look a fool in front of Nefaro once again.
