Hangman's Gate (War of the Archons 2)

by R. S. Ford

  Lena and Castiel rode their steed in silence ahead of Ctenka. Neither had spoken or as much as glanced his way as they plodded along the road, but still he felt unnerved by them. Randal’s tale of gods-given powers had been enough to chill Ctenka to the bone, and he could only imagine what the two children were capable of. Part of him knew he was probably spooked over nothing. They were just children after all, what danger could they possibly pose? The fact remained it would likely fall to Ctenka to take care of them when they reached Dunrun. He could hear Marshal Ziyadin’s voice barking at him already.

  ‘Sunatra, you brought these little fuckers here, you can take care of them. And make sure they’re fed out of your own rations.’

  Curse him for ever volunteering for this mission, not that he’d had much say in the matter. It had been folly from the start.

  The journey wore on with no sign of ending, as the sun made an uncharacteristically bright appearance for a Suderfeld day. At least it wasn’t raining, in that Ctenka could take some solace, but it did nothing to assuage his boredom.

  ‘We should think about making camp,’ Ctenka said to Ermund as the evening was drawing in.

  Ermund glanced up at the darkening sky as though thinking on it. ‘We’ll ride on,’ he said eventually.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ said Ctenka. ‘We can’t ride on through the night. Who knows what’s lurking out there, waiting for us in the dark.’

  ‘I want to be away from this place as quick as I can. I don’t care if we have to ride through hell.’

  ‘I know this place holds a lot of bad memories for you, but riding through the night is madness.’

  Ermund turned to him as though to argue, but before the veteran could speak Ctenka spied something up ahead. Through the trees there was a campfire, light glowing through the evening haze.

  ‘Look, they’ve got the right idea.’ And before Ermund could argue, Ctenka kicked his horse forward.

  ‘Wait, you idiot,’ Ermund snarled after him, but Ctenka had suffered enough nonsense from his southern friend. Besides, Ermund had nearly got them both killed back at Northold, so he was done taking orders.

  Ctenka could hear voices as he came closer to the fire. Sliding from his saddle he tied his mount to a tree and made his way through the brush towards the clearing. As soon as he came out into the open, the voices stopped and half a dozen heads turned his way. And they weren’t the friendly kind of heads he’d been hoping for.

  One of the men stood up brandishing a nasty-looking blade in his hand. It looked like a filleting knife but Ctenka couldn’t see any fish.

  ‘What the fuck do you want?’ said the man. His eyes were keen, peering at Ctenka from over a thick grey beard.

  All of a sudden Ctenka didn’t really know. So far every southerner he’d met had wanted to kill him, and this bunch didn’t look like they were about to offer a hug of welcome.

  ‘I… We… There’s…’

  ‘Cat got your fucking tongue?’ The man gripped that filleting knife all the tighter. The rest of the men were standing now, and they all looked as unfriendly as the filleter.

  ‘I thought—’

  ‘You thought you’d commit suicide?’

  Ctenka started to realise what a mistake he’d made. He thought about backing away, but that would just make him look like a coward. Then again, being a live coward was much preferable to being brave and dead. He was filled with relief when Ermund arrived through the undergrowth.

  ‘Bayliss Gunby, you dog,’ Ermund said. Ctenka couldn’t tell if he was pleased to see this rough-looking bastard or not.

  ‘Duke Harlaw, as I live and breathe. How in the hell are you still alive?’ said the bearded man, slipping the filleting knife in his belt.

  ‘I’ll live longer than you will, Gunby,’ said Ermund. Ctenka could hear a certain levity in his voice that made a refreshing change.

  ‘It’s Sheriff Gunby now, my lord.’

  ‘It’s my lord no longer,’ Ermund replied.

  ‘So I heard,’ said Gunby. ‘And I’m sorry about that.’

  ‘Don’t be, I’m not.’

  Ctenka had heard enough.

  ‘As much as I’m touched by this joyful reunion,’ he said, ‘is there any chance we can continue this beside the fire where it’s warm and I’m not standing in two feet of wet grass?’

  Ermund and Gunby both turned to look at Ctenka. Then Gunby laughed.

  ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘There’s plenty of room and plenty of food. Any friend of the great Duke Harlaw is welcome by my fire.’

  Simple as that, Ctenka went from being threatened with death to having a new bunch of friends in less time than you could fillet a foreigner.

  When they’d tied up the horses and taken their place by the fire, Ctenka found Gunby’s ruffians a lot friendlier than they looked. They were generous with their rabbit and other supplies, and Ctenka took it upon himself to make sure the two children were fed. Lena and Castiel accepted the food on offer, but still neither spoke a word.

  From the conversation the two men were having, Ctenka got the impression Gunby had been one of Ermund’s best men during the war in the Suderfeld. They spoke brashly but fondly to one another, like brothers in arms. It was strange to see Ermund with his guard down, but Ctenka liked this new side to his friend. It made him seem less distant.

  ‘None of us could believe what happened to you,’ said Gunby, as evening turned to night. ‘Where have you been all this time?’

  ‘The Cordral,’ Ermund replied. ‘Had to make a living somehow.’

  Gunby found this amusing. ‘Surprised you’re not ruling the place by now,’ he said through a mouthful of rabbit.

  ‘Not quite. And there might not be much to rule if I don’t find capable men soon.’

  ‘Trouble?’

  ‘You might say that. The whole Shengen army is on its way west. Only thing standing between it and the Cordral is a dusty fort, and fifty raw recruits and old men. Don’t fancy coming back with me, do you? I could use a good sword.’

  ‘I’d love to help you,’ said Gunby. ‘But I’ve got my hands full here as it is.’

  Ermund looked around the camp, unsure what Gunby meant. ‘You don’t look too busy.’

  ‘Looks can be deceiving. I’ve been chasing bandits and robbers halfway across the Canbrian countryside. It takes it out of a man, especially one with as many years as I’ve got under my belt.’

  ‘Bandits and robbers? I take it you haven’t found any then?’

  ‘Well, my old friend, that’s where you’re wrong.’

  Gunby stood, and with a wry smile he beckoned Ermund after him. As they made their way to the edge of the clearing, Ctenka couldn’t resist following them. Neither man seemed to be bothered about Ctenka’s nosiness, as he blundered after them through the brush.

  When he’d made his way a short distance through the trees, a nasty smell hit him. He saw them, illuminated in the half-light given off by the campfire and the dull moon above. There were maybe half a dozen; a bedraggled bunch of men, each one manacled, a chain running through their arms and fastened between two stout oaks.

  ‘See, I found plenty,’ said Gunby, sounding particularly pleased with himself. ‘We’re taking them to Canville to stand trial.’

  ‘What have they done?’ asked Ctenka, looking at the sorry row of prisoners.

  ‘What haven’t they done?’ Gunby replied. ‘We got rapers, bandits, murderers. A right sorry selection of bastards. There’ll be a big crowd for the hangings in Canville when we get there.’

  Ermund stared at the prisoners. Ctenka could see something formulating in his mind.

  ‘What do you think?’ Ermund said finally.

  It took a second before Ctenka realised that Ermund was talking to him.

  ‘What do I think about what?’

  Ermund turned to Gunby. ‘I could use these men,’ he said. ‘How would you feel about handing them over to my care?’

  ‘What?’ Gunby said almost at th
e same time as Ctenka.

  ‘I need men,’ Ermund continued. ‘And for what I have in store it’s best if they don’t care about dying.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Gunby asked.

  ‘I came here to recruit soldiers. So far I’ve not done a very good job. Seems a waste if you’re just going to kill this lot. They could still be useful to me.’

  ‘Are you mad? They’ll cut you to pieces first chance they get. You’d be safer without them.’

  ‘For what it’s worth,’ said Ctenka, ‘I’m with Gunby on this.’

  Clearly it wasn’t worth shit. Ermund ignored them both, moving closer to the band of condemned men.

  ‘You’re all on your way to trial,’ he announced, as though they wouldn’t already know. ‘Most of you will end up hanging on the end of a rope. I’m offering you a chance. If you come with me you’ll be fed. I’ll even put a sword in your hand, but chances are you’ll end up dead anyway. Survive what’s coming and you’ll have your freedom. Who wants to take their chances with me?’

  The prisoners were mulling over the proposition. Some of them looked up warily, not sure whether this was some kind of trick. Then one of them said, ‘I’ll take that bloody chance.’

  One by one, the rest started to nod, realising this was no joke, and pledged themselves to Ermund rather than face the hangman’s noose.

  Ermund turned to Gunby. ‘See? Easy as that.’

  Gunby shook his head. ‘You always were a mad one, my lord. I’ll try not to feel too responsible when one of these fuckers sticks a knife in you.’

  That seemed to amuse Ermund, and a rare grin crept up one side of his mouth. He turned back to the men in irons. ‘Remember,’ he said, ‘I know what you are. So don’t think for a minute I’ll hesitate to kill you if you disobey me. Try to run and you’re dead. Try to thieve, or rape, or do any of the shit that saw you in irons in the first place, and I’ll send you straight to hell.’

  Ctenka could see that sinking in. It was clear they believed every word.

  Ermund turned, clapping a hand on Gunby’s shoulder as they both walked back towards the fire and the sound of men laughing and eating. Ctenka glanced back one more time at the criminals he’d be sharing the road with for the next few days, before following them.

  ‘I hope you’re okay with this,’ said Ermund to Gunby. ‘I’m not your duke anymore, I don’t mean to overstep the mark.’

  Gunby shook his head. ‘Don’t think nothing of it,’ he said. ‘I owe you, don’t forget that.’

  ‘Then consider us even,’ Ermund replied as they joined the rest of the men.

  The laughing and drinking went on well into the night, but all Ctenka could do was watch. He was an outsider and he didn’t fit in with these southerners. For his part Ermund looked the happiest Ctenka had ever seen him. It seemed he’d already forgotten about what had happened in Northold.

  Well, good for him; at least one of them wasn’t troubled by the prospect of hardened criminals joining them as travelling companions.

  As Ctenka rolled himself in his blanket and tried to get some sleep, all he could think was that this could be the last night he’d be able to sleep with both eyes closed.

  22

  THEY passed the waystone marking the border between the Suderfeld and the Cordral. Ctenka should have felt elated leaving the foreign land behind but he still gripped his reins tightly, anxiety eating away at him. How could he feel any relief when he was travelling with murderers and rapers?

  There were seven of them, each dishevelled, all still manacled at the hands. Ermund had seen fit to leave behind the chain that bound them all together and so far the threat of what would happen if they ran seemed to be working. Still, they made Ctenka nervous. Truth be told, he wouldn’t have minded a bit if any of them made a break for it and fled into the desert. He would have been glad to see the back of them. As it was, Ermund seemed determined to take them all the way back to Dunrun, and there was nothing Ctenka could say to change his mind.

  Two of the men were the roughest individuals Ctenka had ever laid eyes on. They both had shaved heads, thick stubble sprouting from thicker chins. Their dark, squinting eyes roved everywhere, always searching for their next chance to escape. Or maybe to kill.

  Behind them walked a thin weaselly article with no teeth. He twitched with every step, grumbling to himself like a crazed lunatic. Ctenka only caught the odd word of profanity, and did his best not to listen.

  Then there was a young lad with a sorry expression. He was about Ctenka’s age and it was difficult to see what a boy so innocent looking could have done to end up in this company. Ctenka reckoned you could never tell about some people.

  At the back of the row walked a man whose face was hidden behind a great brush of hair and beard. He kept his eyes to the ground, and from the thick set of his shoulders Ctenka guessed he was a fighting man, or at least used to be. Something about him spoke danger and Ctenka knew instinctively to keep an eye on this one even more than the others.

  For his part Ermund didn’t seem to care. They were all his prisoners now, each one a prize to be taken back to Dunrun.

  ‘It’s a fine day, my friend.’

  Ctenka looked down to see one of the prisoners strolling beside him as though he were out taking a breath of air on a sunny day. But for the manacles binding his hands he could have been an ordinary traveller.

  ‘A fine day indeed,’ Ctenka replied, unable to stop himself answering the friendly greeting out of politeness.

  ‘I’ve never been this far north before,’ the prisoner continued. ‘Your homeland is a place of rare beauty.’

  Ctenka found it hard to drag his gaze away from the man’s dazzling white teeth, a rarity in the Suderfeld from what he’d seen. When finally he glanced about him at the barrenness of their surroundings Ctenka wondered if the man was having a lark.

  ‘Rare beauty?’ he answered. ‘That is clearly a matter of opinion.’

  ‘Aye,’ said the man. ‘You should see my wife. She’s a rare beauty too.’ He gave a wink at which Ctenka almost guffawed.

  ‘That bad?’

  ‘Trust me, my friend. You wouldn’t even ride her into battle.’

  That time Ctenka did laugh.

  ‘I am Daffyd,’ the man continued. ‘I would offer to shake your hand, but obviously…’ He vainly tried to raise his manacled wrists.

  ‘Ctenka Sunatra. And those will have to stay on.’

  Daffyd shrugged. ‘Of course they will. It’s clear that you’re no fool.’

  ‘And it’s clear that you’re a good judge. So tell me, how does a man with such impeccable powers of discernment end up in chains?’

  ‘Ah, that is a question. And one I would love to answer. But would you believe me if I told you? After all, I am a criminal. I could tell you my tale of bad luck. Or perhaps of a miscarriage of justice. Or shall we just dispense with the ruse and say I am in my current predicament because I got caught.’

  Ctenka was starting to like this man. His company on the road made a sharp difference to that of Ermund. Perhaps he had at last found someone who would make the journey less dull.

  Before they could continue the conversation, Ermund pulled up his horse.

  ‘We’ll rest here,’ he announced. ‘Take some water, see to your feet. It’s a long road ahead, so if any of you are thinking of having a whinge, save it for later when you’re really feeling the strain.’

  As the prisoners passed around a water skin, Ermund nudged his horse beside Ctenka’s.

  ‘Made yourself a new friend?’ he said.

  Ctenka could hardly deny it. ‘We were just talking. No harm in that.’

  ‘These men were on their way to trial. Gunby had them in chains for a reason. Be careful who you take a shine to.’

  ‘What harm can they do? They’re still in chains.’

  ‘Just watch yourself.’ With that, Ermund nudged his horse back up the road.

  When they were done with resting, the group continu
ed their journey east. As they made their way along the road, Ermund’s words of warning echoed in Ctenka’s head and he made a point of avoiding further conversation with anyone. Instead he kept a diligent eye on the prisoners, determined to do his duty and not let Ermund down.

  They’d covered a lot of ground by the time night drew in. Ctenka was surprised that none of the prisoners had collapsed under the heat. But then he guessed they were a hardy bunch, and a march in the sun was far from the worst they’d experienced.

  Ermund had Ctenka build a fire while he stood vigilantly watching the prisoners. Gunby had given them a little dried fruit and meat for their journey, almost enough to see them to Dunrun, but they’d have to find somewhere to resupply before long.

  Ctenka sat Castiel and Lena at the opposite side of the fire to the prisoners, but he needn’t have worried. With Ermund’s imposing eye watching them, not one of the manacled men seemed to pay the children any mind.

  When they’d eaten, Ctenka walked off a little into the night to take a piss. As he got back to the fireside he felt his throat tighten at the sight of a prisoner sitting next to Castiel, but when he saw it was Daffyd who had decided to entertain the youngsters he let out a breath of relief.

  ‘What’s this?’ said the prisoner, pulling a coin from behind Castiel’s ear. Where he had been hiding it, Ctenka didn’t dare to wonder. Castiel merely stared at the coin blankly as Daffyd made it dance across his knuckles before it disappeared into his palm.

  ‘You’re a skilled charlatan,’ said Ctenka. ‘I think I’ve worked out why you’re in chains.’

  ‘Just a trick I used to keep my own children amused with,’ he said. There was a distant look to his eyes.

  Ctenka felt a sudden ache of pity. ‘There’s every chance you’ll see them again.’

  Daffyd stared into the fire, not giving an answer.