Too Cold to Bleed

by D Murray

  Dhendrin’s voice broke into Ruah’s thoughts. “What do you need? We’ll bring it to you. What we can spare, anyhow.”

  “No. That’s not enough,” the man replied. “Just open the fucking gate, or–”

  An arrow took the man in the top of his thigh.

  “Urgh!” The man grunted, and his horse took a couple of frightened steps to the side. He strained at the reins and brought the horse to a standstill once again. “Fuckers! You’re out of your minds.”

  “Who did that?” Dhendrin shouted, looking up the line on the palisade to the watchers. Several bowmen stepped back, revealing Halpern, who stood with bow lowered and a nervous look on his face.

  “Sorry, Ma. It was an accident.”

  “Accident?” Dhendrin screamed. “You’re the fucking accident!”

  The rider turned his horse and kicked his heels, sending up clods of mud as he sped back towards the army.

  “Someone take him out!” Dhendrin shouted as the rider began to gallop off towards the mass of men on the plain.

  The twang of arrows being loosed sounded, and Ruah watched as the black shapes arced down into the ground around the hunched form of the rider. Her own bow was in her trembling hands, and the arrows still in the quiver.

  Ruah watched nervously from her position at the top of the Stock Drivers' Union House. It wasn’t particularly cold in the attic, but she shook nonetheless. She shook hard. She had seen the rider make it back to be enveloped by the front ranks of the army on the plain. A few minutes later the mass split, and what looked like several dozen men clad in dark clothes ran forward as a unit. Even with the distance, it was clear to Ruah that the men wore some form of grey masks, and appeared to be wearing matching white headdresses. As they came closer, their features became clear. Ruah felt a cold trickle of sweat run down the small of her trembling back and into her buckskin trousers as she realised the runners were not wearing masks, nor headdresses. Their grey masks were their skin, and they had white hair. Never before had she seen anything like it. But she had heard of these men. The Night Reapers, they were called. The bogeymen of the north-eastern plains, used by mothers to scare their children back to the stations at night. Well, not Ruah’s mother. Ruah’s mother was long dead by the time other kids Ruah's age were being told scary stories.

  “Nock those arrows,” Dhendrin shouted along the palisade wall as a flame flashed amidst the mass of Night Reapers. In a moment, each of the Reapers had a flame before them, arrowheads angled up towards the sky, and the station. “Loose!” Dhendrin shouted, and the bowstrings along the palisade thumped, sending their arrows arcing up.

  At the same time, Ruah could see the Reapers' flame-headed arrows coming in from the other direction. She watched, perversely mesmerized, as a Reaper’s flaming arrow collided with one from the station and sent them both spinning away. The rest of the arrows continued their steady pace.

  “Cover!” Dhendrin shouted. The watchers on the palisade hunkered down below the pointed tips of the wall.

  Ruah looked towards the Reapers again. They were preparing to loose another volley. The flame-headed arrows of their first volley thumped into the palisade wall, with several finding their mark in the mud of the inner station, flames spluttering out in the wet muck. The arrows from the station fell short, pricking the grass of the plain. The band of flame spread once more as the Reapers lit more arrowheads, then loosed.

  “Water!” Dhendrin shouted. “Get those flames out!” Smoke curled up from the outside edge of the palisade.

  Ruah watched, frozen. Fear racked her body and she trembled like winter. Need to run. Me, run? Won’t get far. Nah, stay in your hole and cower.

  Bodies rushed about trying to fill buckets of water, but the arrows dropped towards the station again. Like fiery wasps, they snapped into the station wall and down into the town. One hammered into the wall of Juno’s Smithy, the second in the roof of Frinkle's Wagon-Makers. The third fizzled out into a water trough beside Juno’s. Ruah’s eyes shifted frantically between the scurrying townsfolk trying to put out the growing flames and the row of Reapers loosing yet another volley of arrows, this time without flame. Behind them, the ranks of the army were beginning to move forward, towards Overn Station.

  Ruah slumped away from the window, wincing as her leg folded up beneath her chin. She wrapped her arms around her knees and began to rock herself, the same way she had as a tiny child after Ma died and Ruah was living in whatever shed she managed to sneak into at night. She rocked herself with eyes shut and sang the childhood rhyme over and over, like a cruel lullaby.

  “Amongst the Grandfathers men of war stand, with bellies empty and weapons in hand, their blackened forms back-lit by red, in minutes hence we’ll all be dead.”

  It may have been minutes later, or maybe even hours, but Ruah couldn’t tell. She had slipped into one of her moments. She came around to the grind of the attic door opening. The sound startled her, and she grimaced as she tried to stand, hands fumbling with the bow.

  Halpern stood before her, panting for breath. “Twisty.”

  “What you doing?” she asked.

  “Same thing as you, I guess.” He walked carefully over to the window beside Ruah. “They’re in the town. I got away.”

  Ruah looked out of her window and down into the space behind the gate. In between the smouldering buildings and the palisade sat what appeared to be most of the station’s occupants, huddled close together in the mud. They were surrounded by violent-looking men, grim weapons held casually in their arms, mocking laughter filling the air. Paw! Ruah’s eyes shot to the palisade and searched amongst the few dead bodies lining it. They looked like younger men; Paw wasn’t there. She scanned the crowd of seated townsfolk, and sighed with relief as she saw the old man’s mud-speckled face. “What are they doing?” she asked.

  “Waiting for someone.”

  “Who?”

  “Him,” Halpern muttered and looked beyond the open gate of the station.

  Ruah’s eyes were drawn to movement on the other side of the gate. A group of riders approached and passed through into the town. At the head of the group sat a man with grey-shot hair, tied back in a pair of thick braids. He wore a dark beard flecked with grey, and he had a scar running through his left brow and eye. The man’s face was a mask of utter indifference as he rode his horse in a slow circle around the seated townsfolk. His followers rode behind, leering like wolves before sheep.

  “Who is it?” Ruah asked.

  “They said it was the king,” Halpern replied

  “Paw said he was dead.”

  “Don’t look very dead to me.”

  “Naw.” She looked away from the open window and at Halpern. His hands were shaking. She eyed him up and down. Why are you here? She looked at his breeches. He’d pissed himself. He turned away from the window, and Ruah quickly looked away.

  “What?” he said, a tone of offence in his voice. “You got something to say, Twisty?”

  “We’ve got bows.” She changed the subject, glancing back out of the window.

  “No,” Halpern grunted.

  “Should we kill him?”

  “What if we miss?” Halpern said, his voice dropping lower. “We’ll be killed. No. We need to sit here, be quiet and wait. They might just move on once they have what they want.”

  Ruah looked out at the crowd, scanning the faces of all those sat there, huddled together, united in fear. About the only thing they had ever been united in before was spilling their scorn upon Ruah. Finally, her eyes settled on the tear-streaked face of Selby.

  “Selby’s down there,” Ruah grunted.

  “Aye,” Halpern replied. “Lots of folk down there.”

  Fucking coward. Big man, all your bluster and puff, and now this. Can’t believe it, but I actually feel sorry for Selby.

  The king stopped his horse and smiled at the gathered townsfolk. “Who’s the administrator of this station?”

  “I am,” Dhendrin said from where she sat. He
r face was streaked with the mingled marbling of soot and sweat.

  Grunnxe nodded to one of his men. The soldier waded in amongst the townsfolk and hauled Dhendrin up by the arm. He pulled the station administrator over towards the king and shoved her in front of his horse.

  Ruah could hear Halpern was holding his breath.

  “All I wanted,” Grunnxe spoke with an apologetic tone, “was for you to open your gates and provide me, your king, with a few minor supplies. It is your duty as my subject. Now, why all this fuss?”

  “Begging your pardon and all, Your Highness, but the station has been raided in the past.” Dhendrin’s back was to Ruah, but it appeared she held the king's gaze. “I didn’t think it likely that the king would be turning up out here and wanting to stop by Overn Station. We’re just a small cattle town. There’s not much here.”

  The king smiled widely. “Oh, I know that you are a cattle town. Why else do you think I’m here? My men have been marching for some days now, and they are hungry. You see, one thing about being a king is that you have to make hard decisions for the good of the people. As a nation, that is.” He pursed his lips and inspected a fingernail. “You must understand that, as king, my conscience is my greatest enemy, and I wrestle with these decisions day and night. What is good for the people? What is the most just and balanced decision? Sleepless nights abound, believe me.” He chuckled to himself and smiled down at Dhendrin. “So I thought to myself, I need your cattle, for the benefit of my army here. I know it’s not good for you, my good subjects of the plains. You are doing a fine service for your country, out here in the Eastflows, and that service is the provision of beef, and rope, and whatever else you eke out here.” He waved a hand dismissively. “As king, the cattle are mine, and so I have judged that I must take them. For the betterment of Solansia. You understand, I’m sure.” He smiled at Dhendrin again, then pursed his lips.“Where are they today? I know they're not grazing here.” He looked about in his saddle, arms aloft and grinning. “I see no cattle.”

  “I don’t know where they are,” Dhendrin said, raising her palms skyward.

  Grunnxe slid down off his saddle. He straightened his jerkin and smiled as he walked towards her. “Well, then, you are not much use to me.” He rushed the last few steps and grabbed Dhendrin by the throat, slamming her onto her back in the mud. His knuckles whitened about her neck as he squeezed.

  A ripple of shock ran through the seated townsfolk, kept at bay by the circle of armed men around them. Halpern flinched as his mother was pinned to the ground.

  “You see, I only need people who are useful to me,” Grunnxe said to the townsfolk as Dhendrin’s face turned red and her legs kicked wildly, sending flecks of mud flying.

  “We should shoot him!” Ruah hissed.

  Halpern didn’t move.

  “It’s your mother! Hal–”

  “I know it’s my fucking mother,” he spat back at her.

  “He’s killing her! Do something!”

  Halpern sat, watching as Grunnxe squeezed Dhendrin’s neck. “I can’t,” he muttered over and over, weak words falling in a pathetic tumble from his mouth.

  Fucking coward. Ruah slid an arrow from the quiver underneath the woodworm-riddled window ledge.

  “Don’t,” Halpern said. “They’ll kill us.”

  “But–”

  “Don’t.”

  Ruah reluctantly let the arrow slide back into the quiver, and watched.

  “Who amongst you is useful to me?” Grunnxe asked as Dhendrin’s legs stopped kicking. He released his grip on her throat and stood up. Dhendrin’s mouth was open, eyes bulging, and tongue poking out between purple lips. “Where are the cattle?” Grunnxe asked again.

  “Ninth Herd is out by Waylan’s Brook,” a voice sounded from the crowd. A thin man stood. He was bald and stubbled, eyes betraying the look of one too fond of wine.

  “Good. You are?” Grunnxe asked, wiping the mud off his hands with a handkerchief.

  “Felt. Brindle Felt, Your Highness. Cattle driver.”

  “Excellent, a driver. You are indeed useful to me. Do you know where the rest of the herds are? I only want to know about the ones to the east.”

  “Know where most of the east-quarter herds will be, aye,” Felt said, hands wringing and voice trembling.

  “Well, then, you and I are going to get along much better than your now retired administrator, aren’t we?”

  “Aye, Your Highness.”

  “Captain Hoeke,” Grunnxe said, turning to a shaven-headed man to his left. “Send men to retrieve any wagons in the town. Pick out any supplies we’ll need.”

  “Your Highness,” Hoeke replied.

  “Captain Rinsell,” Grunnxe called to a man with a thick thatch of red beard on his face. “Separate them out. Men, women, children. You know what to do. Make it quick. We’ve to be moving.”

  Six

  Our Friend, Fear

  Ruah squeezed her eyes tightly shut, but the screaming continued. Individual cries would cut off – dead, of course – but on the whole, that dreadful sound just pitched and roiled like some angry, pain-filled sea. Crescendo and crash, life then death. She forced her eyes open and saw Halpern hunched by the window, mouth agape and the shine of tears in his eyes.

  “Should we–” She stopped her dreadful little whisper in her throat.

  Halpern looked to her. “Aye.” The word escaped his mouth with all the gusto of a drowned man’s laugh. “We should. Dunno if I can.”

  “Aye.” Drowned woman’s laugh. Ruah fingered the knot of gut at the top of her bow and forced herself to look out at the scene before her.

  Hard-looking soldiers pulled out man, woman and child from the crowd and separated them into three groups. Some resisted, and were beaten. Some resisted harder, and were beaten in the eternal sense. The muddy street had pools of dark blood now where rain puddles used to be. A thin rivulet of red would form, and start a gentle meander, before some ugly boot would splash it to naught, and churn the memory of life into the dirt.

  “Selby!” Halpern croaked, the word catching in a guilty twist in his throat.

  Ruah’s eyes moved from the group of children she had been looking at to where the adult women had been placed. There she was, standing with eyes staring past the men pawing at her. Her hair fell in straggles over her tear-streaked face. Her lower lip had been split. Maybe her sharp tongue had pushed someone too far, for once. A handsome young man with golden hair leered at Selby as his hand rounded the curve of her buttocks. He said something Ruah couldn’t hear, and his companions laughed dirtily. The golden-haired man shoved Selby to the ground. She fell over before being helped to a seated position by one of the quarry master’s daughters. Ruah thought her name was Corrine. She had been kind to Ruah once. Gave her food one night when she was very little and used to sleep in the hay shed across from the quarry master’s house. She grew up to be cruel, though, like most of the children of the station. Didn’t matter; this was far crueller even by the worst standards the station had to offer.

  “What should we do?” Halpern asked, his eyes pleading with an earnest need for leadership.

  You’re looking to the wrong face for strength. Dajda knows it. “I dunno.” It was all she could manage. She fingered the knot of gut on the top of the bow again and looked out at the milling crowd. She searched for Paw, scanning the gathered group of men, young, old and those of middle years. And there he was. He was looking right at her. His stubbled white beard cracked in what looked like the slightest of smiles. Ruah fancied those laughing old eyes sparkled a little. Stupid notion.

  “You see Paw?” Halpern asked.

  “Aye.”

  “They’ll kill him, you know.”

  “Why the fuck would they do that?” Ruah was surprised at the aggression in her voice.

  “'Cause he’s old.”

  “'Cause he’s old? Get yourself fucked.”

  “It’s true. What else are they gonna do with him? They’ll be wanting young, str
ong folk. To lug their gear, and drive the cattle. They’ll be wanting the women for, well, you know what for. I’m pretty sure Paw ain’t gonna be much use for that.”

  “Oh, and Selby will, eh?”

  “Not if I can help it,” Halpern grumbled, staring to where Selby sat, cradled by Corrine.

  Doesn’t look like you’re helping much at all. Halpern was right, though. They were going to kill Paw, and they were more than likely to have Selby. Though if Ruah was asked this time yesterday, Selby could go fuck herself. If Ruah was down there herself, she wasn’t sure what they’d be choosing for her. Twisted root of a leg and flat chest. To them, she was worth neither the rutting nor the effort to kill.

  “Looks like they’re almost done,” Halpern muttered.

  “Aye.” Ruah watched as the last of the folk were separated out into the three groups. The man with the thick red beard, Captain Rinsell, stepped away from the side of the tavern he’d been leaning against. He walked up to the group of children and spoke quietly to the ugly big bastard who stood before them. A war hammer leaned over his shoulder, its heavy head shining dully, light picking out the notches and dents in the steel. Rinsell pointed out several of the children. The bigger ones, a mix of boys and girls, were taken to the groups of men and women. Rinsell moved on towards the group of women as the big man moved off down the street with the children corralled behind him by other soldiers.

  “Where d'you reckon they’re going with them?” Halpern whispered. Something caught his words in his throat. Probably the same thing that stopped Ruah from saying what she thought.

  Rinsell spoke with the golden-haired man. Ruah found it odd how handsome he was. He stood out from the brutes around him. But there was something unsettling in that handsome face. A leering cruelty. Golden Hair nodded and walked through the group of women with Rinsell. He stopped at Selby and pointed at her with the end of a dagger that had until now been obscured by his side. Rinsell smiled and stuck out his tongue to Selby. He waggled it and laughed with Golden Hair.