Sinfor continued. “I have a great deal of evidence King Harold would like to see concerning Duke Philip. He is in Cruxford as we speak. Makes for a convenient opportunity to deal with him. Allow me free passage and you’ll never see me again. I owe Duke Philip no loyalty and have long known that I may need to exit my current situation at some point. My wealth is transportable and swiftly so. My evidence is yours in exchange for my departure. By morning, Sir Jeffress becomes someone. Much like you, Dech Crouse.”
“You flee for distant lands to continue your predations on the young? No,” Dech said coldly.
Looking at John and Irma before speaking, Sinfor returned his gaze to Dech. “They are nothing. Inconsequential creatures no one in this world might miss. Had you not crossed paths with them you would not know or care about their fate. You would choose living refuse over aiding your king?”
“I only see one example of living refuse in this space. And yes, I would choose children over your evidence. Our king would also.”
Sinfor’s eyes narrowed. “A fight it is to be. Let it commence on equal terms then.”
Dech shook his head.
Sinfor snarled. “You feign chivalry, proven by your willingness to face an unarmored man while you fight in harness.”
“You should have worn yours then since you chose this fight. I did not come here for a tourney. I came here to end you unless you have the courage to face justice. Chivalry demands I offer you the opportunity and even if you wore it, mail won’t stop my blade.”
Sinfor spat at Dech’s face before he launched an all-out attack, Dech countering it with an attack of his own. A storm of strikes, shield work, parries, and maneuvers soon followed as the two knights matched skill in close quarters.
Sinfor spun and delivered a sweeping, backhanded strike at Dech’s right knee to avoid the warder’s shield. Knowing there was no time to parry or step clear, Dech jumped, the blade singing under his feet.
Dech’s response was on its way before he landed and as Sinfor strained in effort to bring his shield around to block, he realized he’d been bested. Seeing sharpened steel closing on his neck, the corrupted knight had time to snarl in anger just before his head came free from his body.
A pounding sounded against the door. “Sir Jeffress! Are you in there, milord?” yelled a man’s voice.
Dech stepped past Sinfor’s still oozing body and lifted the dead knight’s head from the floor by its long hair. Looking to Erie he said, “Open it.”
Josip freed the latch and swung the panel from the doorway. A man-at-arms holding a mace in his hands stood at the threshold. Seeing the severed head of his lord, he stepped back and Dech could see a dozen other armed men in the main hall. Striding through the doorway, he held the head aloft with his shield arm, Dissy following with bow in hand and arrow nocked.
“I am Warder Dech of the Contrition Order. Sent here by King Harold to bring Sir Jeffress and those who aided him in committing treason and numerous other foul offenses to justice. I offer you one chance to live. Hear my offer or join your lord.”
The man with the mace tossed it aside, the heavy weapon gouging the planks where it landed. The man was seemingly held in some regard as those behind him followed suit with a clatter of wood and steel.
“What do you offer, Warder?” the man asked.
“Flight. You have one third of one hour to vacate these grounds. You will leave via the main gate on foot and take only what you may carry. Anyone not adhering to this stricture will wear an arrow. Anyone here after the time allotted will be taken into custody or killed should they resist. If you value your lives, live them somewhere other than Arataine.” Dech looked at the clock at the end of the hall. “Your time begins now.”
After several seconds of staring at the warder, those in the room suddenly sprang into action, grabbing their weapons and scrambling for doors.
“Should I watch them?” Dissy asked.
“If you will. Likely there are some who won’t take my threats seriously.”
“I doubt that. There must be a few others around who won’t know what happened. I’ll see to it they leave. Why are you letting all of these… people go?”
“Because if we have to fight them, some of us may be injured. As it is, we’re not. I do not relish the thought of escorting a long string of prisoners all the way to Cruxford either. If they all leave Arataine, it may cause confusion for Duke Philip as well.”
“Fair enough. I’ll see to it then.”
“Two of these are still alive,” Erie called from the room behind Dech. “What are we going to do with them?”
“Question them if they are in any shape to talk,” he replied.
“I’d guess they are if their brains didn’t get rattled too much. I’ll see if they have any ice storage in this place. They’ll need it and strong drink considering the swelling.” Erie stepped from the room and paused next to the warder. Gesturing at the doorway, he said, “Just like the old days. Five of them and you’re barely ruffled.”
“Mayhaps evened things up.”
“That I did,” the bard said as he joined them. “I’m a bit disappointed in the end result. I had a great many barbs to sting Sinfor with, now useless, every last one of them. Oh, and my lute will require an extensive tuning thanks to you.”
Erie smiled. “Like I said, the old days.”
. . .
“I’m not saying we’re ungrateful we didn’t get done in by him,” the boy John said with a point at Sinfor’s body, “but we’ve heard stories about them order knights.”
“Drag you off to the convents,” Irma said.
John nodded in agreement. “Demons some say they are.”
Erie laughed. “Dech’s no demon.”
“Trust me, he can help,” Dissy said.
“Like I said, grateful and all, but we be castasides. Nobody gonna help us ‘less it be a dropped coin. You might be the first that done more. You done us right, but you don’t know what it is to be castaside. What that Sinfor said about us wasn’t far from true. You with your ‘spensive boots, fancy sword, and flash daggers. You couldn’t know how it is.”
“We may know more than you might guess. Came up a castaside. So did he,” Dissy said pointing at Erie as he placed dripping cloth bags of ice on the faces of the two unconscious knights. “I was tossed into Refuge Orphanage in Shadow as a babe. On the street after that.”
“Yes? Can you prove it?”
Erie laughed. “Can you prove to us you’re castasides? There isn’t any guild that issues good faith documents. Believe us or not. Think on the amount of blood spilled down below and up here and consider your fate if we weren’t there. Remember that a contrition knight led us.”
The two surviving knights soon roused and after regaining their bearings, Dech spoke with them from their position leaning against the wall in sight of their dead comrades.
“You are sworn knights?” Dech said.
“We are,” replied the knight whose left eye was swollen shut. “Stood vigil at the chapel in Lindendale and—”
“So you each swore a knightly oath. Knowing what occurred here, you said not a word. You stayed on.”
“What knight places oath over his liege?” the other knight said holding ice to his broken nose.
“I am fairly certain you speak to one of that sort,” Mayhaps said around a mouthful of spice cake he’d scavenged from the main hall. “I can say with certainty that argument holds no water with him.”
“He answers—answered—to Duke Philip directly,” the other said. “Sinfor’s holding is not part of the surrounding shire.”
“Be that as it may, you did nothing while evil was perpetrated here,” Dech replied. “You served a man who committed treason and murder. King Harold knows what transpires and a reckoning is coming for all involved. Sinfor has had his account settled. I offer you an out. Tell me what you know of Philip’s plans. Tell me of those workers sent to Nevar. Do this and you get one chance to live. You ride for distant lands
this night never to return. If by morning’s light you are found in Arataine, only the Creator may save you.”
“You’d allow us that? What surety do we have you won’t revoke the offer upon receiving what you want?”
“None,” Dech replied. “If you will not take me at my word, there is nothing else. Assist me or face the king’s justice.”
“You best take him up on it,” Mayhaps offered as he took a seat. “You are not in a position that allows for much bargaining. That’s Sir Dech, warder of contrition knights, renowned for three things: his honesty, his dour temperament, and his treatment of those who gained his ire. Three of them litter the same floor upon which you rest. Tell him what you know and ride boldly ride! Dawn is coming sooner than you think and as one who has been forced to flee hostile ground a time or two I’ll tell you, every minute counts.”
The two men glared at the bard as they considered his words. Looking at one another, they nodded.
“Sinfor keeps accounts and such with regards to the duke’s business,” the knight with the broken nose said as he wiped meltwater and blood away with the back of his hand. “A hedge if the duke ever soured on him. Does most of the dealings through Lord Loring, but it all comes from the duke. Sinfor carried a key ring ‘round his neck. Upstairs in his quarters is where you’ll find it all locked away somewhere.”
Erie rose without saying anything and walked to check Sinfor’s headless corpse.
“What of the work crew Sinfor hired?” Dech asked.
“We do not know much, but it’s not the duke’s business. An old fortress in Nevar, that’s where they went. We escorted them and met a band of mercenaries just over the border… Captain Terny’s men, but they weren’t on the duke’s business either.”
“Terny,” Dech said. “Long in Duke Philip’s employ.”
“That’s right. He still is, but this task was for another party. Terny didn’t tell his men that, but they knew,” the other knight said as he pressed on his eye and winced. “It’s the way of sell-swords to sniff out the truth. It was them that told us.”
“The crew went to the Castle of the Dark Forest?” Dech asked. “They told you where they were headed?”
“Didn’t say, but they had a map with a location marked, one Sinfor provided them. Terny’s men mentioned work at an old castle. No other fortification out there but the one you mentioned.”
“What was their mission?” Dech said. “The workers.”
“No one said. I would guess the mercenaries knew as little as we did.”
“Was this work crew to return?”
“Can’t say. Only Sinfor might know that, so…” he trailed off with a look at Sinfor’s body.
“Found the keys,” Erie said holding up a small ring dripping crimson. “Let me clean them up. Should I confirm they speak true before they begin their journey?”
Dech nodded. “Do so.” Looking at the two knights, he continued. “Who paid for the work party? Sinfor delivered it, but it was not his own coin.”
“Sinfor never said,” the man with the smashed nose replied.
“He rode out one night and came back with two bags. Word was it was coin,” the other said.
“If rumors were being told, they had a source. Did someone go with Sinfor?”
The man nodded and pointed at the dead knight with the gaping neck wound. “Sir Hubert. Said they met a man at the crossroads ten minutes west of here. A strange encounter he said.”
“How so?”
“The man was a monk or some such, but… Hubert was prone to drink at times and saw things when he did.”
“How did he know it was a monk?”
“He said the man had no horse. Walked from the woods when Sinfor approached on foot. Wore a hooded robe that obscured his face. The two spoke for just a minute, then he handed Sinfor a couple of bags of coin before Sinfor returned.”
“And what was it Hubert saw?”
“Said the monk’s face glowed red. When Sinfor walked away with his lantern he saw red light coming from the monk’s hood.”
“Hubert was drunk when he rode out with Sinfor?”
“I cannot say. I did not see him until after he returned, but he was drunk then. Said what he saw unnerved him.”
“You’re sure Sinfor never mentioned the name of this monk?”
“He wasn’t one to talk freely,” the other knight said.
Erie returned less than ten minutes later and pulled Dech aside.
“They didn’t tell the whole story,” the thief said quietly.
“They lied? Why is that not a surprise.”
“No, they didn’t know the whole of it. Sinfor wasn’t lying about his transportable wealth either. Documents detailing his work for the duke and several small chests of coin rest up there. He set some rather cunning traps in case someone might intrude.”
Dech smiled. “He didn’t know Josip Erie would be the intruder.”
Erie returned the smile. “That he did not.”
“Let’s see our two honorable knights off and we’ll examine what Sinfor had.”
. . .
“Why not turn them over to Harold’s people?” Mayhaps asked as they watched the two knights climb aboard their mounts. Allowed one horse per and only what they might carry in saddlebags, the pair were soon to depart.
“It’s better this stays quiet,” Dech replied. “If all of those here run for elsewhere and not to Philip, it may take some time before the duke can ascertain what happened. If King Harold seeks to move against Philip, it may be best the duke suspects nothing. Perhaps a rumor spreads that Sinfor had acquired a great wealth and he left with it. Perhaps he was killed by those who served him and they absconded with the gold is even better.”
“We won’t need to dispose of his body that way. So… it appears his treacherous underlings made off with it all while we’re the ones who profit?” Mayhaps said with a smile.
“It goes with us to Cruxford,” Dech replied.
“Where we’ll receive a portion for deeds in service to Arataine, yes?” he said hopefully.
“Aratainian royalty has never been known for being generous with coin. King Harold might grant you a title though.”
“Another? And the fealty that comes with it? No thank you.”
. . .
“Well, aren’t we quite the coachman,” Mayhaps said as he brought his horse to a stop next to the wagon carrying the lashed down chests from Sinfor’s quarters. Erie sat waiting for departure with the reins connecting to a pair of horses in his hands.
“That’d be wagoner, old pal,” Erie replied. “Though I can drive a team before a coach as well.”
“And is there a story behind how you came to acquire this skill?”
“There is, but it won’t be fodder for your tales.”
“I’d immortalize you in story and song. Taking from the rich to aid castasides, scaling castle walls to—”
“This was no castle.”
“It will be a fortress when I’m done crafting the story.”
“Mention me by name and that precious lute of yours might disappear some dark night,” Erie threatened with a smile.
“Mention you by name. That you think I would do so hurts me. It also pains me to think how out of tune my poor instrument is.”
“Why not simply wear a blade? Barring that, why not find a craftsman to fix the issue?”
Mayhaps sighed. “It is my fervent belief that the blade—when in place—makes my lute emit the magical notes it does. Fixing it would kill it I fear.”
Erie threw his hands up and shrugged. “I have two solutions then. Stay clear of situations where you need to draw the blade or accept it as the price paid for possessing such an instrument.”
“That’s what I have always liked about you, thief. You are so very helpful.”
Dech led a string of five horses toward the two as they bantered.
“Stealing horses are we?” Mayhaps asked.
“Confiscating,” Dech replied.
“There were more, but it appears those who left managed to take them before Dissy arrived to preserve these, the knight’s mounts, and the two pulling the wagon. It may be for the best. I would not enjoy managing a herd of horses all the way to Cruxford. Perhaps we should be thankful they didn’t take our horses.”
“They were probably frightened by my giant of a beast,” Mayhaps said. “Is it wise to travel by night?”
“More wise than waiting until morning and being discovered. Best we be miles away by then.”
. . .
After extinguishing all lanterns and torches within the tower house and its walls followed by a closing of the gates, the group was off using the waning blue light reflected from the half-moon Sahr, its fellow satellite, Ruddy, already in its dark phase. John and Irma rode in the wagon, Josip’s mount and the horses from Sinfor’s on lead ropes behind.
Dech rode well ahead looking for bandits while Dissy and Mayhaps trailed a distance behind ready to assist if need be. Riding past the inn Sinfor had suggested they use, they continued on until well past midnight when they reached the town of Barrow. Stopping at an inn at the edge of town, they decided to rest until morning before continuing. Here they discovered John and Irma were gone.
“They slipped away without you noticing?” Mayhaps needled Josip.
“They did,” he replied with a shrug. “The wagon racket and trailing horse hooves made it easy. Last I saw of them they were settling down to sleep on top of the chests.”
Looking in the bed of the wagon, the bard found all of the containers rested where they were placed, still secured. “I wouldn’t have faulted them if they’d taken some coin with them. I guess they didn’t trust us?”
“That’s often the way of it,” Erie said. “Get turned wrong often enough and you stop trusting. I’d imagine it may be a long time before they risk it again.”
“If ever,” Dissy said in agreement.
“What will they do out here?” Mayhaps asked. “City bred as they are, how will they survive?”
“If I were one to wager, I’d say they have less than even odds of it. Maybe catch a ride on a merchant wagon to a city, that might help, but learning a new place as a castaside isn’t easy, trust me.”
The Warder Page 34
