Axel ran over. “Sir?”
“Leave your men in camp and come with me. I don’t want to risk the scouts, but your insights would be valuable.”
“Yes, sir.” Axel turned and used two hand signals to let Cobb know they were staying behind and that he was in command. That done, he moved to stand beside the general as they walked toward the fort. “Do you think we’ll take them in the first rush, sir?”
“We outnumber them three to one. There will be loses, that’s unavoidable, but I expect the First Legion to live up to its reputation.”
They marched on, silent but for the crash of their boots on the hard earth and the clank of their armor. No effort was made at stealth. The legion wanted Straken’s soldiers to know they were coming. Let them fear Garenland’s revenge.
It took half an hour to reach the edge of the clearing. The companies with the portable bridges led the way.
Arrows arced out, slamming into the wood, but avoiding flesh. A catapult thunked, but the stone missed, passing between two groups.
The ballista bolt that followed was better aimed. It pierced two soldiers and sent them flying backward. Axel couldn’t help wincing in sympathy. His time in the army had done nothing to prepare him for large-scale battle. The noise, the stink, it was all overwhelming. He gripped the hilt of his sword to steady himself.
The real fighting hadn’t even started yet.
They bridged the pits, losing only ten men in the process. With the way secure, the rest of the legion marched, shields locked in the front and the men in the rear protecting the heads of the men in front of them.
Arrows were deflected.
Stones smashed through, taking half a dozen men at a shot.
The legion never stopped and never broke rank.
“A glorious sight, are they not?” General Varchi asked.
Axel nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Glorious wasn’t the word he would have used, but it wasn’t wrong either. The front rank reached the nearest earthen berm. Hand-to-hand fighting began. The clash of steel on steel was deafening.
Axel almost didn’t hear the first arrow slam into the neck of one of the general’s honor guard.
The man dropped, leaving a gap in the shield wall.
Axel grabbed the general and yanked him aside just before an arrow flew through the space he’d occupied a moment before.
“Sniper!” Axel shouted. “Close ranks! Shields up!”
The honor guard was shifting to plug the opening even before Axel’s shouted order. They’d gotten their position for a reason; they knew their business.
Axel crouched beside General Varchi. “Are you okay, sir?”
“Fine, thank you, Axel. The battle?”
Axel tried to look through the openings between the guards’ legs but couldn’t see anything. “I don’t know.”
“Fighters coming,” one of the honor guard called.
“How many?” the general asked.
“Fifty.”
“Why would they send fifty against a hundred?” General Varchi asked. “It’s suicide for those men.”
“They want to open a gap in the shield wall,” Axel said. “Give their archer another shot at you. I need four men!”
Four guards pulled back and the others closed ranks.
“No matter what happens,” Axel said to the four, “keep your shields up and protect the general. We’ll handle the enemy fighters.”
The guards raised their shields and locked them together over General Varchi. A stray arrow had no hope of getting through that. Axel drew his sword and moved to join the rest of the guards.
Over one of their shoulders he could see Straken rangers approaching. They were in no rush. All they needed was a momentary lapse in concentration from the guards to finish the general. Axel had no intention of giving it to them.
“Charge!”
The honor guard roared and lunged forward, swords drawn.
They took the rangers by surprise. That was all the advantage they needed.
Axel hacked down one man and ran a second through.
By the time he yanked his blade free the battle had ended.
The fight was brutal, but short. Rangers might be good in an ambush, but against heavily armed and armored opponents, their short blades were nearly useless. The honor guard took minor wounds but lost no one.
A few minutes passed and no more arrows were forthcoming. For now, at least, it appeared the general was safe. Not that anyone was going to take chances.
Axel turned his attention to the fight at the fort. It looked nearly over. Garenland soldiers littered the ground, but the day was theirs.
General Varchi straightened and stood beside him. His guards were still forming a tight circle; their gazes never stopped darting about.
“You saved my life,” the general said. “Thank you.”
“I’m happy to be of service, sir. And I apologize if I overstepped my bounds ordering your men around.”
“Not at all. That was quick thinking. I never imagined they’d use the fort and the men inside as bait to take a shot at me. Straken has a reputation for brutality, but using your soldiers like that… It sticks in my craw, enemy or not.”
Axel nodded, but didn’t really care. The more dead Straken soldiers the better as far as he was concerned. The manner of their deaths didn’t concern him in the least. Their injured were being gathered and loaded on stretchers to return to camp. Axel suspected the army would take a few days to recover before moving on.
He turned to glare at the forest. The day might be theirs, but with rangers out there, it was only a matter of time before the enemy made another attempt on the general’s life. Axel meant to find them and finish them before they had the chance.
Chapter 9
Allen rolled out of bed early, far too early for his tastes, but if he was going to have Lord Shenk’s answers when he returned, there was no time to waste. Yesterday’s clothes were hanging on the back of his office chair. When he pulled the tunic over his head, his hand brushed the slightly raised patch of skin where Lord Shenk had carved the magical brand on the back of his neck. He could still feel the lightning coursing through his body. That wasn’t something Allen ever wanted to experience again.
He finished dressing and carried his baldric and sword out into the common room. Ulf and the mercenaries were already up and drinking steaming cups of tea. The scent of frying bacon filled the room and made his mouth water. Ulf poured a fourth mug of tea and added a little something extra from his potion flask. He handed it to Allen without a word and returned to tending breakfast. Allen sipped and sighed as strength and vitality flooded into him.
The potion cured a hangover, but it worked just as well if you were only tired. Allen drank it as seldom as possible lest he become dependent. Ulf assured him there was no risk of it, but he refused to take the chance.
Allen sat beside the mercenaries. “Anything I need to know about this place before we head over?”
Eric shrugged. “It’s a hangout for mercenaries. Your questions might not be welcome, though if you offer coin for information you should be safe enough. There aren’t many fights or anything.”
“The mercenaries get enough fighting when they’re working,” Erin said. “They don’t need more of it when they’re between jobs. We go our own way when this is over, yes?”
“As far as I’m concerned,” Allen said. “Though Lord Shenk might have different ideas.”
Erin’s face twisted. “How long will he keep us bound to him? We didn’t do anything!”
“You pointed weapons at him,” Allen said. Ulf set four plates loaded with bacon and bread on the table and sat down again. “Be grateful he didn’t just kill you on the spot. There are worse jobs than serving the second-most-powerful man in the kingdom.”
“Is that why you serve him?” Eric asked around a mouthful of bread. “Because he’s powerful?”
“I pointed a different kind of weapon at him. Fortunately, he found himself in n
eed of my skills. Others who threatened him weren’t so lucky. I know he’s young, but he was raised in the nobility. They learn to be ruthless from the moment they’re born. My advice is keep your heads down, do as you’re told, and give him no reason to question your loyalty.”
Halfway through breakfast someone rapped on the door. Allen frowned and got up. Who could be calling this early? The Sprite didn’t open for hours.
He unlocked the door and looked out. A tall, broad-shouldered blond man stood there. He wasn’t dressed like a soldier, but Allen would have bet all he owned that the man was a fighter.
“Can I help you?” Allen asked.
“My name is Kelten, captain of the king’s guard. I’m doing some follow-up on the assassination. I understand the killer was a friend of yours. May I come in and ask you a few questions?”
Allen stepped aside. This was the meeting Lord Shenk had warned him about. He hadn’t expected it so soon. “Please. I’m happy to help in any way I can. Poor Lothair. He was always a good guy. I had no idea he’d get involved with enemies of the kingdom.”
“I apologize if I’m interrupting your breakfast.”
“Not at all. We were just finishing up.” Allen led him to a table well away from the others and pulled out a chair. “Can I offer you a drink?”
“No, thank you.” Kelten sat and Allen joined him. “What can you tell me about Lothair?”
“We grew up together, got in trouble together, nothing serious mind you. Childish pranks mostly. I got a job here and he found work in Gold Ward somewhere. We drifted apart after that as childhood friends often do. Until last spring when he showed up on my doorstep. He’d lost his job and needed somewhere to stay. Since I own the tavern now, I offered him a job as a bouncer. I thought everything was good until he disappeared ten days or so before the assassination.” Allen shook his head. “I can’t imagine what happened to my friend to make him a killer.”
“He seemed okay while he was working here?” Kelten asked.
“As far as I could tell. He went out during his time off, but he never said what he was doing. Could he have already been working for Straken? I’d never forgive myself if there was some sign and I missed it.”
“We don’t yet know when he first made contact with enemy agents. That’s one of the things I’m trying to pin down. Can you give me a more exact date that he started working for you?”
Allen pursed his lips and tapped his chin. “It was early spring, I’m sure of that. Mid-May perhaps? I’m sorry I can’t be more exact.”
“That’s fine. It’s a starting point anyway.” Kelten chewed his bottom lip and Allen could almost see the wheels turning behind his eyes. At last he said, “I can’t think of anything else right now, but if I do would it be okay if I stopped by for another chat?”
“Anytime, Captain, though I’m seldom up this early so please consider an afternoon visit.”
They stood, shook hands and Allen led him to the door. When he’d gone and the door was locked again Ulf said, “You should try acting.”
Allen grinned. It was a pretty good performance. Hopefully Captain Kelten bought it.
His brush with the good captain left Allen without enough appetite to finish his breakfast so the four of them set out across town. The city was bustling as the forges churned out weapons to support the war effort. People were talking and seemed more upbeat than they had in a while. You’d hardly know there was a war on.
No one gave the four of them more than a passing glance as they walked. Allen waved to the few acquaintances he saw but made no effort to stop and chat. He wanted to get this business sorted out and fast. Kelten was a problem he could have done without, but with any luck he’d seen the last of the man. Either way, he had more pressing matters at the moment.
The Rusty Arms sat in the middle of a working-class neighborhood with a dry goods store on one side and a three-story tenement on the other. A pair of toughs in leather armor stood beside a front door partially covered with chipped brown paint. The tavern’s sign featured a gauntlet holding a mug, carved with greater detail than a place like this should have been able to afford. Probably the work of someone looking to pay off their tab.
The toughs looked them over as they passed but made no move to stop them. Inside, the taproom was half full of armed and armored men and women that would have looked more at home in an army barracks, albeit the army barracks of a very poor country.
Behind the bar stood a tall, stout man in his fifties, a stained apron covering a sprawling gut and a thick mustache hanging past his chin.
“Is he the one Anders spoke to?” Allen asked.
“That’s him,” Eric said.
Allen led the way to the bar. The barman nodded to Eric and Erin before giving Allen the side eye. “Them I know. Who are you?”
“We have a mutual friend,” Allen said. “A wizard named Anders was here last night. What can you tell me about him?”
“What the hell business is it of yours?”
Allen set a silver crown on the table. “The wizard was bothering a friend of mine. He’s been dealt with, but I want to make sure no one else plans to take up where he left off. Anything you can tell me will be rewarded.”
The bartender slapped a meaty hand down on top of the silver coin and made it disappear. “Not much I can tell you. Anders comes in once in a while looking for muscle. The guys I’ve talked to say it’s usually easy work, so I try and steer him toward some of our more down-on-their-luck customers.”
“You don’t know anything about him?” Allen asked.
“Anders wasn’t exactly a chatty guy.”
“Are any of the others that worked for him here now?”
The bartender looked over Allen’s head at the taproom. After a moment of study, he nodded. “In the back, the three men at the corner table did a job for him about a month ago. That was the last time Anders was here.”
“Thanks.” Allen set another silver coin on the bar.
As soon as they moved away from the bar Erin snarled and said, “It was a pity job. He didn’t really think we were the best for it.”
“Who cares?” Eric asked. “Pity job or not we needed the money. Not that we got any.”
“Would you two shut up?” Allen said. “You’ve got a new employer now and that’s all you need to worry about.”
They made their way across the taproom to the corner table. Three of the grizzliest men Allen had ever seen looked up at them. Each of them was missing at least a finger. One lacked a left eye and the third had a huge scar running down the right side of his bald head. They looked like they’d fought a war and didn’t come out on the winning side.
“Got a problem?” Scarhead asked.
“Not at all,” Allen said. He pulled out another silver coin and showed it to the man. “I’m looking for information about a wizard named Anders. The bartender said you might be able to help me.”
All three of them were staring at the silver coin with a hungry look in their eyes. Whatever Anders had paid them, it appeared like they’d spent it all already.
“What do you want to know?” Scarhead asked.
“What did Anders ask you to do?” Allen asked.
Scarhead shrugged. “Nothing much. He had a wagonload of stuff and wanted some muscle to protect it. Hell, we didn’t even know he was a wizard until halfway through the job he started throwing fire around. I nearly shit myself. We almost ran right then but didn’t want to be roasted alive. The way he used that magic, I’m not sure what he needed us for anyway.”
“What were you delivering?” Allen asked.
“Beats me. When we got where we were going, half a dozen guys were waiting to unload the wagon. We stood around and watched them load it into river boats and when we were done Anders paid us and we headed back to the city. Aside from the sons of bitches that jumped us, it was about the easiest job the three of us ever had.”
“Where did you take the crates?”
“About twenty miles north of the
city. There’s a sandbar where the boats waited. And before you ask, no I didn’t know any of the people that met us. The wagon was attacked about twelve miles north of the city. I didn’t recognize any of them either.”
“Last question. Where did you meet Anders before you left for the river?”
“At the north gate. He was waiting for us with the wagon, no one else was around.”
Allen nodded and paid each of them two silver coins. Sounded like Anders was into more than just blackmail, though whether he was involved with the river smugglers—and they could be nothing else—Allen wasn’t sure. Luckily for him he had a friend with contacts that might be able to find out.
At least getting up at this demon-cursed hour had been worthwhile. Hopefully the next lead would answer Lord Shenk’s questions and he could move on. Preferably to something he could do at night.
Chapter 10
The roads were in far better shape in the fall than they were in the spring, so Otto and his team made good time traveling to Shenk Barony despite the creaky wagon they’d loaded with fake cargo in hopes of drawing out any bandits keeping watch. Unfortunately, none of those bandits saw fit to put in an appearance.
On the seat beside him, Sergeant Hans, once more dressed in civilian armor rather than his royal guard uniform, guided the team with practiced ease while the rest of the squad, decked out in standard mercenary gear, rode in front and back. Four guards for a single wagon should signal a relatively valuable cargo. At least that was what they were going for. They either hadn’t been seen or no one was taking the bait.
The stretch of road where he and his father had been attacked was coming up soon. Otto held out hope that they might get lucky there. He restrained a smile. The idea that getting attacked could be considered lucky was a joke, but he couldn’t deny the truth. They were the bait, now they just needed someone to bite.
“Are we going to call on your father?” Hans asked.
Otto grimaced. He had no desire to see his family, but if they couldn’t find the bandits on their own, he might not have a choice. “We’ll see. We’re certainly not having much luck.”
The Great Northern War (The Portal Wars Saga Book 2) Page 5
