Angel's Knight (Angelwar Book 3)

by A. J. Grimmelhaus

  ‘Time to go.’ Kartane clapped him on the shoulder.

  Tol looked back to the deck hatch; she still hadn’t appeared. ‘I need to talk to her.’

  Kartane’s fingers sank painfully into Tol’s upper arm as he tried to walk past. ‘She knows her mind,’ he said. ‘The girl’ll find you when she’s ready.’

  Tol stopped. There was something in Kartane’s tone. ‘You know something, don’t you? What did she say?’

  Kartane’s grip loosened. ‘You know how she gets. That girl’s a screaming Pit hound with the tongue of a viper on a good day.’ He let go of Tol’s arm. ‘We didn’t rescue her on a good day, Tol. Girl said some things, but it was just the fear talking.’ He cocked his head to one side. ‘Well, anger more like, but you get my point. Swore like a sailor, she did, but that was what got her to the gates. You shouldn’t let it worry you.’

  Tol glanced to the city, and the black expanse to the south. ‘I might not see her again.’

  ‘Look at it as an opportunity,’ Kartane grinned. ‘An opportunity not to get stuck by every sword that swings your way. You do really well at that, and finding where she lives shouldn’t be a problem, should it?’

  Tol felt a smile tickle the corner of his mouth. ‘I guess not.’

  Kartane guided Tol to the plank, where the others were already waiting. For people marching into a war zone, they looked remarkably impatient.

  ‘Keep your eyes out for a tavern,’ Kartane said. ‘Man needs a good tavern.’

  ‘Even in the middle of a war?’

  Kartane wrapped an arm around him. ‘Especially in a war,’ he laughed. ‘All my best adventures start in taverns.’

  Tol groaned. He didn’t think he’d survive another adventure with Kartane.

  25.

  ‘You can’t go in there.’

  It was, pretty much, an invitation. Kartane smiled, then planted his knee in the guard’s plums. He sank to his knees with a satisfying groan.

  Kartane bent down. ‘Nobody keeps Kartane out of a tavern,’ he said. ‘You might want to remember that.’ He clapped the guard on the shoulder and walked past into the tavern, whistling My Meracian Lady as one of his three shadows sniggered behind him.

  A loose knot of men were clustered around a table at the rear, bent over the wood like it held the answers to some mystery. Or, Kartane thought, a particularly detailed etching of a woman. He made his way towards them. Most, he could see, were men of the Reve but several weren’t scruffy enough; they looked more like men playing at being knights rather than actual knights. Meracians, he figured. They did, after all, make up the bulk of the army. Although, from what Kartane had seen in his walk through Obsidian, it wasn’t much of an army. More like a defeat waiting to happen, he thought. Catardor had told him how vast the encroaching army was, and Kartane didn’t think his chances of living to drink another day were good. Which, really, just means I should make the most of drinking now, he reasoned.

  The men didn’t look up from the table as he approached, busy planning the defence of Obsidian.

  ‘We need archers here,’ Krom Kraven said, his finger jabbing at a rough map. ‘And somebody find out what’s on that ship.’

  ‘I can help with that,’ Kartane said. He smiled as his old friend looked up. He looked older, and had more lines around his eyes than Kartane remembered.

  ‘I was wondering when you’d turn up,’ Krom said with a faint smile. ‘Smell the ale, did you?’

  Kartane held up his hands in a gesture of apology. ‘Sorry I’m late,’ he grinned, ‘I’ve been on an adventure. Found some of our lads in Siadendre, too. Seems they got a good look up close at the Gurdal.’

  Krom’s gaze swept over the three men behind Kartane, lingering a moment on one, before moving to the others. ‘Last I heard,’ the Havakkian knight said slowly, ‘you were supposed to be in Meracia so that the Seven weren’t all in one place.’

  Isallien cleared his throat. ‘You can thank your son for that. I felt obliged to make sure he kept his head when he went charging into a city under siege.’

  Krom’s eyes narrowed, flicking briefly to his son. ‘The boy never was good at listening. Still,’ he said, ‘it would have been easier just to not let him go, don’t you think?’

  ‘The boy’s as stubborn as his father,’ Kartane said, ‘but it was a glorious adventure and we made a dent in the Gurdal numbers as well as carrying out a daring rescue. It was a thing of beauty,’ he said with a shake of his head, ‘and as soon as someone gets me a drink I’ll tell you all about it.’

  Krom nodded slowly. ‘Bar’s over there,’ he pointed, ‘but don’t you think we should hear about the Gurdal’s numbers first? Our scouts report they’ll be here before sundown.’

  Kartane frowned. ‘You never used to be this boring.’

  ‘People change,’ Krom said. Except you, that was what he meant. Kartane could practically hear the silent addition to his words. He shrugged, and wandered over to the bar. The ale was weak and sour, but it was better than nothing. He arrived back at the table as Catardor finished listing what he had learned of the Gurdal and how they arrayed their forces. Kartane slurped noisily at his drink. The others had fallen silent, realising the size of the army they now faced. They think it’s going to be bad, he thought, but most of them don’t know how much worse it will be. There had been relative peace in the world for a decade, and most of the men gathered here hadn’t been involved in the last sizeable conflict when Sudalrese soldiers invaded southern Norve. Kartane remembered though. He had been there, eighteen and only recently knighted. Much worse than they think. Still, it seemed a shame to ruin the mood further; Catardor’s news had done enough already.

  Kartane looked around the collection of ashen faces. Several Meracians he didn’t recognise stood round one side of the table. On the other, the Knights Reve. His brow knotted, remembering something Krom had said.

  ‘You said the Seven were all in one place.’

  ‘Near enough,’ Krom muttered, staring at the map. ‘We left Balvador back in Galantrium. With the arrival of these two,’ he gestured to Isallien and Catardor, ‘the rest of the Seven are all here.’ He continued to stare at the map.

  Korwane stood on Krom’s right, while the fool Valeron stood on his other side. Isallien and Catardor made four.

  ‘That’s five,’ Kartane hiccoughed. He wiped a sleeve across his lips. ‘Who’s missing?’

  ‘Patrick,’ Korwane answered tersely. ‘We found him this morning in an alley next to an inn.’

  Kartane sighed. ‘I don’t suppose he drank himself to death?’

  ‘Murdered,’ Krom said. ‘Dagger through his heart.’

  And then there were five. And one of them was probably a traitor. One of them might have even killed Patrick. ‘Damned Gurdal,’ Kartane muttered. ‘Patrick should have known better.’

  Krom nodded. ‘We don’t have long,’ he said, ‘so what’s this latest adventure of yours? The short version.’

  Kartane scratched his chin. ‘Me and Tol —’ an indiscreet cough from behind stopped him. ‘And a few others,’ he corrected, ‘rescued the Black Duke’s daughter from a turncoat Meracian, and killed a shit load of Gurdal on the way.’

  The Meracians erupted with noise, a cacophony of protests, indignation and accusing questions that only ended when Krom growled at them. He had a way with words like that: Krom Kraven said something and people listened because, well, because if they didn’t very bad things would happen. He had that tone of voice which suggested it might be only one bad thing, but it would probably also be the last bad thing ever to happen in your life.

  ‘Why don’t you start from the beginning,’ Krom said as the furore died down. ‘What happened once you got to Meracia?’

  Kartane grinned. ‘I got righteously drunk.’

  Krom raised an eyebrow, but Kartane saw that faint twitch of amusement at the corner of his friend’s mouth. ‘Just the important stuff,’ Krom said. ‘There isn’t time to tell us about every time you’ve
got drunk in the last few days.’

  Kartane relented, explaining about the lords’ plot Tol had discovered in Meracia, and their unique approach to problem solving. ‘So the good news is that the King’s sending more men to the Spur,’ Kartane concluded. ‘They should be here in the next few days, I reckon.

  ‘The Black Duke’s daughter did us a favour while we were in Meracia,’ Kartane continued, ‘but Calderon escaped with her. Seemed like getting her back could be fun, so we took a detour on our way here.’ He held up a finger as Korwane opened his mouth to protest. ‘Good thing we did,’ he added, ‘else the scouts might not have got out before the Gurdal attack.’ It was better, he decided, not to mention that he and Kraven were the reason why Benvedor and his men were delayed in the first place.

  Krom finally looked his son in the eye. ‘This true?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Krom hesitated. ‘Did Vixen find you?’

  The boy nodded. ‘She was killed by the demon,’ he lied smoothly. If Kartane didn’t already know the truth he might even have believed him.

  ‘Oh yeah.’ Kartane snapped his fingers. ‘Tol killed another demon – forgot to mention that.’ He grinned at the Valeron whelp next to Krom. ‘That’s one more than your ancestor, isn’t it?’

  ‘Prince Julien is dead also,’ Tol said as Valeron opened his mouth. ‘The demon killed him, too.’ Whatever Valeron said was lost in the uproar that followed from the Meracians present.

  ‘The important thing,’ Kartane said as they fell quiet, ‘is that King Rodera is sending more men to help, right?’ He shoved one of the Meracians aside and peered at the chicken-scratch map. ‘I’m guessing you were banking on that,’ he said to Krom. ‘Slow them down with a gradual retreat through city?’

  ‘House to house,’ Krom confirmed. He looked to his son. ‘People say you know this angel. That true?’

  ‘Yes,’ Tol answered.

  ‘And she’ll come when we need her?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good,’ said Krom. He looked around the room. ‘Well, everyone knows what they’re doing and what we’ve heard doesn’t change a thing, except now we know help’s on the way.’ He turned to one of the Meracians. ‘We could fill that ship with archers,’ he said. ‘Might make a nice surprise for the Gurdal as they approach.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ Kartane said. ‘Morrow will be long gone by now.’ He drained the rest of his mug as the knights went very still and Krom fixed him with a hard look.

  ‘Kenzin Morrow?’

  ‘Ah, did I forget to mention that?’ Kartane grinned and jerked a thumb towards Isallien and Catardor. ‘Seems he ain’t our enemy any more. Ask these two about it, they struck a bargain.’ Kartane dropped his mug on the table and walked past the pair, clapping the nearest one on the shoulder.

  ‘What bargain?’ Kartane heard Krom growl behind him.

  ‘There was no alternative,’ one of the Meracians said in a weak voice as Kartane stepped outside, a grin plastered across his face. The sound of raised voices followed him out.

  ‘Seems,’ he told the nuns and Kraven’s cousin, ‘the Seven aren’t all that keen on Kenzin Morrow.’

  26.

  There’s nothing quite like it.

  Kartane took another sip and proved his own point. Ale grew on you, it was true, but there was nothing quite like the first mouthful; a promise of further pleasure that was never quite met. It was something he had experienced in other avenues of life.

  Kartane took a third swig, this one more substantial. Just because it had always been that way didn’t mean he had to give up trying. One day I’ll find the perfect ale, its taste bliss from first sip to last dreg. It was, he thought, a noble ambition.

  ‘We’re just going to sit here?’

  Rachel, the contrary nun. Although, in Kartane’s experience, most nuns were. He smiled. ‘I’m going to drink. You’re welcome to join me.’ They were sitting in a tavern, just a few doors down from Krom and the leaders of the army. For reasons Kartane didn’t understand, the three nuns and Kraven’s cousin had attached themselves to him like leeches. Or the pox.

  ‘You don’t think there’s something more productive we could be doing?’

  There was a touch of noble in her voice, at least to Kartane’s ears. Some slight whine of superiority that always grated. ‘Nope.’ He raised his glass and smiled. ‘We’ll be busy soon enough.’ They were gathered around a round table in the corner of the tavern, perched on a series of ill-made stools. Four or five other patrons were dotted throughout the rest of the tavern, similarly struggling to balance on the wobbly tripods.

  He caught a glimpse of movement outside, peering through the dust-smeared glass and seeing a man in need of a drink. Kartane rapped on the pane, holding his mug aloft and grinning through the dirty window. A few moments later, Tol came storming in, throwing himself onto the vacant chair opposite Kartane with childlike petulance.

  ‘He dismissed me,’ Tol muttered.

  Kartane waved a hand in front of the lad’s cousin, pointed to his ale then pointed at the bar. Go, he mouthed, and Kraven’s cousin rose, albeit with a scowl, and stalked off towards the bar where a bored proprietor watched his patrons impassively.

  ‘He might be busy,’ Kartane said. ‘You know, planning the defence of the city and such.’

  ‘I haven’t seen him for nearly a decade,’ Tol said, ‘and he just asks about the angel then tells me he’s got a battle to plan and will find me later.’ The lad shook his head, but Kartane could see the anger. ‘Told me to find you and stay out of trouble till he comes.’

  Kartane laughed, and it brought the lad out of his troubles just for a moment.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Krom told you to stay out of trouble then sent you to the one man trouble’s guaranteed to find?’ He laughed again, holding up his hands as one of the nuns opened her mouth. ‘Not my fault,’ he protested, ‘I don’t go looking for it, it’s just that trouble always seems to know where I am.’ Kartane stopped laughing and leaned towards Tol. ‘Why do you think he did that?’

  Tol shrugged, and Kartane could see the boy was still hurting from his father’s dismissal.

  ‘Seems to me,’ Kartane said, ‘that your father sent you to the one man who,’ he gave a gracious nod of his head, ‘is perfectly equipped to deal with trouble.’

  ‘It would have been easier to keep me at his side.’

  ‘Yes,’ Kartane said, ‘unless he was worried that would place you in greater danger.’ He shrugged as Tol’s eyes narrowed. ‘One of the Seven’s dead already and the battle hasn’t even begun. Standing in a room with them might not be the safest place to be right now.’ Kartane lowered his voice. ‘Especially if somebody’s picking off all the people who can lead us one by one.’

  Tol nodded. ‘You think that’s why he did it?’

  Kartane wanted to lie, wanted to see that spark of hope in the lad’s eye flare to life. Sometimes, though, the truth was all you had. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Your father’s a complicated man, Tol. People think he’s just a dumb Havakkian with a sword, and he uses that to his advantage, lets people keep on thinking that. Below the surface,’ Kartane tapped his temple, ‘there’s a lot more going on. Most people don’t realise it, but I saw it the first time I met him. Don’t judge him till you understand his reasons, lad, that’s all I’m saying.’

  Tol nodded, and he looked like he’d actually listened which, Kartane figured, was definitely progress.

  ‘You never did tell me how you met my father.’

  ‘No,’ Kartane said, ‘I never did.’ He sighed. ‘Now’s as good a time as any, I suppose.’ He glanced at Tol’s cousin. ‘Thirsty work, I reckon.’ He hid a smile as Kal got up and stomped off to the bar.

  ‘It was during the war with Sudalra,’ he began. ‘I’d just been knighted, then got sent on some stupid errand with my brother. The war broke as we returned home.’

  *

  ‘I still don’t see why we had to come back,’ Ka
rtane complained. They had been on the road for days, following Norve’s east coast and then, with the southern shores in sight, veering west until they reached a tiny hamlet, half a dozen houses hidden in a ring of trees with a cracked stone church at their centre.

  ‘Because the soldiers will be coming,’ Korwane said. ‘We didn’t come all this way to leave one of the church’s treasures only for the Sudalrese to invade and take it. That,’ he said, ‘is why we came back.’

  Kartane took one last look at the church. ‘Stupid place to leave anything valuable,’ he muttered.

  ‘Exactly,’ Krom said. The three knights walked away towards the outer ring of trees. The tiny collection of houses was all but invisible to anyone beyond the trees, and only the church’s skewed tower gave any indication of civilisation.

  ‘What do you mean “exactly”?’

  ‘Last place anyone would look to find something valuable,’ Krom said. ‘You find valuable stuff in mansions and lavish churches.’ He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. ‘Not draughty ruins in the middle of nowhere.’ He smiled. ‘Smart.’

  ‘Not that smart,’ Kartane retorted as they reached the trees. ‘Not with an army five miles south.’

  His brother cursed. ‘Less.’

  Kartane followed his gaze. A dozen men were marching towards them, coming from the south. Kartane looked over his shoulder. The church tower was easy to miss, only just breaking above the treetops, but the column of smoke rising from a neighbouring chimney would be seen for miles. Idiots, he thought.

  ‘Leave them,’ Krom said, ‘they’re not here for us.’ Relations with Sudalra had cooled of late as tensions built, but the Reve had already sworn that if it came to it, their knights would not involve themselves in a war between the two countries. Their job, as they told anyone and everyone who listened, was to protect them all from an enemy much worse who wanted more than just land.