The Poisoned Quarrel: The Arbalester Trilogy 3 (Complete Edition)

by Duncan Lay

  “It’s going to be a desperate gamble,” Bridgit said. “If Brendan can’t grab the Kottermani leaders then you’re going to have to fight them. And while you might have a slight edge in numbers, each one of theirs is worth three of the fyrd. Most of them aren’t even armed.”

  “I know,” he agreed. “But look at our villagers from Baltimore. They were just farmers and fishermen and they are now some of our best fighters.”

  “Because you trained them for moons, then led them through a series of battles,” Bridgit pointed out.

  “But they are the same inside. When they have something to fight for, they are capable of great things. And these men will have everything to fight for.”

  She did not say anything, which he knew meant she disagreed but did not want to say anything to disturb the fragile peace between them.

  “And you have me,” Kerrin said.

  Fallon reached across and patted his son’s shoulder. “If I had a hundred of you, we would send those Kottermanis running,” he said.

  They allowed themselves to be carried along by the crowd to the north gate and then outside. Fallon turned their horses then, moving them away to the side, staying close to the wall, where they were joined by the rest of the Baltimoreans. Wagons full of weapons were parked there, ready to be handed out to the most likely looking men.

  “Where are they supposed to form up?” Bridgit asked.

  Fallon watched as the crowd still flooded forwards, keeping tight to the road.

  “Right here,” he said. “But it will take forever to get the women and children back into the city. We have to make them form some sort of ranks. Come on, Padraig, I’ll need your help to be heard over the noise of this lot.”

  He spurred forwards, Brendan and a handful of Baltimoreans behind him and Padraig at his shoulder. Dawn was breaking and the weak sunlight showed an unbroken line of people heading into the distance.

  “Where are they going?” Brendan rumbled.

  Fallon swallowed, his good feeling evaporating as fast as the morning mist.

  “They aren’t here for the fyrd. They are running, getting out of the city,” he said through a dry mouth.

  “Well, we have to stop them. That is our army running away!” Brendan said indignantly.

  Fallon tapped Padraig on the shoulder and the wizard nodded. “Stop!” Fallon roared, his voice echoing across the countryside. “Come back!”

  But he might as well have been talking Kottermani for all the notice the crowds took of him. He kicked his horse forwards, Brendan and the others following him, plunging into the rush of people as if they were riding through a river. Men, women and children parted for them and they formed their horses up across the road as a barricade.

  “No further!” Fallon called angrily.

  But they just flowed around them, breaking apart and reforming on the other side. Fallon nudged his horse forwards and grabbed a tall man by the jerkin.

  “Where are you going? Why are you running? Don’t you understand that Swane will sacrifice your children to Zorva and hand your wife over to the Kottermanis?” he asked, his voice back to normal now.

  The man shook himself free. “So you say. But the word on the street is Swane will open the warehouses and we will all feast!”

  Fallon stared at the man in shock. How was that the message on the streets? Somehow Munro’s men were still spreading their lies and people were preferring to believe that than the truth of what was happening in Lunster? He wanted to argue but the man was gone, so he grabbed another instead.

  “Fight? I saw what happened when you fought three thousand of them. Now there’s ten times as many coming. The only way to live is to run,” this man said.

  “And how long will it be before they catch you?” Fallon called angrily, but the man was gone, back into the flow. “You will regret this day, you coward!”

  He turned to his friends. “Were they not listening to the town criers and the priests? What is the matter with them?”

  “They were listening too well, it seems,” Craddock said. “They have never held a weapon and are terrified of facing the Kottermanis. At least we spent one day a moon training. I’d wager these city folk never even thought of being called out for the fyrd.”

  Fallon shook his head in disbelief. “Well, we can’t lose any more. Get those gates shut. All of them. If this is happening here, the other gates are the same. Quick now!”

  They eased their horses out of the refugees while Brendan went to close the gate, rejoining Bridgit and the others.

  “They are running. Too scared to fight,” Fallon said gruffly, covering his fears. “This will be good in the long run. We won’t have as many men in the fyrd but the ones who will be left will be fighters, ready to stand up to the Kottermanis.”

  He could see she did not believe him but he could not blame her. He did not really believe himself.

  *

  The gates took an age to close, allowing hundreds more people to rush off into the countryside, to Aroaril-knew-where. Even then, the streets around the gates were full of families and it took even longer to get them to move back to their homes. Scores threw down their bags and waited by the gates, obviously hoping for another chance to get out. It was impossible to tell how many had left because some of the remaining townsfolk were hiding in their homes. But Padraig sent a few birds out to look over the countryside and reckoned perhaps two in ten had gone, maybe a little more.

  “Leave the ones by the gate there,” Fallon declared. “After a day of being hungry, they will think again.”

  “But what do we do about the fyrd?” Devlin asked.

  “Send the town criers around. Only this time they can assemble in the square outside the castle at sunset,” he decided. “And tell them that anyone who comes along will receive a double ration for their family.” He gave them a smile. “After all, there’s far less people to feed now.”

  Nobody smiled back. He could feel their tension. The feeling that they had a way to win was slipping away, although Gallagher was still insisting that Aroaril would provide an answer. They just had to trust and hope.

  “I’ll trust when I see that square full at sunset,” Brendan said.

  “You have nothing to worry about. Rosaleen and the others are out there, telling the people what they have to do,” Gallagher said confidently.

  “Order our new army to parade there as well. That will make it look more impressive,” Fallon ordered. “If they see thousands of other men, then the waverers will be more inclined to join in. I reckon there’ll be hundreds who wait and watch before coming along.”

  The others agreed but Fallon caught Bridgit’s eye and her expression said it all: they were clutching at straws.

  “Padraig, ride with me,” he said. “I will appeal to the people myself. Maybe I can bring some more out.”

  “Are you sure that is a wise decision?” Bridgit asked delicately.

  He laughed hollowly. “Probably not. But I cannot just stay here and hope. I have to fix this.”

  *

  In the end, Gallagher, the black-bearded officer Bran and a score of men came along with him, while Padraig pleaded tiredness and gave them a pair of younger wizards instead. With his voice magically enhanced, Fallon rode slowly down the streets, calling out the men he knew were hiding in the houses.

  “The forces of Zorva are at the gates. They will sacrifice your children to their foul God and hand your wife over to the Kottermanis. Then they will take you back to their desert and work you as a slave. But you can stop this. Just stand with me and you will live in freedom. Come to the square at sunset! All true men of Gaelland, you are needed now. Captain Fallon, the man who freed you from the snatchers and witches, who ended the rule of evil King Aidan, who saved you from the Kottermanis, needs you to join him!”

  He called out his little speech, or variations on it, down more streets than he cared to remember. But he never felt like the people were really responding. Once he would have drawn an adoring
crowd. Now they stayed away in their homes. A few came out to listen, but not many. Little more than a hundred lined up behind him and some of those seemed to slip away as fast as they joined. Fallon watched a man walk out, a wood axe over his shoulder, only for his hysterical wife to drag him backwards, shrieking at him.

  One man spat in the street and turned back to his house, while a handful of others jeered at Fallon out of windows.

  “Stand with me now! Swane is back, wanting to doom you to a life of darkness. But together we can destroy him!”

  A few children came out to see what was going on, only for mothers to hustle them back indoors.

  “Are you not scared for your children? It is time to fulfil your oaths and defeat the invaders, the ones that stole children and sacrificed them to Zorva!”

  “You will lead them to their deaths, Fallon, and for what?” a woman yelled at him. “Swane will feed us!”

  “He will feed you to his Dark God!” Fallon snapped back.

  But she just slammed the door shut.

  Gallagher joined him, promising Aroaril’s favor and help in the coming battle and how they would defeat evil for all time and start a new era of plenty for all. Fallon was grateful for the help but even he found Gallagher’s promises hard to believe.

  As he went on, he found himself faltering. He had visions of leading a huge crowd back to the square, the way he had done when he had defeated the snatchers and rescued the families. But he barely had a company.

  “Still, we made some of them think. They’ll come along at sunset,” Gallagher said confidently.

  Fallon ordered his men to spread out alongside the pitiful column, so the few he had found did not have second thoughts or decide to disappear down a laneway. He looked at the sinking sun and sighed.

  “Well, we shall know soon enough,” he said.

  *

  Fallon looked out at the square and saw all his hopes go up in smoke. It was his darkest dream come true. A huge army was bearing down on them and what did he have to face them with? His loyal men and little else.

  Casey, who had been trying to train the new army for him, clattered up the steps, his normally youthful face lined with worry.

  “A little over a thousand, sir,” he reported. “That is the fyrd and your new army.”

  “Including the new army? We have been feeding the bastards all winter and this is the way they repay us?” Brendan snarled.

  Fallon did not have an answer and neither did anyone else. He felt sick—a hollow feeling in his stomach.

  “What about our other men, the ones from towns like Rexford? They could march men here. These city folk don’t have the same connection to their lords the way the country has. Out there, the oath of fyrd means something. They should have answered,” Gallagher suggested.

  Bridgit was the first to break the awkward silence. “We have been talking to them all day. They are bringing back a handful, no more,” she said. “We can expect no army from there.”

  “Maybe there was not enough time, or the streets here were too crowded,” Gallagher said. “We need to tell people to come back again, at dawn. And we’ll have priests riding through the streets overnight, telling them their duty.”

  Fallon thumped the wall. This was his fault. Aidan had been right. He had doomed Gaelland with his choices. If only he had concentrated on training the men. If only he had caught Swane. If only …

  “We should just trust in Aroaril. Something will happen overnight,” Gallagher said.

  Fallon shook his head. “We’re done,” he said hollowly. “All we can do is find a way out of this mess I’ve landed us in.”

  CHAPTER 67

  Feray was less than impressed with her first sight of Baltimore when the ship rounded the shingle hook and sailed into the bay. She knew Fallon and Bridgit came from here and thought it would reflect that. It would be simple, of course, but there would be a certain nobility to it. Instead it looked like a grubby fishing village. She gripped the rail to keep herself together. Was this to be a trap or the start of new hope? She fought to keep her fears from her face. She could not alarm her children.

  Men poured out of the huts and lined the shore as the unmistakably Kottermani ship slowed to a stop, the anchors thrown out to keep it steady in the center of the small bay. She stifled a gasp of relief as she recognized some of them and her legs felt a little shaky with the release of tension.

  Feray made sure both she and her boys looked their best before they were rowed ashore, aiming for a cluster of men standing apart from the others, men who stood with the bearing of senior officers. Gokmen and Gemici sat with her, while her oarsmen were the biggest men on board the ship.

  The men on the shore watched in silence as the rowboat crunched into the beach and four burly oarsmen leapt into the water to drag it higher, so Feray and her sons could step onto dry land.

  “Welcome! Princess Feray, what brings you to Baltimore?” A slim man stepped forwards and it took Feray a few moments to recognize Abbas, her husband’s once-plump adviser and spy, captured in Berry.

  “Greetings, Abbas. I am here to bring you all back to honor and favor. Who is your commander here?”

  Abbas’s eyes flickered to a pair of men whose impressive moustaches had survived the Gaelish winter.

  “Boluk-bashi Mahir, the bravest man in the army,” Feray said, “and Corbaci Nazim, who won the battle of Berry for my husband, only for a despicable trick to snatch victory away at the last moment. I am glad to see you.”

  Nazim snapped a command and the men around him all dropped to one knee. He, Abbas and Mahir followed a heartbeat later.

  “Highness, what are you doing here? What has happened?” he asked.

  Feray looked out across the sea of bowed heads and nodded in satisfaction.

  “Is there somewhere warmer to talk?” she asked.

  *

  They were taken to the largest building in the village, still a place of low beams and a dirt floor, which smelled faintly of vomit.

  “I am sorry, High One,” Nazim apologized. “It was like this when we found it.”

  She dismissed the comment and quickly explained what had happened: how the Gaelish had secretly taken over, controlling the Emperor and installing Durzu as the leader.

  “They will sacrifice my husband and his father to Zorva and then plunge the world into darkness, unless we stop them,” she finished powerfully.

  Mahir and Nazim exchanged a look.

  “And how are we to do that, High One?” Nazim asked cautiously.

  “I have weapons in my ship’s hold. We shall march after the main army. You know the army, you know passwords and habits. And your men are former comrades of many of those men who are now serving Swane and Durzu. You can get us into the camp, where we shall free my husband. Once he is with us, we shall destroy the Gaelish Zorva-lovers and free the Emperor. You shall be hailed as heroes and rewarded.”

  Nazim said nothing. Abbas was the one to break the silence. “High One, we cannot go against the Emperor. If he gives us an order, we must obey,” he said. “And we only have your word that it is the Zorva-worshipping Gaelish behind Prince Kemal’s fall and Prince Durzu’s rise.”

  “What else could it be? You dare to doubt the Princess?” Gokmen roared, his face turning red.

  His anger had no effect on Nazim. “Abbas is right. I was only a corbaci but I know how the Empire works,” he said. “Our loss at Berry has disgraced us. If the Emperor heard of it, then I can see why Prince Kemal was removed from his position and his brother installed in his stead.”

  Feray locked eyes with him. “Do you think I would have sailed here with a small shipload of men, and with my sons, if it were that simple? All that we hold dear is at stake. I come to you, offering you the chance to regain honor and position, and you question me?”

  Nazim held his head high. “I mean no disrespect, High One. But I have kept these men alive through a Gaelish winter. If I am going to order them to die, I want it to be for the rig
ht reason. We lost the battle and our honor with it. It is up to the Emperor what to do with us.”

  Feray stood. “Come, Gokmen,” she said. “I can see I made a mistake here.” She glared at Nazim. “I shall march after them by myself. You might want to live in a world ruled by Zorva but I will fight to my last breath to stop that. And what message would you like me to give to Prince Kemal when I see him? How would you like to be remembered to him?”

  Nazim jumped to his feet.

  “High One, I meant no disrespect, I was just—”

  “If my husband was here, would you obey him without question?”

  Nazim hung his head. “Yes, High One.”

  “If he is dead, that makes his eldest son, my boy Asil, the Crown Prince and heir to the Elephant Throne. Is he as good as the Emperor for ruling on your fate?” she challenged, her voice lashing at him.

  “High One, I—”

  But she would not give him the chance to get a word in.

  “Prince Asil, what do you say?”

  Asil crossed his arms, the very picture of his father. “My father is in the hands of Zorva-worshippers. When we meet again in Aroaril’s realm, shall I tell him we had the chance to rescue him and yet we were let down by cowards?”

  The three of them stared at Asil, then glanced at each other before Mahir, Nazim and Abbas fell to their knees.

  “If our lives can free Prince Kemal and end the threat of the Zorva-worshippers, then that will be a small price to pay,” Nazim said thickly.

  “What are your orders, High One? Command and we shall obey,” Abbas added.

  Feray glanced at her son, letting him know with a look how proud she was of the part he played. They had rehearsed this many times on board the ship but he had done just what she wanted.

  “Launch every boat you have. We have to get every weapon off the ship and then decide how we are going to catch up with the Zorva-lovers.”

  *

  “We shall make slow progress for the first few days, for the men need to regain their fitness after all that time on the ships,” Durzu said. “But then we can easily make twenty miles a day on good roads.”