“I have no idea,” the man replied, rubbing the stubble on his chin.
“Do not worry about me. I think I will take my chances. Besides, when you reach my age, you are grateful if a woman wants to share your bed, no matter what she looks like.”
“Get down,” Brin suddenly shouted, diving to the ground, pulling Sam down beside him. Everyone obeyed and seconds later a barrage of arrows sailed over their heads. One of Captain Kelly’s men was not fast enough and an arrow took him in the eye, killing him instantly. It was either an extremely lucky shot or the archer was highly skilled. A number of palm sized rocks also hit the ground, one of them striking Samson on the head, rendering him unconscious.
“How did you know?” Kelly whispered to the elf, looking around to see where the assault was coming from, while trying not to lift his head high enough to make it an easy target.
“I heard the arrows flying towards us.” Kelly stared at him in amazement. “Listen,” the elf warned before the Captain could speak. He obeyed, but could hear nothing. “A number of people are trying to creep up on us from the left.” Kelly nodded and signalled to one of his men, who quietly drew his sword, as did those who lay next to him.
“There are more to the right,” Brin warned and Kelly silently signalled the rest of his men.
“Let us get our weapons,” Tor’s voice hissed through the silence of the night. Kelly looked across at him, his face outlined by the glow of the fire. Against his better judgement, he nodded. The area they were in was renowned for bandits and he had no way of knowing how many were out there. He had already lost one man and did not want to lose any more.
Taking a knife from his belt, he cut the rope binding Brin’s wrists. All of the prisoners were untied at each rest break, but had their arms secured again once they had finished eating. Kelly then performed the same action on Sam, before throwing the knife to Tor. Once everyone was released, Tor, Patrick and Brin made their way towards the cart, keeping low and making as little noise as possible.
“We are surrounded,” Brin whispered.
“I know,” came the quiet reply.
The cart creaked as Brin climbed over the side, making the horses standing nearby whinny. Tor and Patrick held their breaths, but neither saw nor heard movement from the bandits they knew were surrounding them. Swords were passed down to them, enough for the women to arm themselves as well as the men, and Brin’s bow. When he leapt over the side of the cart, landing silently beside them, he was wearing his quiver.
“How do you do that?” Patrick asked the elf, amazed that he could be so quiet.
“Practice.” He pointed towards the darkness surrounding the camp. “I will be more effective out there than here.”
Tor nodded and handed over Kelly’s knife. “In case you run out of arrows.”
The two men crawled back to the fire and quickly distributed the weapons. Ellen refused hers, saying she would be better off defending herself with magic. Ria accepted a sword, but would only use it as a last resort. She was confident she could beat any opponent in hand to hand fighting, even if he was armed. Tor did not share her confidence, but did not argue with her.
Suddenly the air was filled with war cries and armed men ran into the camp from all directions. The sound of steel on steel rang out as swords clashed. Both Tor and Patrick found themselves facing two men apiece, as did a number of the guards. Ria extended her leg along the ground just as a bandit ran past, tripping him. She leapt to her feet and jumped onto his spine, knocking the wind out of him. If he had been a thinner man, she would probably have broken it, but his layers of fat saved him.
Before he could get his feet under him, however, Dal rushed forwards, plunging a sword through the prone man’s back. The bandit wore no armour and his thin clothing did nothing to prevent the sword from slicing through his body, piercing a lung. Ria nodded her thanks before spinning round to face another opponent, kicking him between the legs before he had chance to attack. He dropped his sword and doubled up with pain. Ria bent down to pick it up then grabbed his hair and pulled his head back, exposing his throat. In one swift movement she sliced his carotid artery before dropping the sword on the ground.
Bellak and Ellen stood with their backs to the fire, using magic to throw flames towards their attackers. While the fire they were producing was not hot enough to actually burn anything, it was an adequate defence and they were too concerned about injuring their friends to produce anything more effective. Cirren and Seth stood on either side of them, preventing the two magic users from being attacked from the side, while Modo protected their backs. Though vastly outnumbered, the Queen’s Guards and their prisoners were currently holding their own. The fight was not turning out to be the easy slaughter the bandits had been expecting.
Sam was terrified. She had never had to defend herself with a sword before and could recall nothing of what she had been taught about handling one. Somehow she managed to block what would have been a killing blow, but her arm was not strong enough to prevent her opponent’s sword from making contact with her neck, cutting it slightly. Suddenly the man attacking her fell to the ground, an arrow protruding from his throat.
“Brin,” she whispered in relief. She looked out into the darkness. She could not see him, but knew he could see her. Turning round again, she spied Dal in trouble. He was being beaten back by a tall ugly bandit with a patch over one eye. She ran up to them and slashed at the man’s legs, slicing into muscle. The unexpected attack from the rear caused the man to falter, giving Dal the opportunity to regain his footing and commence his attack. Between them they managed to bring the bandit to his knees. Dal performed the killing blow. They did not have time to congratulate themselves before they were under attack once more.
Arrows began to rain down on them, each one finding a target. Only bandits were hit, though some passed so closely to some of the defenders that they could feel the feathers touch them. The bandits were tough men, breaking the shafts and continuing to fight with the arrow heads still embedded in them whenever they were able.
Patrick, demonstrating complete disregard for his own safety, quickly disposed of his two opponents and turned around, looking for more. Damos was defending himself against three bandits and was too busy to notice a fourth approaching him from behind. “Damos, duck,” Patrick shouted. The guard instinctively obeyed the command and the sword stroke that should have taken off his head sliced the throat of another of his attackers. Patrick rushed over. It was now three against two, both of whom were seasoned fighters. Patrick smiled at the much better odds as he raised his sword, ready for the next attack. He was still smiling when the point of a sword appeared in his chest, having been pushed through from the back. He slid lifelessly to the ground.
Seth skillfully deflected a thrust before turning his blade as it descended, slashing his attacker diagonally across the chest and stomach. Tor had taught him well. The bandit was not dead, but he was definitely out of the fight. Another soon took his place.
Tor found himself having to retreat from a ferocious attack. Unable to look behind him, he did not notice the dead body until he tripped over it. He landed on his back, hard, and his sword arm came into contact with a large rock. Even the noise of fighting that filled the camp was not enough to hide from Tor’s ears the snap of the bone breaking. The sword fell from his now useless hand. A bandit loomed over him, sword raised. Time seemed to stand still for Tor as he watched it slowly descend. Sparks flew as metal struck metal, arresting the swords downward momentum. Glancing quickly to his left, Tor saw that it was one of Kelly’s men that had just saved him. He pushed himself to his feet and retrieved his sword. The intense training he had received at his father’s castle had included many hours of practice using his weaker arm. Silently thanking his instructor, he tucked his injured arm into his jacket and rejoined the fight.
Kelly found himself facing an unskilled opponent and quickly disposed of him. He glanced all around him to ascertain where the next attack would come fro
m and saw Ria on the ground, a large bandit laying on top of her with his hands round her throat. He started to make his way towards her, but was intercepted by two more of the enemy. As he disembowelled one, an arrow took the other in the chest, leaving him free to help Ria. Before he could reach her, she raised her knee up sharply between her attacker’s legs, making him release his hold on her. He rolled off her and she knelt up, took hold of his head and twisted it sharply, breaking his neck. She was breathing heavily beside the corpse by the time Kelly arrived at her side.
Both looked around to see who needed help and were pleased to find that, apart from Tor, who was in the process of pushing his sword through a bandit’s chest, nobody else was fighting. The ground was littered with dead or dying enemies and Kelly’s men inspected the bodies, checking for signs of life as well as valuables. The sound of retching could clearly be heard and Ria saw that it was Dal. “Probably the first time he has ever killed someone,” Tor explained. As she watched, Tor dragged himself over to his young cousin and started talking quietly to him. Ria could not make out any of the words, but she knew they would contain the perfect combination of instruction and sympathy. This would not be the last time Dal would find himself having to kill or be killed, so he needed to recover from this quickly.
“Why did their archer stay out of the fight?” one of the Queen’s Guards asked as they all collapsed by the fire, exhausted.
Brin heard the question as he joined them and grinned broadly. “I found him and cut his throat.” Nods of approval greeted this statement as the elf handed Kelly’s knife back to him.
“I did not realise you still had this,” he commented. “Assessment time,” he ordered. “How many dead, how many injured?”
The count did not take long. Of the prisoners, other than Patrick, only Tor had any significant injury, a fact that Cirren would not let him forget for a while. Ellen had already fixed the broken bone and declared he should regain full use of his arm within a few days. Samson was beginning to wake up and, after a quick examination, appeared to have no permanent damage, though Ellen did suggest that he continue to travel in the cart for the remainder of their journey.
Only half of the guards had survived, and few of those had only minor cuts and bruises. Three had suffered deep cuts to various parts of their bodies, but none of the wounds were life threatening and Ellen assured them she could heal them all in under an hour. One man had taken a deep slash to his stomach and his comrades were holding the two sides of the cut together, keeping his guts inside him. Ellen took one look at him and shook her head. He would not survive the night.
Kelly looked down at the knife that was still in his hand and moved towards the injured guard, but Damos blocked his path. “He is my brother. I will take care of him.” There was no emotion in the man’s voice. He took the knife out of Kelly’s hand and knelt beside the mortally injured man. He took one hand in his and looked into his dying brother’s eyes, which were filled with pain. Somehow he managed to nod. He knew he was going to die a slow painful death and Damos was there to prevent that. Without breaking eye contact, Damos moved aside his brother’s jacket and placed the tip of the knife on his chest, between two ribs. Then, with all of his strength, he pushed the knife into his brother’s body, piercing the heart. Death was instantaneous.
“He is gone,” he announced, a tear trickling unnoticed down his face. Everyone bowed their heads and said a silent prayer. This brought the total dead up to seven. With Captain Kelly’s permission, Bellak buried them, as he had the soldiers they had killed in the village.
Kelly turned towards Tor and his companions, who were all grouped together. “I would like to remind you that, except for the bow, those weapons are not yours,” he stated. Tor nodded; he had not forgotten. “However, if I have your word that you will not attempt to escape, I will allow you to keep them until we reach the capital. Any objections?”
All eyes turned towards Damos, the only one of Kelly’s men likely to disagree with his Captain’s orders.
“While it feels wrong having prisoners ride with us like free men, I will be grateful for a few more swords beside me,” he grunted. “Besides, one of you lost his life saving mine.”
Tor gave an embarrassed cough. “That is not entirely accurate.” He went on to explain Patrick’s problem with dying, or more accurately, staying dead. “We usually just tie his body to the back of a horse and wait for him to wake up.”
“Good. We can throw him in the back of the cart,” Kelly said. If the thought of dragging a dead body around with the group bothered him, he hid it well. “Now let us get out of here and search for a new place to camp for the night. The corpses of the bandits will start to smell soon and I, for one, have no desire to bury them.”
Chapter 23
It did not take long to find all of their horses, which had scattered during the fighting. None appeared to be injured so they were soon on the move again. They did not travel far before stopping for the rest of the night; just far enough to put a small hill between themselves and the dead bodies they were leaving behind.
The rest of the journey was uneventful and by the time they reached the outskirts of Tennel, Patrick was alive once more and complaining about the state of his clothes.
The previous evening plans for entering the city were discussed. As they were officially prisoners, Captain Kelly was supposed to take them directly to the jailhouse, where they would remain until an official from the palace decided what should be done with them. However, as two of the group were Princes and, more importantly, they had agreed to try to get a message to the Queen, Kelly wanted them inside the palace grounds as soon as possible. When Tor asked what the standard procedure for arresting foreign royalty was, Kelly had been forced to admit that there wasn’t one; to the best of his knowledge, it had never happened.
Earlier that morning, one of the youngest guards had been given the swiftest horse and sent on ahead, with instruction to explain the situation to the Commander of the guard. Officially he should report directly to the General, but Kelly doubted that the General’s loyalty was to his Queen, so he preferred to try to get Tor and his men into the city without the military knowing.
Tennel had no surrounding wall so the party were able to enter the city without being intercepted. The original city had a defensive wall around it but, over the centuries, the population had grown so much that shops and houses had to be built outside it. The population outside the wall outgrew the population inside to such an extent that the original city became known as Old Tennel and was often referred to as the inner city. While the palace, courthouse and the best quality inns were located within the walls of the inner city, as was all housing for the upper class, most of the actual workers and their families lived outside. Locally, the people became known as either ‘inners’ or ‘outers’, depending on where they lived and where they were born. While an ‘inner’ could lose her fortune and become an ‘outer’, an ‘outer’ could never earn the status of being an ‘inner’, no matter how rich she became or what titles were bestowed upon her. Her children, however, would be classed as ‘inners’ provided they were born after their mother set up residency inside Old Tennel. Effectively, this meant that to be an ‘inner’ you had to both be born in and live within the surrounding wall.
The main market square was in the middle of the city, next to one of the gates providing access through the wall, making it easily accessible to all classes. There were no laws about where shops should be, but those selling higher quality, and therefore higher priced, goods tended to be in the inner city.
The barracks and jailhouse, for obvious reasons, were not within the wall. Soldiers had to patrol the inner city and were responsible for the protection of the upper class, but that did not mean that the ‘inners’ wanted them living close by. The only exception to this was the Queen’s Guardhouse, where the Queen’s Guards were based. As they were supposed to provide personal protection to the ruling monarch, they needed to be close at hand and the Q
ueen’s uncle, who was slowly managing to take over the country, had yet to find a way of moving them to the outer city.
As they passed along the streets, Patrick was looking around, trying to get his bearings. “Do you mind if we take a slight detour?” he asked. “We are supposed to meet our colleagues at the Red Feather inn and I would like to leave a message for them.”
“Be my guest,” Kelly replied, indicating with his arm the side street they needed to take. While the rest waited outside, Patrick and Tor entered the inn. After a brief conversation with the owner, Tor hastily wrote messages for both Ban and Hawk, informing them they should contact Captain Kelly of the Queen’s Guards. Once the two men were mounted again, the group returned to the main road. A few moments later they ran into the young guard who had been sent on ahead.
He gave Kelly a quick salute. “I was afraid I had missed you Captain.” He sounded out of breath and his horse was panting heavily. “Orders from the Commander. You are to proceed directly to the Queen’s gate. Under no circumstances are you to attempt to enter the inner city through any other entrance.”
Kelly dismissed the guard, who made his way to the rear of the group, and explained the message to the prisoners. “This is good news. The Queen’s gate is our private entrance and leads straight to our headquarters. We will get you inside Old Tennel without having to pass any of the checkpoints.” He then glanced at the women and grimaced. “It does mean we have to take the back streets though.”
“Is that a problem?” Tor enquired.
“Not exactly.” Kelly seemed unsure on how to continue. Patrick saved him.
“Do we have to go through Red Square?” The Captain of the guard nodded.
“And this is a problem because?” Sam asked when the conversation seemed to be going no further.
“It is where the whore houses are located.”
The Maze Page 26
