by Kris A Hiatt
“You’ll hurt both me and Grandpa,” Barrar replied after wiping tears from his eyes.
Rogar wished he was younger, and stronger. He’d make that big man pay for what he was doing to the boy. Well, he’d try anyway. Rogar knew he wouldn’t stand a chance no matter his age. He just didn’t have the training to overcome such a monstrous foe. He doubted anyone did. So he just stood there silently hoping Barrar would do as he was told. Not because he was scared for his own safety, but instead it was for that of the boy.
“And whose fault will it be?”
“Mine,” Barrar whimpered.
The man was a bastard. Treating a child that way was despicable. Rogar hoped Disdane choked on his next meal. Better yet, he hoped he’d die before he got the chance to dine again.
“Good boy,” Disdane told him and pushed Barrar in front of him. “Now let’s go into town.”
“They’re simple folk. Don’t hurt them,” Rogar begged.
“As long as everyone does as I say, I won’t hurt anyone,” Disdane replied.
Rogar didn’t have much choice.
~~~
The trip to town took much longer than it normally did. At least that was the way it seemed to Rogar. But he was glad for it. In his mind it gave some folks time to get out while they could. It was foolish of him to think so, he knew that. No one had any idea of what was approaching. He just hoped Disdane was a man of his word.
“Fan out and get ready,” Disdane commanded his men.
The trained force quietly did as they were told and spread wide, forming a line that was easily as wide as the small village. Archers went even further, lining both sides of the town. The only side not lined with men was the one that led to the mines. In a matter of a few seconds, the townsfolk were trapped.
The man guarding Rogar pushed him forward to join Disdane near to the center on the line. They stood across from where the tavern stood. When Hassir was bustling with miners during its peak, The Nugget was the most popular building in the place. Miners would drink, share their stories, show off their hauls, and gamble away what they found. It was still the main attraction to those in the city, but it no longer had anywhere near the same number of people who drank within its walls. Due to the dwindling population, the building was now oddly out of place for such a small number of people. Rogar suspected Feldon would be in there, though he did have hope that he may still be out hunting.
Disdane pulled Barrar in front him. He put his left hand around the back of the boy’s neck and held him in place. “People of Hassir, come out now. Do not bring arms to bear or I will kill this boy and then kill all of you. If you want to live, come out now!” he shouted.
“Hey, what’s going on?” someone asked loudly.
Rogar thought it might be Peter’s son, Brend, but he wasn’t certain. Those that weren’t already out of their shops or home started to filter out.
“Gather together now,” Disdane yelled. “All of you.”
“They’ve nothing more than wood axes and picks for weapons,” a soldier remarked.
“They’ll still kill a man just fine,” Disdane told him.
Rogar didn’t disagree with that. Many a man had died as a result of a blow from a pick axe when the mines were prominent enough to be fought over.
“Just put down your weapons and gather around,” Disdane shouted over the murmuring townsfolk.
“Do as he says,” Rogar yelled. “He promised not to hurt anyone if we all did as he asked.”
The people looked around at each other, at Rogar, and, of course, at the armed men surrounding them. Whether it was Rogar’s words or the armed men that convinced them to put down their weapons didn’t matter. Rogar was just happy they did so.
“Barrar! Barrar!” Rogar heard Feldon scream.
Feldon broke through the line of people and longingly looked at his son.
“What do you want?” Sarl yelled out, stepping out of the crowd.
Sarl was the closest thing Hassir had to a constable. He wasn’t officially a lawman, but the people looked up to him for his experience and wisdom. He was probably the closest thing to a warrior the town had. Rogar had witnessed Sarl break up several fights over the years. The man always ended up on his feet.
“So you’re the leader?” Disdane asked.
“I suppose I am, yeah,” Sarl replied, taking a few strides toward the much larger man.
“Get your town into that building,” Disdane told him, pointing to the tavern.
The tavern was big, but Rogar wasn’t sure the whole town would fit in there.
Sarl looked to the tavern and back at Disdane. He spat on the ground. “And if we won’t?”
Disdane put his right arm in the air and waved his hand.
Arrows streaked through the air and in an instant Sarl had half dozen of them sticking out of his chest and stomach. Rogar cursed the man a fool. He was a prideful man. He didn’t stand a chance.
Children shrieked at the sight and were instantly pulled into their mother’s arms. Many men grimaced, but no one voiced any of their protests.
Sarl collapsed to the ground spitting up blood.
“Anyone else want to step forward?” Disdane asked the gathered crowd.
No one did.
“As I thought,” Disdane said quietly. Then much louder, “Get into the building. All of you.”
Hesitantly, many people began to head for the tavern. Several of Disdane’s men closed in on them, escorting them in with weapons brandished.
“What about my son?” Feldon asked, unmoving.
“Once I’m certain my men are safe from any attack, I’ll let the boy go.”
“How can I trust you?” Feldon asked.
“You can end up like him if you prefer,” Disdane replied, pointing at Sarl.
In the end, Rogar knew that Feldon didn’t have much of a choice. He had to go with the others.
Must be Feldon thought the same, because he reluctantly walked towards The Nugget.
“Father, don’t go!” Barrar pleaded.
The boy cried louder then, hitching sobs shook his body, at least the lower half. Disdane’s powerful grip held fast around the boy’s neck, preventing it from moving.
“Keep moving,” Disdane said loudly.
Once everyone was inside, those escorting the people closed the doors and leaned up against them, preventing the doors from opening. Most of the other men surrounded the building while a few began breaking apart nearby buildings, stripping boards from them.
Rogar knew right away what they were doing. They were going to barricade the door to the tavern. “You said you weren’t going to hurt anyone,” Rogar reminded the large man.
“I’m not,” Disdane replied. “I’m making sure they can’t escape.”
The men continued their work, hammering boards in place over the doors and windows.
None of this seemed right to Rogar. Even more so than being held hostage should. Why nail in boards over doors and windows if you were simply ensuring the people of the town wouldn’t retaliate against them? They were simple folk. They weren’t warriors. Even if they did attack Disdane’s forces, they’d hardly stand a chance. So why this? He had his answer a moment later when men began lighting torches. “But you said if we did as you asked then you wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“I’m not hurting anyone. The fire will.”
“You’re a lying bastard,” Rogar spat.
Disdane simply smiled.
The men tossed torches high up on the roof, took straw or other flammable materials and placed them at the foot of the building and lit them afire.
Barrar continued to cry. For the most part, his body hung from the powerful man’s grasp.
“And you,” Disdane said, turning Barrar around to face him. “Remember what I said would happen if you cried?”
Snot hung from Barrar’s nose and lips and his cheeks were soaked with tears. The boy continued his hitching sobs but did manage to answer. “You’d hurt both of us.”
/> “Exactly,” Disdane said, smiling as he placed his other hand against the side of the boy’s head.
It happened in an instant. Rogar heard Barrar’s neck snap and watched helplessly as the boy’s body fell to the ground. Sorrow and rage filled Rogar then. He didn’t think he could muster that much anger at his age, but damned if he didn’t. The monster snapped his grandson’s neck right in front of him and had a smile on his face when he did it. Old or not, Rogar wasn’t going to stand for it. He heard the screams of agony as fire licked at those within the tavern. He ignored them and balled his fists. He strode toward Disdane, aiming to knock the shit out of the man.
He didn’t make it far before searing pain erupted in his back, down by his right kidney. He felt the pain continue through into his stomach. He looked down to see the tip of a sword sticking out of his belly. He fell to the snow-covered ground, hardly feeling the collision.
“Make sure none escape,” Disdane commanded.
“There will be no survivors,” came the reply.
Rogar stared at Barrar’s body, knowing the boy deserved better. He didn’t deserve to die at the hands of a monster. He was a good boy who deserved to have a full, happy life. Beyond the boy, people were trying to break out of the burning tavern. Those that did found an arrow or a sword upon their exit.
The old man closed his eyes, shutting out the horrible sight. The grisly scene may be gone, but the screams remained. But only for a few moments more. Soon enough, those sounds drifted off with the wind and only silence remained.
Rogar was no more.
Chapter 20
“Are you nervous?” Kiril asked.
“A little,” Treace admitted. Haven stood in the distance and he wasn’t certain if he’d be welcomed home or treated as a felon. As much as he was worried about his own fate, he was more worried about how Kiril and Moff would be treated. He could live with any consequences Liernin set for him, but he didn’t want his actions to affect either of them. Regardless, Liernin needed to hear that Shamir’s forces had already taken Kilindric and may already be on their way to Haven.
“I still think you should let me go in first,” Raythien said.
Treace didn’t want to get into this discussion again. Raythien had offered before, but Treace declined. He believed that going in separately would be an admission of guilt. Granted, Treace knew the way that he had released Raythien could be considered by some as insubordination, but he still didn’t view it as a crime. Raythien was innocent. Whether or not Liernin agreed with his methods, Treace believed he had done the right thing. “We’ve talked about this already.”
“We should consider it,” Moff suggested.
“I did. And we aren’t doing it,” Treace told them, leaving no doubt how he felt. He hoped he didn’t sound too agitated, even though he was. He was cold and extremely tired. They had barely paused on their return trip. They stopped only long enough to eat and sleep for a couple of hours before pushing on. The trip normally took a week by horseback, but they had made it in three days. The horses were exhausted and with the little nourishment that was found, Treace was surprised they were still going. The horses needed food and rest. They surely had earned it.
“The longer we wait without them knowing about Shamir, the less time they have to prepare,” Kiril pointed out.
That was exactly what Treace was going to say.
“It was merely a suggestion,” Raythien said.
“Let’s go girl,” Treace said to his horse, patting her neck. “We’ll get you some food and a warm place to sleep for a change.”
The horse nickered as if it understood his words.
~~~
Treace thought the work on the protective wall surrounding Haven was going well enough. It spanned the distance from the ocean to the western part of the poorer areas of Haven. He didn’t know how much of the wall protecting the west and north sides of the city was built. The parts of the wall he could see didn’t appear to be very strong, but he supposed it would at least shield the men from arrows and prevent Shamir’s forces from simply running right into the city.
“There goes a runner,” Moff remarked with caution in his voice.
Treace looked at the newly built gate and saw the man Moff was referring to jogging up the road toward the city center. There were three remaining guards stationed there. Two were standing to the right of the wide entrance, while only one remained on the left. “They would send a runner in all situations,” Treace explained, hoping to settle Moff’s nerves. “It’s not an instant indication that we are wanted criminals.”
“The baron requests your presence, sir,” the man on the left informed him when they approached.
The men clearly recognized them and didn’t move to impede their entrance from the city, which Treace took for a good sign. Either he wasn’t in as much trouble as he feared, or Liernin was keeping the jailbreak a secret. Either way, he was relieved to not be taken into custody at first sight.
Treace dismounted his horse and motioned for the others to do the same. A familiar face rushed to take the reins of their horses. Treace realized it was the same stable boy from when he first arrived in Haven as a new member of the College. Treace thought the boy had grown at least a handful of inches since then. He was skinny, even wrapped in layers to keep out the cold, but it was the same boy. “See that they are warmed, fed, and watered well,” Treace told the boy as he dug into his coin purse. “They deserve it.”
“Yes, Wolf,” the boy said, grinning at him and holding his hand out eagerly.
Treace plopped a silver onner in the boy’s hand. Being part of the military, the stabling of the horses was free, but a tip was customary. The onner was ten times more than what he usually tipped for a single horse, but Treace wanted to make sure the horses were well cared for.
“I deserve the same,” Moff interjected. “And a bath.”
“You’ll have to wait, Moff,” Treace told him. The idea of a warm bath sounded wonderful, and the thought of good food made his mouth water. He swallowed hard and began walking. The sooner they met with Liernin, the sooner they all could eat and bathe. At least he hoped. He could very well end up in a jail cell.
~~~
Treace had finished telling his tale to Liernin, Exodin, and Drevic. He didn’t leave out a single detail, except where it came to magic. He skimmed over those parts telling Drevic he would go into more detail later. Treace especially emphasized how Raythien’s quick thinking had saved his life. Treace slowed at the part of the telling where he revealed that Kilindric was taken and all of its former inhabitants were dead. Everyone’s faces grew grim at the news. Liernin wiped away a tear and Exodin’s face grew hot. Drevic closed his eyes and began to mouth something. Treace wondered if the Archbishop was praying for those who lost their lives or if he was simply muttering to himself. It was difficult telling them that all of the soldiers stationed at the posts were dead. But informing them of the death of an entire town was heartbreaking. As difficult as it was, Treace was glad to be able to talk in full, without interruption. He knew it would be easier if he could just get it all out at once. His three travelling companions stood quietly beside him but offered not a word.
“Troubling news,” Liernin said after much consideration. “I know I should be more concerned that Shamir is knocking on my door, but I’m not. My mind is too busy thinking of how I failed to protect my charges and of all the horrendous ways my people died.”
“I’m sorry to be the one to deliver the news,” Treace offered.
“Keep it between us,” Liernin bade him. “For now.”
“The others have a right to know,” Treace argued.
“They do,” Liernin agreed. “And I hate the idea of keeping it from them, but it’s only until I decide whether or not divulging the information would be of benefit or simply weigh on their minds.”
Treace could understand where Liernin was coming from. Would the news of the slaughtering of Kilindric add grim determination and a want for revenge,
or would it put fear in the hearts of his forces? It was tough to know for sure which. Treace still believed the people had a right to know the truth, but he also understood Liernin’s hesitance in doing so.
“And as much as I hate Shamir,” Liernin said to Raythien as he walked up to the man. “And I hate him even more now, I am forced to acknowledge that I was wrong about you. I’m sorry that I misjudged you.”
“That we misjudged you,” Exodin added. “I was guilty of it myself.”
“You were merely trying to protect your people. It’s clear to me how much you care about them,” Raythien said.
Liernin nodded to Raythien and moved to stand before Treace. “And you, my young friend. It appears that I also owe you an apology.”
“It’s not needed,” Treace told him, feeling his face go flush despite his relief that he didn’t seem to be in any serious trouble.
“It is needed,” Liernin argued. “You have always followed your conscience and fought against anything that goes against what you believe to be right. In this case, I was wrong. I was scared of what Raythien might be and imprisoned him for it. It took you and our good Archbishop to make me see my error.”
Treace smiled and offered a slight bow. He didn’t see a reason to reply so he didn’t.
“Where would you like to go?” Liernin asked Raythien.
“Pardon?” Raythien replied.
“This war is not yours. I can have a ship sail you wherever you want to go. I can arrange for a wagon and supplies. Name it and it will be done. It’s the least I can do.”
“So the choice is mine then?” Raythien asked.
Treace wondered where Raythien would choose to go. He remembered hearing the man speak pleasant things about the Trident Isles. It was a large island to the east of Kadenton. It was still technically under Shamir’s control, but it was the only place Raythien talked about other than Kadenton. Treace had never been to the island, but from Raythien’s description, it seemed like a nice place to visit. Wherever he chose to go, Treace realized that he would miss him.
