Ghost in the Yew: Volume One of the Vesteal Series

by Blake Hausladen

  I had invited her to live with me.

  I turned and climbed back up. She had taken off my tunica and stood in the center of the room, her long naked body washed in sunlight. Her breasts were plump with large dark nipples, and I caught a whiff of cherry in the air.

  She saw me coming, and we met in a jumble of hungry ferocious lips and petting hands. We reached for my clothes at the same time, stopped at the same time, and then said at the same time, “Later?”

  We laughed so hard, I was worried it would look like I had been crying.

  “Shoo,” she urged and gave me a swat to remember her by.

  I made it at last down to my cellar and suffered the smirks of a hundred men. Everyone was there Thell, Erom, Merit, Sahin, Urs, Gern, Haton, our merchant friend Onmar freshly arrived from Alsonvale, the owners of Enhedu’s largest farms, and every master craftsman who had a stake in the harvest. The place was packed.

  “Well met, Alsman,” Thell said with a grin. “Late night?”

  “Enough of that, old man,” I replied.

  The room exploded into long, happy laughter. I blushed. Despite my being the first man awake in Enhedu for the better part of a year, this one late morning was going to haunt me for decades. All but the tiniest little piece of me was thrilled at the prospect.

  But before I got a chance to get things started, Thell slid a band of silver across the table toward me.

  “From Dia,” he said. “She meant to give it to you herself last night, but there was no interrupting that dance.”

  The room stayed mercifully silent when I picked it up. I was flushed apple red for sure. I could not stop smiling.

  I scarcely heard the details of the monstrous harvest of apples and wheat that was underway but managed to focus by the time the topic switched to delivery of it all to Alsonvale. Gern and Company was taking on the task, and Gern was as confident of their success as Onmar was of the prices he would find for apples, honey, and stone-ground flour.

  He told the room of the wildfires that had claimed half of Heneur’s wheat crop and most of Aderan’s. It was the first time the merchants and farmers had heard it. The room was distracted briefly by speculations of who was responsible for it, but we set the topic aside. All that mattered to Enhedu was that the Kaaryon had suffered back-to-back crop losses. Foodstuffs were scarce, and prices were high.

  Gern and Onmar’s men excused themselves when plans for moving the harvest were settled, and other men took their places at the table. Still others, I knew, waited their turn above. I was warmed to the day by then and got us back on schedule in quick fashion. The method for it was simple, almost brutally so, and only possible because every man there was bound to a singular effort.

  There would be a working harbor in Enhedu in three seasons. Any man who would be selling goods at our harbor came first, and they detailed all they needed to make it possible for them to supply those goods on time. Next were the craftsmen whose industries supplied those who made finished goods. After that, were those who would provide the raw materials. Anyone with needs that could not be satisfied by someone in Enhedu added the items to the docket and left the funds required to procure it.

  No one was surprised by the result. We’d planned our commerce around what could be found in Enhedu, so all that remained were things we could not do without. Not one item was perishable, and it was a feat to be sure.

  We finished late but in time for the evening meal, so hungry stomachs made the goodbyes speedy. I jumped up the stairs myself, nervous and hopeful Darmia was still above. My den was as barren as the bedroom, every item in them missing. Odd.

  I expected my storefront to be deserted due to the harvest, but found my senior clerk and his family with what looked like all of their possessions.

  His wife leapt forward to kiss my cheek. “You are too kind to give us your apartment. It is the best in town. Thank you.”

  “You have met Darmia, I take it.”

  “Indeed,” my clerk replied. “She said to let you know she would be getting your things settled in Ojesti.”

  I welcomed them inside, went to beg one of Thell’s men for one of the few remaining Fells, and raced out to my inn.

  Crossing the bridge, I was heartened to see that the first of the farmers from the north had already arrived with crops for processing. I waved a hello to Merit and the miller and continued on.

  My inn in Ojesti sat in the center of the village at the intersection of the stone road and the trail that made its way north to the orchard. The wide two-story structure was missing one wall and most of the flooring on the second level, but it was somehow suddenly a hive of activity. Darmia was inside directing traffic. Warm smells rolled out of the kitchen, and the low din of a crowd came from the dining room that adjoined the wide common room. My staff moved about her with relish as if losing their day off did not concern them.

  “You have neglected this place,” she greeted in a whisper and with a warm kiss.

  “Too many irons in the fire these days.”

  “Well, I’ve let the men working the orchard know you are open for business.”

  The feat was extraordinary, as was the size of the purse she opened for me to see. “Supplies and wages for the day paid,” she reported. “Your senior bookkeeper took down an accounting for me. He is off making sure we have enough bread to last through to the morning. Did you know he was a baker’s boy?”

  “I did not,” I said, so very pleased I let out a bit of a laugh. The purse was filled with tin pennies, but it was a profit, and one I had not thought to find. “Where have you been all my life?” I laughed.

  “Waiting for you to find me. Come, I’m starving.”

  She pulled me into the dining room and filled a bowl for me from what was left on the wide table. We joined Thell’s table, and while the simple meal soothed my angry belly, we listened to the tales of the apple farmers and their hopes that it would not be as cloudy that night. They had every intention of working straight through until the crop was in and cooling in their cellars. They had only as much time to chat as it took for them to eat, however, so the dining room emptied as fast as it had filled. We helped the staff clean up, and Darmia made sure they would be ready through the night and into the morning to feed any who came. Lanterns were lit, and the smell of rabbit stew filled the air.

  I understood the staff’s willingness then. I would not have wanted to spend a day idle when everyone else was working so hard. The extra pay had something to do with it, but the goodwill the effort would earn us from the men who populated Ojesti was no small thing, either. I threw myself into the effort.

  It was late when we made our way up to the long hallway above, and she led me toward one of the large rooms at the far end.

  “This one is above the courier’s office, so it’s sure to be the quietest,” she remarked as she opened the door. The door needed both a handle and lock, but the room was well-appointed, with everything from my apartment fit neatly into the wide room. The shutters were flung wide, and the forest below was lit by the bright moon. I was surprised to find we had a view of the orchard’s round hill. Thell’s hollering drew my eyes back down to the long procession of ponies that hurried back into the village with another load.

  She took hold of me while I enjoyed the view and said, “Marry me.”

  I’d never felt better equipped in my life. I pulled free the elegant circle of silver and slid it onto her wrist.

  She blew out the lanterns, slowly removed our clothes, and led me by the hand to our bed. We made love in the moonlight and fell asleep to the sound of Enhedu’s future.

  79

  Geart Goib

  A stinging pain woke me. I opened my eyes to see Avin. He slapped me again so hard my teeth rattled. It was morning. He moved to slap me a third time, but I rolled over and got to my feet. My muscles were only a little sore. The men around me looked wrung out. The air was beginning to pick up a chill. Autumn was well underway. It was late in the year to begin a campaign. Very l
ate.

  “Gruel line, and then we march,” Avin said.

  The words woke me more than his slapping. I spun until I spotted the heavy kettles. I took hold of Avin’s arm and marched to the front of the line. I was prepared to break arms if anyone got in our way, but the prisoners let us pass.

  I snatched a bowl and held it out. A scoop of something brown and mushy fell into it. Avin got one too, and I pulled him up the hill toward a spot where four large men sat in the dust at the top of the burned-out wheat field. I got ready to growl and smash the first man who protested, but they cleared out of our way quickly.

  I shoved the contents of my bowl into my mouth with my fingers. A convict fresh from the line crossed toward us. I got ready to steal his food, but he handed me his bowl. I had healed a gash on his leg from the careless backhand of a scythe. I did not return his hello.

  Avin hadn’t eaten yet.

  “You must eat and eat quickly,” I told him and shoveled in the second bowl.

  “What are you doing? Is all of this necessary?”

  “Yes. Be quiet now and eat. That is all you’ll get today. If you don’t finish in time, you are out of luck.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Avin,” I said, “We have been made fodder for war. Only the big ones will live through this.”

  “But we have healed these men. You see how they are treating us. There is no need for—”

  “That’s today. Tomorrow will not be the same.”

  He looked ready to say more things, but I pushed his bowl up toward his mouth. He gave in and scooped the food down.

  A Hessier rode up behind the mess line and called an end to the meal. Some hadn’t gotten any. None of them had known. I took our bowls back to the line. One man complained about not getting any food. The Hessier rammed his spear into the man’s chest. Everyone was quiet then.

  Avin almost got sick from seeing it. I stood him up by the back of his robe and pinched his nose. He yelled and his eyes watered, but the food stayed down.

  “That was not necessary.”

  “Yes, it was. You need that food,” I told him. “You will understand.”

  “How do you know all of this?”

  I pointed at the sergeants busily disassembling the mess. “I’ve had that job, Avin. You know healing. I know this. Stay quiet and stay close. Hunger is only part of what we must avoid to survive.”

  My friend looked ready to argue until he saw other prisoners strip the dead man and then fight over the bloody clothes. One man was struck with a rock, and he was stripped too.

  Avin moved closer to me and did not make another sound.

  The mess was struck quickly, and we marched north across one blackened field after another. By midday the smooth red lines of Heneur’s mountains were visible upon the horizon. It would only take us three maybe four days to be within its valleys.

  I tried to feel joy at the sight, but I no longer wished for a glimpse of Heneur like I did during my long days upon the Deyalu. My box had changed me and I was sad for it. I had loved those mountains once.

  The men collapsed that night, Avin with them. I stayed up for a time eavesdropping on the conversations of our captors. But the sergeants had no wine so were quiet. One of the Hessier prowled the perimeter. No one would try to escape that night. I went to sleep as well.

  The next day was the same. One man complained and was killed. I took his uneaten bowl and put my boot on another man to get a second for Avin. He was troubled. His morals didn’t match the act. He was smart enough, though. He put his regrets away as best he could. They’d get him killed, and he was hungry enough, at last, to understand. He ate both bowls quickly. The day ended and so did another.

  Our pace was very slow. The officers must’ve felt the same way. They lined up the sergeants behind us and called a force march. I lost count of how many men fell behind and were cut down.

  We crested a low hill of the rusty mountains early the next morning and set eyes on the town of Smargnoid, its wide green valley, and the bottom end of Opti Pass. Six days up its twisted course was the vast Heneur plateau, the city of Wilgmuth, and the place I had spent the last two years of my time in Heneur guarding a reeve and his tax collectors.

  I tried to fight off memories of that time. So many people had died. The view of the mountains helped. The red and brown folds were as breathtaking and the river valley and fields were as rich.

  Harod’s arson had not touched the place, though his army was doing its best to siege the town. The picket line around it was tight but very disorganized. Even his tent upon the next hill leaned a bit and had a hole in one side. Harod was as bad at war as he was at farming. His men looked pretty worked up that afternoon, though.

  We halted halfway down the slow slope of the hill. It did not take long for officers to ride out to meet us and for the sergeants to begin yelling.

  “Form ranks, you useless churls. Time to earn the food we feed you. Take those walls, and you can eat your fill.”

  The men were tired, nervous, and terrified. They had no idea what to do, and the sergeants became furious. Amateurs.

  “Groups of sixty, you damned-useless churls,” one yelled eventually. It didn’t help. I was amused. I almost stepped forward to tell them how to do it.

  The senior officer yelled then, “You, healers, to the rear.”

  Avin and I moved out of the group. I did not need to tell him to get his magic ready. He knew this part perhaps better than me. If we failed to heal someone important, it would be our deaths.

  The sergeants eventually wrestled the men into groups and down toward the picket line. Ladders had been made, and weapons were distributed. There was some yelling. One of the Hessier rode down into the mob. The yelling stopped. The conscript army picked up the ladders and started straight for the town. A bell rang atop the tiny keep, and the defenders hurried atop the walls. I did not see many soldiers in the mix and understood Harod’s urgency.

  “Harod got lucky. Heneur’s army is not here. He hopes to take the town before reinforcements arrive.”

  “Will he make a try for Wilgmuth?”

  “He may not have to. Smargnoid feeds Wilgmuth. Heneur will surrender when its stores run out, or they will starve.”

  The rest of the Hessier rode down behind the horde then, and the army of slaves got moving quicker. A battle cry of sorts rose from both sides. Arrows fell, and they hurt the unarmored convicts badly. But there were thousands and thousands more of us. The town would have to fight like a demon to win.

  The ladders rose, men fell. The defenders made a good fight of it. They had a captain, and he was fierce. He ran along the wall and killed any upon it. Ladders fell wherever he ran. The tall Hessier rode forward then. A few arrows were fired at him, but at that range it was too hard a shot. The captain stopped fighting, and new ladders replaced the fallen. More and more men began to make it atop the wall. The bell rang again, and the defenders fled.

  A great cheer rose from the besieging army, and they charged forward. The wall was taken, and the gates opened. Then I got a better look at the dead and was very sad. Hundreds littered the ground, and the cries of the dying filled the air. The sergeants spent some time with their spears and made it quiet again.

  Harod’s soldiers rode down and entered the town. A messenger rode forward and said something to the keep. Arrows were fired, and he rode away. All three Hessier rode forward in his place. Then there was a struggle atop the keep, and a man and a woman were thrown over the battlement.

  A whisper went through the ranks. It was the arilas and his wife.

  Harod cut the man’s head off and lifted it in his three-fingered fist. His men roared. Then he said some words, and they charged into the town to begin the looting. I wondered if the pillage would be enough to cover his debts to the chancellor.

  I was sick from it and sick by the way it had ended. Pressed by Hessier, the men inside the keep had sold their lord and lady for their lives. I turned away. The Hessier returned
, and the officers got the tired conscripts ready to move. I was glad at least that no one they thought was important had been injured. I did not want to make magic for those men. They put Avin and I back with the rest. The faces of the convicts were grim and hostile. I made fists and stared a dozen men down before they decided not to bother us.

  We marched up to the top of a hill, and a halt was called for gruel. Any who wanted were able to get seconds. Our reward for the victory. I almost felt full. Avin, though, could only manage the one. He sat on the ground and stared at the dirt. I did not know how to cheer him.

  Harod’s officers and Hessier talked for a while, argued briefly. A purse of coins was handed over. The Hessier returned to their tent, and not long after that the officers had riders moving south and east.

  “Harod is trying to find others who will pay to use us,” I said.

  “Will they succeed?” Avin asked without looking up.

  “They will.”

  80

  Colonel Leger Mertone

  The 29th of Autumn, 1195

  “Gloos is as peculiar as Merit,” Darmia said with a smile as she and I rode toward the pair the next morning to see how the processing of the wheat was progressing. They stood with a third man between the mill and the stone bridge and appeared to be staring at the mud. Each had hold of a long stick.

  Back up the stone road, Thell and the apple farmers were still at it. Sahin’s family, too, was hard at work preparing the honey and wax for the road south. Ojesti was ahead of schedule.

  Before us on the dirt road that ran north between the mill and the thresher, several hundred of Enhedu’s farmers stood quietly watching the stick-wielding trio. Behind the thresher, Gern and Company had set up camp, and they were looking on with equal interest.

  I could hear the grind of the millstones, but the monstrous wind-powered threshing machine stood idle. The morning’s strong wind pushed hard on the thresher’s eight stationary sails. The canvas snapped, and the bracings groaned. The thresher had been shutdown.