The Godseeker Duet
Page 40
“We’re not yet ready to attack Fairmont,” Nara said.
“You command the earth,” he said. “Ripped the gate right off my outpost.”
“Yes.”
“Never even heard of that before. And you are a bear. And a steelskin. Arrows bounce right off you.”
They still hurt, though. He didn’t know that. “Yes.”
“You move like a racer and have fire, too. Used it to kill the king. Right in the middle of his throne room, I hear.”
Mykel stepped forward. “She can do even more,” he said. “Far more.”
“I don’t doubt it.” He paused for a moment. “My name is Captain Ander Jahmai,” he said. “I saw the king single-handedly rout an entire barbarian army. Most amazing feat I ever witnessed. If you killed him, then I’d rather be with you than against you. And we’ve been waiting for someone to stand up against Fairmont. Others will feel the same.”
Was this man offering, right here, to lead his men against Kayna?
Another man stepped forward. He was tall, wearing the same uniform and with a thick beard. “I’m Lieutenant Martel. I’ll join. Many of us are sickened by what we’ve done. But not all will come. Many have families. You will get maybe one in three from this outpost.”
“That would be more than we have now,” Mykel said.
“How many follow you?” Jahmai asked, looking about.
“None,” Nara said. “Still willing?”
Jahmai didn’t look so sure, then gave a resigned expression and sighed. “Yes.”
“I don’t want you to follow because you fear me,” Nara said. “I won’t fight with those who will stab me in the back when they get the chance. And I won’t lead those who fight only to preserve themselves. We’re doing something bigger than that.”
“How about fighting with those who have something to atone for?” Jahmai asked. “With those who are ashamed at what they’ve done and want nothing more to do with a Queen who has no heart? That woman cares nothing for her people. We’ll fight, and we’ll fight hard. But it will be out of guilt and a fair measure of fear, at least for a while.”
She surveyed the men before her. Their faces looked tired, and they had given up easily, which didn’t say much for their ability to endure in a protracted conflict. Clearly, their spirits were broken, but she didn’t have a lot of options. “I suppose it will have to do,” Nara said. “But don’t expect sympathy. With what you’ve been part of, what you’ve inflicted on others–” She didn’t know how to describe her anger. “I’m furious. I came here fully accepting that I might destroy you all. And I’m not convinced that I still won’t.”
“That would be justice. I hope you won’t deliver it.”
“Prove yourselves useful in the conflict ahead, and I won’t have to.”
“Fair enough.”
“Where are the children you took from Dimmitt?” she asked.
“Not us. That detail came directly from Fairmont. Queen’s special decree. Very irregular. She has a sweet tooth for that backwater town, for some reason.”
“Where do you think they are?”
“The kids? Fairmont. All are taken to Fairmont. No idea what she’s doing with them.”
A long pause ensued, and Nara was in no rush to fill it. In truth, she didn’t know what to say. She looked over at Mykel, who shrugged.
“You’ll need to feed us,” Jahmai said. “And pay us. That will take money.”
“I have none,” Nara said.
“That’s okay,” he said, glancing at Martel, then back at Nara. “I know where we can find some.”
14
The Compound
Gwyn followed on horseback, trailing the soldiers and their rolling cages. When her horse showed signs of hunger, however, she unstrapped the saddle and set it to wander free. She carried no food for the animal, and it would do better on its own. A shame. If a scout or wandering patrol surprised her, it would have been nice to make a quick escape on horseback.
After a second day following them, Gwyn saw the kidnappers arrive at their destination, a fenced compound just outside of Fairmont. She could see the twin peaks of Mount Fi to the southeast and a road heading toward the capital. The tall spires of Fairmont Castle reached high above the city, as if presenting a warning to any who defied the crown.
The north gate of the compound opened, and the soldiers led the wagons into a wide staging area that was equally suitable for practicing swordsmanship and archery; dummies on posts lined the perimeter of the area. A western gate, smaller than the main one on the north side, was also visible. Recently broken ground outside the fenced area showed evidence of excavation in recent months, with piles of dirt unaffected by rainwater runoff or erosion.
Five brick buildings stood inside the high wood fences. The largest of the buildings was several stories high, positioned near the south end of the fort, with some high windows and two guards pacing on the roof. Four smaller buildings were closer to the walls. The fresh color of the bricks made it clear that the buildings were recently-built. This was a new fort.
She climbed a tall tree to get a higher viewing angle and was able to see activity near the tall brick building in the southernmost part of the compound. She was too far away to get a good look, but the soldiers might have been guiding the children inside a ground-level door of that building.
She considered the fences again. Tall, so they would be difficult to climb over, but not that sturdy. They would not repel any well-supplied invaders, but that wouldn’t be necessary this close to Fairmont, where they had plenty of resources for defense. No, these walls and buildings were hastily built, intended to keep whatever was going on inside from the citizens of the Great Land. To hide secrets.
She waited in the woods until dark; sneaking around was always better at night. She wished she could take a closer peek from a nearby hill or high trees, but there were no hills nearby—they’d carefully chosen this location to avoid easy spying into the compound. The trees were gone as well, cleared for several hundred yards on every side. She would have to cross a wide, flat area to approach the compound. Fortunately, there were still plenty of dirt piles and discarded tree stumps littering the landscape that might hide her approach.
Once the sun had set, Gwyn placed her traveling pack down near a bush. She grabbed her bow and tested her grip as she pulled back the bowstring, the pain in her forearm making her wince. That arrow may not have hit the bone, but the muscles refused to be very useful. Perhaps in the heat of battle, adrenaline would help her with this. She removed the quiver from her back. Only nine arrows left, but hopefully she wouldn’t need any of them. She tucked four arrows into leather slits inside the quiver, equidistant around the inside perimeter so they wouldn’t move about. She placed the extra arrows inside the bush for later retrieval. It wouldn’t do to have loose arrows rattling about.
She then replaced the quiver over her shoulder and sat on the edge of a fallen tree to remove her walking boots so she could extract the linings. The layer of soft leather served as insulation from cold and would be perfect for softening footfalls when sneaking around secret compounds. She used string from inside her pack to fasten a boot lining around each foot, then dropped the pack onto the ground.
She then did a noise check—at least, that’s what she liked to call it. She wiggled back and forth, hoping to find anything that jingled or rattled. The quiver was tight, the arrows secure. No noise. A strap on her back was loose, however, and she secured it with a tug. Silence must be her ally tonight.
As she made her way through the cleared area, the soft leather of her boots made almost no sound on the disturbed earth, allowing her to approach undetected. Using her own special vision, she looked for sources of life in the darkness ahead, noting three sentries on raised platforms behind the high fences and two on the roof of the tall brick building. She hoped that none of them were watchers, and spent long moments tucked behind tree stumps and dirt mounds as she got closer, each time gauging the reactions of tho
se who were glancing in her direction. If they spotted her, they’d call out, allowing a retreat long before they could pursue. But none reacted, and she got within a hundred paces of the western wall without incident.
One problem remained—getting inside. The western gate would be latched from the inside, and they would likely notice an attempt to climb unless she could create a diversion. But that would also call the sentries to attention. Stealth required patience. She would wait. It wasn’t cold. No wind stirred, and heat from the spring sun still lingered in the air.
After several hours of watching from behind a pile of dirt, she heard a noise. Horses pulling a carriage. She moved north far enough to see the carriage as it moved toward the compound along the road from Fairmont, illuminated by the northern gate’s exterior torchlight. It was a new carriage with royal markings, flanked by two mounted soldiers on each side. A sentry in a platform behind the north fence shouted something, and a latch disengaged, then the main gate opened. She looked up at the sentry platforms on the western wall—only one sentry maintained his post, facing northward, watching the carriage as it entered. Both of the sentries on the top of the building had also left their posts. Now was her chance.
Gwyn sprinted straight south as far as she dared, as quietly as possible, hoping that the noise of the carriage and the distraction it provided would cover her footfalls. Just as she passed the western gate, she turned eastward, slowing her pace so as not to alert the one remaining sentry. As she approached the wall, she slung the bow over her shoulder and reached as high as she could, jamming a fist between the rough wooden logs that made up the fence. Her forearm screamed, and she grimaced as she sought a place for her foot on the log to launch herself upward. Her other hand found its way into a hold and she alternated hand over hand, cramming her toes between the logs as she made her way toward the top of the fence, her left forearm screaming in protest. It would bleed again, but she could deal with that later.
As she reached the top, she peeked over to survey the interior of the fort. The roof of the tall brick building was still absent its sentries, but a sentry walked along the ground toward his post not thirty feet away from her.
She hung there on the outside of the wall, toes and fists crammed between the upright logs, waiting for a chance to leap over and launch herself onto the nearest small brick building. Her hands were complaining, her forearm was on fire, and even her toes were now begging for release. The sentry climbed the ladder to his post and, upon reaching the top, opened a small pack he dropped onto the platform. He turned slightly away from her, rummaged through his pack, then pulled out what looked like bread and cheese.
Gwyn took that moment to launch herself over the fence, hoping his focus on the food would cover her noise. Her feet landed on a beam that supported the vertical logs, then launched her through the air toward the nearby roof. She landed firmly and performed a forward somersault to disperse the energy of the fall. A moment later, she was on the ground, her back against the south wall of the small brick building, shadows shielding her from the torchlight.
She drew her bow, nocked an arrow, and waited for the man to call out. Nothing happened. She leaned around the side of the building to look up at the platform, but he was still busying himself with something in his pack.
She relaxed the bowstring and replaced the arrow in her quiver, then retreated to the south of the one-story building, staying close the wall to remain in shadow. The sound of a door opening in the distance drew her attention to the south end of the tall building. Two figures emerged in the near-darkness.
“Make it quick,” said a large man carrying a torch, following a smaller figure toward the southwest corner of the compound. A child. They were being kept in the tall building. So, what were the smaller buildings for?
An odor reached her nose—the smell of waste. She followed the figures as they approached an outhouse. The child opened the squeaky door and entered.
The outhouse was mounted on boards that straddled a trench alongside another trench dug in parallel. A field latrine. She’d seen them many times at hastily constructed outposts without septic systems. The latrine would be moved along periodically until they filled the trench with waste, then covered it with dirt. It served as a simple but malodorous way of managing the needs of many soldiers or, in this case, of both soldiers and children.
“Hurry,” said the man. A few moments later, the child came out of the outhouse, heading back toward the large building. The man cuffed the child on the back of the head with his palm, and she yelped in pain. “Next time, go before bedtime, you little rat.”
Gwyn hated bullies. If there was a fight, she hoped to have that one in her sights. Men like these should never have power over children, and they now had many in their clutches. Not only were Yury and his sister inside, but there were others.
Once the man and the child were inside, she maneuvered around the trenches, close to the fence, breathing through her mouth to avoid the stench. Around the south side of the building, she saw a single air intake at ground level and a door with no handle. There were no windows on the bottom story; in fact, there were few windows on the entire structure.
She glanced back and forth for guards, finding none—although a skirmish with a guard might be preferable to hanging out near that awful trench any longer. Skirting the shadows between sources of torchlight, she arrived at an air vent on the large building. It was a metal grate, firmly grouted into the brick wall, serving as ventilation, probably.
Holding there, quiet as a mouse, she heard the voices of two men. She looked to the nearby door. No exterior lock, not even a handle. It must be bolted from inside.
The children probably slumbered inside this building, but she didn't know how to free Yury or his sister. She didn’t even know what Yury’s sister looked like. Anne said to save the boy, and it was clear she’d found the right one. But now what? There would be no breaking into that brick building. She’d have to watch and find another way
Moments later, she was across the yard, up and over the wall, and across the cleared area. A few more visits and she might learn something useful. As long as she wasn’t caught.
15
Money
Nara was reluctant to take part in today’s robbery, although Jahmai had provided a simple and compelling plan.
Accustomed to light clothing and, recently, the absence of footwear, she now marched alongside a large wagon in heavy boots, along with six of their soldiers. More had wanted to come, but this wasn’t to be an all-out assault. Mykel steered four horses that pulled the wagon from the driver’s seat, with a little guidance from Jahmai, while she walked alongside in bulky chainmail that made it difficult to walk without tripping. As if to add to her discomfort, she had agreed to conduct this brazen act in the middle of the day. An illegal act. It was something she had never expected to be part of, but she didn’t know another way of raising funds for a fight against Fairmont. This plan carried the added benefit that it would strike a blow against her enemy’s resources.
The Royal Bank of Junn was a tall, lavishly built stone edifice in the center of the city, surrounded by a series of smaller buildings that made up the financial district. It was now the noon hour in the middle of the week, and bankers, brokers, salesmen, and royal officials scurried about their daily business conducting transactions, meeting clients, and arranging for taxes to be delivered to Fairmont. As they did so, none took notice of the routine passage of a wagon filled with crates as it pulled up to the dock at the bank’s rear, flanked by soldiers. Mykel pulled the reins to stop the horses.
“Ho, there,” said a guard on the dock. He wore the typical garb of a royal soldier of rank and held his hand up in greeting. “Deliveries don’t come till the afternoon—why are you early?”
General Jahmai, dressed in the captain’s regalia from his former station, walked up the steps to greet the man. “Our arrival is timely, good soldier, as we have no intention of making a delivery. We were thinking of making a w
ithdrawal.”
Just then, Mykel grabbed his staff from its hiding place at his feet and leaped more than twenty feet, landing next to the guard, staff brandished in a threatening gesture. The guard pulled his sword.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Jahmai said. “Last night, that young man took out twenty of my soldiers without breaking a sweat.” Jahmai motioned for the other guards to climb the steps to the dock platform.
“I . . . uh . . . don’t understand,” the guard said. “You’re robbing the Royal Bank of Junn?”
“Yup,” Nara answered as she climbed the stairs, armor clanking as she walked. “My sister has too much money. We will relieve her of it. What’s your name?”
“Dylan,” the guard answered, lowering his blade and stepping back from Nara as she approached within his comfort zone. He was soon backed up against a stone wall with nowhere to go, his sword arm dropping the tip of the blade to the ground.
“Dylan, you look like a smart lad,” Nara said. “We’re able to fight, having brought nine of us. But you have more—am I right?”
He looked scared. This man should have chosen a different profession. “At least a dozen on site, another forty at the garrison down the street.”
More than fifty. Maybe they should have been sneakier. Just then, she turned to see ten guards stream out the back of the bank and form up at the other end of the platform. Drat. Maybe she could scare them into submission. It would be nice to recruit a few of these. If not today, then at some later point. That would be more difficult if Mykel crushed their skulls.
Nara left Dylan and walked straight at the ten guards. She must have looked ridiculous in her sloppy, oversized chain-mail. It was difficult to walk in, and would be even harder to fight in, but it didn’t affect her magic.