by Keith Walsh
He felt some relief, knowing sanctuary lay but a few more steps away. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it but he felt like someone had been following him. He occasionally saw what he could only imagine to be a shadow fall across his path, but when he looked to the roofs he saw nothing and figured his mind and the sun played tricks on him. It doesn’t matter now any way, he thought before starting the last few steps to his destination.
Halfway through the alley Dennis saw another shadow flicker across the ground in front of him. He looked up immediately but saw nothing. His heartbeat began to quicken again and he gulped. He could feel someone watching him. So close… he thought, refocussing on the barrack gates. Another step and he felt a faint breeze against the back of his neck. He turned quickly, eyes wide, fear consuming his resolve but there was nothing. Then, out of nowhere he felt something cold press against his throat. He swallowed and a warm trickle ran down his leg as his eyes strained enough to see a dagger resting there.
“Do not move,” came a voice from behind, barely above a whisper. An instruction Dennis had no need of. He was frozen. He didn’t even dare nod a response. “Ple… please don’t kill me,” he managed to splutter through quivering lips after what felt like an age. “That is entirely up to you,” replied the voice.
“I… I don’t understand, I have no co—” Dennis fell silent as the dagger jerked violently for a moment. “I don’t want your coin you little whoreson.”
“I’m sorry, please don’t kill me.” Another warm trickle was released. “You don’t listen very well,” said the voice, easing the dagger a little. “And that worries me Dennis.”
“How do you know my—?”
“Quiet! I know all about you Dennis, you snivelling little runt. Off to gather more Watch, sneaking around back alleys instead of just baking fresh bread like you should be doing.” Dennis swallowed hard. The blade was uncomfortable and he angled his head a little to try to relieve some of the pressure, but whoever held the weapon repositioned it to press hard again. “Do you know why it worries me?” the voice asked.
“That I don’t listen?” said Dennis, genuinely confused by the question but hazarding his best guess at its meaning. “Yes,” came the response.
“No, I don’t” replied Dennis.
“Because if you do not listen to me now, and listen well, then I shall be forced to kill you.” As the words were whispered, Dennis could feel warm breath against the back of his neck and the blade at his throat pressed against his jugular. “I will listen,” he managed to say, tears forming. “Good… now go home Dennis. Back to the bakery. Bake bread and mind your own business. Never stick your nose were it does not belong again. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” replied Dennis but his thoughts were confused by how this person knew so much about him. “That’s good. I’m going to leave you now Dennis. When you no longer feel my dagger against your throat you will not turn around or it will be the last thing you ever do. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” said Dennis again. He just wanted this to be over.
“Do not betray me on these things we have discussed today Dennis or I assure you, no shadow will cross your path, no breeze shall you feel upon your neck, no whispered words will you hear. You will simply cease to exist.”
“I understand,” said Dennis.
“Say it.”
“I will simply cease to exist.”
And with that he felt a trickle of blood run down his neck as the dagger that had rested there pulled away, nicking him in the process. At that point every fibre in his being wanted to turn around to make sure his assailant was truly gone, but remembering the instruction he resisted it. Instead he rubbed at the fresh cut on his neck and eyed the blood that now smeared his fingers. It was minimal, the wound obviously superficial. He let out a sigh of relief and figuring enough time had passed but against his better judgement he finally gave into his fear and turned around.
He saw no one and his eyes focussed on the iron gates of the Watch barracks. He considered, for the briefest of moments, going to them but the words simply cease to exist echoed in his mind and instead he turned on his heels and headed for home. His body shook, his leggings were soaked and fresh tears fell from his cheeks.
***
Magnus had offered to help gather the weapons from the battle and once collected he tossed them into the back of a horse-drawn cart that a local farmer was letting the Watch use to bring their wounded back to the barracks. He paused as he recognised the dagger that had stopped one of the Watchmen from gutting him. He still had no idea where it had come from but he knew it had saved his life and figured if he held onto it, the owner might seek it and he would have the answer he looked for. His mind made up he tucked it into his belt instead of tossing it into the cart.
All of the wounded Watchmen where already on the cart, including the shackled Matt. His brothers would also be taken to the barracks for further questioning but as of right now, they were not in chains. The only one to have killed anyone was Matt, or so it appeared. Piece of shit, thought Magnus, looking over at the dejected figure of the oldest Manson brother. Beth and Lucy where both with Grott’s body, and arrangements for his removal were being discussed.
“That’s all of it,” said Magnus, moving toward Captain Markus who stood facing Dallious. The Captain turned to Magnus and his eyes were drawn to the dagger tucked in his belt. “It’s not illegal to carry such a weapon is it?” said Magnus, already knowing the answer and giving Captain Markus a sarcastic look. “Not at all,” replied Markus. “But it does suggest that you did not in fact put ‘all of the weapons’, as you claimed, onto the cart,” added Markus with a smile.
Magnus just shook his head then returned the smile before watching the Captain turn his attention back to Dallious. “There is still the matter of you and your friends not only assaulting members of the Town Watch but also of having illegal weapons in your possession,” said Captain Markus, clearly continuing whatever conversation had been taking place before Magnus had interrupted.
“I’m deeply sorry for that,” said Dallious, holding the Captain’s gaze. “I’m not really sure what came over me and once my actions had begun I didn’t see any other way of stopping them other than to win and explain myself later.”
“Well, it seems you did just that, although it is very fortunate none of my men were killed because I can assure you this conversation would be going a very different way if they had,” said Captain Markus, standing arrogantly now with hands on hips, shoulders back. “Not to be too forward Captain,” replied Dallious, “but if my intention had been to kill then we would not be having this conversation at all.” Captain Markus let out a sarcastic chuckle.
“Another bold statement my friend – although one I can believe,” said Markus, but his laughter soon dried up. In truth Dallious’ statement stung him a little. He was one of the King’s finest Captains, known amongst his peers as an extremely skilled swordsman and a man of honour. His reputation was the prime reason why he had been chosen to head up the investigation into corruption within the Watch. In addition to this was the fact he had been bested by a cripple. And his mind would not let him forget the fact he had also been the first to fall to the man who was not even a natural left-handed fighter. All of this allowed Markus to beat down his ego and respond in a more diplomatic manner than he might of.
Dallious and Magnus stood silently for the brief moment that the Captain appeared to be in thought. “Well,” said Captain Markus at last and with a flick of his eyebrows. “As much as I would like to question you further about last night’s events, the fact you were intoxicated to the point that you could not defend yourself would make for a poor witness statement and so I am happy to see you on your way.”
“You’re leaving?” said Magnus turning to Dallious, surprised by the fact he dreaded the answer. He barely knew the cripple. “Thank you Captain,” said Dallious with a nod before turning to Magnus and speaking again, “I’m afraid so,” he confirmed. Magnus
felt a pang of disappointment.
“I shouldn’t have been here at all,” continued Dallious. “I lost sight of that. A friend told me that I was needed and I have shamed their memory by my behaviour here. The events of today have awoken me and I need to get myself back on track. Although truthfully I have no idea what use I will be should I find the man I seek.
“Kalen,” said Captain Markus.
“You know him?” replied Dallious, fixing the Captain with an intense stare. He shook his head. “Not at all. It was the name you called out just before you attacked us.”
“Oh,” said Dallious, visibly relaxing a little. “You really are an observant man Captain. I think we would have made good friends you and I under different circumstances.” Captain Markus smiled. “We can part as friends Dallious. The fact we may never see each other again should not hold sway over such a choice.”
“Well said. So Capt—”
“Markus, please.”
“Very well, Markus. Friends it is,” said Dallious extending his left hand, which the Captain shook. “Friends?” said Magnus, offering his hand to Dallious as soon as he and Markus had finished shaking. Dallious looked at it for a moment then at the man who offered it and a warm smile crept over his face. “Of course,” he said, taking and shaking Magnus’ hand. “Thank you for your help Magnus. I shall not forget it.”
“No, thank you Dallious. I did not think we would ever deal with the Manson brothers.” Magnus switched his gaze to Grott’s body. Dallious followed it, and frowned. “I’m only sorry it came at such a high price,” said Magnus. “As am I,” replied Dallious, looking back at the big man now and pursing his lips.
“Speaking of the Mason brothers…” said Dallious, his attention back to Captain Markus. “Should Matt be acquitted, he is the type to seek revenge for what has happened here. And I will not be around to help should that occur.”
“Say no more Dallious,” said Markus. “The Manson brothers are done in this town. They will never again have the Watch on their side and if they come looking for trouble they will have me to deal with.” Dallious nodded then took a deep breath and savoured it for a moment, looking around, before exhaling. He felt refreshed by it, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He noticed Lucy trying to get Durok on his feet and moved to her. “Here, let me help,” he said, offering his hand to Durok who took it and clasped tightly. “Thank you,” said Lucy, somewhat coldly before moving to her husband’s left side, were she tucked her arm under his and braced.
“Strong grip,” said Dallious, ignoring Lucy’s frosty demeanour and noting Durok’s vice-like acceptance of his hand before heaving the blacksmith to his feet. “Much obliged,” said Durok rising. He tried to put weight on his bandaged leg but it immediately caused him considerable pain and with a curse he braced a little against Lucy before finding his balance. She stayed with him, keeping one arm around his back and the other across his chest.
“I guess the wound is deeper than I thought,” said Durok and Dallious guessed the man a little embarrassed at showing his pain. “Can you move it at all?” asked Dallious, looking at Durok’s leg. The big man, holding his limb above the ground, eased it back and forth a bit. It caused him to winch but it moved freely. “And the foot?” asked Dallious, glancing quickly into Durok’s eyes before looking back down.
Durok angled his foot up and down. Again the movement caused him some pain but everything flexed as expected. It looked like he had not sustained any lasting damage. “Looks good,” said Dallious before offering a warm smile. “My toes are moving to,” said Durok with a sigh of relief. “That’s great Durok,” said Dallious with a nod and smiling again.
This time the blacksmith smiled back before receiving a kiss on the cheek from Lucy, who took a moment to cast a disapproving stare at Dallious. Yes, like this is all my fault, thought Dallious recalling his instruction for the others to remain out of sight and meeting Lucy’s accusing eyes, offering a soft expression in return. He understood her being upset and although he didn’t agree with her he could take it.
“So, I overheard…” said Durok, choosing to ignore the brief exchange between his wife and Dallious. “You’re leaving us?” he continued. Dallious sighed. “Yes, I—”
“It’s okay, I heard all of what you said and I know you have a different path ahead of you.” Dallious nodded, half-smiling. “If you have time before you leave, I would like to give you something,” said the blacksmith.
“That’s really not necessary.”
“Please, it’s not just about what you have done here, it is also to do with the story you told us at breakfast. About the loss of a loved one and of your hand. I would really like to help – please,” said Durok. Dallious’ eyes met with the blacksmith’s and he could see the sincerity in them. He still had some things to sort out with Captain Markus and so he decided to agree. “Okay Durok. I’ll find my way to your shop before I leave.”
“Good!” said Durok, slapping Dallious on his upper arm. Dallious smiled then walked past the couple towards Beth who sat cradling Grott’s head on her lap, brushing her fingers gently across his face. She looked up as Dallious approached.
“I’m so sorry Beth,” said Dallious, kneeling and looking into her tear-filled eyes. She rubbed them and sniffled. “So you’re going,” she said, ignoring his apology. Dallious nodded, his eyes full of sympathy. “Grott’s dead,” she said, her body jerking as fresh tears came and she hugged his still frame to her. Dallious reached out and put his one good hand on her shoulder, squeezing ever so gently. “I know,” he said. She looked at him, then placing her hand over his she moved it to her right cheek and held it there, gently rubbing against it. Dallious let her.
“He loved me you know?” she said at last, letting Dallious’ hand fall away as she turned her head to look at Grott. “I know he did, he said as much inside the tavern earlier,” said Dallious. Beth looked to him and smiled. “I loved him too. Although in a different way.” Dallious nodded. “Take me with you,” said Beth, her voice barely above a whisper, desperation in her eyes.
Dallious looked away for a moment, unable to hold her gaze. She was young and beautiful and her eyes glistened with tears and it was too much for him. “I can’t,” he said, after some time had passed. Beth ignored him, instead she gently moved Grott’s head from her lap and stood up. Dallious followed suit and standing now he received a slap to the cheek. It took him completely by surprise but didn’t really cause him any pain and once he realised it was Beth who had slapped him he understood. “Perhaps I deserved that,” he said, “but it doesn’t change my mind.”
“You may not have been the one to kill Grott,” Beth said, her tears gone and her anger rising. “But you certainly had a part to play in it.”
“Beth—” Dallious tried to say, but Beth cut him off. “No. I don’t want to hear it. I have nothing here now because of you and all I ask is that you let me travel with you and you say no?!”
“I’m not going anywhere good Beth. And I have already lost more time in this town then I ever should have. You could barely stand a moment ago. You are in no state to travel.” Beth stared him down. “Let me worry about that. If I slow you down, simply leave me.” Dallious made a contrite face. “If you knew me better Beth, you’d know I would never do such a thing.”
“Right now I’m upset because a man who was like a father to me is dead, but make no mistake I am strong and I will not slow you down,” Beth said with conviction. “Yes,” said Dallious, his anger rising. “And look where that got you.”
“What?” she said, her eyes blazing. “Your strength almost got you killed last night,” Dallious said. Beth slapped him again and again he took it, but this time he had a look in his eyes that suggested he would not tolerate a third. “Strength without the ability to back it up is dangerous Beth,” he said, stepping to her now. She still looked at him defiantly but he could tell she was thinking about his words. “All right,” she said at last. “Then take me with you and teach me.”
Dallious shook his head and sighed.
“You’re not listen—”
“No it is you who are not listening!” said Beth, her voice sharp with anger. “I will follow you regardless of whether you let me or not.”
***
A figure appeared beside Magnus and he turned to see Shaper. “What’s going on?” the small man asked. “Dallious and Beth are having a… conversation,” said Magnus. Shaper looked at him curiously. “Why did you hesitate?”
“Well, there have been two slaps so far…” Magnus replied. “Ah. Say no more,” said Shaper and Magnus could see the little man’s eyes were drawn to his belt. “I see you found my dagger,” he said. Magnus smiled. “So it was you?” Shaper took an elaborate bow and Magnus reached to his belt to give the dagger back to its rightful owner, but it was already gone. “My thanks,” said Shaper, seeing the confusion in the big man’s eyes. Magnus just laughed. There was clearly much more to the little man then one might first consider.
“Actually,” said Magnus, his laughter subsided. “I should be thanking you. That Watchman would have gutted—” Shaper winked at him and said, “Say no more my man. I know the reason.” Magnus nodded, then added, “So what happened to you for the rest of the fight?”
“Well…” Shaper began, aware that Captain Markus stood a little too close for comfort. “Let’s just say I needed to persuade someone who was trying to cook up some trouble with the rest of the Town Watch to stick to what they should really be baking,” he finished with a wink. “Fair enough,” said Magnus pretending he had a clue what Shaper was on about.
“Is that…?” Shaper said before moving past Magnus, eyes wide as he recognised the clothes on the body lying next to Dallious and Beth but unable yet to see the face. Magnus started after him but the little man had already gone. “Shaper…” called Magnus only to receive a waved hand in return.
