Coyote Chronicles (The Veteran Book 1)

by Anton Le Roy

  “Vet,” whispers Gregor, as I pop some into my mouth. Tough bastard never needs any of this herbal remedy, much to my annoyance. “You hear that?”

  Aye, he’s right, coming from the route ahead, it’s the sound of fighting muffled by the thick snow and trees. We proceed cautiously, rounding a couple of corners until we come across the first body, deep slashing wounds still pumping fresh blood onto the white ground. Further moans and cries and the clash of steel. A couple of horses appear from nowhere, thundering past us as they flee into the forest. No riders. Emerging into a clearing we find further bodies all wearing Ellen colours and armour. A couple more lonely horses dash off into the shadows. Skittish, our own mounts continue on through the scene of carnage where lay five soldiers in total. I pause to look down at one who lies on his back fighting for breath through the blood bubbling at his mouth. He tries to speak to me and then there is no more movement and the eyes become dull. I look away. At the edge of the clearing the final Ellen is easily finished off by two foes welding dual swords. Victorious, both figures turn in unison to face the scene of carnage of their own making.

  Synchronised smiles suddenly appear when they spot us and they both happily wave to us. The man at their feet hasn’t even had time for a dignified death yet and I can see the puzzled look on his face before he finally croaks it as the two of them cheerfully call out, “Hello, Veteran! Hello, Gregor!”

  The Twins. What the hell are they doing here?

  “What the hell are you doing here?” is exactly what I bark, which deflates their high spirits.

  Two young girls that still carry enough puppy fat and plainness to appear as young boys, and that’s the only physical similarity to when we first met them only a few days ago. Now they dress like pros. Amongst their tatty Eiseggar issued fabrics, furs and leathers they wear a mismatch of Ellen light armour pieces, some fancier than others with flashes of gold and silver metals. On their heads, pointing upwards for the time being, are those same Ellen herald face helms, still daubed with paint. Fetishes hang from straps, belts and hair. Upon their backs two similarly styled Ellen short swords, slightly curved like small sabres, the fancy hilts under each armpit for speedy access. Those swords are things of beauty, almost delicate in their design – I wonder if they killed the Ellen officers themselves to retrieve those luxurious prizes. Massive bowie knives, one each, hang in baldrics across their chests that show little sign of filling out. Standing there in perfect symmetry they look like two kids playing dress up and pretending to be two kick arse warriors. If I hadn’t known better, witnessing it first hand, I would probably laugh. Pity those that make such a mistake. Pity those that decide to test these girls because they would be seconds away from witnessing a dance of death. Looks like these poor sods at our feet made that very mistake.

  Bright eyes and big smiles are now replaced by frowns and looks of concern. They’re confused and on the verge of panic from my reaction, one of the few times their calm and distant facade is broken. It’s funny, sometimes they talk in unison and other times they take each sentence in turn without pause, as if spoken from one hive mind.

  “They planned to ambush you.”

  “Rob you.”

  “And leave you for dead.”

  “So we snuck up on them.”

  “Before they could sneak up on you.”

  Sad faces. “You’re not pleased?”

  I didn’t expect to get a peep out of them, they barely said a word before and now they won’t shut up!

  “Aye, well obviously we are,” I concede, “I mean why are you here and not with Blackwater?”

  Looks of puzzlement.

  “We were supposed to come.”

  “Because it told us to.”

  It? “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “We wanted to help!” they stammer on the verge of confused panic.

  “Calm down, kids, it’s ok,” I soothe, “Catch your breath and mount up,” they must have horses, how else could they have beaten us here? Annoyingly they don’t really seem to need to catch their breath – looking at them you wouldn’t know that just a few days ago they were in a massive battle for half a day. I miss having that endless energy! “Follow us up the path. Don’t want to be found with these bodies by any other Ellen troops. Then we can chat some more.”

  “Still enough time to check their pockets for any valuables first though,” adds Gregor, getting down from his horse.

  Fair point.

  Leaving coin just lying around for anyone to pick up? That’s just irresponsible. And then there’s the extra bedding that we strap to our horses for later use, might as well make sure we’re as warm as possible on a cold night. A kick to the bodies so that they disappear down a slope into the dense bushes, slaps to the rumps of their remaining horses so that they scatter in panic and then the scene is clear, apart from all the blood and there ain’t nothing we can do about that. Finally mounted up we leave as best we can, winding our way up through the trees. It’s after a while, when the sun has gone altogether, that we find a good sheltered place to stop and camp. Colder up here now we’re nearer to the mountains again. At least the sky is clear of storms, although that just means everything starts to frost over. The stars though, they’re out in abundance, and I lean back against a seat made from compacted snow and extra furs to appreciate the scattering of diamond dust across a dark canvas. Such a vast quantity of shining dots up there, I wonder how far away they are. There’s one really bright one that I don’t recognise, which seems a bit strange. I think nothing more of it though.

  The Twins have eagerly helped build a fire and we sit huddled in our deep furs eating dried meats and cheeses provided by the Eiseggar helpful back at Dead Man’s. The girls are calmer now, humming a gentle tune, although they glance at me from the corners of their eyes like scolded kittens waiting for a heavy thwack on their rear.

  “They’ll think you deserted,” I chide after a while. That’s why I was pissed.

  They’re slow to respond, voices quiet at first as they speak around mouths full of food.

  “Blackwater Platoon have lots of rest days.”

  “That’s what the Captain said anyway.”

  “A holiday!” They both suddenly smile at each other.

  “Gurny called it that.”

  The smiles disappear just as quick and their faces are solemn once more.

  “The old men granted it.”

  “Just over two weeks.”

  “Enough time to sneak away.”

  “Enough time to find you.”

  “And follow you.”

  “Enough time to help you in Almaz.”

  “And enough time to return too.”

  “They won’t notice.” They look at each other and chuckle like two co-conspirators getting away with murder. Then the humour switches off and they stare at me with empty expressions. I’d shiver if it wasn’t already cold.

  Their Captain would notice though. The Capt would punch me square in the nose for allowing them to join us. Got little choice though. What else can I do? They’ll follow us anyway, I’m sure and if there is trouble in Almaz you couldn’t ask for two better fighters. To be honest I’m almost pleased with that.

  Eyes grow wide, “Don’t send us back!”

  “We made a promise!”

  “Please?”

  Gregor raises an eyebrow at me, grinning over a mouthful of cheese.

  “You do exactly what we tell you to,” I state, “We tell you to fight, we tell you to run, we tell you to shit, you do it. Right?”

  Delighted is not a good enough word to explain the expressions on their faces. “Oh thank you, Veteran!”

  “Can we go now?”

  Both me and Gregor chuckle and they chuckle too, even though they’re not sure why.

  “In the morning,” I tell them. “First thing.”

  Two nods.

  Gregor kicks out at the fire to spark it up a bit. “What are your damned names anyway? Can’t keep calling you Twin one
and Twin two.”

  They seem very pleased about revealing this. “She’s Sain.”

  “And she’s Saim.”

  “Sain and Saim,” murmurs Gregor, looking at them both intently.

  I can’t stop myself laughing at that. Stupid sod has already forgotten which one is which!

  Although, hang on, I have too…

  He gives me a wry look.

  Having finished our meal we all sit there in comfortable silence for a while.

  Until...

  The Twins say my name. “Veteran?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can we go for a shit now?”

  Chapter 13

  Almaz rests high on the side of a ridge with snow-capped mountains bordering it from behind. The battered ruins rise from the cold black rock as if born from that mighty rock. Towers and walls and bridges and gaping arches. Multiple levels of architecture slick with age old ice like they’re skeletons of a dead city. As if heightening the dramatic, sprouting from the black cliffs all around it explodes a colossal waterfall in the shape of a horseshoe with Almaz at its centre. I can imagine it once looked proud. Now it just looks damned cold. The waters are a vivid blue, almost turquoise, and so fresh and crisp that they can only be fed by a glacier somewhere further up in the Sanpelle Mountain range. They thunder far down into a broad blue lake bordered by more ice and the thick water spray drifts inland across the face of a living city. The map calls that place Haer and it marks the beginning of Ellen lands and the River Haerger, which winds off beyond Haer and down into the wooded valleys, where rises the morning sun.

  The Twins, “Looks pretty.”

  Looks pretty dangerous too.

  Our path up there latches onto an old road layered with giant stone slabs, making progress much easier over the next hour or so. The sound of horse hooves on stone continues all the way up that road and finally through the open city gate to echo amongst the empty structures. Those metal gates have long since been pulled down and stolen, probably melted and reused. Elsewhere, there are further signs of scavenging, like what we’d seen of Eiseggar, although I’ll admit I don’t know what country this place belonged to. Regardless, whoever did construct it were master designers and builders. Massive buildings rise up all around us, higher than I thought possible and filled with pillars, scrolls, statues, engravings, mosaics and reliefs of all kinds, some crumbled, dislodged and collapsed and some still intact. Numerous storeys create various walkways, bridges and doorways and even elevated squares and what were once gardens. My neck hurts after a while from all the looking up.

  All of this is made from a deeply black rock, very similar to what we saw in Loktie’s mountain. Fountains spit frozen water and, in contrast, fat trees, bushes and other vegetation have sprouted up without concern of any damage caused. Their appearance isn’t too crowded because it’s cold enough in Almaz that ice clearly covers it all in a thin coating. Icicles the size of children hang precariously overhead. Big snow drifts too. To be honest it all feels just as sad and desolate as any crappy little Eiseggar town we’ve already passed through, albeit on a larger scale of grandeur.

  If there were any visible tracks of our priests they’re now lost beneath fresh snowfall. Not knowing where to go we head towards an elevated building at the other end of the city that I can only assume was the palace. A wide main road cuts the city in two in a perfect straight line and from below the flagstones and grates and sewer grills we can hear and sometimes see the rush of water from the massive river feeding the waterfall. On the way we watch the shadows, half expecting to be ambushed by dozens of priests. What we see instead are frozen corpses by the roadside or on walkways, balconies or in doorways, very old and well preserved in large blocks of ice, as if some magical force had trapped them in a cold blast. I have a close up look at one and notice that his throat has been badly wounded. Barely decomposed, their faces resemble the people of the mountain village of Awt although these denizens are dressed in finer clothes or armour. Their presence is slightly unnerving, like we are touring a grotesque display of the macabre.

  I glance across at the Twins who still gawp up at the city in awe. “Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

  The Twins are thoughtful for a while and then both shrug perfectly as one. “We don’t know.”

  “It just… happened.”

  Blank faces momentarily regard me. “How did you learn to fight?”

  “Me?” I absently touch the sword at my side and memories of my doomed parents flitter in my mind. “Was a boy. What I wasn’t taught I picked up along the way.”

  “I was practically born into it,” interjects Gregor with a wry grin. “Where I come from you drop out your mother’s womb on your feet and ready for combat. And if you don’t fight you learn how to take a good beating instead.”

  The Twins both slip a blade out from under an armpit, twirl them in perfect symmetry and then each of them stare at their bright blade of elegant beauty. “What we do comes to us when needed.”

  “Don’t know how.”

  “And don’t know why.”

  “It’s like having a daydream.”

  “We hear music too.”

  “And so we dance.” The swords are put away in one fluid motion, perfectly timed. All of a sudden the Twins ask, “Are these people we seek bad men?”

  I lead my horse around a big pile of fallen masonry half buried with snow. The adornments are exquisite. “Aye, could say that.”

  They speak absentmindedly, as if more interested in their surroundings. “What did they do that was so bad?”

  Me, “Killed a whole bunch of people.”

  “Innocents,” adds Gregor gruffly.

  The Twins frown together. “You need them.”

  “So you can find someone else.”

  Me, “Aye, Satipo, an old friend of ours.”

  Them, “Is he bad too?”

  I ignore the expression from Gregor. “Not sure…”

  They both look me in the eye. “Then we won’t kill anyone.”

  “Unless you say so.”

  Thanks. “So, what did you mean by ‘it’ asked you to come help?”

  Two quick smiles. “Oh, it came to us.”

  “In a dream.”

  “We often dream the same dreams, don’t we?” They both nod at that.

  “And we dream lots of things.”

  “Yes,” I interrupt impatiently, “And?”

  Two simultaneous shrugs. “It told us to come find you.”

  “You needed help.”

  “Against dangerous people.”

  “We were happy.”

  “Because we’d see you both again.”

  “And we do like helping!”

  Eager to get to the point I ask, “This thing that asked you: what was it?”

  “Well, very old and grubby.”

  “Very nice too.”

  “Just like you and Gregor!”

  “We’ve never seen a talking dog before!”

  What the hell? The Coyote?

  “Have you seen it too?” they both ask innocently.

  Gregor eyes me with keen interest.

  Before I decide how to respond to that I pull on my reins at the sight of a different type of corpse ahead. This one is fresher, blood having splattered in wide arcs across the whole width of the road.

  I glance at the Twins. “Your handiwork, girls?”

  Two shaking heads. Almost bored expressions.

  “Bear attack maybe?” Gregor suggests, while dismounting.

  On closer inspection the body has been ripped in half with intestines still joining both grisly ends. The fella’s face has been torn away by claws, the jawbone in pieces and scattered about with a few teeth, other bits of bone and brain matter. The throat has been torn out and one lower leg is also missing, which the Twins spot dangling from a second storey balcony on a nearby building.

  “One hell of a bear,” I mutter, on my feet and kneeling down for a closer look.

  Gregor
joins me, “No chewing marks.”

  “So he wasn’t killed for food.” Strangely though, there’s not as much blood spilled as I would expect.

  “Vet, there, his sword on the floor.”

  “Aye, he was ready for a fight.”

  “Actually,” realises Gregor, “He was a she.”

  She was in uniform of a soldier or a guard (reds and golds) and all of a sudden I realise where I’ve seen it before. “She was one of Princess Icromm’s soldiers.” The princess who hired us in the first place to steal Loktie’s treasure.

  “What’s she doing all the way out here?”

  I don’t know, but it seems to validate my theory that Icromm is working with his Ellen uncle, even if unofficially.

  A shout from the Twins and we inspect another body, this one definitely male, all his limbs intact this time while his entire torso has been gouged out and strewn across the ground in a bloody mass of decimated organs. Again, you’d expect to see a lot more blood spilled.

  Gregor whistles in amazement, “You can see his fucking spine from the wrong side of his body!”