King's Artesan: Artesans of Albia trilogy (Artesans Series Book 3)

by Cas Peace

  Parren spat, making as much noise as possible. “Couldn’t you have alerted us sooner, Tamsen? You must have known they were coming.”

  “Not in time, I didn’t.” Robin threw the other man a sour look, galled to have to admit this in front of him. “We knew nothing of Sonten’s extra troops, or that he had already sent them through the Veils. We only rescued Bull and Taran yesterday. We thought we were on his heels and that he’d have trouble crossing the Veils. It seems we were wrong.”

  Parren straightened from his slouch. “Well, he’s out-thought you properly for sure. We’ll be hard pressed to budge him before he gets what he wants. Even then, he has enough men to keep us occupied while he slips away.”

  “We’ll have to make counter plans if he tries,” said Robin. “Commander Vanyr and Ky-shan here can take their men and go after him if necessary. They know their own lands best. The rest of us will hold as many of them as we can and do our best to make sure they don’t escape.”

  Parren’s flat gaze roved insultingly over the Andaryans. “And how can we trust that these … demons … will do as you say? What’s to stop them from turning on us in the dark?”

  “They won’t turn on us, Parren, because they’re friends. I’d trust any of them before I’d trust you, that’s for sure!”

  Vanyr’s hand had dropped to his sword hilt, and Ky-shan’s expression was bleak.

  Parren went white and he even drew a short length of steel before the looming figures of Ky-shan and Vanyr forced him to snap it back home. He glared at them with clear hostility. Ignoring him, trying to stay calm, Robin turned back to Baily. “How many men do you think Sonten has?”

  Baily shrugged. “About two hundred and fifty, I reckon. I have no idea how many are in the village itself, but if the numbers in the cordon are anything to go by, he must have at least that.”

  Robin stared at him, dismayed. His own command numbered eighty, and the other two units would have about the same. Equal odds were not what he had hoped for. Yet he could hardly expect Blaine to release any more men. It would leave the Manor dangerously low on defenses. He had to make do with what he had.

  “Intelligence,” he muttered, ignoring Parren’s insulting snort, “that’s what we need here.” He turned to Ky-shan. “What are the chances of one of your men getting inside Sonten’s cordon?”

  Ky-shan’s pale blue eyes gleamed in the lamplight. “I can call for volunteers, Skip. Do you want me to do it now?”

  Robin nodded. “It has to be tonight if we’re going to do it. Sonten might already have men digging out that Staff and I don’t want to gift him more time than I have to. The darkness will hide our man and make it easier for him to move about unrecognized.” He turned to include Vanyr, Parren, and Baily. “What we’ll need is a distraction along the cordon, just enough to let someone slip through. Although how he’ll get out again is anyone’s guess.”

  Ky-shan grinned. “Don’t worry about that, Skip. I think I know just the man. Let me see if I can persuade him.”

  As the seaman left the barn, Vanyr moved a step closer to Robin. Parren glared at them both and kept his hand on his sword hilt. Robin’s heart fell, hoping the sour young captain wasn’t going to jeopardize his plans. Parren had no loyalty to Sullyan—just the opposite, in fact—and now that Robin knew the significance of the Staff he wouldn’t bet against Parren trying to sabotage their efforts to regain it.

  Ky-shan soon returned, bringing with him a small, wiry man. Brown and weathered as all the pirates were, he had a thin, pointed nose and chin, and his tiny bright eyes were pale brown. Robin recognized him. His name was Zolt, and he had been an enthusiastic harrier of Rykan’s forces. His face bore a mischievous grin, and he seemed more than willing to carry out Robin’s plan. “What do you want to know once I’m in, Skip?” he asked.

  Robin briefly outlined his main objectives.

  “If possible, I want to know what’s happened to Cal and where he’s being held.” He ticked the items off his fingers. “Then I need to know if Sonten has identified the Staff’s position, and whether he’s doing anything about recovering it. Next, I want to know what’s happened to the villagers and whether any of them have been harmed. And lastly, a more accurate assessment of Sonten’s numbers and how they’re distributed within the village.”

  “Is that all?” Zolt grinned. “That won’t take me long.”

  “Just be careful,” warned Robin. “Without this knowledge our hands are tied. We need you in and out as soon as you can manage it.”

  The little man grinned again. “This is right up my rope, Skip. Don’t worry.”

  Ky-shan clapped his man on the back. “He used to be a wharf rat,” he said to Robin.

  The term meant nothing to Robin, who had never seen a commercial port.

  Ky-shan elaborated. “Wharf rat is what the port authorities call those who make their living by liberating items from the cargoes of merchant ships. They climb the hawsers by night, break into the holds, collect a store of goods, and then slip out again before anyone knows they’ve been. Very good at it, they are, if they live to be Zolt’s age.”

  Parren leaned forward. “Oh, a common little thief,” he sneered. He jumped backward as the wickedly sharp knife which had materialized in Zolt’s hand was jammed against his belly, poised to slide home. He didn’t even have time to grasp his sword hilt. He turned white with shock, and swore.

  Zolt hissed into his face. “Less of the common, if you don’t mind, my scarred friend.”

  Beads of sweat appeared on Parren’s brow and he muttered a grudging apology. The little seaman stepped back and the knife disappeared. Robin shot Parren a look of disgust before turning to Zolt once more.

  “We’ll create a diversion by attacking part of the cordon. That should give you the chance to slip past. Once you’re inside, though, getting out again will be your own problem.”

  “I’ll be fine, Skip,” said Zolt, throwing Parren a menacing look before leaving to make his preparations.

  Robin turned to the other two captains. “Can we expect your help with the diversion?”

  Baily nodded instantly, but Parren held Robin’s eyes longer than he would have liked. “Who put you in charge?” he demanded.

  Vanyr stiffened, but Baily moved quickly. “We’re here to achieve the same end, aren’t we? What does it matter who makes the decisions?”

  Parren stared at him coldly, then shrugged. Too low for Baily to hear, he muttered, “Oh, it matters.”

  Robin wisely decided to let it drop.

  The Captain briefed his men and gave them their orders. This might be a diversionary tactic, but it would also serve to test just how well organized and determined Sonten’s defenses were. Baily and Parren had already failed to make an impression on the cordon in the short time they had been here, but if the Albians could account for some of Sonten’s men in this feint it would increase their chances when the main assault began.

  Moving silently, Robin joined the line of crossbowmen facing the outer houses of the village. Vanyr and Ky-shan—neither of whom were skilled with the weapon—looked on. The plan was for the bowmen to punch a hole in the cordon, which the swordsmen would then try to keep open just long enough for Zolt to slip through. Then they would retreat. Robin wasn’t prepared to risk too many men in the darkness.

  Once he was happy with their positions, Robin gave the order to pick targets. The men in Sonten’s cordon were spread around the perimeter of the village, using outbuildings and sheds as cover, and Robin had instructed his bowmen to approach as stealthily as possible before loosing their bolts. So far, no alarm had been raised. The swordsmen were crouched behind the bowmen, weapons drawn, ready to move in once the bows discharged. Zolt was hiding somewhere in the darkness, wrapped in a dark cloak and armed only with his wicked knife. He had refused any other weapons, saying that if his knife was not sufficient then he would deserve whatever he got. Respecting his confidence, Robin did not argue.

  From behind a large tree, R
obin took careful aim at his chosen target. The man was half-hidden by the shed he was using as cover. Robin had spotted him when he moved a fraction, possibly easing cramped muscles. Robin could just draw a bead on his head.

  Vanyr’s voice came softly over Robin’s shoulder. “You’ll never hit him at that angle.”

  His voice tight with concentration, Robin said, “Would you care to make a wager, Torman?” He let off a bolt that sped straight and true, killing the man instantly and pinning him to the side of the shed. He heard other crossbows discharging, followed by the grunts and cries of wounded men. The alarm was raised and Sonten’s men began shooting back, but they aimed blindly because Robin had yet to release the swordsmen.

  He rewound his bow, taking the bolt held out to him by an impressed Vanyr. “Where the Void did you learn to shoot like that?” the Commander murmured.

  Dexter, crouched on the other side of the tree, heard him and chuckled. “Our Captain’s the best shot in the King’s forces.”

  Robin smiled grimly and took aim on another of Sonten’s men, who had left himself exposed while searching for a target of his own. He never stood a chance.

  After that, the opportunity for clear shots was over. Robin released his swordsmen and Sonten’s defenders rushed toward them. The clash of steel and the cries of men sounded louder than normal in the darkness. Robin and Vanyr fought side by side, the Commander grunting hard with each stroke. Dexter fought on their right, his strokes rarely missing their target.

  Despite their skill, it soon became clear that the defenders were too well entrenched for the Albian forces to make any real headway. They fell back on Robin’s signal and regrouped, none of them having seen Zolt get through. Dexter thought he had seen a man on the roof of an outhouse, but couldn’t be sure if it was Zolt or one of Sonten’s men. Robin shrugged. He could only hope the man would return safely with his report.

  He took stock of injuries and losses. They had got off lightly due to the surprise of their attack, and there were only minor wounds. The crossbows, however, had accounted for a good ten of Sonten’s men, which was heartening. To prevent the besiegers from resting, Robin gave the order for the bowmen to continue shooting sporadically during the night. Then he retired to the barn.

  Baily and Parren were already there. Vanyr, Ky-shan, Almid, and Kester followed Robin in. The two giants, much to Robin’s surprise, stationed themselves on either side of him as he sat on a campstool, and Parren regarded them sourly, looking them up and down. “What’s this, Tamsen?” he sneered. “Bodyguards?”

  Robin smiled. “No, Parren, just loyal friends. Not virtues you have much experience of, are they, loyalty and friendship?”

  Parren’s expression hardened and he stared hungrily at Robin. He forbore to comment, but his demeanor promised retribution. Robin didn’t dwell on it. He had more pressing matters to worry over. Once they had eaten and the camp settled for the night, he turned in.

  *****

  Dexter’s hand on his shoulder woke him just before dawn. The barn was quiet, the others still asleep. Robin roused and followed Dexter at the Sergeant’s beckon. A figure wrapped in a cloak was waiting for him outside, the little man’s grin clearly visible in the predawn gloom.

  “Zolt,” exclaimed Robin softly, “I didn’t expect you back so soon. Any luck?”

  The small man nodded. “Told you it wouldn’t take me long, Skip. Yes, I got your information.”

  “Come and tell me what you learned,” said Robin, keen to hear the news and form a plan before Parren got wind of it. He guided Zolt over to the edge of the camp, Dexter following. “Right, let’s have it. You obviously didn’t have any trouble from Sonten’s men.”

  The little man spat dismissively. “It was easy as stealing. Managed to slip past them and move about freely. I know how to be inconspicuous when I want. From what I could tell, pretty much all the villagers are being held in a large building to the west. It’s a tavern. None of them have been harmed, as far as I could tell. Some of their jailors are a little worse for drink, but not enough to incapacitate them. I doubt they’ve paid for their grog, though, and your tavern keeper’s none too happy! Your mate Cal isn’t with them. He and Sonten, along with about five guards, are holed up in a small cottage near where the two streets cross. It’s in a right state. There’s rubble all over the deck and it looks like someone’s been digging up the floor.”

  Robin frowned. Had Sonten already found the Staff? “Do you think the rubble’s fresh, or does it look like it’s been there for weeks?”

  “Dunno.” Zolt shrugged. “There’s plaster dust everywhere. Could be fresh, could be old. Dust is dust.”

  “I suppose so. Alright, what else did you learn? I take it Cal’s still alive?”

  “He’s alive. I saw him through the window. He’s in a bad way, though. Broken arm at least, and he’s been beaten and burned. I reckon Sonten’s not finished with him yet either, because one of the guards was giving him water. He’s safe enough for now.”

  Robin forced down his concern for Cal. He could not afford the distraction. “What about their numbers?”

  The little man replied after a moment’s hesitation. ‘‘I reckon two-fifty’s about right, Skip. I couldn’t see any more concealed anywhere. Most of Sonten’s strength’s in the cordon. There’re only a few score inside the village as guards. My guess is that the villagers’ good behavior is surety for Cal’s life, and they’re mindful of that. But they didn’t look like they were cowed or frightened, so I don’t think they’d hesitate to fight back if they thought it would do any good.”

  Robin pondered this before realizing he had to tell the others. Much as he hated to admit it, Parren was right. Blaine had not put anyone in overall charge, and he, Baily, and Parren were all the same rank. Without their cooperation he couldn’t command them, and he needed their cooperation if the village was to be saved. Taking Zolt back inside the barn, he woke the others and told them the news.

  Parren was unimpressed by Zolt’s suggestion that the villagers would support them from the inside. “I think we ought to wait for this Sonten to dig up what he wants and let him leave the village,” he said. “That way he’s done all the hard work, none of the villagers are endangered, and we can engage him out in the fields.”

  Cautious as always, Baily shook his head. “Don’t forget he has equal numbers. It wouldn’t be an easy fight, out in the open with no cover.”

  “And there’s no guarantee he’ll leave the villagers unharmed,” added Robin. “He’s bound to kill Cal, at least, and I wouldn’t put it past him to fire the houses as a diversion. Even kill the lot of them as revenge for Rykan’s death.”

  Parren glared at him. “That was your doing, Tamsen, not ours. It has nothing to do with Albia.”

  “He’s made it Albia’s business by invading Hyecombe,” Robin shot back.

  “And anyway,” said Baily, “since when have we let demons run roughshod over our countryside without giving them a taste of our steel?” He flushed, suddenly remembering there were five armed demons in the barn with him. He glanced hastily at them. “Begging your pardon, of course.”

  Vanyr showed his teeth and Ky-shan glowered.

  Robin sighed. He couldn’t afford to let them argue. “Gentlemen, all this bickering is getting us nowhere. General Blaine’s orders are that we do whatever we can to prevent Sonten from escaping with the Staff, and to rescue Cal. Protecting the villagers is a given, but we mustn’t let Sonten leave. Are you two going to help me or not?”

  “Of course we are,” said Baily. He glared pointedly at Parren.

  The sallow captain didn’t take his empty eyes from Robin’s face. “Oh yes, of course. Can’t leave the Queen of Darkness in trouble, can we?”

  Robin reacted immediately, but Vanyr was quicker. The Andaryan loomed over Parren, his lithe form hovering dangerously, his hand on his sword hilt. “Are you referring to Major Sullyan?”

  Parren was unfazed by Vanyr’s menace and spat back at him, “Wh
at’s it to you? You another witch-lover, are you?”

  Vanyr’s white eyes narrowed. “How dare you? She’s a friend, and a good one. If I hear any more insults from your mouth, I’ll stop it for good.”

  Parren snarled, surging forward with his sword half-drawn. “I’d like to see you try!”

  Dismayed, Robin stepped between them. Almid and Kester moved swiftly to either side of Parren, ready to take his arms if necessary. Glowering at them, recognizing his peril, Parren spat on the ground by Vanyr’s feet. His sword slid home.

  Robin stared at both of them, trying to keep his tone level. “Gentlemen, please! Surely we have more important concerns right now than arguing and insulting each other? There’ll be time enough for settling personal scores once we’ve accomplished our task.” He turned to Vanyr. “Commander, may I remind you of the reason we’re here? The Major is relying on us. Let’s keep our minds on that.”

  Vanyr backed off slowly, his eyes still fixed on Parren. “Very well, Captain. But once we’re done here, I intend to have an accounting for his insults.”

  “My pleasure.” Parren spat again. “If you live long enough.”

  The tension in the barn subsided as they made their plans. The dawn light brought confirmation that their night raid, coupled with the sporadic attacks that had continued through the dark hours, had caused Sonten to tighten his cordon. He had fired some of the outlying buildings, presumably to prevent them being used by the Albians, and had withdrawn farther into the village. The smoke gave the Albians some cover, but also meant it was harder to see Sonten’s men.

  Robin, his memories of the village from his brief acquaintance with Paulus, Hyecombe’s Elder and tavern keeper, having been refreshed by Zolt, drew its layout in the dust for the others to see. “There’s one central street,” he said, “running east to west, like this. The tavern where the villagers are being held is at the western end—here. There’s another lane running at a tangent to the main one. Taran’s house, where Cal and Sonten are, is here, just before that lane bisects the main one. There are houses and shops along both streets, but they’re probably deserted, if the villagers are all in the tavern as Zolt says. That means they can be used as cover by Sonten’s men, and we can’t let that happen or we’ll never flush them out.