The Key To The Grave (#2 The Price Of Freedom)

by Chris Northern

  And there were sounds. Sounds. Plenty of those. The dusk was alive with them, mostly from inside the walls. But also from behind me. They would hear that there were people here, but what did that mean? There were many people scattered outside the town and I could hear them just as clearly. There was nothing to distinguish us from any other group, nothing to draw their interest here.

  Tahal walked his horse slowly toward the town, following the soldiers, one of whom was pointing here and there amongst the chaotic mass of tracks.

  “Well?” The voice of Ishal sounded like it was formed by a mouth that had never known a smile.

  “They went round the town,” the soldier gestured the way Sapphire had taken our mounts. He sounded tired and impatient. There was no gain for him in catching us. Quickly I assessed the rest of them. Every face I saw looked dissatisfied and tired. I was willing to bet they hadn't drawn provisions before they chased after us. Then they would have seen the dead in the gully and known they were after dangerous prey. Briefly I wondered what had happened to my captives, but dismissed their fate as irrelevant. Later, they will have seen the charred remains of the Necromancer we had killed at Jek's village. They were, I decided, tired and hungry and demoralized. I almost wished I'd had time to set an ambush for them. Hell, I'd had time but had decided against it. My men weren't ready for that. Not yet. Twenty armed men, armored and experienced and mounted against my civilians in soldier suits. Not a good bet. Not yet.

  “They will be heading back to the army,” Tahal said. “Sumto has what he wanted.”

  “Follow,” Ishal ordered. The soldier led off, followed by the rest. Ishal rode on and Tahal trailed him.

  “If they re-join the army we've lost her for good, and no fault of mine.”

  “You haven't failed yet," Ishal told him. "Perhaps we will find them at Darklake. Orlek will hold her for us; or Duprane. You might yet reap your full reward.”

  At my side, Dannat had twitched in reaction when Duprane was named and then was suddenly still. I ignored him, straining to hear any more that might be said.

  “I want to stand at the grave. You agreed that already.”

  “That you will have. The stone you placed in my hand has bought you a place among us. You will don a black robe and stand at the grave, in time.”

  “If she is lost to us, we go north?”

  “If she is lost I will be content with what you can teach me until we can capture another.”

  “And we will go north.”

  “If she is lost.”

  If anything else was said, I didn't hear it.

  I listened to their hooves fade into the night and then waited some more while I thought about what I had heard.

  For the first time I wondered about Tahal's motives. He was of the Samant family; a family every bit as eminent and ancient as my own; it was a lot to throw away. What did he stand to gain? 'I want to stand at the grave' he'd said, and I assumed that that was the source of the necromancers' power and that that was what Tahal had come north for; though I had no idea what the grave might be. Or why he would want it when he had access to all the magic of the city. The tricks of the Necromancers were nothing by comparison. I tried to remember what he had said to me when we were held prisoner together. He had pretended to be persuaded to their cause, written letters on their behalf to try and gain support in the city but worded them with care so that they would be discounted. What else? Given them information, but again he had claimed it useless and I had no reason to doubt that. Then he had tried to escape, or so he said, and been caught and tossed into the cell where I found him. I had given him the ten carat stone that had been overlooked when I was captured. When it came time to use it he had simply left. Kerral had opened the cell, ordered Tahal to accompany him, and Tahal had done so, leaving me captive.

  “They are gone,” Tain said.

  “Wait.” I was still trying to puzzle it out. I tried to put myself in his position; everything Tahal had said made perfect sense up to the point where he had left me in the cell. I had little cause to disbelieve him. But the next time I'd encountered him he had been with Kukran Epthel, with Ishal Laharek and the Alendi warlord. Sheo, Kerral, Hettar and Lentro had also been there and I knew they were under the influence of the the last king's amulet, obedient to the will of Kukran Epthel because of the power of the amulet to reinforce submission to any who obeyed the commands of the bearer. So far as I had thought about it at all, I had assumed that Tahal was under its influence, and that that influence was broken when the amulet was destroyed. Like Sheo and Kerral and the others, his treason had been overlooked as unwilling. I had intended to beard him about leaving me in that damn cell but not made a point of doing so. And then he had assisted in the escape of Ishal Laharek, the kidnapping of Jocasta, the murder of her brother, the theft of stone. All of his own free will. Why? What could Tahal Samant, patron of the city, sole scion of the Samant family, possibly hope to gain that would be worth what he stood to lose?

  “Patron?”

  I turned to Tain and shrugged off my musings, becoming more aware of my surroundings. I had been staring into the deepening shadows of dusk, frowning into the dark and trying to see what Tahal saw, trying to think as he thought. And all I had to show for it was confusion and questions. Enough. I had more immediate issues to deal with. Tahal could wait. With any luck they would run into Meran and my centuries and be slaughtered out of hand, thus solving the problem. Right now I hoped so, as I became aware that they had just caused me one more problem. To both sides my men shuffled and whispered, their nerves and uncertainty suddenly filling my senses. No one likes to see their commander uncertain. Hesitation and confusion are not good traits in a commander. Leaders need to lead. I was losing them and now I had to gather them back, fill them with confidence in my command and get them moving.

  “That went well,” I asserted confidently, and tried to think in what way it had. “They follow a false trail away from Learneth. That's twenty less men to concern us. Twenty have already fled the town under the command of one magistrate. Another twenty will soon join us. That leaves only twenty fighting men to oppose us,” plus the rest of the town, but that was crowd control - kill and wound a few and the mob will scatter, or so I hoped. Offer them food and security and they will flock to your side, and then I wouldn't need to kill any; but that would be asking too much, “and we already outnumber them. Now,” I picked out the drovers, “we go and fetch your families to safety.”

  #

  The gutted tavern was just inside the gate. The door was ripped off its hinges and, along with benches and tables, had been used as fuel for a bonfire in the street,. It didn't bode well for the state of the stock but I had to check if the looters had been thorough. I was nearly out of booze and the thought of running dry was beginning to prey on my mind. I knew how bad the symptoms could get and didn't want to repeat the experience.

  My men had come to a halt, alternately looking at me and up the length of the three streets that were available to us. The drovers were clustered together and had moved a few paces away before coming to a halt and looking back. They were edgy. The streets were darkened. There was no one in sight right now but the sounds of violent activity came clear to our ears, drifting across the town like smoke. The tavern would wait, I decided, turning away from it.

  “You five,” I picked armored men at random, “rearguard. The rest of you to the front with me. Keep tight and pick up the pace.” I gestured one of the drovers to my side as I led off, everyone else falling into place with a minimum of fuss.

  The street we followed ran along the inside of the wall, buildings nestled tight against it; workshops and warehouses with small dwellings tucked in amongst them. Every single one had been broken into and discarded goods lay scattered in the street. If the town of Learneth had fallen to enemy action it wouldn't look much worse than this, I thought. Some buildings had been damaged by fire, but not substantially and in each case the street nearby was littered with abandoned buckets. I l
ooked up and saw why; most of the houses had thatched roofs. If a fire were allowed to take hold here there would soon be nothing left to save.

  The street ran along the wall all the way to the tower that squatted at one corner of the town; torches burned there, and figures moved on the ramparts. I imagined all four towers the same, bastions seized by groups who intended to survive the chaos; rats in a drainpipe, waiting for the rat-catcher to move on.

  The twilight had deepened, the sky to the west the sullen red of a reluctant sunset; inside the walls the streets were deeply shadowed. Twilight would imminently turn to full dark. My gaze flitted everywhere as we approached a junction half way between the gate and the tower, picking out details from the enveloping darkness. My gaze swept over bundles of cloth lying in the street, then snapped back as details jumped to the fore. A hand; a pale face. What I had almost dismissed as bundles of cloth were bodies.

  A breath of denial whispered from the throat of the drover beside me. He began to run, joined by his fellows.

  The building stood on a corner, larger than most and with a low wall hemming in a yard. The stillness emanating from the building was deafening, telling me everything I needed to know, but two of the drovers needed more and headed through the gaping maw of the doorway.

  The blood in my guts ran cold and a fierce wave of anger washed through me. Someone had killed my people. My promise of safety had been made empty. I had failed to protect them. But I would not fail to avenge them.

  With a few words and a gesture I placed Dannat and a handful of men across the street ahead of us, another line across the street that led deeper into the town, the rest facing back the way we had come. The deepening night was alive with sounds but we had seen no one yet. I didn't want to bet on that continuing.

  I picked out Dubaku from the shadowy forms and crossed to his side.

  “Dubaku, I need to know exactly what happened here.” I'd made a promise to bring their families to safety. If any survived I would still keep my promise, at least that far. And exact a price for the rest.

  The old man nodded. “I need the name of one of these two.” He kept his voice low as he pointed out the two young lads and the man who knelt between them, touching both, turning from one to the other and back again, searching over and over for a breath of life that he would never find.

  The last of the drovers was standing back from the scene, his face white but whatever he felt held in check. No, I decided. I couldn't ask. Not yet. I needed another option.

  “Come with me,” I said, and headed for the house. Dubaku trailed in my wake.

  At the threshold I drew energy and shaped it into a source of light, the blade of the sword in my hand glowing bright enough to illuminate the room, shadows leaping into existence all about. The drovers looked up from where they were working with a tinderbox. I was intruding. I felt it at once. But I had to be here. After a moment's hesitation, I stepped forward and offered them the sword, the only light source in the room. One of the men took it with silent gratitude and held it up while we took in the wreckage of their failed sanctuary. His attention drifted around the room.

  “My nephews,” he gestured to the open doorway.

  It was hard to look at his face. His eyes.

  “I have no words,” I said.

  He nodded and started for one of the doorways, his reluctance evident in the way he moved. The three of us followed. Part of me wanted to hurry. Time was passing. There were things to do. And anger made one of those things urgent.

  The doorway led into a short wide corridor. Two doorways led off the corridor. We found another body here.

  “Prestu,” the drover's voice nearly broke on the name. He stooped to kneel beside the still form and checked for signs of life despite the clear evidence that he would find none.

  I caught Dubaku's gaze and he nodded. He'd caught it. Good. I'd dreaded asking for names, especially when I'd made no effort to find out what these men were called. There hadn't been time. I hadn't thought of it. I didn't care. I should care. I watched them take a few moments to grieve for Prestu, feeling like shit and worrying that we were wasting time here, time that could be spent to some effect.

  When we left, I closed the door behind me, leaving Dubaku alone to find out what he could. The drovers didn't notice. They had other things on their minds. Other people to find.

  We searched the rest of the house. It didn't get any better.

  #

  I kicked the drover in the back of the knee. As he stumbled I stepped in and drove a rabbit punch into the back of his neck, though I hoped not to harm him too badly. I'd been ready, expecting his move. It was the screams that had overturned his reason, made him open his fool mouth and move to run forward. I sympathized, but I wasn't going to die from it. Without pause I spun and hissed at the other three, “You will be silent and make no move save at my command or you will be bound and gagged and left to wait here! Dannat,” I picked him out because right then his was the only name I could remember, “watch them like a damn hawk and don't hesitate.” A growl and some sounds of movement alerted me, so I turned back to the man I'd dropped. He was still facing away from me, on his knees and making to get to his feet. I grabbed him by the collar and pulled his head close to my chest. “Wait!” I hissed into his ear, making my grip firm. “We will free them now. It has to be planned to succeed. I know you need to act but hold it back, man! Hear me?”

  He nodded, grunted and assent, half sobbed. Words were beyond his reach. I knew why.

  “Stay by me, follow my lead,” I told him, “and then we will kill the bastards together.”

  He came to his feet as I relaxed my grip, and rubbed the back of his head with one hand. He turned his head slightly when I released him, caught my gaze and nodded assent. In his other hand he held a meat cleaver. He hadn't dropped it.

  Without another word I moved forward, seeing damn near nothing now that full night had stealthily crept over the town, sending the vultures back to their nests only to be replaced by braver scavengers. The street was deeper into the town than I wanted to go and the town was more active than I liked. Three times we had encountered small groups. The first had been a mob and I'd blooded my men on them gladly enough. The second were a small group of would-be refugees, trying to get themselves and their goods out of the town. Too burdened to run from us, they had talked and been recruited. I'd sent six men to escort them back. The third had been too small to challenge us and I'd let them go when they ran.

  Ahead of us danced shadows and light, giving tantalizing glimpses of a square in which sat a single warehouse, squat stone and flat roofed. Staying in the dark, I led my men as close as I wanted to get and stopped, turning to the drover who shadowed me. I'd been intending to ask, just to be sure, but from the grinding rage on his face as he stared at the place I knew we had it right. I picked out Dubaku in the dim light and waved him to me. He had come out of the building with three names after talking to the spirit of Prestu, names the drovers had known; names that belonging to a gang whose lair they also knew. The names had been enough to bring us here. Now I had to decide what to do and how best Dubaku could help. As he came to my side I turned my attention back where it needed to be.

  The flat-roofed building was well-lit; torches revealed two bowmen passing the time with tankards of beer while they pretended to keep watch. If they were intended as more than a deterrent they would not have torches to make them easy targets nor beer to dull their wits. Inside there was a riotous feast in progress. The noise they were making might work in our favor. Laughter and screams.

  Six women, three girls, two boys. Not the list of the dead, but the count of the living. The drovers' families. The guests.

  A big pair of doors to the front of the building was closed and doubtless barred. There were shuttered windows that looked no better means of ingress.

  “Is there another way in?” I brought my head close to the drover and kept my voice lower than needful just to remind the man of the need for stealt
h.

  “Just the door,” he hissed, glaring at it.

  Damn. I turned to Dubaku. “The door?”

  He looked and shook his head. He looked up to the roof and after a moment shook his head again.

  I followed the direction of his gaze and thought about it. The bowmen had to go.

  “Is there a way up to the roof or did they get there from inside?”

  The drover turned a look of anguish my way. I could see the pressure building in him. He knew who was screaming.

  “Just answer the damn question,” I hissed, holding his gaze.

  “Inside,” he growled.

  I couldn't hold him much longer. He'd go mad.

  I turned back to the building, looking for a route and found it in the way the building was made. The corner was staggered, bigger blocks between pavings looted from our road. The difference in the sizes of the materials would give me a grip. Maybe.

  I started unbuckling my belt, turning and moving away, deeper into the darkness, taking the drover and Dubaku with me.

  “Hold this.” I passed the sword belt to Dubaku..

  The armor came off quickly. I didn't need the weight if was going to go up that wall fast.

  “Wear this.” I pushed the chain into the arms of the drover. He was about my size and it might keep him alive.

  Taking back the sword belt, I hesitated. I didn't want it at my hip where it would be in my way as I climbed. Quickly, I stripped the sheath from the belt, tucked the weapon between my knees and buckled the belt at my waist. I felt the now familiar pressure of the magical armor it provided. I needed another belt and told Dubaku to get one. The sword slid snug through the back of my belt and I held it there, hilt jutting over my shoulder, and waited. A belt came my way out of the dark, thrust into my hands. I grabbed it and looped it over one shoulder.

  “Help me with it,” I only had one hand free.