The only issue Pernus could foresee was the lack of grass for the horses, due to the cold weather. Snow continued to smother everything, albeit not as deep as when they had arrived. The horses would need to eat on the long trip home, so he was hopeful there would be some food stored on the premises.
Their luck continued and they found feed housed in large sacks, stacked in an empty stall. It would be nearly impossible to carry even one, unless they held it in their arms the whole way. Pernus started to swear. Fendill held his hand up to quiet him. “Don’t bloody tell me to be quiet! We have a real problem. There’s no point getting out of here if the horses starve in the first week.” Fendill shook his head and pointed to his ear. Pernus was still puzzled until Fendill pointed to the opposite end of the stables. Edmund’s captain belatedly realised his companion had heard a noise.
Swords drawn, they crept through the filth toward a small storeroom housed at the far end, opposite where they had come in. Pernus wasn’t as worried now, whoever was hiding didn’t want to found by anyone. There was still a chance Fendill had only heard vermin rummaging around. The soldier placed his ear against the door, squinting his eyes as if that would assist his hearing. He shook his head at Fendill and mouthed, “Get ready.”
He leaned across and yanked open the door. Two people crouched behind a pile of straw and brooms.
Pernus realised one of them did not have Inkran features. He recognised the young man as one of his newest recruits, a seventeen-year-old boy whose noble father had insisted he learn the soldiering trade with the king’s best. He had been under Pernus’s instruction for the past year, and showed promise. He was cooped up with what appeared to be a young Inkran girl. Pernus wanted lots of answers, fast.
“Chisholm.” The lad automatically stood at attention and saluted his Captain.
“Sir.”
“What is going on here? Why are you hiding in a cupboard with a young lady?” Pernus hoped he wouldn’t get the obvious answer, although the other answer he’d been suspecting for some time would be a hell of a lot worse.
“I’m hiding from the Inkrans, sir.”
“What about the girl?”
“She is also hiding, sir.”
“Let’s start with why you are hiding, Chisholm.”
“Yes sir. The night after we arrived we were herded out into the snow.”
“All of you?”
“Yes sir. They took us quite some way from our barracks. We were lined up next to each other. One of the Inkran soldiers rode down the line, slicing us across the stomachs with his sword as he went. I’m ashamed to say I practically fainted when I saw what was happening. I started falling backwards at the instant before the sword reached me. I was fortunate that Bendle fell on top of me after he was killed. I kept still and they thought I was dead. I stayed there all night, sir.” The young recruit shuddered.
Pernus’s face grew ashen. Rage forcefully rumbled through his body, fighting with incredulity. He berated himself for being surprised; he’d had a feeling it might have come to this. They all had. He lamely shook his head. Fendill placed a hand on his shoulder. Pernus composed himself. “Is everyone dead?”
“As far as I know sir.”
What a waste. All of his elite soldiers, all of Leon’s men. So many families would never see their fathers or brothers again, and all for what? For Leon’s selfish, scheming, evil self. King Edmund would be horrified. Pernus vowed to himself there and then, that if Tusklar didn’t kill the traitorous prince, he would.
Pernus addressed the boy again. “What is she doing, hiding with you?” Chisholm looked at his friend, who now stood beside him, their arms touching. “She found me the next morning. Her mother had sent her to dig out some kind of herb from the snow. She saved me. She showed me where to hide and has been bringing me food; her name’s Karin. We’ve been teaching each other our languages.”
Pernus was relieved the lad was okay, but they would have to take Karin with them, probably against her will. Life was never simple. “Wait here a minute.” Pernus turned his back on the youngsters and took Fendill by the arm out of their hearing.
When they returned, Pernus spoke to Chisholm. “We’re on our way home. Someone has to tell King Edmund about what’s happened. Saddle up two horses; Karin is coming with us.” Chisholm smiled and explained it, as best he could, to Karin. She also smiled and replied in a mix of broken Veresian and Inkran. Chisholm translated to his captain. “Karin says she knows where she can get a donkey to carry food for the horses.” They had obviously overheard the men’s earlier conversation.
“How far away is this donkey?”
“She says it will take her about five minutes to run there.”
“Tell her I’ll be going too. If she attempts to compromise our situation I won’t hesitate to kill her. I can’t afford to have her raise the alarm. You stay here with Fendill and prepare the horses.”
“Yes, sir.” Chisholm awkwardly explained the situation to Karin; he appeared to dislike Pernus’ comments as much as she did. She nodded in understanding.
Fendill and the young man got to work with the horses. The realmist was mechanical in his approach to the task. His dislike of animals extended to horses. As far as he was concerned they were beasts of burden. Care need only be taken so they could do their job properly. The young soldier, on the other hand, spoke gently to the horse he had chosen. He caressed her as he worked, reassuring her the whole time.
When Fendill had finished saddling Karin’s horse, he moved to the front of the barn and kept a look-out. The courtyard was eerily quiet in the snowy evening. The piercing alarm of earlier had ceased its ear-numbing squeals. If the alarms weren’t to signal their escape, the only other reason he could think of was that Inkra’s security had been compromised by another source. Had Suklar been attacked, or murdered, the Veresian Prince having successfully carried out his task for the princess? Leon should have been drowned at birth.
It wasn’t long before Pernus returned with the girl and the promised donkey. Fendill rushed inside to collect the bags of feed. Chisholm had found two sturdy ropes, which came in handy attaching the bundles to the animal. King Edmund’s captain addressed the group. “There’s no use hiding ourselves. It seems something has happened in the castle. We’re going to take the quickest route out of here, which is through the main street. Unless we come across any soldiers, we shouldn’t have any trouble. The general population seems to be passive, but be ready to defend yourselves just in case.” Pernus handed Chisholm a dagger. “Sorry lad, that’s the only spare weapon I’ve got.”
“Excuse me sir. Does Fendill have a dagger for Karin?”
Pernus contemplated the situation. She was only a slender girl. If she attempted to attack any of them, he could kill her easily. “Fendill, give her your dagger. Get it back tonight.” Fendill did as instructed.
Pernus guided them out of the stables. They mounted. The soldier felt safer seated on the filly’s familiar back. Only last night he had doubted he would ever see her again. “Fendill, you ride at the rear. Let me know if someone starts chasing us, and make sure our new recruits don’t wander off. Move out.” Pernus coaxed his horse into a trot. He gradually nudged her to increase speed until he felt they had the balance between speed and what was safe on the slippery street.
As Pernus suspected, the populace barely looked at them. The sound of horses could mean King Suklar’s soldiers, and no one wanted to be noticed by one of those. Pernus looked back at his party. He noticed Karin rode well, which surprised him. Fendill, riding at the rear, was nervously darting his head around. Pernus was also tense. His legs gripped the horse too tightly and his calloused hands squeezed the reigns until his knuckles were white.
Realisation hit Pernus and he swore at himself for his own stupidity. He yelled at everyone behind him. “I’m going to stop for a minute. Keep heading for the gates and I’ll catch up.”
Using his Captain’s authoritative voice ensured he would not be questioned. He slowed h
is horse, letting the others carry on past him. He rode to what looked like a tailor’s shop, ready-made items of clothing in the window. Telling his horse to stay there, he entered the shop. The man behind the counter was short, as were most Inkrans. His balding head reluctantly rose until their eyes met. There was a small amount of relief when the Inkran realised Pernus was not one of Suklar’s men.
“I know you can’t understand me but I need some coats, four to be exact. I don’t have any money either, so I’m afraid I’m just going to have to take them. I’m terribly sorry to do this to you.” Pernus made his way over to the other side of the counter, looming over the terrified shopkeeper. The man made no move to stop him as he went to a back room and pilfered four thick winter coats. “Don’t suppose you’ve got any gloves. Oh well, never mind.” He politely thanked the man as he left.
Pernus couldn’t believe his luck when he realised the glove shop was only three doors down. The process was fairly similar to the last shop—no resistance. He appeared with eight sets of gloves. It was always good to have a spare set for when your other ones got too wet. He had to risk finding blankets as well. There was no point escaping this god-forsaken city if they were going to freeze to death on the first night. By the time Pernus found the blanket shop, his heart was pounding. His instincts told him he should have been riding hard for the city gates.
His relief was short-lived as he left the blanket shop, arms full. He was mounting his horse when a low, morose-sounding bell began to toll. Keepers rushed out of their shops, people out of their hovels. Everyone turned to face the castle. As one, they fell to their knees, bending at the waist to place heads and hands in the snow. Pernus wondered if this were some strange ritual executed on a regular basis, another way to punish the already downtrodden population. He rode toward the gates, slowed considerably whilst trying to hold onto his stash and avoiding prone worshippers.
He could see the gates in the not-so-far distance. Nearing his objective, he saw his companions’ three horses stopped, waiting in the snow. Anger fuelled by frustration bubbled in his veins. “Those bloody fools. I told them not to wait for me. They’re going to wish they were never born when I’m finished with them.”
On moving closer, he noticed only Fendill was seated atop his mount. By the time he reached them it was apparent Karin had joined the meditating Inkrans on the ground. Chisholm was crouched next to her, pleading with her to get up.
Pernus swung down from his horse, hands full. “Help me here Fendill.”
Fendill dismounted and took his share of the booty from his friend. Pernus gave Chisholm his and Karin’s things. “What’s up with her?”
“The bell that tolled was for the king. He’s dead. She mourns with her people.”
“Well she’ll have to finish later. Pick her up and put her in the saddle yourself if you have to.”
“Yes sir.”
Chisholm put his coat and gloves on first, placing everything else on his saddle. He tried coaxing his friend one more time. She remained unresponsive. He apologized as he easily lifted her still body from the ground, but she fought him as he attempted to lift her onto her horse. Once she was in the saddle her brown eyes stared angrily at him, tears streaming down her face. The sorrow Chisholm saw there was unexpected. He could not understand how a person, so badly treated by their ruler, could be this upset when they died. He would have thought it would bring relief. He handed her the coat and gloves, ordering that she put them on. She obeyed, whilst her grief continued to wash down her brown skin.
Pernus and Fendill had remounted. “Keep an eye on her, Chisholm, make sure she’s okay. Suklar’s death, may he rest in peace, has bought us some time. Let’s not waste it.” He turned his horse, continuing toward the gate, that only a day before he and Fendill had considered insurmountable. Once out of the gates, the cobbled road turned to snow and dirt. He increased the pace as the feeling of being hunted overcame him. He prayed to the gods they would make it out alive. Edmund had to be warned. Life wouldn’t be worth living if Leon got his hands on Veresia.
***
Back at the castle, Leon luxuriated with his wife-to-be in a large tub of hot water. Long-dead rose petals floated on its surface, dried the summer before and saved for such an occasion. He closed his eyes and relived the moment his dagger had sunk between Suklar’s shoulder blades. There was some resistance; the feeling of the heart being ruptured had filtered through the handle so that Leon knew the moment the monarch was past the point of no return. He remembered looking at his beloved’s face. Her eyes were bright with rapture. She had seen the look of complete surprise her father had exhibited when he realised he had been stabbed. She had laughed at his comical expression, his mouth in a perfect ‘O’.
Leon had stood proud, drinking in her admiration. He could not hear the voice in her head cackling, adding to her joy. He did not realise she had just decided she would keep him alive, at least until the wedding. The voice had told her it should be so. Leon smeared Suklar’s blood across his own forehead in an instant of pure animalism. He was caught in the moment, the warm, sticky liquid adding to his pleasure, and remnants of the blood now mixed with the water in which they bathed.
Life was good. It would soon get better. Leon recalled that Fendill and Pernus had not been there to witness his great deed. He would go to their room later and tell them what he had achieved. Then he would kill them. He would enjoy killing Pernus more than Fendill, of course. Tusklar interrupted his musing by demanding a cuddle, which led to a kiss, which led to a well-deserved passionate celebration.
The following morning, Leon confidently walked the hallways, two of Tusklar’s guards as protective escorts. There would still be those loyal to King Suklar skulking around until they were weeded out. There was no reason to take any chances. Leon reached his old rooms. How far he had come in just over a week—from foreign prince to heir of Inkra’s throne. He couldn’t help but grin. His escort opened the doors for their new leader. Prince Leon’s good mood did not last when it was clear the men weren’t there.
He turned to one of the black-clad men; they all looked the same to him. “Find them. Now!”
The man ran to do as he was ordered. Leon spoke to the other one. “Find the guards who assisted them from the dining hall last night. Make it quick.”
It was a good thing Suklar had trained some of his men to speak Veresian or Leon would have had to do things himself. Apparently Tusklar had needed people to practice with. Those few people were now assigned to Leon.
King Edmund’s brother strode around the room in an agitated state until the guards returned. “So. Out with it. Where the hell are they.”
“Gone. The guards who were with them were found dead last night.” Prince Leon understood only too well his harsh, clipped words.
“Are you daring to tell me they have escaped? Are they still in the castle at least?” Leon’s face twisted in crazy disbelief. Everything was supposed to be as he wanted it. This hiccup shouldn’t have been possible. The gods were on his side. His side!
The guard reluctantly informed Leon of the other dead guards found along the route to the entry. Leon’s red face was in danger of exploding. As he spoke, spittle flew from his lips, hitting the unfortunate guard in the face. “I want them found, even if you have to send the whole wretched army. They’ve obviously escaped into the city. Do not return until they are found. If any man sent out returns without their bodies, they will be executed. Do I make myself clear?” He was screaming at the last.
The guard was mortified, even Suklar had not been this twisted. He obeyed, quickly. “I will gather my best men. We will return as soon as we find them.”
Without waiting for a dismissal, the guard bowed low and dragged his companion away to gather some men. Leon headed for Tusklar’s rooms. He hadn’t felt this enraged for a long time. He needed to beat out his fury on someone: she would do nicely.
22
Bronwyn sat and glared at the large cat that shared her camp. It had b
een many days since she’d been forced to part with her aunt and friend, and she still hadn’t forgiven the beast who had caused it to happen.
The cat returned Bronwyn’s angry stare with a relaxed one. You’ll have to forgive me some time, young cub. We won’t be able to bond with any ill feeling between us.
“Why would I bond with you? You’re horrible and mean. You obviously have no concept of love, attachment, or affection. I’m not ready now, and I don’t know if I ever will be.” Her arms were folded protectively. She shifted around to turn her back on the beast.
The young realmist was loath to admit it, but the time she had spent with the super-sized panther had taught her many things. There were things about Talian magic, the power generated from Talia itself instead of through the Second Realm, that she had never been shown. She wondered if any of the realmists were aware of the extent to which they could utilise the forces of nature without exposing themselves to the risks of the Second Realm. The panther was a creature of Drakon, the dragon god, so had information no mere mortal could have had.
Bronwyn didn’t hear the stealthy animal as he approached her. She jumped in fright when he nudged her with his enormous, furry head. I probably shouldn’t tell you this because you’ve been so rude, but your aunt is okay. Bronwyn turned to face the panther.
“What about my friend, Corrille?”
The screeching one? I’m not sure. Her symbol has disappeared. Bronwyn digested the implications for a moment. Her back tensed as she wondered if her friend was being shielded or dead.
There’s no point worrying about it now. We’ll eventually find out one way or another what’s become of her.
“Easy for you to say.” Bronwyn could feel the heat in her cheeks as she asked the next question. “Um, I’ve just realised I don’t know your name. Do you have a name?”
Shadows of the Realm (The Circle of Talia) Page 26
