By Blood Betrayed (The Kingsblood Chronicles)

by Houpt, David

  This building had an intact roof, constructed of tin. The forest foliage had encroached on the building nearly completely, but hadn’t managed to collapse its roof yet. From the size of the ovens, the outer of half of which protruded from the wall, Lian could tell that it had once been a bakery.

  The external walls of one of the ovens was quite warm to the touch, though there was no evidence of the smoke that stoking such a large oven would produce. Lian motioned Snog to follow him, and peered carefully through one of the building’s windows.

  There were signs that someone had been using this building to encamp, for the place was pretty clean. The door was intact, and Lian could discern via his witchsight that there weren’t any animal droppings inside. Rats would have finished off flour stores long ago, if the original inhabitants had left any behind, so there would be nothing to attract animals.

  Of the cook, there was no sign.

  “Do we go in?” Snog asked softly, pitching his voice low rather than whispering.

  Lian took a look around, but didn’t see anyone in the surrounding buildings. “Yes,” he replied. “We’ll wait for the chef to return.”

  They opened the door carefully, Lian lifting it to reduce the sound of rusted hinges. He quickly discovered that he needn’t have bothered, however, for the hinges had been recently oiled.

  Inside, was a selection of the mysterious cook’s belongings. An old lyre lay propped against an inner wall, its wood battered yet well oiled. There was an iron pot, a pewter plate, an eating knife, and a bag, all arranged neatly in a corner.

  There was also a bundle of arrow shafts and a small sack of feathers, indicating that the owner of these items fletched his own arrows.

  Snog approached the ovens and strained upward to reach the door handle of the first cold one. He yanked it open one-handed, bringing his crossbow to bear as the door swung aside. He checked the other cold one in the same way. Both were empty.

  He swung the doors closed and used his dagger pommel to unlatch the middle oven, swinging the door aside with it. Inside were two skinned and quartered hares on a metal sheet, just reaching doneness. There was no smell of wood or coal smoke.

  “They’re going to burn if you don’t take them out,” said an amused voice from the doorway.

  Snog and Lian both whirled, leveling their crossbows at the man in the doorframe. Before they could ready their weapons, he ducked back around the corner.

  From his short glimpse, Lian had seen a middle-aged man, wearing a forest-green cloak and carrying an unstrung long bow. Gem provided more detail from her own observations. The man was also armed with a short sword and dagger, in addition to a quiver of arrows at his side. His garb beneath the cloak was brown, and he wore no obvious jewelry.

  “Snog, lower your bow,” Lian ordered. “My apologies, sir, but you startled us both.”

  I didn’t perceive him until he stepped around the corner and spoke, Gem said. He’s pretty damned quiet. That was an understatement, given the supernatural senses that Gem possessed.

  “Accepted, boy,” he said in good humor. “It was rude of me to do that, so you have my apologies as well.”

  The man stepped back around the corner, holding his unstrung bow in his right hand, hampering his ability to draw his sword. His moves were slow and calm, intended to be nonthreatening.

  Snog had lowered his bow, but left his hand on the grip and his finger on the trigger. Lian transferred his crossbow to port arms.

  “I assume that you are Saul?” Lian asked.

  The man raised his eyebrows. “Yes. You aren’t dressed like a native, young man. Do I know you from somewhere?”

  Lian shook his head. “I’ve never been to Greythorn in my life, sir. But the ogre Teg said you lived near here.”

  “How did you come to know Teg?” asked the man, narrowing his eyes slightly.

  “Snarl was shot by someone’s arrows, and I happened upon Teg hovering over the body,” Lian began, evoking a deep sigh from the man, who lowered his eyes and began to look grieved. “Oh, Snarl’s okay, sir. I pulled out the arrows and expended the last of my healing magics on the bear.”

  Technically true, Gem remarked.

  Hush, Lian said. Lest I make a slip.

  “Did you?” he said, his expression brightening considerably. “So where are Teg and Snarl now?”

  “He went to visit a manticore he knew,” Lian replied. “He had a body to dispose of.”

  “A body?” he said, shaking his head. “The rabbit’s about to burn, lad. Mind if we take it out?”

  Snog volunteered, “I’ll get it.” Retrieving one of the large paddles that hung on the wall, he salvaged the cooking rabbit. He had to strain to get leverage on the sheet, but he managed to transport the rabbit to the counter in the center of the room without dropping it. Goblins were small, but they were also very strong.

  Saul leaned up against a counter, letting the bow rest against the doorjamb. “When those cool, you’re welcome to a share. My dinner guest left the city when you arrived.”

  When it became obvious that Saul wasn’t planning to impart more information about his guest, Lian said, “My thanks, sir. It would be a shame to waste any of this.”

  Saul chuckled, saying, “Oh, there’s no danger of that, lad. There’s lots of critters out there that would gobble down such a delectable snack without complaint, I assure you.

  “Now, you seem to have me at a disadvantage,” he said, cocking his head slightly to the side.

  “My apologies again, sir,” Lian said. “I am Alan and this is Snog, formerly a scout for Death’s Hand.”

  Snog grunted a hello, sniffing at the rabbit meat.

  “You were saying something about Teg and a body?” the man prompted, pulling a stool out from under a leg well of the counter and sitting gingerly on it. It creaked alarmingly, but held his weight.

  Lian told the ranger about the goblins at the springhouse. He also spoke of the Undead knight, Sir Temvri, and the goblins of Death’s Hand that had been mining lashthirin from Whitefall.

  Saul listened intently to the entire tale, glancing sharply at Snog when the scout’s involvement was mentioned. He didn’t interrupt except to turn a knob under the oven and to place the rabbits back in during the middle of Lian’s tale.

  At the end of the account, Lian said, “Snog has accepted my pay, and that obligates me in regard to him. I hope that you understand that.”

  Saul’s eyes were dark, but he smiled and said, “Well, since you were careful to mention that he hadn’t actually been the one who defiled the spring, I will have to defer to your judgment in the matter. Your actions prevented this from becoming a problem for Ysras, and that places me somewhat in your debt.

  “I’m willing to spare the scout’s life in exchange. I think you’re unwise to trust him, but that’s between the two of you.”

  “Ysras?” asked Lian.

  “The druid,” Saul replied, extracting the rabbits from the oven once again. This time, the heat inside was lower, and the carcasses had merely been kept warm. “He’s an old friend of mine, and I’d hate to see him come to any harm.

  “We’ll have to do something about this Lyrial. I knew that he’d come to Whitefall, but not that he had designs on these lands.” The way the ranger spoke almost implied my lands to Lian.

  “You have dwelt here all your life?” asked Lian, as he accepted an offered portion of rabbit. It was slightly overdone, but tasty nonetheless. It had been rubbed with salt and some herb that Lian couldn’t identify.

  Saul nodded, biting into his hare and chewing thoughtfully. “A long time. I came to live here shortly after the sack of the castle. It leaves someone here to look after things.”

  Snog was hungrily devouring his part of the rabbit, while he kept a wary eye on the man. The knife he was using to eat the meat was the same one he’d used on his cousin.

  “How did you come to be up near Whitefall, son?” he asked. “That’s a fair journey from Yrta or even the plain.” />
  Yrta was a small village upriver from Nylla, on the southern side of the mountains. In ancient times, Yrta had been the site of a fortress which had resisted the coming of the Theocracy. Now, the hillock outside of Yrta proper, where the castle had been, was a haunted ruin, where demons were said to walk the night.

  Nylla was a fishing village, which supplied Fendar Port, the northernmost Dunshorian city, with food and other supplies. Yrta and Nylla had a long-standing friendship, to the point that the hereditary mayoral families were heavily intermarried.

  The two towns were also the only communities anywhere near Whitefall.

  Lian said, “I had been told that the area around Whitefall was a good place to find Holy Wort. A witch in Nylla hired me to find some for her.”

  Quick thinking, Gem said.

  I’d been thinking about how to answer that one, but thanks.

  Saul’s eyebrows went up. “Holy Wort? That’s common down here in Greythorn City, too. It grows in the cemetery north of the town, as well as up on the castle walls, where the shadows are deeper. You’d have been safer coming here, I think.”

  Lian shrugged. “Be that as it may, sir. The Yrtans didn’t know about the goblins, and in fact had told me that Whitefall was deserted.”

  “Still, that’s a dangerous area to be wandering alone, sword or no,” Saul said, gesturing at the well-worn blade and scabbard that Lian had laid across his legs where he sat on the floor.

  Lian said, “I didn’t mean to imply that I started out alone, sir. I lost two companions in Whitefall, though I hope to see one of them again, if he managed to escape.” His statement was technically truthful, if not precisely accurate. And the prince did find some grief over the loss of the necromancer Lord Grey, though he’d known him only a short time.

  Saul said, “Ah. My apologies. What does your missing companion look like? I know folks in the whole forest, and we can keep an eye out for him.”

  Lian smiled ruefully. “My friend would avoid contact until he finds me again. He’s strange that way.”

  Careful, lad, Gem said.

  “I’ll have to contact old Illota and see what use she’s come up with for Holy Wort,” Saul said, gnawing at a thigh bone. “As far as I knew, it wasn’t used for much of anything.”

  Lian said, “Illota? Do you mean the old witch woman?” Hell. I think he’s suspicious.

  Saul nodded. “Yes. I guess she never told you her name.”

  Lian shook his head and decided to change the subject. “Who do you think was firing on Snarl? I got the impression that Teg was known around here, at least to you.”

  Saul cocked his head thoughtfully and said, “I’d have to guess that some bandits have moved into the area, either from the pass or up from Villas. The local folk like Teg and his ursine friend because they’re always willing to take on some rampaging beast or help out in other ways.

  “I may not have shown it properly, but I’m truly grateful that you helped them. Most would have put a bolt in Teg’s back and thought he’d done the world a big favor.

  “But then, most wouldn’t have spared a skilled scout that also happened to be a goblin, so you’re obviously a cut above the rest, lad,” the ranger said approvingly.

  At that moment, a wolf let loose with a mournful howl, somewhere to the southeast. Saul nodded to himself, and got to his feet. “Your Undead friend is drawing near, I think,” he said, stringing his bow with one powerful, sure motion.

  At Lian’s look, Saul said, “Not all of my friends are human, boy. You don’t live in harmony with the land for as long as I have without picking up a little magic of your own.”

  He drew out a white-fletched arrow, which was tipped with lashthirin. “Snog, my diminutive friend, what do you know about the knight?” he asked. The others got to their feet.

  Lian said, “I’d rather you didn’t get involved with this, sir. You’ve shown us kindness and I hate to repay it with risking your life.”

  Saul chuckled. “Let me decide which fights are worth fighting, son. Temvri sounds like he’s due to be put to rest.”

  Snog nodded enthusiastically. “The man ‘ere be right, milord,” he said. “If Temvri’s chased us this far, he will nay give us up ‘til he’s dead or we be. Better we end ‘im now.

  “Ye needs an magicked weapon to ‘urt ‘im, an’ his armor’s tough beside that. I’ve never seen anyone try to enspell ‘im, but our shaman told us ‘is magics weren’t strong enough.

  “He’s a deadly bastard wi’ that sword, and I once saw him suck the life right out of a poor fool, by grasping ‘im with his gauntlets.”

  Saul grimaced. “Greater Undead. This Lyrial is more skilled than I had been led to believe by your tale. Unless he has some hold over Temvri?” he asked.

  Snog shrugged. “That’s as could be. Lyrial has a chest he keeps a couple o’ specters in, and I’m sure he’ll be keepin’ a hoard o’ other goodies in there. Me people hae’ ne’er had the gumption ta’ brave the wraiths, ya see, sir.”

  Another wolf called from the southwest, a different, almost excited howl. Saul smiled grimly. “Teg’s coming, too. He’ll get here first, but Temvri will be right behind him. I’ll tell Teg to put Snarl out of harm’s way, since the bear will be no good against the knight.”

  He indicated the weapons the two were carrying. “Any of that enspelled?” he asked. “Also, you appear to be able to see in the dark. Is that true?” He gestured around the dark bakery.

  Lian said, “I can see in the dark about as well as an elf, sir. My sword is magical, as is my dagger.” Without another word, he drew that weapon and handed it to Snog.

  Snog said, “Milord?”

  “A loan, Snog. Not a gift,” he replied, clasping the goblin on the shoulder, “unless you earn it.”

  The goblin nodded, tugging on his chin. “Kind o’ ye in any event. I’m wishin’ that it were a brace of magicked bolts, but it’s plain better than nothin’.”

  “Teg’s club is a fairly potent weapon in its own right,” Saul said, leading them out of the bakery. “It was a gift to him from the druid and his people. Where they got it, I haven’t a clue.”

  “That worthy’s giantish work, sir,” said Snog, “or I’m nae judge of weaponry.”

  Magical smiths among the giants were rare, but not unheard of. Most giants with magical talents tended to be elementalists, investing their learning in the battle magics.

  At that moment, several wolf howls rose, from a semicircle to the south. Their intonation resembled the first one, and Saul stiffened.

  “What is it?” Lian asked, extending a hand to the ranger’s arm.

  Saul said, “Temvri’s brought reinforcements. There’s several groups of both Undead and goblins moving toward the city. There’s something else, too, but I couldn’t get a clear picture.”

  Lian looked at Snog. “Would Lyrial come here?”

  Snog scratched his head. “I suppose he might, if ye’re that important to him. Did ye spoil somethin’ o’ his?”

  Lord Grey undoubtedly told him who you are, Lian, Gem said. Lyrial must want to capture you.

  Lian turned to Saul. “This has escalated beyond a single Undead, sir. We’ll be on our way.”

  Saul shook his head. “Don’t be foolish. There’ll be wraiths with them, and they’ll bring you to ground long before you get away. You’ll have a better chance with me, I assure you.”

  He led them to the west edge of the ruins, where they saw Teg and the bear approaching on the run. “Teg! Tell Snarl to go after the goblins and to leave the Undead alone!” the ranger ordered.

  “Okay!” Teg said, smiling with a little confusion. “What goblins? I sees only Snog.”

  The ranger snorted. “Snog’s a friend. But there will be more goblins, and they’re fair game. I don’t suppose the manticore followed you?”

  Teg said, “No, he learnt last time. He like him meal for free, though.”

  “Pity,” Saul said.

  Grey shapes bounded from the woods,
a dozen timber wolves. These were well-fed and healthy specimens, and they circled the five companions.

  Teg said, “They gonna eat goblins, too?”

  Saul nodded. “Yes. We have to go after Undead, Teg, because we have the magic weapons.”

  “Teg understand,” the big ogre said, hugging Saul close to his thigh for a moment. He turned his eyes to the south and said, “Things be movin’ in woods.”

  At the same time, Lian heard the jingling of chainmail, a sound that was horribly familiar.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Tieran possesses a weak magnetic field, allowing the use of a compass in navigation. However, the moon of Luck, Ashira, has a much stronger magnetic field, and can pull a compass off of true north. The degree of this intereference varies depending on the distance between Ashira and Tieran, for the luck god’s moon circles the Tieran-Lushran planetary system at a great distance along with its sister moons of Sina and Sterath. Ashira’s 56-day cycle is well studied, and skilled navigators can make fairly accurate approximations of true north based on complex charts. A far more common and less complicated method of determining direction, however, is to employ a magical compass which always points due north.”

  -- Pilot’s Guild treatise on magnetic navigation

  “He’s coming,” Lian said, looking apprehensively toward the southwest. The treeline was close, almost a stone’s throw away, and his line of sight was obscured. However, he could still somehow perceive the knight’s approach.

  Saul wordlessly nocked an arrow, drawing the bow back to its full extent. His eyes rested on the same point that Lian watched, as if he understood that Lian knew the location of his pursuer. Or as if he, too, can sense Temvri, Lian thought.

  The bear had been occupied sniffing at the wolves, and they at him. Some kind of decision was evidently reached, and they separated, spreading across a ragged line behind the four warriors.