by V. C. Willis
John climbed on the wagon, grabbing up the reins as he commanded me, “Push in the back. Let’s not make him lame for being eager to help.”
I nodded. Was that about Basque or me? He doesn’t want to look at their faces either. We can’t be doing things like this moving forward. It gives us away, but… could we really resist doing what makes us who we are? They would have tried to move logs with pulleys, but with limbs wet and iced up in places, someone could have gotten hurt or killed fixing this by normal means.
With a grunt, I shouldered the wagon to make it pop up. Basque snorted and jerked the wagon the rest of the way onto the hard-packed road. The old man paled but didn’t hesitate when John patted the seat and offered the reins back. The wagon trotted ahead with Red Wine and Princess Sonja close behind as I brushed mud from my hands and legs. Valiente lingered, his stare burning into me until at last, I sighed, offering to break the racing thoughts invading his mind.
“Go on: say it.” I didn’t look at him.
“Don’t you think that’s a little dangerous?” he grumbled as if to avoid any eavesdropping. “Lifting a wagon solo like that?”
“I know. I don’t think a bloodeater could lift that much weight.” I glanced to where the wagon had been stuck. “It was careless to not act like I needed the help.”
“It’s more than that.” He circled Colonel in front of me, and his sharp stare hit me. “You’re not alone on this path, Dante. Don’t think you have to carry it all on your shoulders alone.”
I winced, the words aiming for something deeper. “And yet, I find myself caught in the tangled web someone else left behind so long ago that half this continent doesn’t remember why it was weaved in the first place.”
Valiente rolled his eyes, speaking more sternly. “Look, just remember you’re not fucking alone in this mission to go after Fallen Arbor.” He pulled Colonel’s reins, and I paced beside the old war horse. “And don’t forget you owe me a sword.”
“This again.” I couldn’t help but smirk, appreciative in the tactful change in conversation. “So, is this your mission or the King’s?”
“Mine.” He shuffled in the saddle, swallowing before confessing, “I have reason to believe Sonja’s father might have made a deal with them. Or at the least is aiming to have her killed.”
I frowned, the tension in my body made me roll my shoulder. “Does she know?”
“No.”
“I see, and why did you think letting her come to Glensdale was an excellent idea, knowing where her father’s allies and enemies lie?” My curiosity piqued. How dangerous of a gamble did you make to visit John? “Ah, it was safer to head north. We were cornered. Granted, they didn’t know I knew they were waiting to ambush us.”
“Fallen Arbor?” Something isn’t adding up.
“The Berserk Brigade.” He shot me a look that spoke volumes of his disdain. “They may be part of the King’s army, but they are a pack of murderers under the direct orders of Fallen Arbor.”
“But you’re a Lord Knight—no, higher than that. Fifteen knots make you a Guardian of the Royal Family.”
Valiente spun the horse around and stopped me in my steps. “I am, but the King made it clear in a recent law that the Berserk Brigade was higher than my station.”
My stomach twisted, mind pulling the information together. “And so, crossing south, they could take her into their so-called protective custody by law or by force.”
“I’m not a one-man army, Dante.” The muscles in his cheek tensed. “Neither are you, but together, we just might have a chance if they plan on coming between us and Captiva City.”
Before I could reply, he had Colonel trotting off and into the bustling village. John lingered by the sawmill, the old man shoving gold his way. Red Wine had disappeared once more, but Sonja squeezed closer to John and smiled when Valiente rode toward them. Basque was still hooked to the wagon, and the pings from a nearby forge redirected my aim. Valiente is going to need a weapon, but maybe… Following the sound, I ignored the suspicious glares from the villagers. Unlike before becoming a bloodeater, I could hear every whisper. They knew I was daemonis, but they feared having two assassins passing through.
Or at least, they pray we’re just passing through and will be gone by morning. I wonder, is this a skill all bloodeaters have or if mine is deeper, more sensitive? Then, there’s those whispers of wonder if we’re the ones they came looking for…
Chapter 14
Bounty for Two Heads
I followed the bend to the south side of the town, the smells of ash and sweat invading my nostrils. Slowing, I realized Red Wine was speaking to two blacksmiths by the glowing furnace. On the opposite side, an assortment of premade goods spread across several tables, making it easier for me to feign disinterest in whatever matters she had with them. Looking over the items, I saw everything here was of lesser quality than I hoped to see in a renowned town so close to the battlefield. I tried to eavesdrop on Red Wine’s conversation from where I stood, but she shot me a glance, and I turned away. Not sure what I was expecting out of a Master Assassin. Of course, she can read me like a book at this rate.
“Good day, Assassin,” a woman snorted, wiping her hands on her apron from where she had been sharpening a blade. “You here to trade or need repairs like your friend there?”
“I need to buy a few things.” I approached the table she stood behind, still unimpressed with the quality of the daggers on the table. These look like yearling blacksmith goods. Where’s the work that matches the two muscled brutes? “I’ve got the gold, but I need something that can take more than one hit on the battlefield.”
She scoffed. “This is it. All we got thanks to the war; we can’t make weapons fast enough to keep up with the demands no matter if they’re daemon or human. Gold spends the same.”
Crossing my arms, I narrowed my eyes at her. “Look, I may be passing through, but these scream first-year smithing. Looking at your boys over there, even on a shit day they can make stronger, straighter blades. My ferrier back home could do better than this.” Her face flushed, her gaze shooting away in guilt. “So, where do you keep the good stuff? Again, I mean it when I said I’ve got the gold for it. I need a longsword, a few daggers, maybe some armguards depending on what the quality is on those leftovers. Hell, if you have chainmail of some kind, I’ll take that too. I’m not aiming to wipe out your stores.”
Her eyes shot back up, squinting in thought before she whispered, “You really with the Guild? You don’t talk or walk like ‘em.”
“Yeah, call me a new recruit under her.” I nodded to Red Wine. “We’re here escorting the clergymen as my first contract.” I tilted my head the other way toward John, Sonja, and Valiente still talking with the old logger.” These items are for my companions, to be honest. I’ve been hired to get them across the battlefield alive, but they’ve got cracked swords or no armaments at all. No offense—I don’t think anyone wants a dead priest or mother superior on their hands, and neither do I.”
“Ah, so you’re the bodyguard for the clergymen, huh?” She sounded baffled. “Since when does The Church hire The Guild for protection?”
“Since Viceroy Falco tried to kill one of them and had the audacity to put a bounty on both their heads,” I answered flatly.
“Shit.” Her eyes grew wide, and after a moment, she whistled and exchanged nods with one of the blacksmiths. “Follow me to the shop across the way. Our best work is under lock and key. As you can imagine, thieves are plenty these days.”
“The quick fingers that come through this place so close to the frontlines can’t be good for any business. Desperate men do desperate sins.” I shot one more look back to Red Wine, and she locked eyes with me.
She tapped her mask with two fingers and pulled it down the cheek like a tear before crossing her thumb across the cheek of it. What the hell was that? A signal? The woman was still cha
tting, her voice and demeanor coming off as nervous. Shit… she didn’t teach me anything about signals nor how to read them. Did she forget? The lock slid, and she motioned for me to go forward. I reached out and held the door well above her own hand.
“Ladies first,” I offered, tension building as my mind tried to figure out what on earth Red Wine’s signal could have meant.
“Now we’re going to be a gentleman all of a sudden,” she ridiculed, entering before me. “So, you need a longsword?”
“That’s right.” I shut the door behind me, and she motioned for me to slide the lock. “I owe a knight one after breaking his.”
“My, you’re a ruffian, you are.” She travelled through the home, the floors creaking under foot until we came to a sitting room by a fireplace.
A wave of nostalgia hit me, the smell of fresh broken earth underfoot told me volumes of what they were doing just below the floor. They’ve been digging to make room for hiding goods. I halted and watched her push against a chair but fail to move it. At last, she glared at me and waved her hands at the chair. I furrowed my brow. It all felt… off.
“Are you just going to let an old woman throw out her back?” she fussed.
“I was wondering if I was supposed to stay by the front door?” I offered, gripping the chair with one hand. “Where shall I move it to, madame?”
“Like I’ll leave you there to let a friend or two in. No thank you, Mr. Assassin. I’m only going this far because The Guild has always paid and paid well for any of our wares in the past.” She pointed beside a chamber pot in the corner. “There, now make qui–” Her words halted as I lifted the old red pine chair single-handed and gently placed it where she had mentioned. “Well, I ain’t seen that kind of strength from anyone since the Berserkers came through.”
“Ah, the Berserk Brigade has been here?” I lifted a brow, watching as she threw back the rug and started to displace floor panels. We might be facing them. I wonder… “Was that recently?”
“Yes, said they were lookin’ for some folks who might be crossing this way.” She locked eyes with me as she diligently kept working the panels free. Her heart fluttered. They must have been here for us. “In fact, they’d crossed paths with them in Tavern Way, and when they didn’t meet at the border crossing south of there, they thought they might end up here any day now.”
I licked a hidden fang, Red Wine’s hand signal coming back in mind. Two fingers, two blacksmiths. She was signaling she had them, would keep them. So, the thumb, moving back under the left eye, not across the cheek. Red was saying watch my back. I got it. She knows a lot of details in a very short amount of time… so the question now: is this a trap or desperation? I can forgive the latter, hell, even understand it. I wonder how much I can get out of her before she gets the courage up to pull a weapon on me.
“You wouldn’t know anything about all that, would you, Mr. Assassin?” Reaching into the hole, she unlocked a large chest. “I mean, that was only a week ago it seems when they showed up and trashed this place.”
“I didn’t think such esteemed men of The Tower would be after the Rabid Dog’s bounty on clergymen of The Church.” The quandary made her pause as if she hadn’t thought the connection strange until I’d brought it to the table. “So, they weren’t civil when they came?”
“Like a pack of wild dogs,” she growled, pulling out several swords. “Don’t move. Not until I’m done here.”
Raising my hands, I took a step back to reassure her I would do as she asked. “Is that the reason these were hidden?”
Nodding her head, she continued her story, her voice dropping to a whisper, “They took the boy who made those weapons out there. He was the old logger’s grandson, and now the poor old man has no one left. No idea if the boy’s even alive or thrown into the training camp.” Her face reddened, her heart racing in my ears. “He wasn’t even old enough for them to be drafting into The Tower’s army. Poor thing still had a good two summers to go before his time to fight would be here.”
“What was his name? Perhaps the knight I’m travelling with can do something about it.” I watched as she pulled chainmail, greaves, and more daggers from the dark pool before her.
“You’re a fool, Mr. Assassin. The King himself says their word is law.” Breaking her stare from the stash, she gave me a grave expression. “Horrible to see murderers and rapists get their hands on power so great. They say they had their way with the tavern owner’s wife and daughter. No telling what unspoken sins they committed before they left that haven’t been brought to light. Two of our biggest lumberjacks tried to put them in line. Bless their souls. They’re six feet in the ground for trying.”
“I’m sorry…” I whispered. It seems Valiente was right. The Berserk Brigade needs to be dealt with, and they will be coming between us and Captiva City. “Will they be coming back for a second round?”
She winced at my words, sweat sparkling across her brow. “They…” She swallowed, reaching into the hole and freezing as she gripped something. “Can you help me?”
So, they plan on coming back here. These people are terrified. Her face stayed locked downward, her heart racing fast and hard. “Of course.”
I didn’t move just yet, glancing at the wares she had piled on the floor. If she aimed to sell these to me, she would have spread them out or told me about each one. Instead, she’s been focused on talking, making sure I am who the Berserkers had wanted, so I imagine they need us to earn protection. It’s a trap, but one laid in desperation to feed a lurking predator just beyond their town borders. Can I really blame them?
At last, I took a step forward and she tensed, hissing, “Are you always so damn slow?”
Silently, I approached and knelt. Now I could see how she trembled, the fear in her eyes and the smell of it starting to waft through the increased sweat building across her entire being. Her heart drummed as if trying to escape her chest. The shaking hands came out empty and gripped the apron in a weak attempt to make them still. She wouldn’t meet my gaze. Glancing down, my eyes were sharp, and I could see there was an assortment of small daggers and a few rapiers left in the old iron box. Nothing here needs me to be lifted. The chainmail was heavier.
“You need my head to make them stop, right? Stabbing me won’t kill me. I’m more monster than daemon. Sadly, it won’t bring the boy back or undo the damage done.”
Tears were falling, hands clutching tighter as her bottom lip trembled. These people are so terribly desperate…
“The old logger was stuck. I got him back here with his whole load in one piece. That’s the kind of people we are, that I am. No harm or ill-will comes from us unless first thrust upon us. I was mucking stalls in Tavern Way when I was ambushed. That’s who they are, criminals willing to play dirty without concern for the innocent lives around them.”
She closed her eyes, the rivulets of salty tears falling faster.
“You help me now with the weapons and armor, and I’ll kill every last one of them. The Berserk Brigade will become the enemy of Ashton, and they will pay in blood for what they’ve done and aim to do.” Her eyes met mine, and she inhaled swiftly. “I’m a monster in my own right, one that will gladly devour the rest.”
At last, her voice croaked, “We can’t afford The Guild. They stripped most of us of our gold.”
“I didn’t ask for gold. I’m offering a trade my life for theirs. Besides, I still have gold for weapons, and some extra for any information you’re willing to give me about the men who came here looking for me and my companions.” She searched my mask, and I pulled it off, wanting her to see the resolve written on my face. “I don’t show my face to anyone. This is the only faith I can offer that I will do everything I can to punish them, but as a friend reminded me, I can’t do this alone. I need your skills and equipment if I’m to succeed.”
Her eyes looked to the chair a moment before she turned to the pile o
f weapons she had pulled out. “Since when do Assassins have such silver tongues?” she spat.
Sighing, I smirked. “Well, diplomacy is a must when you consider my upbringing.”
“So, they weren’t joking when they said there’s a Blood Prince posing as an assassin.” She wiped her tears, but more replaced them as the tension eased and her beating heart slowed. “A prince … offering his life for a destitute village.” A laugh escaped her. “Seems like the saints sent us a miracle.”
“More like a Blood Prince training in the ways of The Guild,” I offered.
“Ridiculous. How can a country take a risk like that on their prince?” She inhaled deeply and looked to the ceiling. “Most of us have a hard time sending our kids to the army, and I hear children are rare among daemonis.”
Placing my mask back on, I chuckled. “They spoil me where I come from. But in times like these, I can’t be soft. I can’t stand by and do nothing. I’m in the right circumstances to do something, make a change not only for my people, but for the whole of Grandmere. We’ve dealt with the Rabid Dog and the cursed blade The Fanged Lady. Now we aim to sort out the corruption and the Berserk Brigade. It seems to be a good start to make a very loud statement that the people will not stand for this abuse anymore.”
“But you’re only one person,” she derided.
“With resources like you to help, a Royal Knight and clergymen as allies, a Prince of my own country, and better yet, working for The Guild … I am more than one person. I think this makes me qualified to make changes happen where others have failed.” I patted her hand, startling her, but the tension melted as she grabbed my hand tightly.
“This country needs someone to revive it. If that’s your aim—to end a war with no end in sight—I can support that.” Letting go, she turned and crawled toward the fireplace.
