Rivers Run Red (The Morhudrim Cycle Book 1)

by A. D. Green

  Marron listened, a worried frown creasing her forehead.

  “You would do well to believe the girl,” Mercy said from across the table.

  Nihm and Marron both startled.

  “I’m sorry, I have excellent hearing and you looked concerned.”

  She didn’t look sorry, Nihm thought, and there's no way she could have heard, was there? But there was no time to wonder on it as Amos leaned forward, goblet forgotten.

  “Tell me,” he ordered Mercy, suddenly serious. Afterwards he pondered a while before addressing Marron.

  “Pardon me, but I agree with Mercy. What reason would a child have to make something like that up?” He stroked his beard with his right hand. “No, what interests me is why you’d think he’s watching you?”

  Marron looked uncomfortable. “I didn’t say he was here for me. As I recall I didn’t say a damn thing.”

  “Intuition, or rather let’s just say you’re no card player. Your face is too honest,” Amos replied.

  Marron said nothing. Amos stared at them both in silence.

  Seb suddenly stumbled over leaning against Mercy’s chair back. “Another round boss?” he asked.

  Amos glared at the lad, steel in his eyes. “Seb, fuck off!”

  Uncertain and looking shocked, Seb wandered back to his seat without another word.

  “Sorry for my rudeness,” Amos said, spreading his hands in apology. “Look, seems to me you have something to hide. Why else would some shady character be watching you? What we need is a measure of trust on both sides.”

  Mercy shook her head, but Amos carried on. “I sense you’re good folk, so if I’ve your oath you’ll say nothing of what I tell you then I would have something to tell.”

  Marron considered for a moment then nodded. “You have my oath.”

  Amos turned to Nihm.

  “You’ve my oath as well,” Nihm said, surprised and pleased to be asked. No one had asked for her oath before.

  Amos nodded. “What if I told you that that man is more than likely watching for me.”

  Marron looked unsure. “Why would that be?”

  “I could ask the same of you. But I have your oath so I will start,” Amos replied. “I am Amos Duncan.” He sat back folding his arms.

  Nihm and Marron exchanged a puzzled glance.

  “Erm, sorry,” Nihm said, “I don’t know who that is?”

  Mercy roared with laughter. Amos’s men looked over wondering what had set her off when the rest of her table looked so serious. Almost as one they shrugged and turned back to their tankards.

  Amos looked disgruntled.

  “Ah that’s priceless, your face Amos,” Mercy chortled.

  “If you’re quite finished,” Amos said.

  “I know who you are,” Marron said suddenly. “You’re one of THE Duncans, from Kingsland.”

  “Aye Marron, the Duncans from Kingsland indeed,” Amos mumbled. “Maybe not say that so loud. I’m meant to be incognito.”

  “So what’re you doing up here in the borders?” Marron asked.

  “In truth, my father sent me. He’s concerned about happenings here in the Rivers,” Amos replied.

  “Care to be more specific,” Marron asked, then jerked as if startled by something unseen.

  Nihm, felt something too, a sudden charge in the air. It was hard to describe but similar to a thunderstorm before the lightening came, only condensed and more focused. The hairs on her arms stood up. Nihm glanced at Mercy who sat silent with a glazed look on her face. After a moment Mercy’s eyes cleared and she turned to Marron.

  “You felt that,” Mercy stated.

  “Yes. You’re a mage?” Marron said, looking furtively about the inn.

  “It’s alright, no one can hear us,” Mercy replied. “I know some magic yes. As do you. Nihm as well I suspect.”

  Marron nodded. “I know a little, Nihm nothing.”

  Nihm was shocked. Marron knew magic? She’d only just found out that her mother was in the Order. What else didn’t she know about her?

  “That makes you both very interesting. Amos?” Mercy prompted.

  Amos peered at mother and daughter, his eyes discerning. “High Lord Twyford and the Rivers have broken the Accords with the Order. My father has heard worrying things about Twyford and sent me to see. If I told you he was deeply concerned about the breaking of the Accords would that go some way to putting you at ease?” Amos asked.

  He spoke loudly and Nihm noted the noise from the rest of the inn was off somehow. In fact the more she tried to listen the more incoherent the sound became. She looked at Mercy in suspicion then back to Amos as he continued.

  “If I was an educated man, and I am, then I would hazard a guess that you are of the Order.” He held his hand up at Marron, who was about to speak. “If you are, then you should know that the Duncans are duty bound to protect you. I’m not of the Rivers and the Duncan’s swore their own oath with the Order. Not many know that but there I’ve told you.” He took a sip from his goblet.

  “What makes you think I’m of the Order?” Marron responded.

  Amos smiled. “Mercy says you have some magic about you. You think you’re being watched in a town where being of the Order is about the only thing worth being watched for, unless maybe you are agents for the Westlands?” Amos quipped. “But then there’s no strategic significance in Thorsten that would warrant Westlands’ interest. No, my money is on the Order.”

  “Being of the Order in Thorsten or anywhere in the Rivers is a death sentence,” Marron replied. She tried to keep the anger from her voice but Nihm heard it all the same. “People have already died, burned at the stake by the Red Priests. I’ve just met you, so forgive me if I’m a bit reticent. Nothing you’ve told me requires any risk to you but such a risk could cost me,” she looked at Nihm, “and my daughter, everything.”

  Amos nodded. “Wise indeed Marron, but I trust my instinct so you need not say anything until you’re ready.”

  He turned to Nihm. “Now, where is this watcher to be found? I’ve a mind to ask him some questions.”

  Nihm’s heart was thumping. This was all so far from anything she had experienced before. It felt like she was in the middle of something important and she was a part of it. Feeling emboldened she answered, “It’s easier if I show you.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Marron sat forward in concern.

  “What? So other people have to take responsibility, but not me? I’m not a little girl Ma.” The last thing Nihm wanted was for Amos and Mercy to see her as a child. She saw her mother stiffen, saw the argument on her lips, and jumped in before she could speak. “Look I’ll stay back and just point out where he is okay? I promise,” Nihm said, using her most reasonable tone.

  Amos and Mercy watched but said nothing. This was between mother and daughter. Marron took a deep breath and sighed. “Just point him out then straight back here, understand?”

  Nihm beamed, “Promise.”

  Amos grinned at Nihm’s small victory. He turned and nodded to Mercy. Her face went slack, eyes glazed, and the charged sensation Nihm had felt earlier suddenly vanished. The noise from the inn was still loud but now she could make out snippets of conversation again. It was disorientating.

  At a sign from Amos, Silver and Seb came over. Amos explained the situation to them. “Nihm’ll show you where he’s holed up. She’s not to go in with you. Bring him out back to the stable block and sit on him till I get there. Understood?”

  “Yes boss, we’ll see to it,” Silver said. He turned to Nihm. “After you my lady,”

  Nihm got up, suddenly nervous. This was more real than hunting Da in the forest. The thought of her father made her miss a step and she stumbled as she moved past Mercy’s chair. Ma had said earlier he was alive but several days away. What was taking him so long to get here?

  “Don’t worry lass.” Silver steadied her. “Seb and me won’t let nought happen to ya.” Nihm nodded thanks but made no reply. The three of th
em made their way out the back of the inn. Nihm was aware of Morten watching from the bar as they passed.

  Outside in the yard with two men who were practically strangers, Nihm felt fear for the first time. She didn’t know where Mr Shin’s was and worried that they’d walk out right in front of it when they left the backyard.

  Me and my big mouth, Nihm thought. Casting her mind back to earlier in the day Nihm replayed leaving for market and remembered there was a shop front to the left of the inn and Shambler’s Way.

  Nihm opened the gate to the courtyard and peered out briefly to get her bearings. Her recollection was right and there, now that she looked for it, was the black smudge of an alley alongside it; dark and narrow. Nihm explained to Silver where the man was meant to be. Silver stole a look of his own assessing the layout before edging back.

  “Alright Seb, we’ll make our way to the road there. I’ll work my way round back. You make your way to the shop front. Careful not to get in view of that alley though eh lad,” Silver said. “When you hear me knock him on his bonce you come running ya hear.” Silver slapped him on his shoulder.

  “Sure you’re up to it old man? Maybe I should take this one?” Seb grinned, eyes darting to Nihm as he spoke.

  Silver saw and shook his head. He nudged Seb’s elbow. “Just stick to the plan boy, simple is best.”

  Moving off they left Nihm to wait in the yard. She couldn’t help but edge forwards and watch as they strolled casually towards Shamblers Way. Reaching the street corner Seb peeled off leaning against a wall whilst Silver disappeared down the road a ways. She thought Silver ducked between two houses but it happened so quickly she wasn’t sure.

  Seb crossed the front of Mr Shin's moving slowly and quietly. Nihm glanced about and saw a few passers-by casting him a strange look. Over on the far side of the road were a couple of familiar dirty looking faces staring out from behind a retaining. Nihm hoped they’d not give the game away.

  Suddenly Seb was rushing, disappearing down the alley. Nihm, frustrated she couldn’t see, ran from the inn to the corner of Shambler’s way. She heard something. A cry maybe, a clatter definitely, then silence.

  Before she knew it she was moving down Shambler’s Way. She walked softly, like on a hunt in the forest, her senses heightened. Nihm saw the alley Silver must have taken moments before and took a slow step towards it, heart pounding. Ten paces away a cloaked shadow stepped from its mouth. It was a slight figure moving furtively. Nihm froze, alarm bells ringing in her head. Her heart flipped as the figure turned, looking back straight at her. She saw a dark face and dead eyes. He twitched and instinct made Nihm drop to her right.

  A knife thudded high into her left shoulder. Pain exploded as she twisted and fell, her head cracking against the cobbles. She heard screaming. Was it her own? Blood pulsed from her, warm and wet. Lying on the ground dazed a figure loomed over her. Nihm blinked back tears; it was over, the agony in her shoulder was paralyzing.

  “It’s okay he’s gone now,” said a tiny voice, a young voice, one she knew but couldn’t place. She tried to focus but was finding it hard.

  “Annabelle?” she gasped finally. “Get Marron… inn.”

  She must have passed out then as the next thing Nihm felt were rough hands, lifting her. Was that Marron’s voice? It was so hard to focus. Her shoulder felt dead. The pain was gone but she couldn’t feel her arm. And she was so thirsty. Opening her mouth, Nihm tried to speak but nothing came out. She couldn’t see properly now either, only blurred shapes that grew less distinct every passing moment.

  Then darkness.

  Chapter 24

  : Illgathnack Ford

  It was dark. The tri-moons were out but their light muted by the forests thick canopy. The ilf had moved quickly and silently since daylight’s fade and Darion struggled to stay with them. R’ell hadn’t waited.

  Rawrdredtigkah and M’rika were with him still, along with Ruith and a small number of ilf, but Darion could sense their growing frustration at his pace.

  The river sounded up ahead, the noise filtering through the forest, growing louder with every step. The ilf leading them slowed then came to a stop.

  Darion breathed deeply, sweating despite the autumnal chill in the air. Moving at night through the forest was exhausting. Even with his eyes adjusted for the tiny bit of ambient light making it through from above, it wasn’t enough to pick out dead branches or tree roots hidden in the undergrowth or a myriad of other trip hazards. He’d fallen countless times his arms and hands scratched and cut. More than that it was embarrassing and humbling for he prided himself on his woodcraft.

  R’ell materialised in front of Darion, startling him.

  “You will wait here ilf friend,” R’ell held out a curved bow and quiver of arrows, “For your protection and M’rika’s. She’ll wait with you along with these ilf.”

  Darion took the bow, running his hands over its curved length. Light and smooth to the touch, it was a generous gift. “Thank you,” he said.

  M’rika appeared out of the dark. “You do not command me R’ell. It is my duty as much as any to defend Da’Mari,” she said. She looked at Darion. “I will take responsibility for the man.”

  R’ell paused wanting to argue the point but in the end nodded agreement. “It is your right. You will know when it is time.” Then to Darion, “Try not to make too much noise.”

  Darion clenched his jaw at that but said nothing. A small rumble from the bear sounded suspiciously like laughter but Darion couldn’t see her in the dark and chose to ignore it.

  R’ell gestured at the surrounding ilf. Using hand signs he commanded them to stay with M’rika before moving off into the night leaving the small group behind.

  The man was interesting R’ell thought. He moved well during the day barely slowing them. At night though he was like a new born Hrultha cub, blind, noisy and slow.

  R’ell approached the river. The waters of the Fassarunewadaick rumbled loudly as it rushed over the rocky bed of the ford. He turned his mind to the coming battle. Already his blood was singing in his veins. Ilfanum appeared at his side, moving silently beside him.

  As the trees thinned R’ell saw fire light on both banks of the river. He signalled and his fellow umphathi peeled away melting into the forest. Their plan of attack had been decided earlier, whilst they waited for the darkest part of night. Now it was time to execute it.

  R’ell moved, careful of where he placed his feet. As he drew ever closer he could smell, then hear, the urak. He could make out the bulk of two urak in the darkness. They were on watch and making more noise than the manling as they spoke in deep guttural tones. He contemplated the urakakule. They were the first R’ell had seen. He knew of them though, the knowledge passed to him at his seeding by Da’Mari, as it was to all umphathi. So he knew how they were made and the best killing points.

  R’ell sensed the presence of ilf in the surrounding forest. It was time. He moved, placing the tree the urakakule leant upon between them and ghosted silently up behind its trunk. His long curved daggers were drawn; their blackened blades dark shards of shadow in his hands.

  “Always pull this shitty duty. Don’t see no point,” said one.

  “Wait. Did you hear that?” said the other. A rustle of foliage sounded in the darkness ahead.

  “Deer maybe,” replied the first. He slipped the bow from his shoulder notching an arrow. “Bit of deer meat would suit me right.” He stepped towards the noise.

  Spinning silently around the tree R’ell’s arm swept out. The nearest urak felt something in that instant and turned. Adjusting, moving with the urak, R’ell drove his knife into its throat, the impact so hard its head thumped against the tree and stuck as the blade pinned him there.

  R’ell continued his move gliding towards the remaining urak who pivoted at the sudden noise. R’ell slammed his remaining blade up under its chin and into the brain, killing it instantly. Stepping in R’ell clutched the lifeless body to his before it could fall. Slowly, he lowe
red it to the ground.

  There was little blood until he pulled the knife free. R’ell wiped his blade clean on the urak's leather skirt whilst behind him the other gurgled and choked on his own blood.

  Standing, facing the drowning urak, R’ell watched impassively. His blade had missed the spinal cord, for the urak was clutching at the knife haft even as blood sluiced around it. A bloody froth bubbled from its mouth.

  “May you know peace in your next life,” R’ell intoned. He thrust the newly cleaned blade through the urak’s leather bindings and between the ribs, finding the heart.

  Afterwards, R’ell pulled his knives free, catching the body as before and lowering the urak gently to the ground. He cleaned both blades whilst listening. He knew similar scenes played out around him. His ears picked up the briefest sounds of struggle, barely audible if he hadn’t been listening for it, then silence. No alarm was shouted.

  Rising R’ell moved closer to the enemy encampment. He edged towards the river taking a position just inside the tree line so as to watch the camps on both sides of the ford.

  Fires were burning and by their light R’ell could see urak laying at rest. The western camp was in Da’Mari and his blood boiled at their trespass. As he surveyed it he saw most urak slept, although a few were awake and talking or moving about among the four pairs of watchers. In all, he counted two hundred and twelve urakakule.

  Looking to the far bank R’ell made a similar assessment. The camp was smaller but arranged in the same haphazard fashion. They would be too far away to offer support and posed no immediate threat.

  R’ell signalled with his hands then waited, unlimbering his bow as he did so. When he was ready he stuck five arrows into the ground placing another on his bow string. He drew the arrow back slowly and with a measured exhale of breath released. With a thrum the arrow buried itself into an urak wandering the fringes of the camp knocking her from her feet. R’ell reached for another arrow as soon as the first was in-flight.

  A hail of sixty arrows followed his from the treeline surrounding the camp. Cries and screams broke out as they struck. R’ell notched his arrow, drew and released in one smooth motion. The arrow thumped into the bulk of an urak as it stirred in its bedroll.