CRY FEAR

by Mike Morris

  They mounted their horses and Simon led them out of the grounds. As they passed through the main gate and Lin stared at the road ahead, covered with a light dusting of snow, she couldn't help wondering what she would find at the journey's end.

  "Arbour is three days' ride, but we can cut the journey to just over two if we push the horses," said Simon.

  "Are we in a hurry?" asked Lin, feeling her hackles rise once more.

  Simon laughed. "When Willingham calls, you don't dally. It's expected you answer quickly. He doesn't need to put it in actual words."

  "Why does he want to see me?"

  "You'll have to ask him that. Willingham keeps his own counsel about his plans. He certainly doesn't tell people like me what's on his mind."

  "Best we get on, then," said Lin. She sat up in her saddle and squeezed the horse's flanks with her legs. The response was immediate and the horse began to gallop down the road. She passed Simon with a whoop. The man's smugness was annoying. Besides, she'd spent too much time cooped up in Whitehaven. It was good to be on the open road. At least she couldn't get lost. There was only the one road, cutting through open fields, heading north.

  She heard Simon catch up behind her but he had the good sense not to try and overtake or slow her down. Her horse, a chestnut-brown mare, was confident on the snow-covered surface. Even so, Lin held her back just enough to be safe. The priests had given her riding lessons and, like her martial arts training, she'd learned a lot since the first time she'd ridden a horse. On that occasion, she'd taken the horse from the Nostros prince she'd killed and then ridden it straight off a cliff.

  After a couple of miles, she let her horse slow down and Simon took the opportunity to fall into place beside her.

  "I was worried you were going to ride off and leave me for a moment," said Simon. "I'm glad you didn't."

  "Why? Worried what your lord and master would say if I did?" replied Lin.

  "Willingham's not my lord and master," said Simon. "I serve God, as does every one of the Black Dogs, through the guidance of the Knight Commander and the Lord Abbot of my monastery in Arbour."

  Lin just glared at him.

  He smiled. "I'm sorry. We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. Can we start again? We have a long journey ahead of us and I'd rather enjoy your company than fight with you."

  Lin took a deep breath. She knew she was being churlish. "It's me who should apologize. You're just doing your job. It's just ... I spent most of my life as a slave, doing whatever was ordered. I'm not going back to that life."

  "No one's asking you to."

  "Then why do I feel like your prisoner? I've had enough guards in the past to know what it feels like."

  "I'm your escort, not your guard. I'm here to protect you. Nothing more," replied Simon. "These are dangerous times, and we face enemies within Abios as well as the Nostros. And you? You're quite famous. If something were to happen to you, it would be a great loss to us all."

  "What do you mean? Why am I famous?"

  "You're the girl who escaped the demons. It's not just Willingham who's heard of you. The whole country has."

  "The whole country?"

  Simon nodded. "The pamphlets have been telling stories about you ever since the raid on Grosnar. Admittedly they've gotten most of the details wrong — you certainly don't look half-demon to me — but the public can't get enough of your tales."

  Lin was stunned. "You're joking."

  "As God is my witness, I'm telling you honest words."

  It was all too much for Lin to take in. She'd only known two places her whole life — Grosnar and Whitehaven. She couldn't imagine how big Abios was or how many people lived in the country, but it seemed impossible for them to know of her — no matter how many pamphlets there were. "So why would anyone want to hurt me?"

  "There are people in Abios who serve the Darkness. They think it would be a good thing for the Nostros to win the forthcoming war."

  "That's insane," said Lin. "They would enslave everyone."

  "Some would think that a small price to pay if they were to be given eternal life as a reward for helping in the Nostros' victory."

  "They would choose to become the Master's Children?"

  "We call them Turned," said Simon. "But yes. Some would."

  "But what's that got to do with me?" asked Lin.

  "You killed the king's son. You helped destroy their fleet and their castle. The Nostros want you dead and your head on a spike."

  "How do you know this?"

  "We have spies in the Middle Kingdoms who sent word. We've intercepted messages offering rewards to anyone who succeeds in killing you."

  Lin looked around her — at the snow-covered fields, the trees in the distance. Suddenly, they were places for an assassin to hide. "But I'm nobody."

  "Not any more, you're not. You'll see when we get to Arbour."

  They rode in silence after that as Lin's mind whirled with everything Simon had told her. They stopped at midday and ate a small meal and drank hot tea before setting off again. They passed through small villages and rode past farms. There were cottages like the one she'd lived in at Whitehaven, clustered along roads or around rivers, but no walls protected them, no guards kept strangers away. She saw children throwing snow at each other, delighting in the change of weather while their mothers and fathers looked on. One child fell, bumping her knee, and went crying to her mother. Lin watched the woman take her daughter into her arms.

  A tear came to Lin's eye. None of them realized how lucky they were. When Lin was a child, she saw a Master eat a baby and bite open the throat of a friend of hers. There was no one to comfort her, no one to tell her everything would be all right. She just had to survive as best she could. She didn't even see the sun while she was growing up. It had been less than a year since she first walked in the daylight. A year! How could anyone wish to trade their freedom and the light so they could live forever in the darkness?

  They reached a town just before nightfall. The size of it was too much for Lin to take in. There were people and carts and wagons everywhere she looked, going to and fro in every direction. The air was full of a thousand aromas, both good and bad, most of which Lin didn't recognize.

  They rode down street after street until they reached a large square. A church stood at one end and a larger building at the other. It looked like everyone in the world was standing around, buying things from stalls or listening to people sing or tell stories.

  "So many people," said Lin, open-mouthed.

  "Aye," said Simon. "It must be market day. Everyone comes out to buy what they need or sell what they don't. You should see it in good weather. There's probably twice the numbers here when the sun shines."

  Lin looked at him as if he were mad. "That's not possible. There aren't that many people in the world."

  Simon grinned. "That's nothing. Taveson isn't even a big city. Wait till you get to Arbour. Makes this place look like a hamlet."

  The priest led them to the large building at the far end of the square. He pointed at a sign hanging above the door. "This place is called The Helping Hand. Serves good food and ale and the beds are half decent. We'll stay here the night and then be off first thing in the morning."

  A boy came out from the stables to take their horses. Simon gave him a few bronze coins to feed and groom them. "Bring the saddles up to our rooms when you're done." He held up a silver coin and the boy's eyes bulged at the sight of it. "And this is for you — if you have our horses ready to go at daybreak tomorrow."

  The boy, with a grin plastered across his face, nodded then bowed. "Yes, sir. Will do, sir."

  "I don't think he's ever had so much money in his life," said Lin when the boy had left.

  "Not many people like Black Dogs around here, so a bit of extra goodwill is worth it," replied Simon.

  "Why don't they like you?"

  Simon waved the question away. "Tales need ale."

  Lin and the priest entered the inn. If the market was
busy, the inside of the inn was chaos. It was packed so tightly with bodies Lin had to force herself between people to keep up with Simon. The noise was deafening; chatter, laughter and the odd shout all fought to be heard in the confined space. The air was thick with smoke, perfumed with the scent of ale and roast meat. She lost sight of the priest a few times as the swell of bodies pushed her in a different direction, but eventually she elbowed her way to him.

  Somehow, Simon had found an empty table in the corner by the window. He sat facing the room, leaving the chair opposite free for Lin.

  "I've ordered you some stew," he said as she sat down.

  "How do people put up with the noise? I can barely hear myself think," said Lin, all but shouting.

  "The noise is part of the fun of an inn," replied Simon. "There's nothing better than having a drink with your friends after a hard day's work."

  Lin thought back to her dormitory in Grosnar; how all the Sweats used to huddle around the dining tables after they'd finished working the stone, happy to be off their feet and out of the cold, happy even with the rotten food they used to have to eat just because it was warm. She had a lot of laughs in that place, with Pet'r and Jaar, despite everything. She still missed them. Missed them so much it hurt.

  Simon leaned forward. "You okay?"

  "Yeah, I'm fine." Lin brushed her hair back off her face. "Just thought of some old friends all of a sudden. I miss them."

  "Are they still in Grosnar?"

  "They're dead."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Why's that? You didn't know them," snapped Lin.

  Simon didn't react to her tone. "I know what it's like to lose friends. I know what you must feel, and I'm sorry you feel that pain."

  Once more, Lin felt foolish at her flash of temper. "It's me who should apologize. I don't know why I keep getting angry with you."

  "Don't worry about it," said Simon with a grin. "There's a lot to take in. I'm sure all of this is very strange for you."

  "That's an understatement."

  A woman arrived carrying two flagons of ale. She plonked them on the table, spilling liquid from both. "Food's on its way."

  Simon looked up at her and flashed a smile. "Do you have two rooms we could rent for the night as well?"

  The waitress sniffed. "Only if you've got coin to pay for it. We don't take goodwill here."

  "We have coin."

  "Then we have rooms. Give me a holler when you want to go up and I'll show you the way," replied the waitress, already looking for other customers to serve. Someone caught her eye and she went to them without a second glance.

  Simon passed a flagon to Lin. "Some ale for the hero of Grosnar."

  "I'm not a hero. I just followed Jack and Robert — they did all the hard work."

  He shook his head, grinning. "That's not the way the story goes. The official version is you went in single-handed and saved Brother Nial and the others from a legion of Nostros."

  Lin laughed. "But that's not true."

  "People don't care about things like truth getting in the way of a good story." Simon sipped his ale, watching her over the rim of his mug. "It doesn't matter, anyway. Everyone on that raid was a hero, and you were on that raid."

  "I wasn't supposed to be."

  "Doesn't make you less of a hero — probably more so. Was it as bad as they say?"

  Moments from the raid flashed through her mind — the bombardment by the Nostros' cannon as they drew near, fighting their way across burning ships, her futile attempt to get her old crew to rise up in rebellion against the Masters, freeing the prisoners and the joy of turning the cannon on Grosnar. Lin took a gulp of ale. "Is it ever good? A lot of people died. Others got badly hurt. But we did what needed doing — the Masters' fleet was destroyed — and some of us made it back home again. That's all I know."

  "You're being modest," said Simon.

  "Does that surprise you?" replied Lin, feeling her temper rise. "Because I'm a woman? Or because I'm a foreigner?"

  "I didn't mean it like that," said Simon, holding up his hands. "It was a compliment."

  The waitress came with the food and Lin took the opportunity to calm down. What was it about Simon that made her so sensitive? She couldn't keep flaring up at everything he said. She looked down at the stew. It smelled wonderful. Chicken, carrots, peas and potatoes, all in a dark broth and steaming hot. "This looks good."

  Simon had the good grace to let the matter drop. "If past meals are anything to go by, it'll taste even better."

  "Why are the Black Dogs unpopular in Taveson?" asked Lin. "You said you'd tell me when you had a drink."

  "You and Taveson have something in common — both of you are famous."

  "What's it famous for?"

  "There was a coven of witches living here about one hundred and fifty years ago."

  "Witches?" Lin put down her spoon, her appetite fading. She didn't know what a witch was and she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

  "Practitioners of black magic. People who can do unnatural and ungodly things with powers not meant for this world."

  "Like what?"

  "Almost anything. From curing illness or helping the crops grow to controlling someone's mind to killing them with a single word."

  Lin didn't like the sound of that. "And what were the witches of Taveson doing?"

  Simon waved a finger. "Ah. A good question. They were helping the locals live long and happy lives, where no one ever fell sick and crops were always bountiful. They were well-loved." He took another sip of his ale. "Sounds all right, doesn't it? Who wouldn't want that?"

  "But ..."

  "Magic comes from the same source the Nostros get their power from and, like them, it needs blood to work. The witches snatched anyone passing through Taveson and sacrificed them to feed their power."

  "That's monstrous."

  "After a while, someone got suspicious and called the Order to investigate. The first few priests we sent went mad within a matter of days of arriving in the city — curtesy of the witches. However, Brother Robert of Ketteron had a charm that protected him from the witches' magic — a relic he'd found on campaign in the Middle Kingdoms. He managed to track the witches down and burned them at the stake."

  "Did the people of Taveson know what the witches were doing?" asked Lin.

  "Everyone acted horrified, of course. They all claimed not to know anything about it. Then the effects of the magic started to wear off. People got sick again, harvests were smaller ... you know, normal life resumed. Next time the Black Dogs passed through, the welcome was less warm. They blamed us."

  "But the witches were killing people."

  "They were killing strangers. It's a lot easier to overlook things like murder when you don't know the people who are being killed. It's easy to accept the need for some unknown person to die so your child may live."

  "So why don't they like Black Dogs now? This all happened a long time ago."

  "Probably habit more than anything else. Then again, we do seem to have a way of annoying people." Simon tilted his head toward Lin with a smile. "A lot of my brothers avoid the place, but it's on the quickest road to Arbour, so here we are." He raised his spoon, full of stew. "Besides, I like the food."

  "Are there still witches?" said Lin, looking around at all the people in case she spotted something out of the ordinary, but no one stood out.

  Simon followed her gaze, all humor gone. "I don't think anyone here is. But in Abios? Sure. Power of any sort is a great temptation. Magic is the worst of the lot."

  Lin sat back in her chair. "They're as bad as the Nostros if they think power's worth killing innocent people — maybe worse."

  "Aye," replied Simon. "That's why magic's outlawed. If we catch anyone using it, we burn them at the stake. No exceptions."

  7

  Jack

  The Black Dogs moved through the building, knocking on doors and searching every set of rooms. They did it with care and precision, guns in hand, covering each other
as they checked each and every nook and cranny. They didn't ask for permission and they didn't offer explanations. They all knew it was growing darker outside. The daylight gave them a small advantage against a Nostros, but once the sun was gone, the demon would be at full strength and able to move without hindrance.

  Every time Jack knocked on a door, he wondered if this was going to be the one where they'd find the Nostros. His blood raced though his body as he prepared himself, forcing back the fear he felt. Robert stood behind him, that big war hammer of his ready to strike. With his gun in his right hand, Jack knocked with his left, then stepped back to let Robert take the lead. The moment the door opened, he pushed his way through, the rest of the Black Dogs following. The sight of them silenced whoever opened the door. Everyone knew why the Black Dogs existed, and could work out that they weren't there for a chat over a cup of tea.

  There were three floors to the building and four doors to a floor. In a perfect world, they would've come down mob-handed and hit every building on the street at the same time, working from the top down, with men on the street ready to catch anyone who ran. But they didn't have that luxury. It was just the four of them, watching each other's backs, searching for a monster.

  They reached the top floor without finding anything.

  "Stay sharp," whispered Robert. "Just because we've not got lucky yet doesn't mean the demon's not here."

  Jack nodded, a part of him wishing they'd finish the search empty-handed. Then finding the creature could become someone else's problem. He went to the first door, took a deep breath, and knocked.

  "Who is it?" called out a man from inside.

  "Open up," ordered Robert.

  "Hold on a minute," replied the man.

  Scuffling noises could be heard from inside, like something heavy being dragged along the floor. Robert didn't wait any longer. He smashed his hammer into the door lock, shattering the wood and taking half the door frame out with it. He followed through with his boot, kicking the door open and charged through, Jack and the others on his heels.