Catelyn knew she couldn’t remain there under the tavern floor. It was only a matter of time before Rane dropped into the foundation cavity. His night vision was probably far superior to hers. Trying not to panic, she positioned her legs against the wood and kicked hard. The slats didn’t budge and she slid several yards down the clay. She didn’t have the leverage required to bring her full power to bear. There was rustle to her right and perhaps a flicker of movement, though it might have been her imagination. Grunting in desperation, she clawed her way up the clay and struck the wood with a closed fist. The wood didn’t even crack, but she kept hammering the same spot. The pain in her knuckles faded into the background as the last of her adrenalin flooded her body. She thought of her slaughtered family and focused on converting her grief into anger. Powered by vengeful vows, her arm became a piston, smashing into the wood with metronomic precision. Finally the wood cracked, then splintered. Catelyn smiled maniacally and swung her legs around. It was easier to kick her way through now. She hauled herself into the gap and tumbled onto a patch of luscious, heavenly grass.
For a moment she simply registered that she was looking at the edge of the tavern roof backed by a starry sky. By the time she’d regained her breath, the pain from her knuckles had taken over. She didn’t want to look, but her right hand felt like a ragged mess of torn flesh. Perhaps even exposed bone. A man’s voice rang out in the night, bringing her back to the present. Intricate and musical, it was language unlike anything she’d heard. Probably Fanewen, the elvish tongue. She was still very much in danger. There was movement in the trees to the north, beyond the village perimeter. Catelyn bent low and scurried into the alley where she’d first run into Doran. Ril’s body was as she’d left it. The stink of the refuse pit reached her, a reminder of what she should’ve done the first time round. There were footsteps on the open grass between the tavern and the trees to the north. It was now or never.
Catelyn let herself fall into the pit and sank waist-high in the repellent muck. Taking a deep breath, she ducked under the viscous surface. She resisted a strong impulse to gag as semi-solid human waste embraced her. Keeping her body as still as possible, she began counting slowly. The numbers passed across her mind’s eye, shielding her from unwanted thoughts. Just one more effort, she told herself. Just one more push and the danger will pass. For some reason her shell-shocked mind conjured the la Berne family crest, strong and resolute despite a bed of shadows licking at it. Finally surfacing on the count of fifty, she retched thick bile. She was now thoroughly coated in rancid slime. It ran in slow rivulets down her forehead and into her eyes. Her bloody hand was also a concern. She wondered what toxins were now entering her blood.
In reality, such concerns were relative. No one was looking into the pit. The approaching elf from the north must’ve continued through to Hearth Street. Catelyn pulled herself up for a quick look around. The street was glowing with brilliant light. Only two-storey infernos could create that kind of flare. A horse dragging a length of rope galloped past the alley entrance. Catelyn’s heart lurched when she saw the cargo - a human head. Small enough to be a child’s head. Jamming her eyes shut to prevent another torrent of tears, she eased herself back into the pit and controlled her breathing. The enforced composure allowed her to see what she must do to ensure her short term safety. However difficult it proved to be, she would stay in the pit until morning. When daylight finally arrived, the Duskovy garrison would venture down into the village and the survivors, if there were any, would be protected. Survivors. If Catelyn happened to see the dawn, such labels would be cold, cold comfort. She’d lost everything in the space of an hour, perhaps two. Rahal Dane and his murderous band had ripped her heart and soul away. And yet, though she now faced the world with nothing, she knew there were questions that would propel her onward. Questions already etching themselves in her mind as she cowered and shivered through the night.
Catelyn La Berne would take her pain to the edge of the world if she had to. Someone, somewhere, was going to be made accountable. She was only human, after all.
5 - Tanis
Tanis had never seen Adner so demonstrative. The footman was adamant that he and Hadley follow him into the kitchen.
“It’s too early to flee,” Tanis said irritably. “We should be looking for the others.”
“They’re dead, boy, dead,” Adner said. “Otherwise they’d be back here already.”
The old man’s eyes were glazed and his speech more incoherent than usual. It was the same every Feast - he liked to mock those “prancing off to the fair castle” to be “laughed at” by the garrison, but he invariably made sure he was raging drunk by the time the la Bernes made it back home. His natural tendency to paranoia would’ve provided fertile ground for the fear that was now consuming him. And yet he had a point. Tanis and Hadley had arrived hours ago. The others had almost certainly encountered trouble, but Tanis kept telling himself they were simply hiding until the storm passed.
The noble grandfather clock in Devon’s study struck four. Tanis peered through the kitchen window, but all he could see was a veil of darkness. It had a permanency about it that troubled him.
“I’ve never laid a finger on you dust mites,” Adner went on, sounding like he might cry at any moment. “But if you don’t listen to me now I’ll take matters into my own hands. It’s for your own protection, see. I have nuttin’ but respect for your father.”
Tanis exchanged a look with Hadley, who had changed out of her evening dress into something more practical. She was standing by the doorway and seemed unusually pensive. Not even she could impose her famous will on their current predicament. The choice they faced was particularly agonizing. The old man seemed more convinced than ever that elves were practically on the doorstep. The shouting in the village had long ceased, suggesting that any resistance had been put down and the enemy was free to prowl far and wide. At least until morning.
“It’s time,” Hadley said quietly. “Adner’s right. We’re not safe here.”
Tanis nodded. Dawn was a faraway land, a place they couldn’t rely on.
“But how do we leave undetected?” he asked.
“At last,” Adner grunted, launching a theatrical search of the room. “Fire hole is in here somewhere.”
The bluestone kitchen and hearth was the old core around which Tavalen had been built. The massive wood fire oven and ornamental sword slots by the hearth were echoes of a bygone era. Tanis and Hadley knew better than to get in Adner’s way. As he waited by the door, Tanis’s thoughts were inevitably drawn to the horrors of the attack on Felwood Hill. The elves had appeared out of nowhere. Tanis had wanted to run as soon as Doran drew his sword. Seeing Catelyn take off with Ril was all the encouragement he and his siblings had needed. Tanis recalled scooping up the younger children with Hadley, Cybil and Yolanda. At the time he was certain Vesna was shaping to engage three elves at once. It seemed so improbable now, but the older siblings managed to carry the little ones all the way to the reeds on the north bank of the Ebbe Minor. Tanis took it upon himself to scout the way ahead, fearing an elf ambush. In the process he somehow lost track of his brothers and sisters amongst the stinking reeds, but Cybil called out to confirm that she had the young ones in tow.
Tanis then managed to find Hadley at the stone crossing, but they were forced across the stream when he spotted two elves advancing from the hill. Separated from the others, the pair spent several minutes scanning the opposite bank for their siblings. Cradling Billy in her arms, Yolanda emerged from the reeds and screamed at them to flee. Hadley knew that Catelyn and Ril had crossed the north bridge and suggested they go look for her. Tanis was more than happy for his older sister to lead the way. Together, they stole into the village, narrowly avoiding the elves on Hearth Street. Sticking to the narrow lane ways and back alleys, they came across Ril’s body between the tavern and the blacksmith. Tanis would never forget what he felt at that moment. The discovery literally stole the breath from his lungs. Even now
, hours later, the image of the boy’s body remained an unwanted fixture in his mind. With Hadley on the lookout for trouble, Tanis had been forced to carry Ril all the way back to Tavalen. With quaking arms he’d laid his brother down on his little bed, as fitting a final resting place as any.
Since his arrival, Tanis had moved and talked like one of those automatons from Hussar’s carnival. It had taken a fierce level of energy to keep his clawing grief at bay, but so far he’d been able to suppress the howling gale in his heart. He and Hadley spent the better part of an hour pacing back and forth across the drawing room. To prevent their emotions hurtling out of control, they pored over every detail of the attack on Felwood Hill. What did the elves hope to achieve from such a vicious strike? Was the garrison likely to assist? Most importantly, what had become of the rest of the family? If poor Ril was any indication, they were all in grave danger.
Tanis knew it was dangerous, at least at this early juncture, to dwell on his little brother. Part of him was still reeling from his unspeakably painful run home with Ril in his arms. Eager for distraction, he’d floated the idea of rescue a number of times. Hadley had quite reasonably shot him down every time. What could they do? They were unarmed and unskilled. There was no point in setting foot outside the estate if death was all that awaited them.
After minutes of searching, during which Adner became so flustered he almost scratched the mole off his sweaty forehead, the fire hole was revealed under the Kasharan rug by the side door. The footman pulled the heavy stone lid free with a grunt. Tanis peered down a musty, narrow staircase descending into darkness.
“Go with Hadley,” he said to the footman. “Make sure she’s well protected.”
“Stow the heroics, boy,” Adner chuckled. “You ain’t no hero.”
Tanis was framing an indignant reply when he heard horses in the yard outside. Hadley took his hand and dragged him down the dust-covered steps.
“Girl,” Adner hissed.
Tanis waited at the bottom while the footman gave Hadley a small box and some jewelry.
“I know that box,” Tanis blurted.
It was the one he’d discovered yesterday. The one Adner had commented on. Hadley rushed down the steps and signaled to the footman. The old man shoved the lid back into place, consigning the fugitives to absolute darkness. Hadley’s face appeared over a flickering candle. She held the light like a protective charm as they inched down a dank, miserable passage.
“How long is this thing?” Tanis asked.
Hadley silenced him with a look, listening intently. Someone was walking through the house above them. Adner or the enemy? Tanis pictured the elves’ fiendish faces in the hallways of his beloved home. A period of silence preceded a series of muffled crashes.
“Mama’s vases,” Hadley said softly. “They’re on the second floor.”
A chill rippled through Tanis’s heart. Did that mean Adner was dead?
“Come, Tanis,” Hadley urged, her flame bobbling ahead of him. “Nothing we can do here.”
Tanis hurried over the slick cobblestones. Tendrils of weed brushed his shoulders and tested his resolve. The tunnel seemed to run forever, a bluestone snake trailing away from Tavalen’s ancient heart. At length the pair arrived at a rusted gate.
“End of the line,” Hadley said.
Tanis could just make out the stone garden beyond the intricate ironwork. They were halfway across the central paddock! As a child he’d always assumed the circular gate was just a drainage feature. He would never have believed that one horrible night it would deliver him from a band of thuggish murderers. The pair made their way through the stone garden and into the overgrown central paddock. The moon cast a silvery sheen over the whispering tussocks. There were none of the usual grunts and snorts from the cattle that liked to sleep here. Just the metallic smell of fresh blood.
“Keep moving,” Hadley muttered.
Tanis agreed whole-heartedly, almost stepping on a fresh carcass. The elves had passed through here, slaughtering animals as they went. Their objective had been to scout the grounds before moving inside. Some four hundred yards to the north, Tavalen was aglow with candlelight.
“They’re ransacking Tavalen,” Tanis confirmed, unable to keep the fear from his voice.
“Keep moving,” Hadley muttered.
The pair climbed over the back fence. As usual Tanis found it an awkward challenge. Bower birds chirped softly in the woodland canopy as they approached the south road - a wonderful, revelatory hint of dawn. The vast pools of darkness that had been pregnant with so much violence were finally beginning to recede. Hopefully the world would soon regain its comforting familiarity.
“Where we headed?” Tanis asked breathlessly. Hadley was surging forward with intent.
“Barge landing,” she replied. “We need to get away for a while.”
Tanis stopped short. “And leave the family here?”
Hadley spun around. She was truly fearsome when challenged.
“Think it through,” she said contemptuously. “The elves are still at large. Even if we survive the night, who do you think the villagers will blame for all this?”
Tanis blinked. Hadley was right - the villagers would look to lay blame as a way to manage their collective grief. Devon had been the one to deny Dahal Rane the natural justice he so desperately craved. The volatile elves had been humiliated in the process. To blame the la Bernes for the subsequent carnage was entirely in line with petty small town logic. It was just one of the darker facets of village life.
“And the children?” Tanis asked, changing tack.
For once, Hadley seemed lost for words.
“We should fear the worst,” she said at length.
Before Tanis could reply, hoof-fall echoed from the north. If the elves had taken to the road they would arrive shortly. The pair darted off down the road. With any luck they’d reach the barge landing unharmed. Filled with renewed purpose, they vaulted a fence and found themselves in Bo Lager’s potato field. Ignoring a lancing stitch in his side, Tanis set the pace as they sprinted east through the crop. The knee-length foliage slowed them down, an ominous disadvantage. A quick glance confirmed the arrival of several horseman edged in silvery light. It’ll all be over soon, Tanis told himself. These elves were playing for keeps. Tanis and Hadley were running for their lives. The realization pushed him through a dark mire of pain and exhaustion. His thin cotton trousers and shirt weren’t helping in the slightest. Every twig in the Southern Reaches was out to snag him. Hadley was faring a little better, her strap-leather breeches a much more appropriate outfit for the terrain.
The pair darted through a copse of riverine elm and were rewarded with a gust of cool wind. The Ebbe was only twenty yards further east, wide and powerful in the Reaches. As the sounds of pursuit grew louder in his ears, Tanis tried to still his mind and apply logic to the chase. The elves would try to pin them to the river, where they could trap and slaughter at will. He tore his shirt free as he barged his way through the blackberry that choked the Ebbe’s west bank. A thousand fine cuts were infinitely preferable to the infuriating snags.
“Keep going,” Tanis urged, knowing it was their only chance.
Hadley barged through with admirable fortitude, Tanis close on her heels. Lungs on fire, he pushed himself beyond his usual limits. His faint hope that the elves’ horses would shy away from the blackberry proved false. The beasts were forest specialists - he could hear them picking their way through the thicket with practiced ease. Surely it was only a matter of seconds before a dagger found the base of his skull …
Panicking, Tanis followed Hadley into the blue-black mass of swift-flowing water. There was no time to assess the vagaries of the current. From what he could tell, they stood shivering in a swirling eddy off the shoulder of the main current. Before they could consolidate their position, they were whisked into the center of the river and drawn under the surface. Reeling from the shocking cold, Tanis jammed his eyes shut and groped for air. He hadn�
�t even had a chance to draw breath. Peculiar zinging sounds suggested that arrows were penetrating the water. Elves were considered elite in most forms of archery, but their pursuers were infantrymen by trade. If the fugitives were going to spend the next few seconds in the firing zone, Tanis hoped that counted for something. His lungs were screaming at him when he finally broke the surface. The first thing he noticed was how very fast he and Hadley were traveling downstream - he could hear the clamor of hooves on the west bank but the pair must’ve been close to matching the horses’ pace. Even better, the elves had next to no chance of hitting them as long as both hunter and hunted were moving.
Tanis barely had time to meet Hadley’s terrified gaze before he was dragged under again. For several seconds his singular concern was keeping his lungs empty. He realized that flailing around would only make things worse, so he forced his body to relax, splayed his arms and lifted his chest as high as possible. This position allowed him to cruise feet-first with his face just above the water. Somehow maintaining her composure, Hadley followed suit. Worryingly, they were right in the middle of the river and heading south at a rate of knots. The frigid water took Tanis’s breath away and exacerbated his many cuts and lacerations. The only real positive was the steadily improving light. He could see glimpses of movement on the west bank but the elves had been forced to veer away from the river due to the thorny undergrowth. Surely they wouldn’t maintain their pursuit for much longer - within the hour they would be highly visible in a hostile land. One thing was clear - it was important to them that no la Berne survive the night. Shoving his morbid speculation aside, Tanis concentrated on keeping his body still and kept an eye out for a place to escape the current.
The river kinked to the west and straightened south. The barge landing hove into view - the crude cargo shelter was deserted. Hadley cursed under her breath. She’d clearly been banking on the presence of one of the night boats that worked upstream to Andra. The crews often traded surplus fish for farm produce at the landing, but not today. Regardless, the wooden structure offered a chance to slow their progress downstream. Tanis didn’t relish passing further south - even he knew a ravine waited for them down-river. That meant rapids, perhaps even falls. By the Fat God, if he allowed the river to carry the pair far enough they’d end up in skrim territory. That didn’t bear thinking about. Those lizards would kill on sight.
Knight and Champion Page 10
