by Damien Black
Heaving a frustrated sigh, Sir Torgun retook the saddle. Sir Aronn exchanged a look with him as he did likewise, his eyes blazing.
As they picked their way around the fly-encrusted corpses, Sir Torgun caught the dead girl’s eyes again.
Was this really better than harrying outlaws?
Horskram brooded in the saddle as they made their way through darkening eaves. They had reached the turning in good time. The trail they now followed was narrow and they had to ride single file, but at least the oaks were tall enough that they could remain mounted.
It had pained him to leave the bodies behind, their dead souls unavenged. But it was more important to get to the settlement, so their remains could be brought back for the Last Rites and those dead souls could seek the Judgment of Azrael.
This was no time for chivalrous heroics in any case – their mission was far more important than bringing outlaws to justice.
Always a choice betwixt bad and worse… he reflected gloomily on his discussion with the novice. He had to hope it had instilled some sense in the youth – if he was right about him, he had to ensure Adelko did not fall into iniquity. Too often those chosen by Reus to do His work had slipped into darkness themselves, seduced by the trickery of Abaddon as they tried to walk the path of the righteous…
A flurry of movement caught his eye, breaking his thoughts. A spiral of condensed air, shaped like a flying tornado, whipped through the branches, causing them to wave manically. Ahead of him Sir Aronn yelled as one of them slapped him in the chest, causing him to lurch backwards. His panicked horse reared and whinnied.
‘Do not be alarmed,’ he said, as the knight steadied his mount and instinctively reached for his sword. ‘Tis but an Aethus – a spirit of the air. Let it pass and it shall do you no harm.’
Sure enough the air spirit skittered off through the woods, leaves shuddering in its wake.
‘I like not this cursed wood,’ snarled Aronn, clutching the reins. ‘I would fain be in open country again.’
‘If you think this is bad, you should try Tintagael,’ replied the adept with a wry smile. ‘At least here the Elementi do not serve a malign and controlling power – not until we reach the Earth Witch’s Girdle at least.’
‘Your words give me little comfort, master monk,’ replied Aronn, nudging his horse into a canter again.
Horskram glanced over his shoulder to make sure the others had not lost their composure. Adelko rode directly behind him; the novice seemed unruffled, though he muttered a prayer. Given all he had seen, that was unsurprising: the lad’s spiritual fortitude had grown and the lesser forces of the Other Side held few terrors for him nowadays. Behind Adelko rode Braxus and Vaskrian, the Chequered Twins bringing up the rear. They hadn’t seen enough to cause them any alarm.
‘There’s smoke burning up ahead!’ called Sir Torgun from the front of their column.
‘Cooking fires, or sign of war?’ Horskram called back.
‘Looks like cooking fires – charcoal burners, most like.’
Horskram felt relieved. Glancing up through the trees he saw patches of fading blue that told him sunset was approaching. They had reached the settlement not before time.
A stout party of armed woodfolk was waiting for them as they made their way into the clearing surrounding it. Columns of smoke from the charcoal fires Torgun had reported could be seen drifting above its stockaded walls. A dozen bowmen stood on its ramparts, arrows trained on the newcomers.
The party below, about another dozen strong, was armed with rude clubs and hunting knives. Their leader raised a hand as he recognised Horskram.
‘Stan’ down lads,’ he called to the others, who lowered their bows. ‘It’s Brother ‘orskram, in company o’ armed men, ‘n ravens at that. There ent no King’s law this far south, as well ye know.’
‘Have no fear, Alfrech, they come not in service of the King’s law, but in service to me,’ Horskram reassured him. ‘We seek shelter for the night and a word with Olfach.’
Alfrech scratched his straggly brown beard. ‘Olfach passed last winter – ‘s Hala who’s in charge now,’ he said. ‘She’ll be wantin’ a word wi’ you now yer ‘ere, ye better come in.’
Turning, the woodsman placed two fingers in his mouth and whistled. The single gate creaked open. Dismounting, Horskram motioned for the others to do likewise and passed in. They tethered their horses and made their way to the meeting place.
At first glance the village was much the same as he remembered it: a few dozen low wattle huts crammed together, with no thought for order. A camp of tents might have been better organised. But his sixth sense told him more. There was a palpable aura of unease about the place – its ten score inhabitants were clearly frightened, more than he had ever seen them.
Passing further in, he noticed fresh wood on the west side of the stockade. That part of the wall had been newly rebuilt. Beside it were a handful of huts under construction.
A recent attack, he thought. No wonder they’re scared.
A space in the midst of jumbled huts constituted the meeting place. Here a ring of tree stumps surrounded a large fire. Hala was sat on one of them next to the other village elders. She was a spidery woman of about fifty-five winters. She had ever been a fierce old harridan; he was far from surprised to see her as headwoman.
Horskram knew that wouldn’t make his next job any the easier.
Alfrech and his men sat down around the fire, gazing intently at the strangers who now joined them. Other woodfolk gathered around the fringes of the circle, men and women and children staring curiously. Dusk was creeping in. The adept felt his tenseness increase a notch as he took a seat with the rest of the company.
‘So what brings you ‘ere this time, brother?’ Hala asked pointedly. ‘We could use yer ‘elp right enough – one o’ yer brothers was ‘ere last month. Had another attack o’ Terri.’
Horskram nodded. He wasn’t surprised – if all they had heard was true, the Rent Between Worlds would be wider than usual thanks to the proximity of two powerful sorcerers clashing. That meant more spirits could pass through from the Other Side.
‘How many this time?’ he asked.
‘Some ‘alf a dozen,’ the headwoman answered. The expression on her sharp face did not change but Horskram could sense the fear, though she hid it well enough from her people. ‘They tore down ‘alf the west side o’ the stockade, swallowed up a dwelling each. Lost several good folk wi’ them.’ She shook her head sadly. Several elders exchanged grim glances.
‘Who was the Argolian?’
‘Sed ‘is name was Tomas o’ Einbeck, ‘ad a novice wi’ him too.’
Horskram nodded again. ‘Aye, I know him – from our chapter in Dulsinor, a few leagues south of the forest. Good man, highly experienced. You were in safe hands.’
‘Aye, master monk, tho’ it took ‘em near a week to get the job done. Had a couple o’ fire spirits too, din’t mek matters any the easier – nearly burnt down the granary. Thank Reus for the Argolians – they put a stop to ‘em before they could do some real damage.’
Hala made the sign.
‘Saraphi?’ queried Horskram. ‘That’s unusual – fire spirits usually prefer to manifest in hotter climes.’
‘It ent just us ‘ave ‘ad problems wi’ such,’ put in Alfrech. ‘At night we see lights blazing, from deeper in the forest. Those of us who’ve had a mind to go south’ve heard strenge screaming… chantin’ and such like. We dunna think to go there na more.’
The grizzled old hunter made the sign himself.
‘So, everything we have heard is true then?’ pressed Horskram. ‘The Earth Witch stirs from her lair beyond the Girdle, fights another warlock?’
‘Aye, as much as we kin gather oorselves,’ said Alfrech. ‘Wadwos on the warpath, like never before. Somethin’ behind that, never seen ‘em this organised before. Brother Tomas said it ‘ad to be some sort o’ black magic, tamin’ beastfowk like that. We canna fight ‘em like this.’ Worry was now
written across his weathered features. ‘Before, when it were just one or two, solitary like, strength in numbers always kept us safe. But now… some o’ my men ‘ave spotted ‘em lately. They’re armed, Brother ‘orskram. Marchin’ in time t’ sound o’ drums – we ‘ear them sometimes, mostly at night.’
‘At least we’ve not got the worst o’ it,’ rejoined Hala. ‘The further into the forest ye go, the closer ye get to the Girdle… not ‘ad contact wit’ a fair few settlements for some months now.’
‘And on top o’ all that, we’ve ‘ad run-ins wi’ outlaws, robber fowk from up your way,’ cut in one of the elders. Horskram recognised him: a scrawny hunched old fellow, about seventy winters. What was the man’s name? Old age was catching up with Horskram too.
He suddenly realised there was silence. All were waiting for him to speak.
He felt the same old weariness. Always others looking to him for advice, the way forward. Wise Master Horskram, vanquisher of spirits and sorcerers, counsellor to kings and saviour of the common folk. He sometimes wished he wasn’t a hierophant, though he knew it was blasphemous to spurn the gifts of the Almighty.
‘Let us consider our problems one at a time,’ he said slowly. ‘First, have you had any further encounters with elementi or other supernaturals since Brother Tomas left?’
Hala shook her head. ‘No ‘orskram, praise be to the Prophet, that we ‘aven’t. Not so far anyway.’
‘That is good,’ replied the adept. ‘And what of the Wadwos? Have any of them launched an attack?’
‘No, we’ve just ‘ad sightings, on huntin’ and foragin’ parties south o’ ‘ere,’ said Alfrech.
‘And the outlaws?’
‘That’s a different story,’ he replied. ‘We fought a band o’ them six nights ago – killed two of oor lads but we managed to get the better o’ them, killed three before the rest fled. There were only seven o’ them to oor twelve, we dunna go out in smaller groups nowadays.’
‘How far out were your huntsmen?’ asked Horskram.
‘About half a day from ‘ere,’ replied Alfrech. ‘Why d’ye ask?’ he added, catching the look in Horskram’s eye.
He told them of the slain party of freeswords and merchants.
‘That’s not so far from ‘ere,’ muttered Alfrech. ‘Not a million miles from where our boys fought neither.’
‘Do you know anything more?’ asked the adept. ‘We can fathom that the Wadwos have a leader, but what about the outlaws?’
‘We were ‘opin’ you could tell us more about that,’ said Hala, fixing him with another stare.
There was no keeping the truth from her, Horskram decided reluctantly. He told them of the war against Thule and his disbanded levies.
The elder whose name he had forgotten let a whistle escape his haggard lips. ‘Two thousand levymen – armed n’ trained,’ he said. ‘We’ll not be thankin’ you Northlendings for that in a hurry.’
Discontented muttering filled the clearing as the villagers registered the unwelcome news. Horskram felt his tension rise with their anger.
‘Not all of them will have made it as far as here,’ he said, doing his best to mollify the woodlanders. ‘Many will have been taken down by King Freidheim’s men as they fled through the southern provinces.’
‘Not so many as we would like,’ interjected Sir Torgun. ‘They had a head start on us while we were finishing off Thule’s last forces at Salmor, and few would have been foolhardy enough to linger long in the realm once they knew he was defeated.’
Horskram glowered at the young knight. Did he always have to be so damned honest?
The muttering had grown to a steady chatter as the village erupted into fearful speculation. Hala called for silence.
‘Let Brother ‘orskram speak,’ she said. ‘He’s ‘elped us in the past, and not let us down yet.’
Horskram took a deep breath as the chattering died down and all eyes returned to him. He would have to manage this next part delicately.
‘The outlaws we can only give you so much help with,’ he said, choosing his words carefully. ‘Any we encounter we will certainly bring to justice – you have the word of Sir Torgun here, Commander in the Order of the White Valravyn, who considers it his personal responsibility.’
Torgun stood and nodded curtly at the elders. He was seemingly oblivious to the fact that his sentiments were being manipulated, but out of the corner of his eye the adept caught Sir Braxus giving him a wry smile.
‘However, I believe that the more pressing problem is this clash of warlocks and all the dangers it is bringing to your door,’ the adept continued. ‘In fact what brings me here is a black magician I am hunting. I believe he is responsible both for provoking the Earth Witch and uniting the Wadwos. My intention is to seek him out and…’
His mind suddenly flashed back to Roarkil.
Sir Belinos of Runcymede cooked beside him… Andragorix lay on his back, blood spurting from the bloody stump where his hand had been… Horskram raised his quarterstaff, poised to strike at the mad mage’s throat… But on the point of dealing the death blow he was swept back to another place, far from where he stood, a windswept desert where men clashed and bled in the sand…
Flashbacks within flashbacks…
Horskram tore his mind back to the present.
… stop him,’ he finished. His words sounded flat and lame in his own ears, but Hala seemed not to have noticed.
‘Well, your fellow brother hinted that it might be black magic, but if so where is this other warlock?’ she inquired, making the sign again with the rest of the elders. Talking openly about Left-Hand sorcerers was enough to spook even the woodfolk, who had spent their lives living next to a witch.
‘I have yet to divine his exact location,’ replied Horskram, recovering his composure. ‘But was hoping you might be able to help me in this matter.’
Hala was looking at him suspiciously now. ‘Well, we’re all ears, master monk,’ she said thinly.
Horskram met her dark eyes as he said: ‘Clearly the Earth Witch is no friend to this other warlock. I intend to seek her help to find him. Once he is dealt with, there will be an end to this sorcerous war and things should hopefully return to normal.’
‘You mean to travel beyond the Girdle?’ asked Hala, incredulous. ‘An Argolian friar, sworn to oppose sorcerers?’
‘Strange as it seems, my enemy’s enemy is my friend,’ replied Horskram wryly. ‘But you are right. It is not a move I would ever have considered until now, and as such I do not know that part of the Argael well.’
He paused a moment, then added: ‘And that is why I have come here – to ask you to provide guides to take us there.’
The villagers resumed their muttering. The elders just looked at one another, more surprised than anything else. But Hala kept looking at him with hard eyes.
‘You think to ask if we can send some more o’ oor men into danger, just when we need every strong ‘and about us?’ she scoffed. ‘I’m sorry, brother ‘orskram, but we’ll be doin’ no such thing.’
‘A couple of good men is all I need,’ the adept persisted. ‘Think what you stand to gain – if I can persuade this Earth Witch to help us defeat the other warlock, not just your village but all the woodfolk will stand to benefit!’
‘Aye, and if ye don’t, I’ve lost another couple o’ good men,’ replied Hala. ‘And ye’ve just brought me news o’ more outlaw killin’s not far from ‘ere.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, I canna do it. We’ve lost enough people as is.’
Damn her fierce old hide! He had known this would be difficult the minute he’d learned Hala was in charge. If only Olfach was still –
‘Master Horskram, is the gate closed?’
Adelko had sprung suddenly to his feet and was looking anxiously back towards the clearing entrance.
Horskram glanced at Alfrech, who nodded. Getting up the adept walked over to stand next to the novice. His own sixth sense was buzzing, but he had put that down to the villagers’ u
nease.
‘What is it, lad?’ he said softly. ‘What do you sense?’
‘… danger,’ said Adelko, still looking back towards the gate, which was obscured by the huts. ‘Something or someone coming, from the direction we took I think. Whatever it is, it knows where we are and it means us harm.’
The adept had seen enough of his understudy’s progress not to ignore him on these occasions.
‘We are about to be attacked,’ he declared, unsheathing his quarterstaff. ‘Hala, get any woodfolk too young or old to fight safely indoors! Alfrech, double your archers on the walls – facing the way we came from – and gather the rest of your able-bodied men and women about you. Sir Torgun – lead the rest of our group with me! We’ll be the vanguard.’
The young knight nodded and gave a curt command. As one, the four ravens stood and drew swords. Braxus and Vaskrian did likewise, a keen light burning in the squire’s eyes. Adelko fumbled at his quarterstaff, unslinging it awkwardly.
‘Come on,’ Horskram said. ‘Let’s get up on yon wall, see what our eyes can tell us.’
The two monks dashed up the wooden stairs to the crest of the stockade. It was barely the height of two men, but that would have to do. Nudging for space on a walkway now thronged with huntsmen bending their bows, Horskram peered out into the gloaming.
The trees were densely packed about the settlement, with only a short stretch of cleared land between their fringes and the stockade. From their vantage point the trail was barely visible, covered by a shroud of green darkened by deepening night.
‘Looks like our eyes will tell us nothing,’ muttered Horskram.
They waited. Glancing down behind him the adept saw Torgun and Braxus and the rest of their company standing at the head of some fifty woodfolk before the gate. A few archers had taken up positions on the other three sides of the stockade, just in case. The rest of the villagers were scrambling fearfully back into their huts.
They waited.
