Dark Healer (An Empire Falls Book 1)

by Harry Leighton

  An arrow came whistling out of an upper floor window and tinged off the stone wall inches from Brand.

  “Contact!" Brand shouted and his men took cover.

  "Do we fall back?" Finn said.

  Brand thought quickly. There was clearly more than one of them, they were prepared and he and his men had been seen coming, but being chased off by a bunch of farmers was going to look bad. His orders had been to use his discretion. It wouldn't do to lose any of his boys in a fruitless battle but morale amongst the recruits was a little twitchy and retreating from what would no doubt be relayed as a couple of farmers was hardly going to improve things. Discretion, hah. In years gone by his orders would have been clear. Maybe this was the new way of doing things. He didn't like it.

  Another arrow and another near miss.

  "Sarge?"

  "We fight," Brand said reluctantly. Fighting southerners was one thing, these were imperials, rebellion or no. "We're soldiers of the 11th. We don't run frightened from a man with a bow. Pair off, watch your flanks and keep your heads down."

  Brand looked around. If there were more of the rebels then there was a chance that they were being circled. The ground wasn't good and the wall would give them no protection from behind. They needed to take the farmhouse. He looked at his men. Green the lot of them and under-equipped to boot. A horse would have been nice so that he could send a rider to report in but only the cavalry and proper scouts got those. Light infantry like him and his boys got given the patrols and the worst of the equipment. Not that anyone had been expecting hostilities this close to camp.

  Two of his men had bows at least so he motioned to them take position in the middle and provide cover. With a series of gestures he split the men into two groups, one headed by him, the other by the Corporal.

  “Use the wall as cover as far as possible to circle to the left. Shields up then come at the farmhouse from behind,” he said to the Corporal.

  “Shouldn’t we all just rush from one direction? They can’t take us all,” the Corporal whispered.

  “And how many of us do you think can fit through a door at the same time?” Brand said.

  “Oh.”

  “From the back Corporal.”

  “Sarge.”

  Brand motioned to his men and they formed up next to him. He gestured fiercely at the Corporal, who moved slowly away with his half of the men. Brand took one last look behind him. No one coming from that direction yet. Now or never though.

  “Shields up and keep running at the building when I say. Stop for nothing.”

  There was a mumble of assent. Brand looked at the nervous faces. What had he done to deserve them? He lifted his longshield to cover his head and upper half of his body and moved at a ducking jog along the wall to the gate, his men in tow. There was a glancing thump on his shield but he paid it no mind. There. The gate. Lead from the front. He considered shouting the charge but there seemed little need. He kicked the gate open.

  “To me,” he said and ran across the farmyard, shield raised. His men started to follow a moment later.

  There was a heavy thump on his shield and an arrowhead stuck through inches from his arm. He cursed and kept running, making the farm door which appeared to be stout oak. He kicked it experimentally and it gave a little. The door might be oak but the latch was old. Motioning two men to cover him with shields, he shield-charged the door, almost tumbling into the room beyond as it gave suddenly under pressure. He moved quickly into the large, single, dimly lit room, off balance. He heard a sound and managed to lift his shield at the last second but was sent crashing to the floor by a thunderous blow. The next man through the door wasn’t so lucky. Disoriented by the transition from light to dark, he’d not got his shield up in time and doubled up suddenly around a sword thrust from a man standing ready by the door.

  Brand lashed out from the floor with his sword at his own assailant, trying to drive him back so that he could right himself. He hit something solid and there was a scream. He scrambled to his feet and thrusted in the direction of the sound and there was a crash as the injured man stumbled backwards trying to get out of the way. He scanned the room quickly. Another of his men was trying the doorway so he charged the ambushing man with the sword. The shadowy figure tried to free his sword from the soldier he had downed but it was too late and Brand chopped him down. His soldiers started pouring into the room so he turned, sword and shield ready, looking for other rebels. There was a crash from the other side of the room and more soldiers rushed in, led by the Corporal.

  “Room’s clear. You go and take the barn,” Brand said. “I’ve got the stairs.”

  Finn glanced at the downed men. “Sarge,” he said.

  Brand looked over the rim of his shield at the arrow sticking out of it and quickly hacked the shaft off with his sword. He raised the shield again and made his way to the stairs. He took them two at a time, racing to the door at the top but there was a crash from above, sounding like the window being put out. He crashed through the flimsy door just in time to see a man climbing out of the window, heading for the roof. The man suddenly stiffened and fell. Brand ran across to the window, looking out whilst covering himself with his shield. The rebel was on his face in the yard, arrow sticking from his back. He looked over to the wall and saw one of his men standing, holding a spent bow, daft look of pride on his face.

  “Head down you fool!” Brand bellowed at him. The soldier looked startled then ducked back down behind the wall.

  Brand stepped back from the window and looked around. A poor sort of a bedroom, more of an attic. Largely empty but with a large wardrobe on one wall. Taking no chances, Brand thrust his sword through the door a couple of times before opening it, but it was empty. He made his way back downstairs, seeing his men tearing down a shutter to let a little more light in. He looked around. The farmhouse was little more than a big stone shack, one main room downstairs and a smaller attic bedroom upstairs. All the rebels, of which there had apparently been three in the house, dead.

  “All clear in here,” said one of his men unnecessarily.

  “Check them,” Brand said, making his way out of the back door. The Corporal and his men were milling around outside the barn.

  Finn looked up. “One more in the barn but we got him,” he said.

  Brand looked around. There was a trail of blood across the yard. “What did you do to him?”

  “Oh, that wasn’t us,” Finn said.

  Brand followed the trail of blood. It ran across to the well. He walked over and looked in.

  “Ah,” he said then stepped back.

  Finn walked over. “What is it Sarge?”

  “Dead sheep.”

  “Oh. Why?”

  “Old trick. Makes the water bad.”

  “Tells us why they were here then.”

  “Show me the barn.”

  Finn led him to the barn. There was a body holding an unlit torch by the door. Brand looked at the contents of the barn. Grain but stained with something black. He walked over and picked some up. The black substance was gloopy and sticky.

  “Damn,” he said.

  “Oil?” Finn said.

  “Oil.”

  “At least they didn't manage to light it.”

  “Do you want to eat it now?”

  “Ah. Not really.”

  “Well then.”

  “Spoiling the food, that's an unfriendly thing to do.”

  “No more so than sticking a sword in someone,” Brand said, wiping his off before putting it away. “We’ll need to report this though.”

  *****

  “I’d like to speak to the General,” Jonas said, standing in front of the guards at the entrance to the encampment.

  “I’m sure you would,” the guard said. “Don’t mean it’s going to happen.”

  “Wants to speak to the General?” his companion said with a laugh. “Maybe if she’s nice to us, we’ll let her speak to someone,” he said, pointing at Alia. Alia carefully painted a smile
on her face.

  “Perhaps this will help,” Jonas said, drawing out his rod of office.

  “What’s that?” the first guard said. The laughing guard went quiet. The first guard noticed and looked at his companion, frowning.

  “He’s a Hunter,” the second guard said.

  “So?”

  “So, rules are we give them a little respect.”

  “Doesn’t mean an audience with the General. He’d have our heads.”

  “He’s not wrong,” the second guard said respectfully to Jonas.

  “Look again,” Jonas said. “Carefully.”

  “You’re quite senior,” the second guard conceded, “but you’re not an army officer or official messenger and we have our orders.”

  “Are you here on official business?” the first guard asked.

  “Yes,” Jonas said simply.

  Both guards drew back slightly.

  “Relax. I’m not here for any of you,” Jonas said. “Unless you’re harbouring my target of course. We might have a problem then.”

  “Ah, maybe you should speak to our captain. He’ll be able to help you,” the second guard said.

  “That would be a start,” Jonas said. “Shall we wait here whilst you go and fetch him?”

  The guards looked torn but eventually one of them nodded to a soldier just inside the gate who grimaced and walked off into the camp.

  “Weather’s starting to turn,” Jonas said pleasantly.

  “What?” the first guard said.

  “Must be close to the end of the campaigning season,” Jonas said.

  “Erm, yes.”

  “Let’s hope whatever you are all here for is done with quickly then.”

  “We’re here for rebels. To put down a rebellion, I mean.”

  Jonas looked around exaggeratedly. He nodded. The first guard bristled slightly but his companion put a hand on his arm.

  “Can I ask why you are here?” the second guard said.

  “To see the General. I thought I’d said that.” Jonas turned to Alia. “I did say that didn’t I?”

  “You did,” Alia confirmed.

  “Can I ask why you want to see the General?” the guard tried again.

  “Ah. The legion’s presence here is interfering with a hunt.”

  The first guard laughed. Jonas looked at him and he stopped.

  “What’s all this?” a uniformed officer said, walking up from within the camp.

  “Gentleman here to see the General he says, Captain,” said the second guard.

  “And you didn’t send him on his way?” the captain said.

  “He’s a Bounty Hunter.”

  “So? We administer the law within camp. He has no business here.” The Captain turned to Jonas. “You have no business here. You know that.”

  “He’s quite senior sir,” the second guard said. As if on cue Jonas held out the rod. The captain glanced at it momentarily then turned back quickly for a second look.

  “Are you after anyone in camp?” the captain said slowly.

  “I doubt it,” Jonas said.

  “I don’t follow?” the captain said.

  “I doubt you’d be harbouring him,” Jonas stated.

  “Harbouring him?”

  “My target.”

  “Ah. Can I ask whom?”

  “A dangerous fugitive and an enemy of the Empire.”

  “No, none of that sort round here.”

  “Pleased to hear it,” Jonas said, giving him a smile that contained just a hint of menace.

  “Is that all?” the captain said, slightly nervously.

  “I’d like to see the General.”

  “You don’t look like the sort of person who might know him personally and unless you’re hunting a mage or something, which we both know you’re not, your hunt is beneath his attention,” the captain said. The first guard smirked at the mention of a mage.

  “That so?” Jonas said. Alia had stiffened and Jonas put out a surreptitious warning hand.

  The captain looked behind him at the camp full of soldiers, drawing a little strength from it.

  “It’s so.” The captain licked his lips. “I’m sorry if we’re interfering with your investigation but as you can see, we have important business in the area. More important than yours.”

  Jonas silently turned the rod over and held up it up for inspection, finger hovering over one sigil. The captain, hoping to make him go away, looked again. He took a step back.

  “You’re not, are you?” he said, shock on his face. “Not one of them?”

  “For me and the General to discuss,” Jonas said firmly.

  “Yes, indeed. Follow me,” the captain said.

  Jonas and Alia stepped forwards. The two gate guards looked at each other and shrugged, puzzled by their captain’s reaction. The captain gave them both a look and they stepped back, letting Jonas and Alia past.

  The captain led them quickly through the well-ordered camp.

  “Did you have to do that?” Alia hissed quietly.

  “We wanted to see the General,” Jonas muttered back.

  “Risky,” Alia said.

  “Calculated.”

  “If you say so.”

  They arrived outside the General’s tent. Two overly polished guards stood outside, spears crossed at the entrance.

  “General’s busy,” one said.

  “This is important,” the captain said.

  “Your head,” the other guard said. He stepped to one side and motioned them into the tent.

  "General Garrow," Jonas said.

  "Indeed. And you are?" Garrow said, looking up from the letter he was writing at his desk.

  Jonas stepped forward and held out the rod. Garrow looked it over for a minute, taking note of the sigils.

  "A Hunter. And a senior one. What can I do for you?" Garrow said.

  "We're chasing someone down and this local trouble is getting in our way."

  Garrow laughed. "Indeed? Interesting way of putting it. What would you like me to do about it?"

  "The man we're after is an enemy of the empire and could be highly involved in bringing the rebellion about. The legion's presence is causing the people to close ranks around him making him difficult to get to. If there was some way you could pull back, let us get to him, hopefully this whole thing could be avoided."

  Garrow stared at him for a moment before speaking. "I'm sympathetic, really. But I have a job to do and I can't rely on hopes."

  "I can only imagine how good it would look to crush the rebellion before it really started, with no losses. If we were to have a little time…"

  "Political advice from a Hunter, even a senior one like you? Bold. Very Bold." Garrow's tone was stern and his eyes narrowed.

  "Apologies, I meant no offence and spoke in haste. I'm just hoping to get things done with a minimum of fuss. I'm getting on a bit and I don't have the energy for all the running around anymore."

  Garrow's look softened and he sighed. "I can understand creaking a bit at the edges. And you do look a little long in the tooth for running men down."

  "I use a horse when I can, much easier on the legs," Jonas said.

  “Shame you’d not managed to fit some time in the army into your years. You’d have a better idea of how things worked. And how to address a general.”

  “It’s to my regret, General. I have much admiration for the work the army does keeping us all safe. I’m a little old to sign up now though I think.”

  Garrow sighed. “I’m sure you provide a valuable service. Give a description to the Captain when you leave and I’ll have the men keep their eyes out for your man.”

  “Ah, thank you General,” Jonas said.

  “Dismissed,” Garrow said.

  Jonas bowed smartly and Alia followed suit. They made their way back out of the tent. The captain saluted and made to follow them.

  “A moment, Captain…” Garrow said. The captain winced.

  *****

  “So the plan is we rid
e in, mention we are former officers in a proper army, and then try and talk them out of a battle?”

  Daeholf was walking alongside Trimas, and he decided part of the plan needed refining. “I’d suggest not using the phrase ‘proper army’, the rebels might get upset.”

  “A bit of anger is good for you.”

  “Well we can only hope for both our sakes that it doesn’t bring an early grave.”

  “Fair point. We’ll also have to pretend we don’t really, really want to ride in and offer our services to them for real.”

  “Will you have a problem with that?”

  “Will you?”

  “I can cope.”

  “Cope is right.”

  They walked along silently for a short while, before Daeholf spoke again. “If we weren’t helping Jonas, if there wasn’t something bigger happening, if it was just us…”

  “Then we might help?”

  “Might we?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Can you see any way they can win?”

  “So we’d only help if it wasn’t a suicide mission?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, we are going to try and talk them out of it. That means we both think they’ll lose, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I just can’t shake the feeling we—”

  “Halt,” said a voice that was both overblown and a little bit terrified.

  Trimas and Daeholf had been walking towards the sentries for a while now, and they could only just hear the shouted command.

  “He’s keen.”

  “State your business.” It was shouted and still a little indistinct.

  Trimas and Daeholf looked at each other, raised their arms as if praying to make sure their hands were nowhere near weapons, and kept walking.

  “I said state your…”

  “I think we can wait until they’re nearer,” the other sentry decided.

  Soon a conversation could be had at a sensible distance.

  “We’re former soldiers come to help the rebel army,” Daeholf explained. “I was a sergeant, and my companion here was a captain. We would like to report what we have learned of the enemy to the General and Council.”

  “Ah, come to enlist!”

  “No, to report what we’ve seen.”

  “Oh.”

  “Perhaps your general can talk us round once we’ve given him the information.”