Dark Jenny

by Alex Bledsoe

  My movements stirred up the dust, which sparkled in the light coming through the window. I watched it for a long time; the only sounds were the birds and insects outside, and Amelia’s muffled crying.

  Man, I was tired. Down to the bone. The last time I’d slept decently was before Sam Patrice’s death … three days ago? Had it only been that long? Since then I’d grabbed a few hours here and there, but not enough to call any of it rest. Certainly not last night, bouncing in that wagon.

  My shoulders and wrists still felt the impact of the blow that killed Hoel. Splitting a skull wasn’t easy, and I was lucky the sword was both heavy and sharp. I looked at my formerly broken hand again, marveling at the flexibility despite the purple blotch over the knuckles. I tried not to think about what it meant.

  At last I knocked softly on the bedroom door and went inside. Kern stood at the foot of the bed smoking his pipe, while Amelia knelt and brushed Jenny’s hair. The tall woman hummed a nursery-rhyme song, her voice cracking.

  Somewhere she’d found a demure white dress that fit the smaller woman. With her eyes closed and hands crossed on her chest, Jenny did indeed look like a corpse. If she was breathing, it didn’t show, and the giggleweed masked any lingering shatternight odor.

  “She was so sweet,” Amelia said, interrupting her nontune. “She just wanted to live with her man in peace. She never wanted to be someone important.” Amelia’s face contorted and she began to cry anew. Her nose ran, the snot pinkish with dried blood, and she wiped it carelessly on her sleeve. “Why did this have to happen?”

  “If I could answer that, honey, we wouldn’t be living in the middle of the woods,” Kern answered. He turned his red eyes on me and said, “She’ll stay like this for three days or so. Then it’ll wear off on its own. To bring her out of it before then, wave the fumes from that sealed bottle under her nose.”

  I nodded.

  Kern waved his pipe at my bloody tunic. “Would you like some fresh clothes?”

  “Do you have anything with less than five colors?”

  He smiled. “I left all those behind when I quit my job at court.”

  “I’ll pass, then.”

  I watched Amelia’s brush make its way through Jenny’s hair. She really did look like Queen Jennifer with her features immobile and relaxed. Then I had an idea. I was too tired to judge if it was good or bad. I said, “Amelia, do you have any jewelry?”

  The question caused her face to scrunch with effort. Her nose, puffy and starting to bruise, did not join the scrunch. She said guardedly, “A little. Odds and ends. Why?”

  “Is it sparkly stuff?”

  She looked more confused. “Some of it.”

  “I need you to use it to make Jenny look regal. I want people to think she is Queen Jennifer.” I turned to Kern. “Do you have any wooden planks?”

  “Some.”

  I patted him on the arm. “Good. We have some carpentry to do. Come on.”

  * * *

  IT was nearly dark before we finished. I’d long since accepted that I’d get no sleep this night, either.

  First we cleaned up the mess. We carried the bodies of the three knights far into the cave and dumped them down a crevice so deep we never heard them hit bottom. I used bent nails to attach one of their discarded swords under the wagon’s seat, one along the inside edge of the bed behind me, and one on the bottom of the wagon. It was only overkill if I didn’t need them. Then Cameron showed me his available lumber and we got to work. It was a simple project, and there were two of us, so it didn’t take long.

  As the sun set behind the trees, Amelia carried Jenny out to the wagon. I’d hitched up my original two horses; the knights’ mounts ran when I tried to catch them and didn’t look suited to such mundane work anyway. The horses from Spears’s stable were well rested and fed now, so they’d do fine.

  Amelia had also done well. In addition to the white gown, the false corpse now wore a tiara, long earrings, and a wide necklace. All were gaudy and weren’t really the jewels they pretended to be. But they worked: Jenny looked angelic and almost magical in them, a sleeping princess awaiting true love’s kiss. If only.

  When she saw what waited in the wagon bed, Amelia froze. “No.”

  “Amelia,” Kern said gently.

  “No, Cammy, that’s a coffin.”

  “I need to take people off guard,” I said. “A man hauling a coffin gets automatic respect and right of way. And if anyone looks inside, they’ll think it’s the queen, which should be a surprise that buys me some more time.”

  “She’s not dead,” Amelia insisted. “What if she wakes up inside there?”

  “She won’t,” Kern said with certainty.

  Amelia looked at him. “Cammy—”

  “She wants to see Elliot,” I interrupted. I didn’t have the patience for long explanations. “There’s an army between us and them that we have to get through. This is the only way that’ll happen.” At least, the only way I could think of in my sleep-deprived state, but I saw no need to mention that.

  Amelia continued to look at Kern. He said nothing.

  At last the tall woman stepped to the side of the wagon and slowly lowered Jenny into the box we’d built for her. She arranged the unconscious woman’s hands on her chest, stroked her hair a final time, and softly kissed her. Backlit by the setting sun through the trees, a lone tear fell from Amelia’s cheek to Jenny’s lips as she stood.

  “Good-bye, Dark Jenny,” Amelia said softly.

  Then Kern and I put the lid on the coffin.

  I only used two big nails, enough to hold it in place. I didn’t want it to be airtight, and if I needed to open it, I’d bet it would be quickly.

  Chattering birds settled into the trees for the evening. It would be full night soon. As I put the scabbard Spears gave me across my back, I said to Kern, “I haven’t asked because I hoped you’d offer, but I could use your help.”

  “You’ve had my help.”

  I climbed onto the wagon seat. “I mean at Nodlon. Come with me.”

  He put up his hands. “No. I’m happy here. I’m staying here.”

  “If Ted Medraft gets the crown—”

  “He’ll never bother me.”

  “How do you know?”

  Kern smiled and waggled his eyebrows. “Because I’m Cameron the Wizard, and I know all.”

  I smiled wryly. “If you’re so all-knowing, then what’s the shortest way to Nodlon from here?”

  “I’ve got a map for you.” Kern handed me a rolled parchment. “This takes you back to the main road. You’ll come out just to the east of a little crossroads town called Astolat. After that it’s a straight shot.”

  I took the reins and was about to snap them when Kern put his hand on my leg and motioned for me to lean down. It was hard to do with the scabbard holding my spine straight. He said quietly, “Because I’m so all-knowing, I’m going to give you some advice. If I were still at court, I’d call it a prophecy and use lots of bells and whistles to scare you shitless, but under the circumstances I’ll skip all that. Are you ready?”

  I just looked at him, too tired for a snappy comeback.

  He checked that Amelia was out of earshot. She stood in the cottage door, long arms wrapped around herself. Kern said quietly, “Remember I said you had a taste for violence? You need to keep in mind that every man you kill was once somebody’s little baby and had a mother who probably loved him. I’m not saying you shouldn’t kill people; some people do need killing. But you should never enjoy it, because if you do, you’ve killed part of yourself that won’t ever grow back. And I don’t think you’ve got many of those to spare.”

  I still said nothing. He’d watched me kill Agravaine and seen the results of my discussion with Hoel, so I suppose he felt he understood me. Maybe he did.

  He patted my stubbly cheek, then stepped aside. I snapped the reins, the wagon made a wide turn around the clearing, and we headed back to Nodlon.

  chapter

  TWENTY-SEVEN


  The route led across farm country, along roads and trails most used at harvest time. Since that was several weeks away, they were overgrown and in need of repair; it was rough going. I couldn’t believe the constant jostling didn’t wake Jenny, but apparently Kern’s “magic” was as good as he said. I deliberately put his “prophecy” out of my mind.

  The weather also didn’t cooperate as it had the night before. It was cloudy and therefore much darker, especially when we passed beneath the trees. I wondered if it would’ve been faster to go back the way I’d come; then I wondered if Kern sent us this way because it was. This wasn’t paranoia; by then I was sure no one on Grand Bruan did anything for the obvious or stated reasons.

  As Kern promised, though, we came out just to the east of Astolat and turned west toward it, and Nodlon beyond.

  Before that, though, I stopped and checked the coffin. Jenny had not moved, although the ride had disheveled her a bit. I straightened her clothes, rearranged her hair, and replaced the lid. I wondered if she was somehow aware of my presence, so I was careful not to touch anything untoward. The memory of that one kiss, whatever its real purpose, remained vivid. Too vivid.

  An orange glow illuminated the clouds past Astolat, the distinctive reflection from a large fire. It was too close to be Nodlon Castle, and too far away to be the town. I didn’t recall anything in between big enough to make so large a blaze. But, since I was headed toward it anyway, it seemed useless to waste time pondering it. I’d find out soon enough.

  Astolat was eerily quiet and still. No light showed in any windows, and none of the chimneys produced any smoke. A dog or wolf ran silently across the road without looking in my direction; it was the only sign of life. Granted it was the middle of the night, but usually there’d be something, such as a crying baby or a couple fighting. There was nothing.

  This was extremely creepy. I didn’t speed the horses, but I drew the sword from my back and put it on the seat beside me. The empty scabbard was flexible enough I could finally slump a bit, although I was so tense I didn’t.

  I passed the Crack’d Mirror, where I’d encountered Ted Medraft; its door stood open, and inside was solid darkness. No hearth fire or lamp glowed anywhere. I’d never known a tavern to close and leave its door unlocked. Something had happened here and either left no trace or the traces were hidden by the night.

  As soon as we left town the road became a shambles of broken and missing stones. It hadn’t been like this yesterday, so something massive must’ve come through. I recalled the size of the dust cloud I’d seen to the north; it looked as if this was where the troops turned west, straight toward Nodlon just as I’d feared.

  I kept the horses moving as fast as they would; on the broken stones, the wagon rattled so hard I feared my eyes might shake loose. Luckily the horses were in as big a hurry to leave the ghost town as I was.

  * * *

  THE trees closed in over the road. They had tall, straight trunks so that when everything lined up, you could see quite a way through the forest. Through the trees, on the far side of the woods, I saw several distant fires; the glow on the clouds wasn’t from one big blaze, but from a scattering of smaller ones. They were too large for hearth blazes, but it was past midsummer and not yet first harvest. What would people be celebrating with bonfires?

  I got my first hint of what had happened when the horses, growing progressively more nervous, finally stopped in the middle of the road and stomped in place. Nothing I did or said convinced them to move. Their whinnies were loud in the silence, and I realized no insects were singing.

  I grabbed my sword when I spotted the large, dark shape on the road ahead. I watched it long enough to be reasonably sure it wasn’t moving. I got down from the wagon and approached. It was a dead horse and, still halfway in the saddle, its equally deceased rider. In the orange half-light I counted four arrows stuck in his torso and a half dozen more in the horse.

  I knelt to look over the victim. His clothes marked him as a farmer, and his face showed him to be barely out of boyhood. I pulled an arrow from the horse and studied it as much as the light allowed. It wasn’t expensive or fancy but simple, utilitarian, and lethal.

  Ten arrows is a good-size volley, which spoke of an awful lot of archers. I knew at once who had done this: the kind of soldiers who get paid to fight whoever they’re told is their enemy that day, and who think nothing about leaving a trail of dead civilians for no good reason except fun. Mercenaries, as I’d once been.

  I recalled Ted Medraft’s presence in Astolat just before the troops from the north arrived. It was clear who put the gold in their pockets. Hoel had told me the truth.

  I saw three more fires through the forest. They made sense now: farms or homesteads, looted and burned by men who had no one to fight. Medraft left a scorched trail reflected in the lowering clouds all the way to Nodlon.

  There was no question of moving the dead horse, so I led the wagon team around it, giving as much leeway as I could. Then I climbed back on the seat and urged the horses on as fast as my rattling bones could stand it. I envied Jenny her oblivion.

  As I got closer to Nodlon, I passed more burning farmhouses and bodies in the road. I’d been wrong: this wasn’t just professional killers blowing off steam, it was a battle tactic designed to terrify the civilian population into keeping its distance. The bodies were deliberately left on the road where they’d be found. After twenty years’ peace under King Marcus, the citizens were completely unprepared for this level of brutality.

  Ahead of me a light moved on the side of the road, arcing back and forth in the air. As I got closer, I made out a torch waving to get my attention.

  Again I drew my sword and put it on the wagon seat beside me. I had no shield, so if they had arrows, I’d be a pincushion. I stopped the wagon fifty feet away and called, “Who’s there?”

  “I’ve got an injured Knight of the Double Tarn here,” a woman’s voice said. “Can you help me?”

  I crouched as much as I could to make a smaller target. “How’d he get injured?”

  “How do you think? Those dirty bastards who came through here cut him up and left him for dead.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Says his name is Kay.”

  Well, hell. I jumped from the wagon and cautiously approached the torch. The old woman holding it had limp white hair and clothes that had never been new. “Where is he?”

  She warningly pointed the torch in my direction. “Not so fast. How do I know you’re not one of them?”

  “How do I know you’ve really got an injured knight?”

  She pondered this, then raised the torch. “I reckon at this point it doesn’t matter. I’ve got nothing left anyway. Come on.”

  I followed her down into the shallow, dry ditch. The torchlight reflected off armor that moved a little as we approached. A sword waved a weak warning in our direction.

  “It’s okay,” the woman said. “It’s me. I’ve brought help.”

  Bob Kay lay on his side, a bloody makeshift bandage around his neck. His face shone with sweat and his breathing was louder than the crackling torch. He lowered the sword but kept his hand around the hilt.

  I knelt beside him. “Bob, it’s me, Eddie.”

  It took him a moment to focus on me, and another moment for recognition to hit. “LaCrosse?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What happened?” His voice was thin and raspy.

  “Isn’t that my line?”

  He grabbed the front of my tunic with his empty hand and pulled me close. “Elliot never showed up, you bastard. You betrayed us.”

  “The hell I did,” I said, and slapped his hand away. I was too tired to endure insults. He fell forward, and if I hadn’t caught him, he would’ve landed on his face. I pushed him back onto his side and said, “I got to Blithe Ward and delivered the message. He should’ve been at Nodlon yesterday morning.”

  Kay’s eyes closed and his head sagged. “Then they got him, too. I went to find h
im under a flag of truce, and as soon as I got out of sight of Nodlon, they jumped me.” He sighed despairingly. “Without Elliot…”

  “Is Ted Medraft behind all this? Did he bring in an army of mercenaries?”

  Kay nodded, then winced at the movement and gingerly clutched his neck. “All those months he was supposed to be protecting our northern coast from raiders, he’s been hiring them instead. He’s got Marcus pinned at Nodlon. Brilliant move, tactically speaking. At Motlace, Medraft never could’ve forced a confrontation, but Nodlon’s not set up to endure a siege.” Kay coughed painfully. “How that little pig turd and his mother managed to pull all this together…”

  “How bad is your neck?”

  He shrugged. “Hurts like a bastard. Hard to breathe. But it can’t be too bad if I’m not dead yet.” He raised up on his elbows. “Polly here fixed me up. She’s got a sure hand.”

  The white-haired woman shrugged. “I’ve had three husbands. They all tended to get into scrapes.”

  I leaned close to Kay. “Listen, I know what’s happened and why. But we have to get to Nodlon before the real fight starts, and before Marcus does anything he can’t undo. And I have a secret weapon.”

  “You’ve been busy,” Kay rasped. “Sorry for doubting you. Hard to know who to trust anymore on this fucking island.”

  I nodded. “Ain’t it the truth.”

  He saw the sword in its scabbard across my back. “That looks like one of Elliot’s.”

  “I told you I found him.”

  “Yeah. There was a time a whole division’s worth of men couldn’t have stopped him from getting to Jennifer. I guess we all slow down when we get older.”