by J. P. Ashman
Sears peered through the gap in the window shutters. ‘And no one knows this is yer place, Longoss?’
‘Can’t guarantee that,’ Longoss said, as he painfully sat in an old, wooden chair.
‘Then we move on,’ Sears said forcefully, looking across the small room at the man who was now staring at the floor, clearly still in pain over what they’d found at Mother’s.
‘Ye both need time to rest and heal before we move anywhere else.’ Coppin said, noticing both men were shying away from contact with various parts of their bodies. ‘Neither of ye’re in any fit state to move, let alone fight should the need arise.’
Stepping away from the window, Sears reached behind him, wincing as he did so before pulling forth a small flask. ‘I may have something for that,’ he said, holding his meaning up for them both to see. Longoss looked up, lips pursed and brow furrowed as he took in the small flask.
‘What is it?’ he said eventually.
‘Honestly? I’m not sure, but it works wonders; fixed this up in a matter of hours.’ Sears poked his finger through the hole in his maille hauberk.
Longoss’ eyes widened. ‘Then it must be good.’ He held up his hand and Sears threw him the flask, after taking a huge swig for himself and replacing the cork.
‘Great, there’ll be nowt left…’ Longoss stopped what he was saying when he realised the flask was full. Looking back to a grinning Sears, he pulled the cork with his gold teeth and knocked back what he imagined was the whole contents. The bitter taste almost made him gag and Sears laughed as he held his hand out for the flask, which was already re-filling itself.
‘Magic,’ Sears said, catching it and placing it back in his pouch.
‘Literally,’ Coppin said, eyes wide.
‘Sorry lass, ye could do with a nip yerself, methinks.’ Sears held out the flask and Coppin took a quick swig, followed by a string of curses.
‘Ha! Good girl.’ Sears took the flask back from Coppin and returned it to its pouch.
‘That’ll sort ye out, Coppin.’ Longoss showed his teeth, before literally pissing himself where he sat.
‘Longoss!’ Coppin was disgusted, but not surprised. ‘Mother said ye’re known for doing that. It’s disgusting.’
The big man looked to her, confused.
‘I know why he does it,’ Sears said, sitting on the floor opposite Longoss.
‘Why I do what?’
‘Piss. Your. Self,’ Coppin said, pronouncing every word and pointing at Longoss as she did so.
Sears nodded. ‘Quite clever really. It’s a diversionary tactic. He does it to throw his opponents in a fight. Last thing they’ll think about someone who’s pissed themselves, is they’re a real threat, am I right?’ Sears smiled at Coppin and looked to Longoss expectantly.
Longoss frowned. ‘Never thought of it like that,’ he said in all honesty.
‘Then why?’ Sears and Coppin both asked.
‘Weak bladder,’ he said, rubbing his stomach. ‘Plus, I’ve never had anyone else but me to think of, so why bother making the effort to find somewhere to go, when here will do just fine, same as any other animal.’
Coppin’s face screwed up as she moved across the room and sat on the floor next to Sears. ‘But ye’re not an animal, Longoss.’
Longoss merely nodded, his eyes drifting away from them as he took a deep breath.
‘Longoss, ye’re no animal,’ she said again, staring right at him.
He looked back at her eventually and smiled; no teeth. ‘I held it once ye know, me dick. I held it hard and long, not wanting me da to find me pissing miself. Ye know what happened?’
Coppin shook her head and Sears just looked on.
‘I pissed miself anyway, but instead of piss, it were blood.’
‘Longoss, that’s awful,’ Coppin said, but the big guy just grinned gold.
‘Not what me da said, beat me silly that night he did. Still, he never lasted long after that.
‘I am an animal though, Coppin, we all are. Just some act it more than others is all.’ And if I’d been less of one and never joined that guild, then Elleth would still be alive.
‘This is all lovely,’ Sears said, much to Coppin’s annoyance, ‘but I’d rather hear about the Black Guild and whatever it is they have planned.’
Longoss nodded. ‘Aye, I imagine ye do, Sears, and I’d be telling ye if I knew, but all I know is there’s something big coming; to be doing all of this to me for turning down one mark…’ Longoss looked up at the low ceiling, lifting his hands to his head and rubbing hard.
‘This has been extreme then, even for them?’ Sears asked.
Longoss nodded again. ‘Even for them. They don’t take kindly to assassins turning down marks. They’ll even kill one to prove that point, but that’s rare indeed for one with my experience. All of this though…’
He was becoming animated and clearly agitated as he thought about what they’d done to him; to Elleth.
‘It’s alright, Longoss,’ Coppin said.
‘It’s not though is it?’ Longoss shouted, surging to his feet.
Sears stood too, and held his hands out in front of him. ‘Calm down big guy.’
Coppin followed them both up.
‘If I’d taken the mark, Elleth would still be alive, but I’d have broken me word to her not to kill. I was damned either way, but least she’d be alive.’
‘Alive in that shit-hole,’ Coppin said, tears wetting her eyes. ‘That was no life, Longoss, trust me. She’s gone, aye, but I’m not and I need ye to be strong. I need ye to train me, like you.’
Both men looked at her then.
‘Why is that so hard to believe? That I want to be able to fend for miself?’ She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows.
‘There’s fending for yerself and then there’s what I do… did,’ Longoss said. ‘Sears here would do better for ye than me.’
‘Well it ain’t Sears that swore to Elleth to rescue me, and that means more than dragging me from that bastard in the cathedral and dropping me in the middle of Dockside being hunted by the Black fucking Guild!’
Longoss stared at Coppin, as did Sears.
Coppin forced herself to calm down. Wiping her tears away she looked at both men. ‘I’m a distraction to ye both and if they come, Longoss, ye can’t kill, ye can’t break yer word to Elleth. Let me help. Let me fight. I deserve that, after what they did to me, to me sisters, I deserve to pay the bastards back miself.’
Sears’ smile at Coppin was one of sympathy as Longoss spoke. ‘I can’t train ye to do anything in the time it might take ’em to come, Coppin, I just can’t. It takes years to train, to reach a level needed to beat the likes of those they’ll send.’
‘So ye’ve done it before? Trained assassins?’ Coppin asked, hope lighting her face.
Longoss dropped back into the chair and nodded. ‘Aye lass, one – a girl much like yerself.’
‘Lovely,’ Sears said. ‘I bet she’s a peach.’
Ignoring Sears’ comment, Coppin continued. ‘If it’s time we need, then we’ll move again, now. Hide somewhere they can’t find us until we’re ready for ’em.’
‘What happened to us not being fit enough?’ Sears said, rounding on Coppin.
‘The way ye both surged to yer feet a moment ago and the already fading bruises on yer faces tells me yer magic juice works well enough for ye both to move again. I can certainly feel it working on me. Anyway, I ain’t suggesting we go looking for no fights, I’m suggested we go deeper into hiding.’
Longoss was shaking his head to match Sears. ‘It’s no good Coppin, we can’t hide forever and they’ll be looking for us even now. I wouldn’t be surprised if they knew we’re here in fact.’
‘Great,’ Sears said, moving back to and looking through the gap in the window shutters again, one hand on his short-sword.
‘So, what would ye do if they burst in now, Longoss?’ Coppin said, moving to stand in front of the man. ‘Ye can’t kill ’em, can ye? So wha
t then? Ye just watch me die whilst ye tickle the bastards?’
‘Ye’re being stupid, girl.’ Longoss rested his head in his hands.
‘And ye’re being stubborn,’ she replied, dropping down so she was face to face with him. ‘Ye want to take the fight to them don’t ye?’
Longoss looked up into her eyes and nodded once.
‘Well so do I, damn ye, but I need yer help to do it and ye need mine—’
‘And I need answers about this bloody mark,’ Sears said, turning to face them both. ‘I didn’t send my partner off on his own so I could sit around discussing shit and bollocks.’
‘Nor did ye do it so ye could get killed by assassins in the street,’ Coppin said. ‘But that’s what’ll happen if we go for ’em now, or try and get out of Dockside, isn’t that right?’ She aimed the latter to Longoss, who reluctantly nodded.
‘Then what’re we gonna do?’ Sears said.
‘We do what I say and we move. We go deeper into hiding and ye both do all ye can to train me to fend for miself.’
Neither man said a word, but both stared at each other. Coppin turned back to Longoss, placed a hand on each knee and looked into his eyes. ‘Don’t leave me,’ she said, her bottom lip trembling ever so slightly.
Longoss sat straight and leaned in towards her. ‘I won’t, Coppin, I ain’t going nowhere.’ And I almost gave ye me word, but I’m not sure I can do that no more, for I don’t know if I’ll break it.
‘Well I am.’ She sprung to her feet and made for the door.
Sears rushed forward and barred her path, shaking his head as she looked at him.
‘I’m going and if ye ain’t for leaving me, ye best be with me, both of ye.’
Both men looked at each other and both men sighed.
‘Ye won’t let up, will ye?’ Sears said.
Coppin shook her head. ‘Would you? If it were yer brother or sister they’d killed?’
Sears’ mind drifted immediately. Biviano… ye better be safe, ye little weasel, and gods I hope ye got to Ellis Frane in time. What sort of men are we, forgetting him like that; too caught up in trying to save this lass. Wherever ye are Biviano, I can’t help ye now, old friend, for if ye’re too late for Ellis Frane and I don’t do all I can to help this one, then it were all for naught.
‘No,’ Sears said eventually, ‘I wouldn’t let up.’
‘Then help me.’
Sears nodded. ‘Alright, lass, I’ll do what I can.’
They both looked to Longoss, who sat in his chair and stared back at them.
All I can do now, Elleth, Longoss thought, is my best for yer sister.
‘As will I,’ he said finally, standing and moving towards them both.
Sears wrinkled his nose. I’ll tell ye what ye could do Longoss, change those stinking braes.
***
Exley Clewarth slumped against the solid wall, his hands grazed after what seemed like hours of running them along the rough stone, searching for a way out of the pitch black and silence assaulting his senses.
Silence? No… not any more.
There was a noise, very, very faint, but there was a knocking sound coming from…
‘Shit,’ he whispered, as he realised he couldn’t pinpoint the direction of the knocking.
He gently banged the back of his head against the stone wall in time with the knocking, his wide brimmed hat lost somewhere in the darkness. As he continued to bump his head against the wall, he whispered a prayer to Sir Samorl. When he finished reciting the prayer, he realised the knocking was growing louder, ever so slightly, but definitely louder.
He strained his ears to listen for a direction, but it was hopeless. Could it be the others, trying to hammer through the wall behind him? Exley turned then and pressed his ear against the cold stone, praying to hear a voice or anything that would let him know they were close. All there was, was the knocking… over and over again, growing louder but only slightly, as time dragged on by.
What seemed like another hour passed before he could determine where the sound was coming from; it wasn’t the wall. He tilted his head and slowly drew his rapier, wincing at the sound it made as it scraped from the scabbard. He climbed to his feet for the first time in what felt like an age, and held his breath to see if his movement had changed anything. The knocking continued, and so finally he dared, in the blackness, to venture forward, his left hand outstretched while his right held up his rapier defensively.
Exley shuffled his feet forward bit by bit, aware of the stone walls surrounding him. He worried about walking face first into one, and so he crept on, ever so quietly towards the sound that continued to come from… where? In front of him?
After a dozen or so pounding heartbeats, he suddenly felt unsure about leaving the wall behind. It was his only anchor to his men and the potential way out. Shaking his head, he steeled himself and shuffled his feet forward a little more.
His leading foot hit something, something soft. It made him cringe as his imagination threw all sorts of images at him. Exley Clewarth was no coward. He’d faced everything from goblins and hobyahs, to werewolves and vampyrs, but he'd always had light; a torch at least, to show him the way; show him his enemy. His keen senses helped of course, excellent hearing and smell, but his eyes were his tools in a fight and he found himself sweating profusely at the thought of being attacked whilst effectively blind.
It moved. Oh, Sir Samorl, no, he thought, as the soft… whatever it was… at his foot moved; not much, but enough for him to realise it was alive. He slowly and silently turned his rapier point down and then thrust hard.
The scream was a terrible assault on ears that had heard nothing but a faint knocking for who knew how long. He stabbed again and again until his rapier repeatedly struck stone.
The screaming stopped… as did the knocking.
Chapter 33: Fire & Ice
Night had fallen completely across Beresford as the arrows fell; some lit, some not and it was those invisible missiles falling from the black sky that kept most of the townsfolk inside their homes.
The men-at-arms and crossbowmen on the town wall cringed behind the ramparts as deathly whispers emanated from the darkness; the voices of the dead come to haunt them in their walled town.
A large ball of fire whooshed through the air – over the cowering men on the wall – to crash into a thatched roof, sending sparks high into the night sky. People screamed from within and a man ran from the front door. As soon as he set out, an unlit arrow slammed into his chest, sending him crashing back into the blazing inferno.
It didn’t take long before fires jumped from building to building, despite the few townsfolk who braved the arrows to rush around with buckets of water. Those who managed to avoid being struck by arrows still failed to slow the spreading flames, which easily caught hold on the wood and thatch of the closely packed buildings.
People screamed and bells rang all over Beresford.
A stone church to one end of the town opened its doors to let flocks of people through until it could hold no more. The keep, which stood just a couple of hundred yards from the northernmost point of the town, opened its doors too, but filled much quicker, for the squat stone tower had nowhere near the space needed to give its townspeople refuge. Many more people piled across the wide stone bridge leading to the east side of the River Norln. That press of people hindered the soldiers who attempted to cross the bridge the other way, to reinforce their comrades on the wall.
‘Watch out,’ Fal shouted, as a ball of fire crashed into a building nearby, sending burning debris scattering through the air.
Starks fell back and pressed himself against the wall of the bakery they were using as shelter, its overhanging first floor protecting them from the falling arrows.
The group had almost reached the inn Correia had spoken of when the warning bells had begun to chime The first fire arrows had fallen in the north of the town, almost half a mile away, but it didn’t take long for the bells to ring and the people to
react.
It hadn’t been long before they realised the town’s attackers were the goblin force the Baron of Ullston had ridden against; his bloodied head had landed at their feet along with his squire’s and several others, clearly launched by some sort of catapult.
Before the horror of it could sink in, Fal had called for them to head to the wall, to reinforce the defenders there.
Correia grabbed his arm as he set out, and hauled him with surprising strength back under the bakery’s overhang, as did Gleave with Starks.
‘We’ll do no good here, sergeant,’ Correia shouted over the din, and Fal glared at her angrily.
‘So we leave again,’ he snapped, ‘to run and hide like before? Leaving good men to die? Do you know what the goblins will do should they breach the wall Correia? Do you?’ He wrenched his arm from her grip and punched the wall beside him.
‘We all bloody well know,’ Mearson shouted. ‘The women and children will get it the worst. You ever seen what they do, Fal? ‘Cause we have, alright, and it ain’t pretty. But Correia’s right, we can’t do any good here, not a handful of us verses a tribe. The wall can hold if more troops arrive from the other side of the river, and then they’ll have a good fighting chance of awaiting true reinforcements. This town has stood for centuries, I’m sure it can hold out to a few goblins.’ Mearson leant back against the wall and knocked the hilt of his sword against it, his eyes avoiding Fal’s, who wondered who the pathfinder was trying to convince.
‘Falchion,’ Correia said calmly. ‘We have a job to do, a mission from the King himself and it will affect far more lives than those in this town if we fail… if we fall in battle here tonight. Wesson is relying on us, hell, the kingdom is relying on us. Do not think we enjoy walking away from a fight, Fal, nor do it lightly.’
Fal nodded slowly and looked to Starks, who was staring at the sky, his eyes glazed over.
Another ball of fire smashed into the middle of the street in front of them and they all turned and threw themselves to the ground as flaming shrapnel scattered across the area.
‘Is everyone alright?’ Errolas shouted.
