by Rob J. Hayes
“You ain't in charge,” Green spat.
“Jus' do it, Green,” Bones said as he heaved the Boss to his feet. “You can piss an' whinge 'bout it on the other side.” With that he put one cautious foot on the bridge, sighed and started across, supporting the Boss with one arm while holding white knuckled onto the bridge with the other.
It took them even longer than it had taken Swift and the sun was high and hot by the time it came to Thanquil and Thorn's turn to cross. The far side of the Jorl sported a forest that crept all the way to the cliff side and the shade the trees would provide was looking more than a little tempting. I'd happily swim the Jorl myself for a nap under those trees.
“You first, Arbiter.” The Black Thorn waved at the bridge
“Can I trust you to watch my back, I wonder.”
“I ain't gonna stab ya but the crossin' will give us some time fer a chat.”
The Arbiter nodded and started across the bridge, the Black Thorn followed close behind. Jezzet watched them go for a while then sat down to wait. She couldn't help but notice Henry staring at her.
When it came time for Jezzet to cross she hesitated. Henry strutted up to the bridge, snorted out a laugh at her and began her crossing. Jez gave the little woman a good twenty paces head start before stepping onto the bridge herself. The wooden planks beneath her feet felt anything but safe and with every step the swaying was worse.
At least there's only a slight breeze, Jez. Trying to cross this thing in anything more would be suicide.
She edged along, one step, one plank of wood at a time. Her hand tight on the rope, never letting go. It wasn't a wide bridge, two metres at a stretch and here and there a plank was missing. Jezzet looked down. How many people have fallen to their deaths from here? It was not a comforting thought. She considered closing her eyes as she went but that would just make things worse. If a plank did go she wouldn't see it, she'd just drop, opening her eyes just in time to see air rushing past her before...
Stop it, Jez. Don't think about it. Just keep walking. One foot after the other, slow is fine, slow is good. Don't look down. Trust your footing. Keep walking.
She was about half way across when Henry stopped and turned to face her. The first thing Jez noticed was the little woman's twin daggers were drawn. A grin and a sneer both mixed on her face, she was no more than five paces away.
“That's far enough, whore,” Henry shouted over the roar of the Jorl hundreds of feet below. Her voice sounded strained, higher than normal.
“What are you doing, Henry? This isn't the place for this,” Jezzet shouted back.
“What's the matter? Scared of heights?”
Yes, as it happens. Though far more scared of the Jorl, you crazy bitch.
“We fight here we're both like to die.”
Henry laughed though the sound barely carried as far as Jezzet. It sounded like the rushing waters were right below them; either that or it was Jez's heart pounding in her ears.
“Well that's your choice. Turn back or fight.”
Jezzet held no illusions. If she turned back now Henry would cut the bridge the moment she reached the far side. Truth was it might be better that way. She'd be free from the crazy bitch, free from the crew, free from the insane job they were all determined to pull.
Free from the Arbiter?
Her sword was in her left hand, her right still attached to the rope of the bridge. Jez hadn't realised she'd drawn her steel but she could see her hand shaking. Why do I always shake before a fight?
Henry came at her with daggers and eyes flashing. First the left, then the right. Jez parried the first, blocked the second and gave ground, edging backwards far faster than she'd moved forwards.
If she gets inside my reach I'm done. Jez parried another slash and answered with one of her own, followed by a jab and another slash, her strikes dangerously close to the rope that held them both aloft. This time Henry gave ground, with the way the bridge was swaying even she looked worried.
A gust of wind slammed into the bridge and Jezzet found herself pushed up against the rope, her right hand gripping tight. Knuckles as white as bleached bone. Henry yelped and almost went over, one of her daggers fell from her hand as she clutched to the rope. Jezzet watched the short bit of metal disappear down below them into the churning waters.
With a scream Henry came at her again, her dagger thrust at Jezzet's chest.
Jez caught the smaller blade on her own; twisted her wrist and shoved the elbow into Henry's face. The bitch cried in pain and stumbled backwards, her hand grasping for the rope. Jezzet let go of the lifesaving hemp, jumped to Henry's left and slammed the smaller woman with her shoulder.
With a high-pitched scream that made her sound a small girl Henry went over the side, hitting the rope and tumbling over. The world lurched underneath Jez's feet as the bridge gave a violent shake.
The rope snapped! Jezzet thought and clutched onto the left hand side for all her worth and the world went black. Then it passed, the bridge went back to swaying and Jez tried to calm her breathing. She prised her eyelids open.
She saw Thorn on the far side waving his three fingered hand and shouting though she couldn't hear his words. Opposite him Green had started across the bridge and was moving at a snail's pace. The roar of the Jorl was still all around her, crushing in from all sides. How is it coming from above as well as below? There was something else too; a high pitched whine. It sounded almost like crying.
Jezzet braved looking down. There, attached to one of the wooden planks was a hand, four small, pink fingers clinging onto the wood for dear life. She crossed to the right hand side of the bridge and peered over.
Henry hung by one hand, the rest of her small body swinging, swaying with the wind. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks and blew away to be swallowed up by the Jorl waiting below. She was sobbing, heavy racking movements of her chest as she clutched the wood with one hand. Her eyes were wide, fear and pleading in equal measures.
“Please,” Henry squeaked.
Jez's sword still weighed heavy in her own left hand. It would be so easy. One quick stab at the bitch's hand and she would plummet down into the Jorl and Jez could sleep easier at night knowing she was less likely to wake with a knife at her throat.
Jezzet looked at Thorn still waving, looked at Green edging his way along the bridge, and looked at Henry swinging from one hand in the empty space between the bridge and the Jorl. Then she put her sword back into its scabbard and started walking to the far side. One hand still clutched at the rope but all her fear of falling was now gone, she was too tired to be scared.
By the time Jezzet reached the far side of the Jorl the adrenaline had worn off and she was shaking so much it was all she could do to stay upright. She stumbled onto solid ground and would have collapsed had Thanquil not been there to grab her arm and steady her. Truth was Jezzet would like to have shrugged clear of him and stood on her own but she wasn't sure she could and for that she was grateful and more than grateful for the Arbiter's support.
“What the hell happened out there?” the Black Thorn demanded.
Your crazy bitch of a companion tried to murder me and you should all be fucking grateful I didn't murder her right back.
“Ask her,” Jezzet said waving towards the bridge. Green had reached Henry and pulled her up and was now half supporting, half carrying her across the bridge.
Thanquil helped Jezzet to a shaded spot underneath a giant tree and lowered her to the ground. “Thank you,” she said smiling and was just closing her eyes to take that quick nap she wanted so bad when she realised there was a man sat atop a horse with them all.
The Boss was lying on the ground, unconscious by the looks of him. Bones sat nearby looking like he didn't even know what sleep was, Swift was gone, Betrim stood at the cliff side by the bridge and the man on the horse sat there watching them all.
“Who's he?” she asked Thanquil.
“A trader bringing spices to Bittersprings.”
“On his own?”<
br />
“Seems that way.”
Jezzet didn't trust that. Only fools travelled the wilds on their own. That would make me a fool too, I guess. The man was grey haired, with a long grey beard and a back as straight as a pole. His face was hard and frowning and he wore old, stained riding leathers. His horse looked as old as he did. Well-fed but tired-looking, its hair the colour of dried mud.
“I think I'm gonna have a nap,” she heard herself mutter.
Thanquil shook her awake. “Jezzet I need you to do something,” he whispered. “I need you to check the Boss' wound. I need you to tell me if he's going to live.”
“He's lasted so far,” she said with an empty smile. “That's a good sign.”
“Jez, the Black Thorn doesn't think the Boss is going to make it and he knows he can't hold the crew together. If the Boss dies... I need their help, Jezzet.”
Can't hurt to take a look.
Jezzet nodded but she felt her eyes closing as she leaned against the rough wooden tree trunk. Her eyelids snapped open. The dim sleep that was claiming her disappeared, her vision cleared and the fog in her head evaporated. The Arbiter held her left hand in his own, her skin tingling at his touch. He had wrapped a small piece of paper around her wrist.
“What...?”
“It's a charm. It won't stop you from being tired but it will keep you awake for as long as you wear it. Please, just long enough to check his wound then you can sleep as long as you want, I'll watch over you.”
Jezzet held up her hand and looked at the slip of paper. He's not wrong about the still feeling tired.
Thanquil pulled her to her feet and she leaned against him for a moment before stumbling towards the Boss. The big southerner was lying on his back, his breathing shallow, his eyes closed. Jezzet waved at Bones.
“Take off his shirt and roll him onto his back.” Bones hesitated. “I need to check his wound.”
The giant didn't even bother struggling to his feet but did as she told him, crawling over to the Boss, lifting his thin shirt over his head and then rolling him.
Jezzet pulled her dagger from her belt and cut away the bandages. The smell was the first thing that struck her, it smelled of rot, of dead and dying flesh. The wound was angry and red, with yellow puss.
“Oh shit, that don't look good,” Bones said.
Jezzet looked toward Thanquil and gave a slight shake of her head. The Black Thorn walked over and took a good long look then he moved away and the Arbiter went with him. They stood together out of earshot, whispering to each other.
When did those two stop wanting to kill each other?
When they were finished talking Thanquil walked over to his pack while Thorn took up his post by the bridge. Henry and Green were almost across though the going was slow with him supporting her as he was.
“Cut away the rest of the bandages,” Thanquil called out as he pulled a small inkwell and a strip of paper from his pack. Jezzet did as she was told. “You'll need to clean it as best you can and be prepared to bandage it again.”
Jez handed the dagger to Bones and struggled to her feet, her own pack with her bandages was near Thanquil's. He was already drawing a symbol onto the paper, beads of sweat sprung onto his forehead.
“Will that save him?” she asked.
Thanquil finished writing a second symbol on the paper, he was panting, she noticed. He put the ink pot down and looked up at her. “It will stop him from dying,” he whispered just loud enough for her to hear over the ever present roar of the Jorl.
Jezzet set to cleaning the Boss' wound as best she could while Thanquil approached the old trader sitting watching them. “We need your horse.”
“S'not fer sale,” the old man said, his hand straying to a small dagger on his belt.
“No one ever said we was buying.” Swift appeared from the trees, a grin on his face; it disappeared when he spied the Boss' wound. “Shit.”
Thanquil tossed a small purse at the old trader. “Twenty gold. That's twenty times what the mare is worth, at least.”
How many purses of gold does he have?
“What 'bout my goods? Can't carry 'em all.”
“Take the gold, leave the horse an' saddle, carry what ya can an' count yaself lucky old man.” The Black Thorn put an end to the haggling. “I'd rather keep the gold, take the horse an' leave ya bleedin'.”
Jezzet poured fire wine on the Boss' wound. He groaned but didn't wake, didn't move. That's not a good sign; he's as good as dead.
When she was done Thanquil knelt beside her, the small slip of paper in his hand. He laid the paper across the wound. It almost seemed to seal itself to his skin. Jezzet looked at the charm around her left wrist.
“They can be taken off at any time. Might sting a bit though.” The Arbiter said, guessing her mind.
“What are you doin' ta him?” Henry said as she sunk down to her knees just a few paces from the cliff side. Green stalked off among the trees.
“Saving his life,” the Arbiter lied though he could have said they were gutting him to look for gold and Jezzet doubted Henry could try to stop them in her condition. The little woman was barely conscious and shaking worse than Jez.
“Wouldn't be here come nightfall,” the old trader said as he set his first foot on the bridge. “Unsavoury folk use this bridge at dark.”
“They don't come much more unsavoury than us, old man,” Swift said. The old trader just snorted in reply and started away.
Thanquil waited until Jezzet had finished with the bandaging and then took the Boss under one arm and heaved him to his feet. The Arbiter was whispering something under his breath all the while.
“Bones, help me get him onto the horse.” The giant did as he was bid though it took them both a long time and a lot of struggling until they lashed the Boss onto the beast with a length of rope.
“Now what?” the giant asked.
The Black Thorn took hold of the horse’s reins. “We head fer Hostown, as the Boss planned. He'll be better by the time we get there. Right?”
“Sure,” Thanquil said.
They started moving again. Swift in front with Green, Thorn leading the horse, Bones carrying the near unconscious Henry and Jezzet came last, leaning on the Arbiter as she walked.
“You promised me sleep,” she said after a while. A smile played on her lips but she lacked the energy to sustain it.
“You can sleep,” Thanquil replied grinning. “Hop on my back, I'll carry you.”
She laughed but the mirth was short lived. “How long will it last?”
The Arbiter let out a sigh. “Three weeks maybe, a month at best.”
“What will happen when it stops?”
“It's a powerful charm but it's not a cure. It's meant to stop a wound or a disease getting worse until the afflicted can be delivered to a proper healer.”
“So when it stops working...”
“He'll die.”
Right then Jezzet knew that the Arbiter would sacrifice them all for the sake of his mission. Even her.
The Arbiter
Long before they could see the walls of Hostown they entered the leagues of farm land that surrounded the capital of the province. Some grew wheat, some grew corn, and some grew odd brown tubers that had to be dug from the earth for harvesting and tasted of nothing. Many and more grew various types of fruit, some green, some orange, some yellow and long, others red and round. The heart of the H'ost province was rich in farmland. Long ago they had burned the trees to make room for such crops and the land was protected from the great herd by the Jorl. Frequent storms kept the land well watered and in times of drought deep wells had been dug which fed off the underground water of the Jorl.
Hostown was known all over the world for its vineyards and it produced some of the wilds' best exports. The wine produced here was renowned for being sweet and dark and full of body and flavour. Thanquil had tasted Hostown red wine before though, if truth be told, he found that cheap wine could get you drunk just as well as the ex
pensive kind and he was more than happy drinking sour vinegar if it was cheaper. Or at least after a few mugs of the stuff he was more than happy.
Hostown itself was a fair size smaller than Chade. Like all towns, cities, villages and forts in the wilds it sported high stone walls thick with soldiers all wearing the green on red that were the colours of house H'ost.
Just a half mile outside the walls Thanquil could see the tell-tale signs of an army; a multitude of tents all with coloured peaks littering the landscape, smoke from cook fires rose into the air from a hundred different places and scout patrols rode to and from the camp.
“That's a lot of men,” Bones said in a hushed tone. The entire crew had become more and more hushed the closer they got to Hostown.
“Not just men, women too,” Jezzet informed them. “Veterans from sell-sword companies; the Angel's Blades, Catherine and Constance's old company, the Gold Caps from the far south, the Red Men from north of the Red Forest. Others too. H'ost brought them all here and turned them all from sell-swords to soldiers. His own army too. The H'ost province is well populated and there are always men looking to earn money by swinging a sword.”
“How many men?” the Boss asked from atop his old horse. The southerner was alive, stronger than he had been but still weak. He walked each day for as long as possible but rode the rest of the way. His flesh seemed to have been burned from his bones and even talking came hard for him. Thanquil could only hope he lasted a few more days.
Jezzet spat. “When I lef... was captured the count stood at around eighteen thousand. Seems there might be more now. A lot more.”
“Eighteen thousand sounds a big number,” the Black Thorn put in. “What’s he want with all them swords?”
Jezzet laughed. “He wants the wilds. He wants the old empire back like it was in Doro's reign before his sons split the rule into the nine blooded families. He wants to be a king.”
“The wilds'll bleed 'fore they accept H'ost as king,” Swift said. Even he seemed to smile less these days.
“That's the point. You don't raise an army unless you intend to use it.”
