The Scrivener's Tale

by Fiona McIntosh

  They watched in silence now as the dead men were half-dragged, half-carried back into the building.

  ‘What is going on here?’ Cassien wondered aloud.

  ‘What do we do?’

  ‘We wait.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For more to be revealed,’ Cassien decided. ‘We need to get off this rise, though, in case we’re spotted. Come on.’ He jumped off his horse and Ham did the same. ‘Follow me,’ Cassien said, leading them down toward the wooded area that rose up behind Rittylworth. Once beneath the safety of the tree canopy, they tied their horses up. ‘Right, we watch from here. We have a good vantage point,’ he said.

  They waited, neither talking. There was no sign of who had shot the arrows. Finally, they watched several monks re-emerge from the compound, their hands held out before them in a show of surrender. Moments later, another group of monks at the back of the monastery complex let some cattle out of a pen; three of the monks moved with the animals, walking slowly out into the pastures. Behind them, two monks lifted their hands in farewell; one held his fist and shook it earnestly. Cassien frowned. That was a sign of wishing someone good luck.

  He blinked. It didn’t make sense that while an attack was underway the monks would carry on normal activities like taking care of animals. But it was Ham who put into words what was nagging most on the rim of his thoughts.

  ‘Those monks aren’t very good with the cows, are they? The one on the right — the short one — looks scared of them.’

  ‘He does, I agree. And the tallest of them keeps looking around, as though he’s worried at being followed.’ He chewed the inside of his lip. ‘Ham, those aren’t monks. Two of them are tripping over their cassocks. They have small hands, and one has long hair if I’m not mistaken. I think we have two women being pursued.’ He squinted a little, couldn’t see any more action at the front of the monastery. ‘It looks as though we’re going to get involved whether we like it or not, because they’re headed our way.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Nothing until I can hear what they’re saying.’

  Saria pushed at a cow with a repulsed groan. Any moment she was sure it would tread on her foot or touch her with that huge wet nose.

  ‘I have to get you away from this open pasture, majesty,’ Brom said looking over his shoulder. ‘You’re too vulnerable.’

  ‘You only care about her,’ Saria accused. ‘Why did you ever bring me?’ she spat.

  ‘So that I could strap you to the queen’s back and let you take the arrows,’ the man growled.

  ‘Brom, don’t,’ the hooded figure in the middle admonished. ‘We’re going to be safer once we reach that ridge.’

  ‘Brom. I won’t forget that name,’ Saria assured him. ‘Between now and when you’re arrested, I’m going to dream up ways to punish you long before I have you killed.’

  ‘Be quiet both of you,’ Florentyna, said, her hand resting on the back of one of the animals. ‘Right now the cows are peaceful, but if you scare them our pursuers will notice.’

  But their attackers were not to be fooled and were already upon them.

  ‘Your majesty!’ they yelled as one in singsong, derogatory tones.

  The three cassocked fugitives halted and Saria let out a shriek of fear. The cows scattered.

  Brom pushed both women behind him and pulled off the constraining cassock. In a fluid movement, he drew his sword. ‘Get back, you bastards,’ he warned the three men.

  Their pursuers laughed behind masks as they sauntered up quietly on horseback. ‘You’re so terrifying, Brom. I’m sorry I didn’t get to watch the light die in Felyx’s eyes. I’m glad that I’ll have that pleasure with you.’

  Brom blinked uncomprehendingly. His shoulders slumped. ‘Hubbard?’

  The man who’d spoken gave an ironic shrug. ‘You see, I told you masks were irrelevant,’ he said to his two companions. He pulled off the helmet and visor and Florentyna judged him as having seen thirty-five summers. His face was one of those arranged with features that were neither dark nor light, neither handsome nor plain, and was lightly bearded, with hair of a nondescript colour. Even his voice had no defining timbre. Nevertheless, he looked strong and he possessed an innate arrogance, with an ironic tone that could cut to the bone. ‘Greetings, Brom. Majesty.’ He inclined his head. ‘And whoever this shrieking haridelle is.’

  ‘I have absolutely nothing to do with these people,’ Saria announced to him.

  The man regarded her with no amusement. ‘Then why are you with them?’

  ‘They captured me. Forced me. He said he’d use me as a shield for the queen.’

  At this their pursuer laughed. ‘Clever, Brom. You were always the creative one.’

  ‘Who is this?’ Florentyna asked, ignoring the man taunting them, allowing Saria’s words to wash over her unheeded, as she addressed Brom.

  ‘His name is Hubbard, your majesty. One of our best, clearly turned mercenary,’ Brom answered, his head lowered. ‘Forgive me, my queen,’ he whispered.

  ‘For what?’ she said mournfully. ‘We nearly made it.’

  ‘Tell our queen all of it, Brom,’ Hubbard urged slyly.

  Still she refused their captor eye contact and held Brom with her stare.

  ‘Hubbard is my younger brother and brings my family the worst shame of all. I’ll at least try and kill him before he —’

  ‘Too late, brother,’ Hubbard said. The blade was expertly thrown and it sank into Brom’s throat a heartbeat later.

  Florentyna gasped as Brom sank to his knees, dropping his sword. She reached for him, helpless tears rolling down her cheeks, not in fear but for the senseless waste of another good man.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he managed to choke out again as blood bubbled from his mouth.

  Florentyna fell forward with the momentum of Brom’s collapsing body. He was dead before their bodies touched the ground, but she felt an impotent rage ringing in her ears.

  ‘You would do that to your brother?’ she said from where she kneeled at Brom’s side.

  ‘As easily as I would do the same to you, my queen, for the right amount of gold.’

  ‘Then do it, Hubbard, and I’ll triple whatever each of you has been promised,’ Saria said, her voice losing its fear, replacing it with cunning.

  ‘There’re three of them,’ Ham warned, but it made no difference to Cassien if there were a dozen men. That was the queen down there he now understood.

  They’d watched with shared loathing as the man who had put himself between the killers and the two women was murdered.

  ‘Ham, I need you to stay here. It’s too dangerous. They’re killing without pause. We can’t risk you.’

  ‘But we can risk you?’

  ‘Do as I say.’ He fixed Ham with a hard look.

  ‘Your weapons are awake,’ Ham said dully. ‘Use them.’

  Cassien nodded just as the second woman offered to triple the reward if the men would hurry up and execute the queen.

  Cassien moved as Romaine had taught. Against the wind, so the horses never sensed him, stealing confidently across the uneven ground as he ran fleet and silent as a wolf.

  Florentyna turned slowly to regard Saria. ‘I cannot believe you just said that.’

  ‘Can’t you? I thought you’d always known how much I despise you, Florentyna. Darcelle must sit on the Morgravian throne. I’m just doing what’s best for our empire.’

  ‘You vile and treacherous creature,’ Florentyna whispered. ‘I came here to offer you a truce … a way for you to enjoy a full and free life with Darcelle.’

  ‘That shows just how useless you are at this role. Darcelle would never countenance such a magnanimous move and I would never permit her to be that weak.’

  Florentyna felt Saria’s words like blows. ‘Whatever did my father see in you?’

  ‘He saw only a younger woman and pleasures of the flesh. Like all men he could be manipulated. It’s more what I saw in him, Florentyna. A cr
own. I was fond of your father and I grieve that Shar took him so early, but I still want my crown and its authority — and I shall have it through Darcelle.’

  ‘Ladies, ladies,’ Hubbard said, climbing down from his horse. Neither of his companions followed suit and were yet to remove their helmets. ‘I hate to interrupt whatever you’re both hissing about, but I have an ugly job to do.’

  Saria smiled maliciously at Florentyna. ‘Well, get on with it, man.’

  ‘Thank you, I will,’ he said, pulling his blade from where it was lodged in Brom’s throat. It made a horrible sucking sound as he cruelly wrenched it free. ‘May I, your majesty?’ he asked, reaching for the voluminous sleeve of her cassock.

  She didn’t know how she kept her voice steady. ‘Burn in hell with her!’ she snarled, looking toward Saria.

  He calmly took his time wiping the blade clean of Brom’s blood, while he watched her closely, a wry smile mocking her.

  ‘I’ve been living as a mercenary for a long time, your majesty, sailing too many seas to faraway lands. I think the last time I might have seen you from a distance was when you were still a child. But look at you now — all grown up and, you know, now that I see you up so close, you really could rival your sister’s prettiness if you bothered. Why do you hide it?’

  ‘It’s a great pity you’re nothing like your brother,’ she snapped. ‘I’m sure your parents will be proud to know that Brom served his realm with great faith. I can’t imagine their despair that his brother betrayed it.’

  He didn’t flinch as she’d hoped. Her words didn’t appear to hurt him in the slightest. In fact his grin widened. ‘That’s true. He was a very loyal man; very pure, while my heart is all black,’ he said dryly.

  ‘You’d kill a sovereign for a few gold coins?’ she asked, sounding incredulous. ‘What a sorry excuse for a man you are.’

  ‘Not a few, your majesty. A small fortune was paid to us, just to agree to it. An even greater fortune and land aplenty if I do the deed, which I’m happy to say I will.’

  ‘Shame on you, Hubbard,’ she said with as much condescension as she could muster. ‘So, get on with it. Why do you hesitate?’

  ‘Yes, hurry. Do what you came here to do,’ Saria pressed.

  ‘All right,’ he agreed, turning and, without warning, took one stride toward the dowager. When he stepped back, smiling innocently at Florentyna, she saw the blade he’d just cleaned was now embedded in Saria’s belly.

  Saria gave a startled moan, belatedly realising what had occurred. Florentyna rushed to cradle her as she fell. The vicious, fatal wound suggested this would be no easy death and Florentyna suspected this cruel man had known as much.

  He seemed to read her thoughts. ‘I thought you deserved the satisfaction of knowing at least one of your enemies died painfully, your majesty. Who is she anyway? Oh no, don’t bother to even tell me. I don’t care one way or the other,’ he said.

  ‘Saria,’ Florentyna cried, shocked, as she lay her stepmother down.

  ‘You win,’ the dowager sighed, in obvious agony from the hideously gaping wound that seeped with every shallow breath she took. Hubbard had, in that brief flash of violence, not only stabbed his victim but gutted her. Florentyna felt a surprising flash of pride in her stepmother as Saria wrenched the ghastly knife from her belly. ‘I don’t want to die with his blade in me.’ Her voice turned to a whisper that only Florentyna could hear. ‘Bury me near your father, child. Whatever you think is the truth, I did love him and whatever I’ve said to you to the contrary was only to hurt you because of my own petty jealousies.’

  Finally, she somehow found the strength to press the knife secretly into Florentyna’s hands. As the light was fading from her stepmother’s eyes, she nodded at Florentyna and gave a final whisper. ‘Don’t let him …’ was all she was able to say before her head rolled to the side.

  Florentyna could hear the men talking, but had ignored them while Saria had been dying. Hubbard, she sensed, had moved back towards her and she looked down at the bloodstained knife in her hands. Before she could think of how to use it, one of the attackers suddenly yelled.

  She looked up at the same time as Hubbard wheeled around, and they both saw one of his companions lifeless and prone on the ground, his head at a strange angle as though his neck had been broken. His fellow horseman was already off his animal, sword drawn, facing a tall newcomer.

  ‘And where have you sprung from, stranger?’ Hubbard asked. ‘I don’t take kindly to my friends being set upon.’

  ‘Then we’re in agreement,’ the man said. He cut Florentyna a glance. ‘Your majesty. Are you hurt?’

  She was stunned. ‘I’m … I’m not hurt.’

  Hubbard sneered. ‘Not yet. But you can count, can’t you, stranger? There are two of us, one of you. One of us is going to kill you. I hope it’s me. And then we’ll kill her majesty.’

  ‘One of you can try,’ the tall man said, and before any of them could grasp what was happening Florentyna watched him run straight at Hubbard’s companion.

  It seemed unbelievable that a man could jump into the air from two strides and use the horse like a wall, bouncing off its flank and landing noiselessly. The horse was startled and bucked, but the newcomer was already leaping away and kicking out a foot with such force and speed that Florentyna could barely replay in her mind what had just occurred. The nasty snapping sound suggested the man’s neck had been broken and the body slumped lifelessly to the ground next to his fallen friend before any weapon had been swung in defence.

  The man landed softly and easily. ‘Congratulations. It seems you are the one left who is going to kill me,’ he said to Hubbard, ‘because the souls of both of your treacherous companions are already being gathered up by Shar’s minions. Frankly, I hope he throws them into the eternal fires of hell.’

  To his credit, Hubbard’s expression barely registered fear, or even disappointment, from what Florentyna could see. If anything, the traitor looked vaguely impressed.

  ‘I detested both of them, so you’ve done me a kindness in ridding me of them and my need to pay them their share. And that fighting style is impressive. Where did you learn that?’ He sounded conversational.

  The man said nothing but simply stared at Hubbard.

  ‘Pity, you’ve gone all moody on me. I was so hoping for some convivial conversation. It seems you want to fight.’

  ‘Not really. I just want you co-Opérative, so I can take you back to Pearlis and you can wait for your execution at the queen’s pleasure,’ he said with a smile that didn’t warm his eyes.

  ‘Why do I get all the blame?’ Hubbard feigned indignation, glancing at his companions.

  The man ignored him. ‘Your majesty, do you want this man taken alive and as you see him here?’

  Hubbard looked over at her with interest as though they were discussing some other person. He waited patiently for her reply.

  ‘This man must answer for his crimes.’

  Now Hubbard laughed. ‘You’ll never take me alive,’ he sneered.

  ‘Then I shall take you dead,’ the stranger said in a chillingly low, calm voice.

  ‘You can try.’

  ‘I’m ready when you are.’

  Florentyna watched the stranger unsheathe a magnificent sword.

  ‘Impressive, once again,’ Hubbard said. ‘That’s a Wevyr sword. I’d stake my life upon it.’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘I wish I had time to admire it,’ he said, also unsheathing his sword.

  ‘You’ll get your chance. You’ll be on the receiving end of its keen edge.’

  Hubbard laughed. ‘I trust you can handle it as beautifully as it deserves to be.’

  ‘Try me.’

  To Florentyna it was a blur of moves, the sound of ringing metal and the explosion of sparks as the swords clashed. Hubbard was the attacker but it didn’t matter what he did, her protector countered every move with such an economy of strokes and so little energy expended that it was as though the st
ranger stood still. Meanwhile, around him Hubbard danced, at first teasing but very quickly he took the stranger’s measure and realised he was not sparring. The stranger’s intensity was chilling and even Florentyna could sense the mood of the fight change. Hubbard was no longer amused or playful and he appeared to redouble his efforts to penetrate the defences of his opponent. As she watched, entranced, her fear leached away.

  Hubbard’s swagger had deserted him, and she could see him sweating with his exertions, trying to break through the solid, steady, rhythmic counters of the stranger’s fluid sword moves as he defended himself, with no attacking strikes that she could perceive. Hubbard was fatiguing; he staggered back at one point.

  ‘Fight me, damn you!’

  ‘Why?’ the man asked in a bored tone. ‘You’re doing a very good job of wearing yourself down.’

  Hubbard’s lips thinned at this. He raised his sword high. ‘I’m going to cut you open from neck to navel.’

  ‘You’re not, Hubbard. You’re going to be trussed like the animal you are and I’m going to fling you over your horse and take you back to Pearlis, where you will stand trial for three cold-blooded murders and the attempted murder of our sovereign.’

  Hubbard paused at this. She thought he was trying to think of an acid retort or perhaps some type of distraction — Shar knew he needed it! She was ill-prepared for what happened. Hubbard didn’t leap at his enemy and try another series of parries, looking for the opening that would allow him to injure, hobble or even kill. Instead, he leapt at her and had her gripped around the neck, squeezing the life out of her.

  ‘I came here to kill you, your majesty. I think I should complete my business.’

  She couldn’t talk. His arm was so tight across her throat, she thought she might pass out shortly. Across the pasture, her vision blurring, she could see the look in her protector’s eyes and she was sensing a similar white-hot rage to the one she had felt earlier at the killing of innocents.

  ‘… or, I could, of course, barter for my life with this curious champion of yours.’

  They could hear the voices of the monks, now stumbling across the pasture towards them. She thought she recognised Hoolyn’s voice shouting.