by Ben Cassidy
“You look awful,” Bronwyn said, her voice dripping with false compassion. “What’s wrong, Kendril? Haven’t been sleeping well?”
Kendril bit his lip hard, still staring out the window. Sleep did indeed sound good about now. He had only managed to grab a few hours after they had come to the mill the night before, and that hadn’t nearly been enough.
And then there was the Ravenbrook estate. Just seeing it again had…well, had brought back too many memories.
Kendril turned. “What are the Seteru planning, Bronwyn?”
She gave him an innocent look. “The Seteru? Really, Kendril, I think you credit me with far too much. To think that the gods of the Void would tell me their plans.” She took a deep breath. “I could only hope to be so trusted a servant.”
“Is that what you were in Vorten,” Kendril snarled. “A servant?”
A hint of something flashed in Bronwyn’s eyes, but it was gone in a moment. She lifted her head. “The ways of the Seteru are inscrutable to mere mortals,” she said.
“You mean killing all those people,” Kendril said. He stepped closer to the bound woman. “Burning the city to the ground? Raining fire from the sky?”
Bronwyn swallowed. “Those who do not join with the Seteru deserve to die—”
Kendril whipped out the dagger that Tomas had given him and pressed it up against Bronwyn’s exposed neck. “How about worshippers of the Seteru?” he growled. “Do they deserve to die?”
Bronwyn arched her head back. She flinched, but still managed to smile. “Now there’s the Kendril I remember,” she said. “Always solving things with a blade.”
“What are the Seteru planning?” Kendril repeated. He pressed his knife a little harder against the white flesh of Bronwyn’s neck. “Tell me.”
Bronwyn croaked out a little laugh. She looked up into Kendril’s eyes. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with, do you? You think that Vorten was bad? Vorten was just the beginning, Kendril.”
Kendril gave a rough smile. “And what’s the end, Bronwyn?”
Bronwyn arched an eyebrow. “Tell me, Kendril. How long has it been since you’ve been this close to a woman?”
Kendril’s knife hand faltered. He became suddenly, painfully aware that he was pressed right up against Bronwyn. He could feel her warm, slender body just—
He stepped back quickly, lowering the knife. He turned his face away, not wanting Bronwyn to see how shaken he was.
“You want information?” Bronwyn twisted in the ropes that bound her. “Redemption will burn. The Great Fang is coming with his men. Nothing can stop them, Kendril, nothing at all.”
Kendril whirled back around, his face hard. “The Great Fang? Who’s that?”
Bronwyn gave a mischievous smile. “Poor Kendril. You always seem at least two steps behind. I thought by now you might have learned something, but it seems you’re still just a blank slate.” She moved her eyes over his body. “A handsome blank slate, mind you.”
Kendril raised his knife again. “Enough with your games and mind tricks, Bronwyn. What’s the Great Fang? Your werewolf back at the cave?” His mouth curled into a sneer. “I already took care of him.”
Bronwyn shook her head with a sigh. “You kill one werewolf and you think it’s over? That was just the beginning. A foretaste. Redemption is going to burn, Kendril. The mud streets of this pathetic town are going to run with blood. If you’re smart you’ll get out while you still can.”
“There are more werewolves?” Kendril felt the first beat of real uncertainty in his mind. “More than one?”
“Those Jombards in the cave were just the beginning,” Bronwyn said in a low voice. She glanced around conspiratorially, as if afraid of being overheard. “The Great Fang is coming, and when he does he won’t leave anyone alive.”
Kendril lowered the knife. “That’s the plan of the Seteru, then? They’re striking from the east, from the wilderness of Jothland?”
Bronwyn’s eyes glinted. “The Seteru are coming from everywhere, Kendril. From all directions. I told you, Vorten was just the beginning. Soon all of Rothland will burn.”
Kendril gave Bronwyn a long, hard look. “You’re bluffing. The Jombard tribes are disorganized, scattered. They haven’t broken through the Wall in decades. They’re too busy fighting each other to mount an attack on Redemption.”
“Things have changed, Kendril.” Bronwyn smiled. “There are cults springing up all over Rothland. The nations of the west are like rotten apples, ready to fall off the tree with the slightest shake.” She looked at Kendril with something like pity in her eyes. “When the Great Fang comes, he will come for you, Kendril. He has heard of you. The Demonbane of Vorten. He wants to try his mettle against you. Killing you will prove his strength.”
“So far I’ve killed a winged abomination, a werewolf, and a goddess,” Kendril said with a half-smile. “Somehow this Great Fang of yours doesn’t worry me over much.”
Bronwyn spat on the floor by Kendril’s booted foot. “Blasphemer! You cannot kill the Seteru!”
“Maybe, maybe not.” Kendril lifted the knife again. “But I’m pretty sure I can kill you.”
Bronwyn clucked her tongue. “Really, Kendril. After all we’ve been through together? And here I thought you and I were becoming such good friends.”
“When’s the attack coming, Bronwyn?” Kendril put the side of the knife against her pretty face. “How many Jombards are there? Where’s their base of operations? What are they armed with?”
Bronwyn shook her head sadly. “Please, Kendril. I can’t give away all the surprises, can I?”
Kendril looked the woman straight in the eyes. “One way or the other, Bronwyn, you’ll tell me what I want to know.”
“Good,” she said with a flash of fire in her eyes. “I like things a little rough. Are you going to start on me now?” She looked coyly around the mill room and lowered her voice. “We’re all alone, you know.”
Kendril pulled away the knife and stuck it back in his belt.
“Still playing the virtuous hero?” Bronwyn laughed. “Come on, Kendril. You may have everyone else fooled, but not me. I know what you really are. I can see it in your eyes. I always have, since the day I met you in Balneth.” She craned her head forward, lowering her voice. “You’re a killer, Kendril. A murderer. And the part of you that doesn’t want to take me like a wild animal right here and now wants to jam that knife into my throat and end me.” She pulled her head back again, resting against the wooden post. “So go ahead. Make up your mind, but do something. I know you want to.” She wiggled in her tight ropes. “I can’t stop you either way.”
Kendril put a gloved hand against the post by Bronwyn’s head and leaned in close until his face was almost touching hers. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “There is something that I’ve been wanting to do to you.”
“Don’t leave a girl in suspense,” Bronwyn said breathlessly.
“Fair enough,” Kendril said. He whipped out a handkerchief and stuffed it into Bronwyn’s mouth, then tied it behind her head.
Bronwyn blinked in surprise, then tried to say something through the gag. The words were muffled and lost.
“That’s better,” Kendril said. He turned and walked past the dust-covered gears and millstones, then pushed through the door outside.
Tomas was sitting on a rock by the covered wooden bridge that crossed the fast-moving river. He looked up as Kendril stepped out. “Get anything?”
“Yes and no,” Kendril said cryptically. He took a deep breath of clear air.
“I’m sorry,” Tomas said, his face to the ground. “I lost it in there. I—I don’t know what came over me, I just—”
“Bronwyn is a master at manipulation,” Kendril said shortly. He looked down at the churning stream. “She tries to get into your mind. Turn things upside down.”
Tomas shook his head. “She was right, thought. Her spell affected me so easily. I thought that—” He gritted his teeth together. “I thoug
ht I was made of sterner stuff than that.”
“She doesn’t have her amulet anymore,” Kendril said gruffly. “And she’s a long ways from help here at the mill.”
Tomas glanced up at Kendril. “So what did she tell you?”
Kendril shook his head. “She says that there’s an attack coming on Redemption. The Jombards, led by someone she calls the Great Fang.”
Tomas furrowed his brow. “Another of your werewolves?”
Kendril shrugged. “Let’s hope not.” He glanced back at the mill. “Either way, she knows more than she’s telling us. We can’t execute her yet. Whatever she knows, we need to know it too.”
Tomas got up from the rock with a sigh. He brushed the dirt and mud off his trousers. “Why do I suspect that getting the information out of her isn’t going to be easy?”
Kendril glanced down the dirt track that led back up the hill. “Isn’t getting information out of people your area of specialty?”
Tomas nodded slowly. “I know a few techniques. Might as well start with some basic deprivation. We’ll see how a couple days without food and water finds her. Her tongue might be a little looser then.” He gave Kendril a probing glance. “You seem to have a knack for getting things out of her, though. She seems to like you.”
Kendril snapped his head around. “She doesn’t like me. She enjoys torturing me and twisting my mind around.”
Tomas rubbed his chin. “Whatever works.”
“Where’s Marley?” Kendril asked, abruptly changing the subject.
Tomas stuck a thumb towards the backside of the mill. “Feeding your mule. Why?”
Kendril glanced up at the hill. He could just make out the backside of the Ravenbrook manor. “We should go into town and get supplies.”
“No offense,” Tomas said with a raised eyebrow, “but I’m not sure I would trust Marley to go by himself.”
“No,” Kendril responded. “you should go with him. I’ll keep an eye on Bronwyn.”
“I’ll stay,” Tomas said quickly. “You should go with Marley.”
Kendril scowled. He nudged one of his boots around in the mud. “I don’t really—”
“Look,” said Tomas bluntly, “I think you should talk with Marley.”
“What about?”
“Maybe he swore an oath to Eru, and maybe he didn’t,” Tomas said with upraised hands. “But it’s not right to keep him trudging around after you because of a promise he can’t even remember making.”
“I never made him—” Kendril started to say.
“You and I both know that things are only going to get worse from here,” Tomas interrupted. “And we can’t afford to have anyone with us that isn’t completely committed to….” He glanced meaningfully at the mill where Bronwyn was tied up. “Well, to whatever we have to do.”
“You think I should tell him to go away?” Kendril asked slowly.
“He’s not a Ghostwalker.”
“Neither were Joseph, Kara, and Maklavir,” Kendril said without thinking. As soon as the names were out of his mouth, he felt a great sting in his heart.
Tomas crossed his arms. “And where are Joseph, Kara, and Maklavir now?”
Kendril glowered, but didn’t say anything.
“Just talk to him,” Tomas said. “Marley deserves to be given a choice. A real choice.”
“Fine.” Kendril turned on his heel. “Hold down the fort here. I’ll be back in two hours.”
The rain had finally cleared, but the streets of Redemption were still a churning mass of mud in the bright sunlight. And despite the lack of rain, Kendril kept his hood over his head, casting a shadow on his features.
Marley grunted as he heaved a sack of corn meal onto Simon’s back. He wiped some sweat off his forehead.
“You get more gunpowder, too?” Kendril’s eyes watched the street and the various trappers, traders, and militia men that passed by.
“Yes, sir” Marley gave a good-natured grin. “I knew you’d be needing it for all those guns of yours.”
Kendril turned, keeping his face out of sight of the street. “Anything else?”
Marley gave Simon’s flank a pat. “That’s everything, Mr. Kendril. Just you wait until you try my morning biscuits. They can get a little stale, mind you, but dunk ‘em in a cup of coffee and—”
“Marley,” Kendril said abruptly, “we need to talk.”
The old sailor looked up in surprise. “I’m right here, Mr. Kendril.”
“Look—” Kendril hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words. “That vow you made. It doesn’t mean anything. You were dead drunk at the time.”
Marley squinted. “What are you trying to say, Mr. Kendril?”
“Well, just that—” Kendril turned away and made a face. He turned back almost as quickly. “Things are getting dangerous, Marley. Really dangerous. There’s no reason for you to be caught in the crossfire here. Not over a stupid oath, at any rate.”
“Begging your pardon, Mr. Kendril,” Marley said, “but do you think the oath that you made was a stupid one?”
“That’s different,” Kendril said quickly. He bit his lip hard for a moment, thinking. “I’m trouble, Marley. You don’t want to hang around me, or you’ll have trouble too. Do you understand?”
Marley came around the side of Simon. He looked Kendril full in the face. “You pulled me off that burning ship and saved my life, Mr. Kendril.”
Kendril turned his face away. “Yes,” he said, as if admitting to a crime.
“There’s not one man in a hundred that would do that,” Marley continued. “If I leave you, I’ll just be back on some ship again, heading Eru knows where under some beast of a captain. But you—well, you say you’re trouble, Mr. Kendril, but you’ve treated me right. I owe you, plain and simple.” He gave a resolute shake of his head. “Vow or no vow, I’m sticking with you, whether you like it or not.”
“Marley—” Kendril began to say. He stopped, his eyes catching sight of a person across the street.
The man, tall and thin with a scraggly beard and wearing a trapper’s fur clothes, instantly ducked out of sight into one of the small alleyways that led off the main street.
Marley turned, peering in the direction Kendril was staring. “What is it, Mr. Kendril?”
Kendril pulled his hood as far as it would go over his face. “Trouble.” He snatched Simon’s bridle. “Come on, we’ve already spent more time here than we should have.”
Marley nodded. “Yes sir, Mr. Kendril.”
The two turned, trudging through the muddy street towards the eastern gate.
The room was stuffy and dark. The fireplace flickered haphazardly, snapping and crackling.
The trapper stood, his fur hat held uncomfortably in his hands. For the third time since entering the room, he ran his hand self-consciously through his tangled, greasy hair.
A lean, black hound lay sprawled before the fire. It looked up at the trapper and opened its jaw wide in an unconcerned yawn.
“You’re absolutely sure about this?” The man seated in the large stuffed chair swished the wine around in his glass. “Absolutely sure?”
The trapper cleared his throat. “Yes, my lord. I would know him anywhere. I served with him, you know back in the Jombard Wars. Must have been almost a decade ago, now.” He shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “He’s changed, he has. Burnt on one side of his face, and dressed in black like a Ghostwalker, but it’s him.”
The man in the chair leaned forward. He had black hair and a trim black beard. His eyes sparkled like blue sapphires in the firelight. “So Kendril has finally returned to Redemption.”
The trapper looked at the hound in front of the fire. “Yes, my lord.”
The man in the chair gave a thoughtful sip of his wine, then raised a hand. “Thank you. Your help is much appreciated. My manservant will see that you are properly compensated for your trouble before you leave.”
The trapper bowed, obviously relieved at the dismissal. “Yes, sir. Thank
you, sir.” He backed out of the room, closing the door softly behind him as he left.
The man in the chair stretched out a long arm and scratched the hound on the head.
The beast licked his master’s hand.
“You heard that, Colonel?” The man in the chair kept petting the dog, almost as an afterthought.
“I heard.” A figure emerged from the shadows on the other side of the fire. It was another man, dressed in buckskin and leather with a lean, cruel face and lanky brown hair. His face was unshaven, but his brown eyes were sharp and intelligent. At his belt hung a huge knife and a cartridge pouch. “Never heard of this guy before. He some kind of problem?”
The man in the chair chuckled softly. “Kendril was before your time, Colonel Belvedere. Earned quite a reputation in the Jombard Wars. His reappearance here is no accident.”
Colonel Belvedere shrugged. “Maybe he’s just passing through. Looking up old friends.”
The man in the chair took another sip of his wine. “I think not. The fact that’s he’s here in Redemption, now of all times?” He shook his head slowly. “The Jombards are practically ready to explode any day now. This…Great Fang, or whatever he’s calling himself, is stirring them up to a fever-pitch, and now Kendril of all people magically reappears in Redemption? No, this is no coincidence.”
Belvedere stuck his thumbs into his belt. “I see. What do you want me to do?”
The man in the chair put his wine down on a nearby side table. “You still have that team of yours? The one that’s so good at doing some quiet work when needed?”
Belvedere nodded. “All good men. The best mercenaries you’ll find. Discreet, too.”
“Excellent.” The man in the chair looked up at Belvedere with cold blue eyes. “Take them and find Kendril. Then deal with him.”
Belvedere cleared his throat. “Just to clarify, your lordship, by that you mean—?”
The man leaned down and scratched the whimpering dog again. “Do I have to spell everything out for you? If you can threaten or intimidate him into leaving Redemption, then fine.”
Belvedere smiled. His teeth were yellow and stained. “This Kendril the kind of man that scares easy?”
