by J. S. Crews
To punctuate the point, another gout of flame rose into the night with a roar as the dry reeds of a roof went up in flames, this one much closer. The screams seemed to be growing louder also. He knew they were right, but he did not want to admit it to himself. What choice did he have, though? Finally conceding to reality, he swallowed hard to try to get the lump out of his throat and gave a brief, weak nod. With that, the big sellsword released much of the pressure he was holding him by, yet still insisted on pulling him along by his clothing as though he did not trust him. He had just enough time to take one brief look back at the site of madness and murder they were escaping before being pulled into the woods.
Chapter Fifteen
“The Young Lord”
The body was covered in a seething blanket as black as the heart of Telokh, the crippled and fallen god of betrayal and corruption. Every conceivable feature was hidden beneath a blackness that seemed from a distance to shimmer and move. In fact, Jonas was not sure what he was seeing, until their approach sent the crows scattering in a cacophony of angry squawks.
Their gruesome meal interrupted, the sheer volume of the bird’s displeasure was appalling to Jonas’s ears. He would not have thought it possible for such a racket to come from such small creatures, even so many of them. He realized, though, that the sharpness of their distress was the only thing making it harsher than the other sound permeating the little valley. The incessant buzzing of the thick curtain of black flies all around them was loud as well, but the lower-pitched hum was dwarfed by the tumult of the birds.
The order was given to rest the horses, and the boys bent effort to the task in mimicry of the well-trained soldiers. The beasts remained saddled as it would only be a short respite. The riders would dismount, holding lightly to the reins to keep the animals from wandering as they cropped grass. They were in a potentially hostile area, and so it was possible they would need to remount quickly. Another testament to the potential for danger was evident in the men wordlessly moving the horses so that, even as they were giving them their ease, they formed a circle around the body.
Jonas and Alastar hurried to do likewise, but neither could tear his eyes from the macabre scene in the center of what was now a wide defensive circle. The body lay in a clearing beside an old abandoned mill. Truth be told, ancient would have been a better way to describe the ramshackle structure, sitting alongside what was now a dry streambed.
They watched as Sir Eadred, Lieutenant Teagan, and Sergeants Hammid and Doreon walked into the center of the clearing, their horses having been handed off to nearby soldiers. Sergeant Hammid unsheathed his sword, using the flat of the blade to smack some of the bolder crows aside so the men could approach unmolested. His actions, of course, only resulted in a redoubling of the angry clamor of the scavengers.
Both boys were deprived of seeing what occurred after, however, for just then Jonas was struck gently by a small piece of gravel tossed to draw their attention. Corporal Dekin pointed to the woods and then gestured with his fingers toward his own eyes and back to the woods in an unmistakable order for Jonas and Alastar to watch the perimeter for enemies. A quick glance showed all of the soldiers had assumed this same posture. The boys did as bade, noticing the absence of casual small talk. The soldiers were on edge with blades hanging loose in scabbards, and Jonas had to force himself to breathe normally.
Back in the clearing, Sergeant Hammid used an open hand to swat aside another brazen bird as he knelt to get a better look at the body. "Yup," he announced after a few moments, "this’n definitely came t’a violent end. These scavengers ‘ave been at ‘im hard, without a doubt, but ain’t no bird beak I’ve seen can make a tear as straight as a sword blade." He gestured across the body, indicating a long, straight gash that seemed to divide the torso almost evenly from left shoulder down to right hip.
Lieutenant Teagan simply nodded his head. Officer though he was, he would give Sir Eadred the leeway to ask further questions, splitting his attention instead between his own visual assessment and watching the woods. Since the Knight had presumed to take command, he had made up his mind to keep life simple by acting with the proper deference, while also keeping a close watch on the safety of his people.
As for Sir Eadred, he seemed almost bored. He was looking at the body; in fact, he had hardly taken his gaze from it for an instant, yet his expression said he might as well be looking at the butchered carcass of a pig as a murdered man. "How many would you say?" was all he asked.
Coming back to his feet but never taking his eyes from the ground, Hammid answered, "A fair number, Sir. A large band as bandits go, f’sure. Rare t’see them types gittin’ t’gether in big numbers. Folks talk about honor ‘mong thieves ‘n’ all that, but seems t’me they mostly keep their numbers small. Less likely o’ somebody turnin’ their cloak ‘n’ reportin’ ‘em t’the law, more booty fer each of ‘em after a haul. That sorta deal."
The Knight scowled. "Your opinions on the practices of vagabonds matter not to me, Sergeant. Why a large band? There’s one body here, nothing more. I see you’re looking at tracks, but I make out only a few sets of impressions."
Hammid looked at Teagan, and seeing this Sir Eadred’s face became animated by a sudden anger. "I asked you a question, Sergeant! Do not look to him! Look to me and answer!"
Ignoring the outburst and the smirking of Sergeant Doreon, Teagan gave a single curt nod that the Sergeant should continue, and so Hammid swallowed his anger. "Beggin’ yer pardon, Sir. It’s true enough they’s only a few tracks right hereabouts." He gestured toward the area around the body. "Looks like maybe six men. Those’ll be the ones did the actual killin’ plus the two foresters, but as we come down into the valley they’s a lot o’ other fresh tracks besides these."
Pointing further off into the little hollow between the mountains and past the defensive circle formed by the men, he continued. "It was a big force. Looks like they was movin’ from that way—" he gestured off to his right— "crossin’ this valley headed toward there—" where he was indicating moved as he spoke, pantomiming the course of those who had made the tracks.
"If Sir don’t mind me givin’ another opinion, I’d say the two foresters was seen an’ them oth’r four blokes whose tracks’re over here was the ones t’come over an’ do violence on ‘em, while that lot stayed put ‘n’ watched. Then, after, they all went on their way, not knowin’ the one forester was still alive enough t’git home ‘n’ raise the alarm." Shaking his head and staring off the way the gravely injured man must have gone, he added, "That’s a brave soul that made that lonesome walk. For a forester, he done as good’r better’n most soldiers woulda."
Ignoring those remarks, Eadred said, "It surprises me not that a rabble of bandits proved so incompetent as to leave behind a living witness. Still, rabble or not, such a large number could prove a danger to anyone living in their path. We must follow their trail."
Hammid looked at Teagan, who frowned and interjected, "Sir, we’ve proof now we’re talkin’ ‘bout a force that outnumbers us; my patrol is jus’ light cavalry, so we’ve only leather armor an’ we’re moving into woods that’ll hinder our horses. Never mind that whoever’s out there has likely been livin’ in this country an’ knows it better’n we do."
In response, the southron Knight looked almost confused. "You have a reputation in Newport as a good officer, Lieutenant. I had not thought to find you so craven."
Teagan bristled in controlled anger. "D’not presume, Sir. I’m no coward. I’ve been fightin’ bandits as a soldier since prob’ly about when you became a castle page down south an’ quit havin’ yer Lady Mother wipe the snot from yer noble nose." Realizing from the baleful look he received in response that he was skirting dangerously close to as much insolence as the Knight was likely to allow without calling for violence between them, Teagan took a deep breath to settle himself.
Softening his tone and body language, he continued, "My point, Sir, is jus’ t’advise we be careful. Soon as he knew what was
happenin’, Sir Gottrey ordered ‘is son t’send word t’the Baron... word that musta never arrived from what you yourself reported seein’ there."
Seeming to allow his budding anger to fade, Sir Eadred agreed, "The son Percey is a friend. Jovial and brave, but not overly bright and rather prickly now that I’m thinking of it. He may well have defied his old fool of a father and never sent the messengers."
"Or mayhaps he did an’ they’s as dead as he is out ‘ere in these woods somewheres," mused Sergeant Doreon with a sickly smirk.
"My point," interrupted Teagan with a loathing glance toward Doreon, "is shouldn’t we be makin’ sure that word is sent? Sir Eadred, I’ve no thought t’let these murderin’ bastards go unpunished, much less free t’harm more folk, but we’re outnumbered an’ ill-equipped an’ nobody else even knows what’s afoot. I’d argue we’ve a duty t’inform the Baron ‘afore all else."
Hammid knew the Lieutenant was speaking sense, but the gods could only guess if the others would see it as such. A young nobleman like this Knight, the eldest son and eventual successor of a high southron lord, was exactly the type to see the situation as a path to glory he could pile upon himself, rather than recognize the danger. In fact, his pride could ensure he display no semblance of fear, nor even sensible caution that might publicly be misconstrued as fear. It was also obvious that Teagan knew this.
Like himself, Lieutenant Teagan was a commoner and a veteran, despite being more than a decade younger than Hammid. Both had dealt with noblemen like Sir Eadred before. This was the reason the officer wasn’t yet being heavy-handed about the importance of warning others before proceeding: superior training aside, they were in danger of coming up against a force they might not be able to defeat—a force which could ambush them and then bleed any survivors going for help all the way through the woods. Pointing such things out blatantly to the young Knight, however, could be detrimental to their purpose. He might very well brush aside wise counsel and blunder on for fear of being thought indecisive or cravenly. Better to simply suggest a duty that must needs be met, so Eadred could save face while also doing what was needed. Hammid also suspected Teagan of having another purpose buried beneath, but he would remain quiet and wait to see how that played itself out.
Meanwhile, the nobleman was mulling. "Fine," he agreed finally. "But two riders and two riders only. They can watch each other’s backs and it doubles the likelihood word reaches Baron Reylie. Any of these others try to sneak away, and I’ll see them hung for deserters. You will also choose your two worst fighters. If it comes to battle, we may sorely miss two swords, so best it be the worst two of the bunch."
What came next was proof of what Hammid had thought he perceived bubbling beneath the surface of the officer’s thinking. Lieutenant Teagan nodded in acknowledgement of the order and began to turn toward the men, calling out, "Squires Jonas and Alastar! To me now!"
The boys obeyed with only slight hesitation from being caught off-guard. One second they were doing their best to mimic the other soldiers, watching for possible threats in the trees, then the next an abrupt order was being called out, and it took them a moment to realize the Lieutenant was calling for them. As they ran over to comply, however, they caught the tail-end of the Knight asking Teagan what he was doing.
Neither Jonas nor Alastar were aware of the previous conversation, but they could tell from Teagan and Hammid’s expressions that the question was a source of confusion. Something strange passed among the four ranking men in the clearing just then. It was an instant of uncertainty that Jonas would have likened more to tension.
Sharing a dubious glance with Sergeant Hammid, the Lieutenant recovered quickly, answering, "I’m sendin’ these youngsters t’carry word t’Reylie Hall as we discussed."
Again, the boys were preparing to protest being kept away from the excitement, but again there was no need. The Knight snapped his fingers and motioned impatiently toward where their horses were being held. Without even turning around to face Teagan, he said, "No. I ordered two riders sent. Not those two riders."
"Sir, you said I was t’send my worst two fighters. Now, I’m sure the Squires’ve been well-trained t’the blade, but they’ve never been in combat an’ that inexperience makes ‘em my picks t’act as messengers."
"They stay with us."
"But Sir—"
Suddenly, Eadred turned to face the Lieutenant and his eyes held a wild quality. It was as if a cauldron of frantic rage was about to bubble over within him. "I said they stay!" he bellowed. "I would not allow you to leave them behind with the old man, and I will not have them sent away now!"
The young southron Knight was breathing heavily and still had that wild edge to his visage, and Jonas could not help but be reminded suddenly of the day they had seen him executing the criminal back in Newport. Alastar was sure that the man was insane, and Jonas had to admit he would find great difficulty arguing against that seeing Eadred now. Presently, however, the young nobleman seemed to quickly calm and return to his previous demeanor.
Only when he spoke again did Jonas realize that there was still something dangerous in his now-quiet and icy tone. "Young noblemen will not be coddled in my presence. If they have never seen a battlefield, then I say it’s time they were properly blooded. Now, do as I’ve ordered and do not seek to countermand the spirit of my intent again, or else it may be your blood they see first."
His own voice now thick with barely-checked anger and his fists clenched so hard the whites of his knuckles were visible, Lieutenant Teagan acknowledged, "Aye, Sir," and stalked off to choose two other men for the mission.
Without speaking, Sergeant Hammid was on the heels of his patrol commander, leaving the Knight and his pet Sergeant Doreon alone in the clearing and motioning for the boys to follow. They obeyed without question, half from a hope of impressing their appointed military tutors for this expedition and half from the shock of witnessing another display from Sir Eadred. Looking back over his shoulder, Jonas was torn between excitement and the creeping hint of foreboding that had gripped his heart during the angry exchange.
* * * * *
Sir Eadred Meyrick motioned for a halt.
They had followed the tracks for hours. The scouts reported at one point that the group they were following were obviously now aware of their pursuit, since they’d found clear signs of attempts to disguise the trail, until eventually giving up hopes of shaking them. Surprisingly, though, instead of turning to fight the outnumbered kingdom forces as the Lieutenant had feared, they had seemingly opted to split up into smaller groups, most likely hoping to go to ground and escape.
Hearing this only inflamed Sir Eadred’s desire to chase them down, however, and he had again discarded Teagan’s calm counsel and ordered his own forces similarly split. Each small group was ordered to follow a different trail and to apprehend any of the fleeing bandits they could manage to ferret out. Needless to say, whatever force was necessary to accomplish this was authorized.
Jonas could not help but take note of the poorly-concealed eagerness of Eadred and those men who had ridden with him. They’re like hounds with the scent of a fox, he thought quietly to himself, feeling more than a little revolted by their apparent bloodlust. They’re almost slavering.
Lieutenant Teagan was leading another group and had wanted the boys with him, but Eadred had insisted on keeping them close. Sergeant Hammid had insinuated himself alongside them, sharing a silent look with Teagan that Jonas was sure he wasn’t supposed to have witnessed. It was plain that they considered the boys their responsibility. He only hoped Hammid wouldn’t get in the way of any action they might see. Ever since the morning of their departure and seeing that familiar look plastered across the face of the Duty Sergeant, old feelings of needing to prove himself had lingered over Jonas’s head like an executioner’s axe. He was in no mood to be treated like a babe in need of a wetnurse.
Sir Eadred, he was beginning to see, was a vile sort of person, and maybe Al was even onto somethi
ng thinking him a trifle mad. Jonas thought the Knight correct in one thing, though: it was no good for their tutors to coddle them. Not anymore. And, truthfully, he had known in his heart they would try to do so, which had caused a quarrel between he and his father when he had lobbied to be sent to the border early instead of Newport.
This request had, of course, been refused and things had been strained between father and son as a consequence. Jonas had soon decided, however, to make the best of what he considered wasted time, learning lessons he could just as easily be taught by Duke Joran himself after returning from military duty. Continuing to allow people to treat him like a child was in direct opposition to that plan. He would do whatever was required to prove his mettle, allowing no impediments, and that included well-meaning officers and sergeants.
Apparently satisfied that whatever he had heard posed no danger, Eadred motioned for them to continue. They had dismounted and left their horses picketed in a clearing a ways back, rather than risk one of the beasts breaking a leg in the thickening underbrush. Being careful to remain quiet, the group followed the Knight up and over a small rise. It was soon evident they were crossing a small gully between two upswept ridges, the second lower than the first they had crested. For the briefest moment, Jonas thought he spied a glint in the distance as though sunlight were reflecting off something, but it was gone so quickly he couldn’t be sure he’d seen it at all.
He must have unconsciously sharpened his gaze in that direction, however, because Sergeant Hammid whispered, "See somethin’, boy?"
Turning to answer, Jonas was suddenly accosted by a startling flash of color at the edges of his vision and a sharp buzzing sound. It sounded like nothing so much as an angry hornet worrying his ear, so he swatted at it furiously. Such concerns fled quickly, though, replaced by confusion over why Hammid was suddenly running toward him with a frantic expression.
His mind barely had time to register that something was wrong before the older soldier shoved him hard. He fell, rolling down into the gully, his vision a riot of greens and browns for the instant it took before he landed with a thud. Thankfully, the shock was lessened by the thick carpet of leaf mold. Still, he had the wind knocked out of him, so it took a moment to ask if the man had lost his mind. He never got the chance to form those words, however, because the situation provided the answer: he heard the sound of the angry bee buzzing by again, but this time it was followed by a loud thump, and the shaft of an arrow suddenly appeared growing out of a nearby tree bole.
