by Kel Kade
Aaslo looked at the horse, which appeared to be either having a stroke or unsuccessfully attempting to lick its own ear. “Yes, lucky that,” he said. He glanced between Mory and Peck. “You are free to go,” he said, then started walking toward the confounding beast.
Peck bounded to his side. “That’s it? You’re not going to, you know, make us pay for your troubles or something?”
“I only wanted the head. Just tell me how to get back to the place where you found me, and I’ll be on my way.”
Peck appeared anxious as he said, “Right then, um, you just follow the river, and then you take the second bridge, turn left at the temple with the bell, then go two streets down and turn right at the stall with the flowers—er, sometimes it’s potatoes. Maybe it’s best if I just show you.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Well, we wasted half your day, and you got hurt and filthy. I guess we kind of owe you.”
“You’re thieves. You owe everyone you’ve robbed.”
Peck shrugged into his jacket and sucked air between his teeth. “Well, I can’t say it’s not in our best interest. Strength in numbers and all that. You know what I mean?”
“No, I don’t. I need to get back to the place where we started, though. If you’re willing to show me the way, then let’s be on with it.”
Peck grinned and hooked an arm around Mory’s shoulders. He said, “The boy’ll show us. I want to see how much he remembers.”
Mory pushed Peck’s arm over his head and said, “I know the way, Peck. I’m good with the city.” The boy bounded several paces ahead but frequently checked over his shoulder. Peck said nothing, and his mood seemed to sober the longer they walked.
“They’re leading you into a trap.”
“You think so?”
“Do I think what?” Peck said.
“Something’s up with him.”
“I noticed.”
Peck glanced around anxiously and said, “Noticed what?”
“Don’t say anything. He’ll know you’re on to him.”
“I must. If I say something, maybe he’ll call it off,” Aaslo replied. To Peck, he said, “You’re acting strange.”
“Me?” said Peck. “Look, you can say whatever you want, but if he catches us, he’s not going to call anything off.”
“He’s setting you up.”
“No, he’s scared,” Aaslo said.
“You’re not?” said Peck.
Aaslo gave him a sidelong glance, but Peck’s attention was elsewhere. Mory had paused to chat with the young woman tending the stall, and Peck’s mood brightened as they neared. He hand-combed his hair again and straightened his jacket, although nothing was to be done for his sodden pants and boots.
Peck bowed with a flourish and said, “Lovely Lena, how is your day?”
In his mind’s eye, for the briefest moment, Aaslo saw Mathias in Peck’s place. He had seen his friend do as much many times with the young women of Goldenwood.
“He’s not me, Aaslo. You need to keep both our heads straight. He’s up to something.”
Lena’s smile fell as she glanced at Aaslo. She said to Peck, “Who’s your friend?”
“Ah, well, he’s a visitor. We’re showing him the city.”
“That’s nice, Peck.” Lena appeared unconvinced, but she had kind eyes as she glided toward Aaslo. He ducked his head and averted his gaze as she brushed his hair aside. “You’re hurt,” she said.
Aaslo reached up to touch the cut at his temple, but she caught his hand. He said, “Am I still a mess? I thought I cleaned most of it off in the river.”
Lena’s eyes widened. “No, it’s only a small cut, but if you washed it in the river, it’ll get infected for certain. Here, let me give you something for it.”
The young woman shuffled through several bottles and packets of herbs. She carefully poured them into a wooden mortar and ground them together with a pestle. She then added a bit of liquid to the mixture and transferred the glob onto a strip of waxed cheesecloth. After dabbing a bit of the ointment onto Aaslo’s wound, she wrapped the remainder and handed it to him.
“Don’t tell Master Gerredy. I’m not supposed to mix remedies on my own, but I’ve made this one with him enough times to know it well. You’ll need to apply it at least three times per day until it’s healed.”
Aaslo retrieved the purse he had hidden inside his waistband and withdrew a few coins.
“No, that’s not necessary. Any friend of Peck’s…”
“I insist,” Aaslo said.
As he tucked his purse behind his belt, he gave Peck a warning look. Peck did his best to appear innocent, but Aaslo was unmoved. He rested his hand on his sword hilt, the sword he had yet to draw. Peck’s smile slipped, and he dipped his head.
“Thank you,” Lena said with a genuine smile. “Master Gerredy will be glad of the sale, but I’ll tell him you bought the raw herbs, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course,” Aaslo said. He bowed courteously, then continued on his way. Peck had a few more words with Lena and then caught up with him as Mory bounded past.
Peck’s disposition became more apprehensive with every step. He said, “You know, ah, it’s nearing dusk. You never know what might come after dark. Maybe it would be better to keep your axe nearer.”
Aaslo gave him a sidelong glance. His axe was strapped to the saddle beside his head. “It’s right here. How much closer does it need to be?”
Peck laughed nervously. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m sure it’s fine.” After a few more minutes, he said, “How good are you with the sword? You didn’t even draw it before. Is the axe your weapon of choice, or are you good with both?”
“He’s testing you. He’s leading you into an ambush.”
“An ambush.”
“What? Where?” Peck said with alarm as he spun around in the road.
“Your ambush, Peck. The one you’re leading me into,” Aaslo said.
“Me? No, I wouldn’t. I swear. But I can’t guarantee—”
Peck’s words were cut off as someone reached out from a shadow, grabbed him by the neck, and jerked him into the alley. Two more men converged on Mory, who immediately cowered on the ground and covered his head with his arms. A rough-looking man with a broken tooth and a scar across his cheek stepped into the waning light. The man flicked a knife end over end between his fingers and said to Aaslo, “We don’t know you, and we don’t care to. You stay out of this, and you’re free to go on your way.”
Aaslo took a few steps back so that he could peer into the alley. It was still dark, but he could see that Peck was being held against the wall by a hulking man with a wicked ten-inch blade to his throat.
The alley man said, “Hi Pecker, it’s time to pay up.”
“It’s Peckett, and I don’t have your money yet. You said by tonight. Just—just give me ’til the end of the night. I’ll make good, I swear.”
“Look, Pecker, I said by tonight or I’d start taking it out of your hide. You don’t want to make me a liar, do you? I think I’ll take a bit now to give you some incentive. You don’t need your ears, do you? No, you can still hear without ’em.”
“No, Jago, I’ll get your money. It’s fine. See, I’ve got someone with me now. We’re working on it. It’s all good.”
“I hear you talking a lot, but I don’t see any proof of your commitment. Maybe I should start taking payment from your little boyfriend over there. He doesn’t seem to be pulling his weight.” He jerked Peck farther into the light and forced him to look at Mory. He said, “Look at him, sniveling on the ground like a coward. Caris told me you’d been caught. I didn’t believe him at first, but then he said it was ’cause your boy toy couldn’t make the jump. That was believable.”
“Caris would have known Mory couldn’t make that jump when he chose the route. He set us up. He wanted us to get caught.”
“The boy is your weakness, Pecker, and now he’s gonna be your death.”
Aaslo watched the excha
nge as Captain Cromley had taught them, surveying the thugs for strengths and weakness. There were four that he could see. They were all big men, brawlers, except the one who had warned him off. He was a wiry man with a big stick—one studded with metal shards. Aaslo couldn’t hope to take them all. Mathias might have been able to, but probably not, surrounded as they were. Mory was a sitting duck, alone, on the other side of the road with the two thugs, and Peck was one twitch away from a slit throat. The weight of the bag at his hip reminded Aaslo that he had bigger problems. With an apologetic glance at Peck, he turned and led Dolt through the group.
When he reached the halfway point, Aaslo palmed the hatchet he had tucked into his belt, ducked around his horse, and threw it at the farthest thug who was hovering over Mory. As the hatchet sank into the man’s chest, Aaslo drew his sword and gutted the second while he was still blinking in shock. He had no time to regret his choice of attack as the man’s guts spilled over a squealing Mory. The wiry man rounded the horse’s rear to inspect the commotion, and Dolt kicked the man in the head. As the horse turned to trample the downed assailant, Aaslo slipped his axe from the saddle. With a sparing glance, he lobbed the axe at the boss, severing the arm that held the knife to Peck’s throat. Peck appeared frozen in shock as Jago collapsed to the ground screaming and gripping the spurting stump at his elbow.
Aaslo leaned over Jago, positioning the tip of his sword at the man’s jugular. He said, “Do you know why I spared you? If I kill you, your men will keep coming after us, and I’ll have to keep killing them until they’re all dead. By sparing you, I give you the chance to recognize our bill of sale.”
Jago blinked up at him, his face pale and covered in sweat. “B-b-bill of sale?”
Aaslo tilted his head toward Peck. He said, “This one and his friend are paid in full. I give you your life in exchange for theirs. Do we have a deal?” Aaslo pressed the sharp edge into the soft flesh of the man’s throat, just below his double chin, eliciting a trickle of blood.
Jago shook his head. “Yes, yes, they’re yours. They’re small earners anyway. With all the refugees, I got plenty more. Just take them and go.”
“He’s going to stab you in your sleep.”
Aaslo narrowed his eyes and searched the man’s pasty face.
“What is it?” Jago blubbered. “I said they’re yours!”
“Don’t be an idiot, Aaslo. He’s lying.”
“Are you the kind of man to hold a grudge? Am I going to have to keep looking over my shoulder? It will annoy me if I have to hunt you down. Believe me when I say that I am a very good hunter.”
“Oh, that was a good one, and he doesn’t even get the joke.”
“No, no, we’re all good. I don’t ever want to see you again. Please, I need to get to a healer. I’m gonna bleed out.”
Aaslo glanced behind him and said, “Your men are dead. You’ll likely live—at least long enough to warn the rest of your men to stay away.”
“Oooo, scary. You’re good at this, Aaslo.”
Aaslo felt sick. He had never before killed a man. At least, he didn’t think the white-blooded creatures were men. They weren’t human, anyway. Now, he had killed three and maimed a fourth. He could no longer sit back in apathy, though. He knew Peck and Mory were thieves, but they weren’t bad men. He had hope they could be redeemed if given a chance.
He stepped back from the injured boss, who immediately scrambled to his feet and stumbled down the alley with his bleeding stump gripped to his chest. Aaslo picked up his axe, kicked the arm into the shadow, then looked at Peck. The thief’s gaze was steeped in fear and his face was nearly as white as Jago’s in his shock. Aaslo wiped the blood from his sword and sheathed it before cleaning his axe and returning it to his saddle.
“Peck,” came a haunted wail. “P-e-e-e-ck.”
Peck shook himself from his stupor and rushed to Mory’s side, giving Dolt a wide berth. Aaslo felt terrible upon seeing the boy drenched in the bloody gore of the thug’s innards. Dolt’s victim was smashed to a pulp, so Aaslo began dragging him by his ankles toward the river. Darkness had set, and no one was about by the river. If this was the typical welcoming party, then he could understand why. After dumping the first body, he returned to the scene to grab the second, from whom he retrieved his hatchet.
“That was a good throw. You’ve improved.”
“I could always throw the hatchet better than you.”
“I let you win. You needed the boost in confidence.”
Aaslo sighed. “You probably did. You were better at everything.”
“Except the forest. You’re best at forestry.”
“Yes, but I’m not in the forest. There is no forest for at least a hundred miles.”
“You grow things, Aaslo. You make sick and dying things well. Look at this city. It is like a forest, in a way, and it needs someone to make it well—to make it grow again.”
“That’s not my job. That’s a job for you. That’s a job for the king and the magi. I’ll take you to see him, and then I’ll go back to my old life.”
“And them?”
Aaslo glanced at the two thieves as he returned for the final body. Peck had managed to rid Mory of most of the intestines, and the boy huddled within his arms shivering.
Aaslo said, “Help me with this mess and have the boy wash in the river. He’ll feel better once he’s clean.”
Peck said nothing as he stooped to pile entrails onto the body. Then he took Mory by the arm and guided him toward the river as Aaslo dragged the eviscerated corpse. Mory and Peck both stood sheepishly at the water’s edge as they watched Aaslo guide the body into the deeper water. Once he had sloshed back to the shore, he paused. They didn’t move and instead stood staring at him.
“What?” he said.
Peck glanced to where the bodies had disappeared into the darkness.
Aaslo looked, too. He said, “Don’t worry about them. They’re gone. The river’s carried them away.”
Peck’s voice wavered as he said, “And us? Is it going to carry us away, too?”
“What are you talking about?” Then it dawned on him. “You think I brought you over here to kill you?” Neither said anything as Mory began shaking harder. Aaslo sighed. He said, “I’m not a murderer. I’m not a hired blade.” He waved a hand downriver and said, “I’ve never even killed a man before tonight, and the only reason I did was because they were going to kill you.”
“What do you mean that you’ve never killed a man?” Peck said. “You carry a head in a bag!”
“Yes, but I didn’t kill him. I needed proof that he was dead, and his body was too big to transport. I only cut off his head after he was dead.”
“But you fight like a terror … and your horse!”
“My horse is an idiot,” Aaslo said as he glanced sidelong at Dolt. The horse stared at him with one bright bluish white eye. “I guess he’s good for something, but he’s still an idiot.” Dolt snorted as if he somehow understood. “It wouldn’t have taken much training to defeat those thugs. Yes, I was trained to fight, but I’m no warrior. I guess you could say that I was a warrior’s sparring partner. I wasn’t meant for this.”
“What’s the difference between a trained warrior and a sparring partner?” said Peck. “Hired blade or no, you just killed three of Jago’s men and cut off his arm. How did you do that, anyway? A few inches over, and it would’ve been my head!”
“I’ve spent a lot of time with my axe,” Aaslo muttered. “Look, there’s still bloody gore on the street. We probably don’t want to be around when the city guard finds it. It’s dark now, and I really need to get back to where I was before all this started. Since I just saved your lives, the least you can do is show me the way.”
“Right, yes, of course,” said Peck. “But, ah, just to be clear. You’re not going to kill us once we get there, right?”
“Do you plan to attack me?”
“No, never that!”
Aaslo growled his frustration. “I told you
, I’m not a murderer. That, up there, was self-defense—and defense of you. Now, get him cleaned up so we can go.”
Once they were finally back on the road, Peck and Mory kept their distance, which was fine with Aaslo. Mathias had started talking again, and it didn’t seem like the monologue would ever end. Every second of the fight was broken down into tiny pieces, which Mathias analyzed and criticized without reserve. By the time they reached the tree-shaped building, Aaslo’s emotional attachment to the battle had been severed by his phantom friend’s incessant drone.
“I won, okay. Can we just let it go?” Aaslo snapped.
“Yeah, sure, no problem,” Peck said anxiously. “We’re here.”
Aaslo looked around. The tree building was dark now. In fact, the whole square was dark, every building closed to the night, and there didn’t appear to be any inns in sight. Aaslo sighed. He should have asked them to take him to an inn. He turned, expecting the thieves to have disappeared, but they still awaited his approval. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward the Forester’s Haven and said, “What’s that building?”
Peck looked past Aaslo. “Ah, the left side is the Loggers’ Union, and the right is the Carpenters’ Guild.”
Aaslo glanced back at the two tall spires, then shook his head. “No, I mean the one in the middle. It says ‘Forester’s Haven.’”
“Oh, that’s for the foresters. They’re tree folk, mostly from the north, from what I’ve heard. Some say they’re magical gnomes that build their homes in the tree branches.”
“I heard they swing from the branches by their long tails,” said Mory. Aaslo was glad to hear the boy speak again, but he was still disturbed by Mory’s haunted gaze.
Aaslo said, “What’s it for?”
Peck said, “I guess it’s for whatever the foresters need it to be for.”
After wrapping Dolt’s reins around a fence post and collecting his pack, Aaslo walked up the steps to the arched door. He knocked, but the tiny thud barely carried to his own ears. He smirked. The door was a forester’s gong. Thick as a tree trunk and carved by a master, doors like these graced the hovels where the foresters met when group discussions became necessary. With the right amount of power, at just the right height, the door would resonate like a bell. He pulled back his arm and slammed the portal with a meaty fist. A deep peal reverberated up the entire structure as other gongs were activated.
