Black Arrow

by J. P. Ashman

  ‘I’m sorry, lad,’ she heard Mannino say. ‘They can’t always be saved, no matter how much we wish it. Not when it’s from—’

  ‘Get out!’ Emms shouted, face burning and red. ‘Go!’

  Quin staggered back, the hate in Emms’ face hurting far more than the slap he’d received, that much she knew.

  Before he or Emms could even break that love- and hate-filled stare, a panicked curse came from the gate.

  ‘What is it?’ Mannino said, turning to a female sailor – the one called Lefey – who looked down the hill.

  ‘It’s the bloody Adjunct’s Guard, Captain.’

  Whilst two sailors struggled to restrain the old man who’d annihilated her lover’s soldiers, and her lover himself through magic, she was sure, Emms watched the rest rush to Lefey’s side, bloody weapons at the ready.

  ‘We’re done for,’ Emms heard one of them say. She couldn’t help but smile at that, an awful smile that pulled at her top lip and revealed her teeth. Quin stood there, aghast, his eyes fixed on hers despite hers being fixed on the scene unfolding on the street. She cradled and stroked Badham’s cooling face and chest, ignoring her former lover’s pleading stare.

  ‘Who are you?’ Quin whispered. Emms heard it, but offered nothing in reply. She sat, stroking the body besides her as a sailor took hold of Quin and dragged him away. His pleading to be left with her also ignored, his attempts to fight the sailor off doing little better. Before any of it really sunk in, Emms watched the men and women who’d ruined her life flee from the yard; off up the road they ran, Mannino in the lead and the old magic man dragged along behind, a reluctant Quin at the rear. Her eyes dropped to the sable fur of Quin’s polecats as they scampered after him. She looked back up, to the sound of thudding boots on hard-packed earth as two score Adjunct’s Guards ran past, crossbows clicking and polearms bobbing like an iron forest a shrike would be proud of, that jerked its way across the top of the walls, past the open gate, to continue on up the hill, after the fleeing sailors. Not one guardsman paid notice to the carnage they passed, or to the sobbing girl sat amongst it.

  Chapter 21 – The Adjunct’s Guard

  Eyes peered from behind shuttered windows and barred doors. Dogs barked, chained in unseen yards. A lone voice shouted a threat-filled order to halt and yet the men and women ran on, up through the shacks and hovels, around the crumbling walls and back down again through arches and derelict buildings where huddled families scattered like the rats before them.

  ‘The bastards are closing.’ Lefey barely managed to force the words past her laboured breathing.

  ‘Why don’t they tire, in that armour?’ Quin, uninjured but exhausted, stumbled as he followed Lefey, a polecat hanging limp from each hand. One hand offered a hiss followed by the other, but on Quin went, doing his best to keep up with those in front and doing his best to keep all he’d witnessed from his tumultuous mind’s eye. He’d asked, during the initial run, why they didn’t stand and face, especially after what he’d seen them do to the gangers. Laughing, the ship’s blade master, Parry, had informed Quin that the gangers, despite their best efforts, weren’t soldiers. The Adjunct’s Guard, alas…

  ‘Hitchmogh!’

  Quin rounded a corner and saw the sailor called Joncausks crouched by a fallen Hitchmogh. The man looked dead.

  ‘Is he—?’

  Lefey stopped and flashed Quin a dangerous look. ‘No, Quin, he’s not. Yet. We need to get him up and move on.’

  ‘No shit, lass,’ Parry said, jogging back to them.

  ‘We surrender.’

  All eyes turned to Mannino, who looked like a man who’d been through far less than he had. His breathing was calm but his worry was plain to see.

  ‘After all that?’ Quin looked from sailor to sailor, his incredulity clear in his wide eyes and limp jaw. He shook his head and lifted Guse enough so he could wipe his wet brow with his sleeve, rather than fur.

  Mannino nodded. ‘After all that, Master Quinnell.’

  Whilst Lefey and Joncausks continued to check on Hitchmogh, who was mumbling, eyes closed, the rest of the sailors disarmed. They huffed, sighed, spat and cursed whilst doing so, but they did it all the same, as did their captain. Mannino placed his cutlass at his feet whilst the others threw their weapons down, and moved past his crew, arms wide, to stand on the corner they’d rounded.

  ‘I’m Mannino,’ he shouted. ‘It’s me you’re after.’

  ‘You can’t be serious?’ Quin looked from the back of the captain to the rest of the sailors, all of whom appeared defeated.

  ‘Oh, he is, lad.’ Parry sucked his teeth and sat, cross-legged on the floor. He closed his eyes and released a long breath.

  ‘Halt!’ a man shouted from the other side of the wall Quin was now leaning against, chest rising and falling heavily.

  ‘I’ve already done that, man,’ Mannino said, keeping his arms out wide.

  ‘Where’s your men?’ The voice again, edged with suspicion.

  ‘Behind me.’ Mannino jerked his left thumb. ‘We have injured. I insist on being seen by the Adjunct as soon as possible.’

  ‘You’ll do as I say.’

  ‘I’ll do as I damn well please, man. And you’ll bloody well like it, or it’ll be more than words we’ll exchange, you and I.’

  There was a pause, a shuffling of booted feet and metal on metal. Quin’s heart thumped and he nearly ran, but caught himself in time. What good would it do to run anyway? Run to what? His life would never be the same. He’d played a hand in the destruction of a Hillside gang and despite the bastard who ran it being dead, the shite of a goblin he’d informed to get the message through to that bastard was still alive, and that shite of a goblin had the biggest mouth on the Tri-Isles. Before long, every gang on Hillside would be looking to roast him. As the thought struck, the realisation did too. ‘I’m better off with the Adjunct’s Guard,’ Quin whispered to himself, eyes drifting to the guardsmen binding hands and gathering discarded weapons. ‘I’d never make it off Hillside otherwise, not without the crew’s help.’

  ‘What you say, boy?’ One of the guardsmen strode over, poleaxe lowered.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Speak up!’

  ‘Nothing,’ Quin said, louder than before.

  ‘What you got in your hands, rats?’

  Quin sucked in a breath as he realised what would likely happen to his boys should the man get hold of them. He crouched and threw them away from him and the guardsman, who moved to grab Quin.

  Arrik and Guse twisted in the air and thudded to the ground, before scampering off under the nearby rubble and debris of someone’s former home.

  Quin smiled with relief before a solid clout to the head brought nought but pain. His head whirled and throbbed as he and the sailors about him were hauled off down the hill, toward the Adjunct’s fort.

  Chapter 22 – To see The Three

  ‘If that lad mutters about that bloody girl one more—’

  ‘Tahir!’ Lefey glared at the Eatrian, who leaned back against the stone wall of the cell they were in, tapping the back of his head against it. ‘That muttering lad saved your life,’ she added.

  ‘Well,’ Tahir said, head tapping away, ignoring the latter comment, ‘even in his sleep he talks about her. It’s been non-stop and we’ve been cooped up with him in this shitting cell for near on a day, by my reckoning. As soon as he wakes, I’m going to—’

  ‘Keep your mouth shut.’ It was Joncausks turn to glare at the man he’d been imprisoned with twice over. He grunted a laugh. ‘Out of the frying pan…’

  Tahir flashed him a dangerous look. ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Joncausks said, prodding various bandaged wounds. ‘Nothing.’

  Lefey shook her head, looking about the sailors in the room. ‘We need to put our heads together and think this through.’

  ‘We’re in The Three’s fucking dungeons, Lefey.’ Boxall got to his feet and rubbed his face hard before pacing between them all. ‘What
can we possibly do about that?’

  ‘That’s what we need to work out.’ Lefey offered Boxall a snarl.

  Parry opened his eyes from his cross-legged meditation on the floor and locked them with Lefey. ‘Mannino and Hitchmogh will get us out, once they’ve sorted what it is they’ve been summoned to sort.’ He closed his eyes once more.

  ‘And you believe that do you, Parry?’ Tahir again, head now forward, eyes down to the man sat on the floor in front of him. ‘They’ve been gone long enough as it is. We ain’t seen them since this morning.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t,’ Parry said quietly, dangerously.

  Joncausks sighed hard. ‘We’re getting nowhere.’

  ‘Well if it wasn’t for you three—’

  Lefey surged to her feet, eyes on Nessa. ‘Let’s not start that! I mean it.’

  Nessa swallowed hard and nodded. She didn’t look at anyone else after that, but several of the others looked at her. Sessio’s crew members were a family. They certainly didn’t abandon their own, so for Nessa to have brought up the fact they’d been on a rescue mission at all was a low blow, and wouldn’t be forgotten any time soon.

  Quin began to stir and Lefey moved to him. His eyes opened and Lefey smiled down, which triggered the same from Quin.

  ‘Are we safe?’ Quin’s eyes were locked on Lefey’s. Both smiles faded when the woman shook her head. Quin sat up quickly, wavered.

  ‘Steady, lad,’ Joncausks said.

  ‘Where are we?’ Quin looked about, the answer becoming clear to him as he did so. ‘Oh yes, I’d forgotten. We’re not safe at all, are we?’

  ‘Course we are, lad. We’re about to dine like a king and visit his fucking harem.’

  Quin’s face reddened as he looked to Tahir, who was glared at by Lefey and Joncausks.

  Lefey sat beside Quin and placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘The captain and Master Hitchmogh have an audience with The Three.’

  Mouthing a curse, Quin held his breath and looked to the woman, who nodded to confirm her words.

  Short breath released before taking in a deeper one, Quin asked, ‘Are they mad, your officers?’

  Boxall laughed, as did Tahir.

  ‘Probably,’ Joncausks admitted, drawing Quin’s attention. ‘Although it’s not like they had a choice after the Adjunct’s Guard took us.’

  ‘But The Three?’ Quin frowned. ‘An audience with the Adjunct I would be surprised enough at, but The Three themselves?’

  Joncausks smiled. ‘It’s not that surprising. Not when you factor in that the captain has a past with them, and Master Hitchmogh more so.’

  Quin’s eyes widened and the room fell silent as the implications sank in.

  ***

  Surrounded by a score of Adjunct’s Guards and The Three’s sentinels, Mannino and a pale Hitchmogh stared at the elves before them, their thrones almost identical, as were the beings themselves.

  ‘You have some nerve, returning here,’ Achiad said, from the centre throne, pink eyes narrow.

  ‘Which one are you again?’ Mannino asked the one on the right, who hadn’t spoken. Mannino’s eyes widened in anticipation, despite knowing perfectly well which elf had addressed him.

  Hitchmogh’s shoulders bobbed in amusement, regardless of the weakness, pain and dread permeating his self-tortured body and mind. ‘At least my soul’s not on my person to be treated so,’ he whispered to himself, a little louder than he’d intended.

  Antreas, to the left, surged to his feet, his white attire changing instantaneously to a depthless black, as did his previously white hair. ‘You shall not speak here, worm!’ His voice was shrill, although not quite a scream. Shaking with rage, he took his seat again, both hair and tunic returning to their previous pale states. The other two, having looked to their youngest brother, turned their attentions back to Mannino.

  ‘What business do you have here, Mannino, that warrants such risk?’ Achiad barely seemed interested in the answer his question demanded, his eyes focusing past Mannino and Hitchmogh to some distant memory or thought.

  ‘Am I at risk, man?’

  Even Hitchmogh filled his cheeks and held his breath at that, glancing sidelong at Mannino, not daring to meet the eyes of their captors.

  Before Antreas could surge to his feet once more, the one on the right, the eldest, Andarna, spoke for the first time, his perpetual smile sending a visible shudder through Mannino, who locked eyes with the ancient being.

  ‘You make light of your situation, Mannino,’ Andarna said through his grin. ‘I can appreciate that.’ There was a long pause after he spoke, so long that all in the chamber finally realised Andarna wasn’t going add any more.

  Achiad shook his head and rested his chin on his linked hands. ‘Whether Antreas likes your attitude or not is of no concern to me, Mannino. What concerns me is why you have returned to our Empire?’ He gritted his teeth and forced the next words through them. ‘With Him.’

  Six pink eyes flicked to Hitchmogh, who’d looked forward again. He wished he hadn’t and felt like dropping to the floor in an attempt to make them think he’d passed out through fear. It wouldn’t be the first time that had happened in The Three’s court.

  ‘Repairs, man,’ Mannino said. ‘Repairs is all. Can’t sail a damaged ship through pirates, blockades and the like without her fit and ready.’

  ‘Even the renowned Sessio?’ Andarna said through his oh-so-wicked smile.

  Mannino nodded once. ‘Even her.’

  ‘Enough of this!’ Antreas surged to his feet again. This time his tunic darkened to red, shifted, oozed; blood began to seep from the stitching, began to drip to the marble floor, pooling as the flow increased. White hair turned crimson and the elf’s pink eyes blackened until to look at them was to lose all hope.

  Achiad sighed. ‘Enough, Antreas. Enough now. Your games bore us.’

  The bloody illusion, which caused Mannino and Hitchmogh to step back, vanished. With a flick of his white-again hair and a snort, Antreas made for the door. ‘This bores me.’ He stormed past the Adjunct’s Guard, all of which averted their gaze until Antreas passed.

  A door slammed a moment later and Achiad sighed and continued. ‘Where were we?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ Mannino admitted.

  Andarna leaned forward at that, his smile broadening as he stared at a cringing Hitchmogh. ‘It was our dearest brother who felt your return, Insect. It was he who was so affronted by it. If Achiad…’ he indicated his remaining brother with a sideways jerk of his head, ‘…does not object, I would be more than happy to see you on your way. Your sailors too.’ He looked to his brother on the centre throne.

  Right eye twitching, Achiad merely shrugged. ‘I can’t even look at the Hitchmogh man, much less decide upon his fate. Things shift in Brisance, Andarna. Big things.’ He shuffled in his chair, stood, turned and looked intently at the seat before turning back and sitting once more.

  ‘Brother?’

  ‘I felt a prick, Andarna.’

  The grin slipped a little. ‘A prick in your arse?’

  Achiad nodded, eye twitching again.

  ‘You’re to wander, soon?’

  ‘Seems so. Seems so. But first, these two...’ Lifting his right hand, fingers splayed – for no apparent reason – Achiad looked past Mannino. ‘Now!’ he said, loud enough to be heard.

  Mannino and Hitchmogh tensed. Nothing happened.

  Achiad’s arm came down. ‘Understood,’ he said to himself, before standing and leaving the room.

  Mannino and Hitchmogh, both tense, looked to one another, and on to the remaining, grinning, member of The Three.

  ‘That’s settled then,’ Andarna said, spittle flecking his bottom lip. ‘Big things move in Brisance, my youngest brother throws a tantrum, nothing new, and Achiad will go for a long walk on the mainland.’ He giggled. ‘Funny how things turn out, no? And all because you came back, Insect.’ Standing, Andarna walked up to Hitchmogh, who shrank back despite a poleaxe leve
lled at and pressing into his back. ‘Until next time.’ Andarna turned to Mannino. ‘Until next time, Captain Mannino, you charmer you! Look after Insect’s soul, as ever, won’t you? We didn’t lose it to you for you to lose it to…’ Andarna trailed off, sighed and giggled once more. And then he was gone. Just gone. As if he’d never been stood there at all.

  Mannino and Hitchmogh looked to one another, brows furrowed both.

  ‘What in Brisance was that all about?’ was all Mannino could manage before gauntleted hands dragged them both from the room.

  Chapter 23 – Sails unfurled

  ‘Hurry, man,’ Mannino said to the Adjunct’s guardsman, who was fumbling a set of keys before a worn lock, the door of which was cross-hatched with iron bars over oak. Chewing on the end of his empty pipe, Mannino glanced sidelong at his wavering first mate. ‘We need to get you back, Master Hitchmogh, and quickly; if this man would hurry The Three up.’

  Keys fell to the floor with a tinkling thud.

  ‘Apologies. Poor choice of words.’

  Hitchmogh staggered to the side and caught himself on the stone wall, Mannino close behind and steadying him as the keys were retrieved and the lock opened. As soon as it was, the gaoler repaired to the guardroom, the fear in his eyes not missed by the shrewd captain now holding up his first mate.

  ‘I’m fine, Cap’n.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me, man.’ Mannino looked to the door as the first of his sailors emerged, eyes bleary.

  ‘Captain?’ Joncausks’ frown made him wince and his hand moved to his broken nose.

  ‘Clearly, man.’ Mannino returned his attention to Hitchmogh, who’d slid down the wall to the floor despite Mannino’s attempts to hold him upright. Joncausks rushed to help and the two men hauled Hitchmogh to his feet.