by J. P. Ashman
When unknown tattooed faces loomed over him, Starks’ painful breaths caught in his raw throat. He succeeded in releasing a scream as one of the onlookers prodded his wasp strewn flesh with a road dusted boot; the pitiful scream was little more than a rasp, a rasp that, if the witnessing warriors knew what to listen for, may have been recognised as a name: Gleave.
Chapter 45 – A forceful connection
‘How’s she faring?’ Quin ran his hand along the port gunwale of Sessio’s main-deck. He appreciated the craftsmanship that had gone into the vessel.
Lefey sighed. ‘Seems whenever we get her back to how she should be, we’re attacked.’
‘Reassuring,’ Quin said, smile forced.
‘Nothing for you to worry about, Quin.’ Lefey placed a hand on his shoulder. Needle-like claws dug into her shin. Lefey cursed and hopped away.
‘Arrik, no!’ Dropping to his haunches, Quin took hold of the polecat and scanned the deck for the other. ‘Sorry, Lefey,’ he said, rising to his feet.
Lefey grunted a laugh. ‘No bother. They’re too cute to be mad at, and excellent ratters to boot. The ship’s hold has never been so clear! Puts our fat cat to shame.’ She dared stroke Arrik’s head and grinned when the animal closed its eyes and allowed her to do so.
‘That’s likely where Guse is.’ Quin joined in the stroking of the polecat hanging from his hand. ‘Either that or asleep after feeding.’
Lefey looked up at that. ‘I’ve hardly seen them since you’ve been aboard.’
‘That’s because they sleep most of the time. Can’t be bad, eh?’
Lefey smiled. ‘Not much chance of that for me or thee.’
Arrik started to struggle so Quin put him down. With a hiss, Arrik waddled off along the gunwale, sniffing anything and everything he passed.
‘You’ll be working on the stern I expect?’
Quin nodded, eyes on Arrik as he fell down a hatch. Both Quin and Lefey laughed, along with another sailor who’d seen it.
‘I will,’ Quin said. He looked back to Lefey. ‘I’m looking forward to it. Well, now we have clear horizons and my stomach has settled.’
‘And has it? Sea aside, you’ve been through a lot, not to mention a recent battle against the Black Guild of all organisations. That’s not something that sits well with any of us.’
‘Any idea where we’re heading, Lefey?’ Quin’s avoiding of the subject was obvious, even to him; especially to him.
‘Nope. No clue. I can fathom direction and hazard a guess at a port or two, but there’s been nothing from the officers as to where.’ It became apparent as Lefey talked, that Quin wasn’t listening. His eyes had glazed over and focused on nothing in particular.
Lefey tried to make eye contact, leaning round into Quin’s line of sight. ‘We’ll be alright though, Quin, you’ll see.’
A tight smile was all Quin could manage.
Lefey sighed. ‘She’s not worth dwelling on, that lass.’ She reached out for Quin’s shoulder again but he pulled away, face dropping.
‘I best be off to the stern, see if they’re ready for me to help with the repairs.’ He nodded once before turning away.
‘Of course,’ Lefey managed, leaning back against the gunwale. ‘Of course,’ she whispered, once he’d gone. ‘Why am I not surprised that after several near-death experiences, it’s the bloody girl that hurts him the most.’ Shaking her head, Lefey turned, hopped up onto the smooth rail and jumped up to the rigging above. It wasn’t long until she was high above the deck she’d been stood on, sat on a spar.
‘You soft on that soft-lad?’ Boxall shuffled across the same spar, heading towards Lefey, who flicked two fingers at him.
‘I worry after him is all, you fat prick.’
Boxall laughed. Lefey grinned.
‘How’re you holding up?’ Lefey asked.
A shrug was all Boxall offered.
‘There’s nothing wrong with feeling, Boxall.’
‘Oh, here we go. I’m not that Quin lad—’
‘That lad saved your life. We’ve been through that more than once.’
‘Doesn’t mean he’s not a soft-lad, though, does it?’ Boxall sidled up to Lefey and draped his arm over her shoulders.
‘Never said it did.’ Lefey stared at the stern, where Quin worked alongside a couple of other crew members. ‘I do think we owe it to him to help him deal with it though.’
Boxall sniffed and nodded before replying. ‘Help him toughen up, like?’
‘Exactly. It’d benefit us as much as him.’
‘True that, lass. True that.’ Boxall pulled her in close and squeezed her tight. ‘You miss him?’ he said, eyes on the stern.
‘Tahir?’
Boxall nodded.
‘You know I do and I know you do.’
‘I don’t deny it.’ Boxall pulled in his lips and rubbed at his eyes with his free hand.
‘Wind getting to you?’ Lefey made no attempt to hide a smile as she glanced sidelong at her friend.
‘Aye, lass, reckon that’s it.’ He looked back at her and matched her smile.
Heads together, the two sailors watched the other crew members on the decks and listened to the familiar sounds of the sailing ship. It was all they’d known for a long time, and despite the loss of Tahir, as well as others, they’d grown used to that too. It was that knowledge that made it all the harder at times. The knowing that by the next port, those they’d lost would be replaced. Jobs needed doing and that was that. They were all expendable and they all accepted it; didn’t make it any easier though.
***
The airborne journey had taken nowhere near as long as it would have on land, but still, Correia felt like it’d taken an age and it’d certainly taken the group through the freezing night. She’d wished she’d been wearing the wolf pelts of the riders that bore the group, to reduce the wind and the cold that bit at her extremities like the winds of winter passed.
‘We’re nearly there,’ Hud said over her red-furred shoulder.
Correia nodded, chattering teeth failing to allow any words to pass between her blue lips. The ground gradually came up to meet the descending cavalry. Correia looked upon the vastness of the forest of The Marches, spreading like a dark spillage upon the land. It took her breath more than the cold. It resembles freedom: home. She knew now that the green horizon was Altoln, and on that horizon an encamped army. The tears brought on by the wind and the loss of Starks began anew, but she saw an end to it all, although she couldn’t fathom why she was being pulled back to Wesson. Did her father know of the northbound Orismaran army? Her thoughts lingered on her father, on the plague he’d succumbed to and been rescued from, and on to her half-brother, Edward, and the man he’d become. She shuddered, the wind-chill only half of it. The hippogriff beneath her circled down, towards a walled opening. Correia leaned to the side as much as she dared and squinted as the wind calmed. Twin Inns, she thought, the fear of Edward’s future reign lost to the possibilities a landing would bring. How fair you, Errolas? The elf’s pleasant features painted in her mind’s eye, warming her heart and soul. He would have answers; even stuck here, in the inn, the elf ranger would have answers. And maybe Cook, too.
Pegasi whinnied and snorted to the left and right and Correia looked both ways, a smile pulling at her lips as she settled on Fal, despite how bad he looked; worse even, for the ride. But not as bad as you would have been, Fal, had we left you. Her thoughts came easier now, as the buffeting winds died off and the tall trees rose above them all.
Correia squeezed her knees into the flanks of the beast and clung onto Hud as their mount struck the ground at a jolting, decelerating run, wings flaring to slow them quickly enough so as not to strike the wall on the far side of the yard they’d landed in.
Seven pegasi followed their lead.
Men and women in garish clothes ran from doorways and around corners. They took reins and helped lift the injured down to be placed on carts. Ale and wine, bread and a rich terrine was broug
ht forth on platters as if a dinner party had arrived for a planned banquet. Correia stood, once dismounted, hands on knees as she sucked in horse- and wolf-scented air to fill her aching lungs. The tinkling, familiar laughter of an elf drew her gaze, for Errolas rounded a corner, a young woman linked on his arm and a large brown hen clucking and ducking about their feet. His laughter died away, face fell in fact, as he counted the number accompanying Royce’s Reds. The realisation of Starks’ absence staggered him, quite literally. After a moment in which he composed himself, Errolas left the woman’s side and moved to Fal, laid on a cart as he now was, Sav by his side.
Correia turned and followed Hud from the yard, leaving the boys to their stories and lamentation. She couldn’t bear it; not now. Besides, she had plans to make, questions to ask and warnings to give.
‘What’s the plan?’ Correia attempted to rub life back into her arms. The action was noticed and acted on by one of the inn’s womenfolk, who chased them both with thick woollen blankets. Correia smiled and took both, wrapping them about herself as she followed Hud.
‘I need some time.’ Hud lifted the red wolf-head over her own and strode off, behind the stables.
Correia stopped, mouth agape at the rudeness of the captain.
‘Where’s she going?’ Sav said, appearing at Correia’s side. He already sported one of the inn’s blankets, which he’d pulled up over his head like a cowl.
Correia shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but there’s no time for whatever it is.’ She turned to take in the walls and buildings. ‘We need to help them prepare, if they’re too stubborn to leave.’
Sav took a deep breath and nodded his accord.
‘How did Fal fair, during the flight?’
Sav’s face dropped. ‘Not good. He mutters, mumbles. His face lit upon seeing Errolas, so I deemed it best the elf accompany him to the chambers they have ready for us. Perhaps he needs someone who wasn’t there when… well, just there, in Easson.’
Correia nodded but said nothing. They stood for a while, Sav’s arm wrapping around her shoulders, pulling her tight.
‘And Amis de Valmont?’
‘What of him?’ Sav frowned, grip loosening.
‘Does he have any answers about the bitch he escorted across Sirreta?’
A shrug was Sav’s only reply.
‘I’ll need to question him.’
‘I bet you will. Handsome man is de Valmont.’
Gods above, Sav. Not now. Correia shrugged off Sav’s hand and strode away, the lanky scout close behind.
‘If you’re going to follow me, Sav, at least have something useful to say.’
‘Words won’t help us—’
‘I don’t mean that.’ She sped up. ‘I wasn’t talking about Starks.’
Sav swallowed and licked dry lips as Correia glared back at him. He followed wordlessly, until Correia spoke once more. They’d arrived at the door to the kitchens.
‘Who’s the woman with Errolas?’
‘I don’t know.’
Correia snorted as she turned and looked up at Sav. ‘A pretty, capable looking woman like that and you don’t know anything about her? I am surprised. You’re losing your touch.’
Sav’s face flushed. ‘We’d only just bloody landed, for ’morl’s sake. I had more on my mind than a pretty face and a nice backside.’
‘You did look then?’
Sav flashed a grin. ‘Why? You jealous?’
The punch was a blur, only given away by the sudden shifting of two blankets. Even so, Sav failed to avoid it completely. As he doubled over, gasping for air, Correia disappeared inside the kitchens, slamming the door before Sav could follow.
Hud looked about before crouching to the hard-packed earth. She’d chosen a shaded spot behind the stables, of which there were plenty, this one black from multiple shadows caused by numerous overhanging branches and tall walls.
Scratting in the dirt with her wand, she scrawled out a series of symbols before rearranging herself to lie amongst them, finishing the image the symbols created.
With her wolf covered head the centre of a large paw print, Hud closed her eyes, held her wand with both trembling hands and hummed. Low at first, the magician’s humming began to build, build until the disturbed earth surrounding her vibrated, shuddered even. Horses whinnied and nickered on the other side of the stable wall.
After several quickened heartbeats, Hud’s humming reached a reverberating crescendo that finished with a hollow pop, her eyes opening wide, orbs grey.
The horses fell silent. As did the birds in the trees and the insects all about.
The connection had been made, the channel opened; forcefully. Now all she needed was for him to respond, and kindly. Not a guaranteed outcome considering her unannounced, and dangerous, method of contact.
‘As long as it doesn’t harm him permanently,’ Hud whispered, not wanting the thought forming in her mind and slipping into his. ‘I don’t want him to think I’ve turned soft, after all.’ The slightest smile pulled at her lips. The same wouldn’t be happening on the other side.
***
Hitchmogh stood and staggered to the side, hand out, reaching for the nearest crew member.
‘Master Hitchmogh?’
Shaking away the dizziness, he righted himself and waved away the sailor’s concern.
‘Stood up too fast,’ he lied, offering a grizzled smile. ‘Nothing to worry—’
‘Shit!’ The sailor rushed to break Hitchmogh’s fall.
His descent slowed by grasping, calloused hands, Hitchmogh succumbed to the spinning of the room, to the thudding threatening to split his skull; to the voice becoming more apparent in the back of his mind. No, not his mind, hers…
I hear you, Hitchmogh thought, although the thought was a slippery thing, like trying to land a squirming eel.
I was worried you weren’t going to accept me, the voice said, clearer than before.
I didn’t have much of a choice and I certainly didn’t want to, Hitchmogh replied into the blackness about him. It hurts… a lot.
Apologies, old friend, but I had no other choice, we have no other choice.
A swirl of smoke-like translucent memories came and went, like the passage of jutting, mist born rocks as a ship sails on by. What felt like a smile played across Hitchmogh’s thoughts, her thoughts; someone’s thoughts.
Hud? Hitchmogh ventured tentatively, grasping at the eel and taking hold.
Aye, it’s me, old man. I need Sessio in Royce, and I needed her there yesterday. Can you persuade Mannino?
Why? Hitchmogh allowed his confusion to flood the black void he was fearful of becoming lost in. A great sense of urgency and fear was all that came back to him.
I’ll persuade him, Hitchmogh sent, simply. Now get the fuck out of my head!
The pain-filled mirth of the thought was hard to project, but it got through to Hud, who broke the connection.
Voices. Creaking. The rush of blood in his ears, oh the thumping of it…
‘Flay me!’ Hitchmogh surged into a sitting position, bumping heads with someone who’d been looking over him. Faces moved back, concern evident on every one of them. Hitchmogh waved them away aggressively.
‘I need Mannino, now.’
‘Captain’s not awake yet,’ a sailor dared.
‘Now!’ Hitchmogh shouted, spittle arcing from his chapped lips.
Sailors scattered.
***
‘What do you mean, nothing?’
Cook winced at Correia’s barbed tone. He held a cleaver in his lump of a hand, bloody from the dead goat he’d been hacking into. He placed the cleaver down. Both hands held out, placating, Cook repeated himself.
‘They’ve sent nothing in reply, Correia. I can’t do anything about that.’
‘And no riders have come out of Sirreta since we left? No mounted chevalier with archers in tow?’
‘Only the woman who’s attached herself to your elf friend, although she’d been here, left and returned, from y
our side of the forest.’
Correia leaned forward, brow raised, head tilted to the side but a little. She blocked the pressing thoughts about the chevalier who’d ridden away on Fal’s horse. She couldn’t bare thinking what might have happened to him and his men, not now.
‘I don’t know who she is,’ Cook said, his exasperation clear. He picked up the cleaver once more and took his frustration out on the carcass on his chopping block. Thwack, thwack, thwack…
‘Must you do that now?’ Correia attempted, but Cook continued. She’d pushed him too far too fast. He was a sensitive soul. She huffed, turned and left the kitchen, blankets pulled about her. ‘I’ll find out for myself.’
‘Well he is your frien—’
The slamming door cut off Cook’s retort.
‘Well?’ Sav leaned against the outside wall.
Correia wasn’t in the mood. She thumped him and made for the tavern hall, where she hoped she’d find the others. Sav cursed and followed and cursed some more as he attempted to keep pace with Correia, despite his longer legs.
Hood appeared from behind the stables, looking downright ill.
‘We need to talk, now.’ Correia shot the words at the captain and motioned for her to follow. Correia didn’t wait to see if the woman did.
‘You alright, Captain?’ Sav asked.
Correia didn’t slow to hear Hud’s response. She didn’t care at that moment. She pounded on towards the hall, two sets of footsteps following behind. ‘We’re all going to gather, now, and sort this shit storm of a situation out,’ she blurted.
Hud’s response to Sav had been cut off by that, and before the woman could answer Correia, they were at the doors to the hall, which were opened by two gaudily dressed men who bowed to the trio.
‘Your companions are inside—’
‘I know,’ was all they got from Correia as she barged past, Hud and Sav doing the same.
Chapter 46 – Family meeting
‘You’re sure?’ Stubley dared ask Correia, squeezing his bulk into an ornate chair at the head of the tavern’s table.
