by J. P. Ashman
Correia released a heavy sigh and dropped onto the bench between Errolas and Sav, before flashing the inn keeper a dangerous look. ‘Yes, Master Stubley, I’m sure.’
‘Why here?’ Stubley looked about the soldiers lining the long table, Correia’s look having no effect on the old man.
‘Because you’re on the border, of course.’ Sav was filling his face, although a fair bit came back out whilst answering the question. Gleave and Fal were elsewhere, being tended to by the inn’s capable barber-surgeon. It was said he had powers akin to a cleric, as well as skills with needle, razor and saw.
Stubley snorted and waved his arms about, his voluminous orange and purple sleeves hanging low from over-fleshed upper-arms. ‘We’ve always been on the border, since the border began, and before that some say. It’s never meant we’ve been in danger when the Marquess of Suttel here and his—’
‘This isn’t a war of The Marches, my dear fellow,’ Giles said, baritone voice reaching everyone. Royce’s Reds sat in silence, bar the noises they made whilst eating, which was similar to Sav’s dining percussion. Giles rubbed his face and leaned back against the wall. ‘This is something far worse. They have beasts the likes I’ve never seen. They’ve employed long-played deceit, turning men on the inside. For all we know, you’re a bloody demon—’
‘How dare you!’
Giles raised both hands. ‘Apologies, Master Stubley, but that’s how it’s made us all feel.’ Giles seemed to notice Amis’ vacant stare and offered the chevalier a tight smile, forgetting the pompous inn keeper opposite. ‘You couldn’t have known, lad. I keep telling you that.’
‘And you’ll have to keep telling him,’ Correia said, eyes on Amis. ‘It’ll kick him in his chest for a good long while, as events in Easson have done us all, but it’s happened and that’s that, as hard as I sound.’
‘Correia’s right.’ Errolas’ usual lightness of tone and mirth was gone, his healing face darkening, and not just because of the remaining bruises. ‘With what’s happening, we don’t have time for ‘why’ or ‘if’ or ‘but’. We hardly have time to act, but act we must. That includes the Twin Inns.’ He looked pointedly to Stubley; he looked from him to the other family members of the inn, who encircled the long table, jugs and platters in hands. They all met Errolas’ gaze, one by one.
‘What would you have us do?’ Stubley pleaded, over-expressive hands off on the move once more.
Hud looked up from her goblet of wine. ‘Unite with your family across the way and pull back. Back to the army in Suttel. It may end up a fighting retreat if you don’t act immediately.’
‘Never!’ A bar girl stepped forward, anger in her face. ‘My brother was shot dead by those shites, I’ll never—’
‘That’s enough, my dear.’ Stubley’s words weren’t loud, but they were listened to.
‘We’ve wasted enough time already,’ Correia said, ‘and hardly brushed on any of what’s been going on. Like who this is, for starters?’ She motioned to the dark-haired woman on the far side of Errolas.
‘Of course,’ Errolas said, before the woman could answer. ‘This is Salliss de Pizan of Velenn’s Witchblades.’ There was a gasp in the room. Three red cloaked knights stood, hands on belted knives before Hud waved them down. She glared down the table at Salliss though, her suspicion there for all to see. The witchblade had half risen too, halted only by Errolas’ outstretched arm.
‘I was sent north,’ Salliss said in passable Altolnan, sitting back down. ‘I am sorry for not speak finer.’
‘It is fine.’ Correia nodded for her to go on.
‘This army that has taken Easson is but one.’ All eyes were on Salliss now, whether suspicion filled or not.
‘Go on.’ Correia encouraged Salliss with a nod.
‘A much large force was marching on Lejeune when my cabal and I were sent north. Sent to see why Eudes de Geelan had not replied to Queen Velenn’s shout for aid. We were pursued, all the way.’
‘By Orismarans?’ Hud leaned forward, intently.
Salliss shook her head. ‘By something else.’
One of the red knights snarled. ‘One thing?’
‘Yes, one,’ Salliss snapped, returning the knight’s snarl.
‘Tell them what happened.’ Errolas spoke smoothly, quietly.
Salliss took a deep breath. ‘We were cut down, one by one, as we rode for Eudes’ court. We…’ she thought about the words she required. ‘…attempted countermeasures and traps. Nothing worked. On it came.’ Her jaw bunched, steeling herself against the memories she was reliving. ‘When we reached Easson we had it the worst. Sirretan men attempted to ride us down, despite our word as to who we were and who sent us. The beast struck—’
‘A red beast?’ Giles blurted.
Salliss frowned and shook her head.
Air escaped Giles’ lungs. He waved her on.
‘Caught between who we thought to be our own men and that… thing, we fled. We did all we could to make it to the border, knowing how… dire,’ she nodded at the word, ‘our Queen’s situation was. To make it to Altoln.’
‘To Altoln?’ It was Hud’s turn to frown. ‘Why not—’
‘I don’t care why,’ Correia said, cutting the captain off, much to her knights’ disgust. Two pairs of knightly eyes were on Correia now, the others on Salliss. ‘You made it to the border and then what?’
‘I alone made it here, to this inn. I stayed, before you arrive. I stayed a day and I ran again, for two days, into… Suttel?’ Giles nodded at her pronunciation. ‘After encountering witchunters…’ she made to spit, but thought better of it. Sav cursed at the mention of the witchunters. ‘After encountering them in a dangerous way, I fled back into forest. I fled back here, unsure what I am to do. I almost failed in my mission by their hands.’ Salliss took a breath and went on, ‘And by the beast’s own—’
‘So how did you manage to escape?’ one of Hud’s knights said, accusingly. ‘Beasts and witchunters and armies and such. Eh?’
Without looking at the man, Salliss continued. ‘I threw all I had into that final stand, in Suttel.’ She glanced at Giles again as she named his lands. The marquess frowned.
‘The beast was in Suttel?’ he asked, leaning forward.
Salliss nodded once. ‘The beast was in league with the witchunters,’ she said flatly.
‘Fucking pricks—’
‘Sav!’ Correia snapped. ‘Go on, Salliss.’
Taking a breath, Salliss did just that, eyes flashing to the red knight who’d asked her how she’d escaped. ‘I used the memory of all those lost along the way, Sir…?’ Errolas squeezed her hand and Salliss steeled herself once more. The knight she addressed made to speak, but Hud motioned for him to stay silent. ‘I was welcomed,’ Salliss went on, ‘once I found my way back here, and was introduced to Errolas.’ Salliss smiled. ‘He bade me wait, wait for you, Madame Burr. He said it would be best course of action to witness aid to my Queen.’ She held Correia’s gaze. ‘I too fear we are running out of time, Madame Burr.’
‘We are,’ Hud said, ‘but on more matters than your queen and capital’s fate.’
Salliss made to say something, venomous by the looks of it, but Errolas stopped her.
‘What else?’ Correia looked to Hud, brow knitted, hands on the table, balled into fists. Bad news is ceaseless of late, Correia thought heavily. She flinched as her mind flashed back to the concussive thud of Starks’ end.
‘We leave for Royce in the morning,’ Hud said, eyes on Correia in a way that made Correia feel like it was but the two of them in the hall. ‘A reliable ship is on its way to escort you and your pathfinders to Wesson.’
‘But why?’ Correia fought to keep the anger from her voice. ‘I’ve worked hard,’ she said, before Hud could answer, ‘to learn what I’ve learnt through hardship and loss; to learn of a great threat to which I have a chance, with the good Earl here, to attempt to thwart before it—’
‘The King is in danger,’ Hud cut in. ‘And that is
more than I should have said, so do not try and pry more from me, Correia Burr, for it will not work, I assure you.’
Correia struggled not to let her fear show at the news and her heart faltered, stomach twisted. In danger, how? She wanted to scream the question and made to ask it, before catching herself, believing Hud would say no more. ‘Will Royce tell me?’
Hud shrugged. ‘That’s up to him.’
‘Can you not fly us there now? Is that not quicker?’
Surprised and questioning eyes turned to Correia, especially those of Sav, Errolas and Giles Bratby.
‘But Correia…’ Sav started. A raised hand stopped him.
Correia turned back to Stubley, who’d been quiet as he took it all in. ‘You need to consolidate your forces with your family across the way and fall back to the waiting army in Suttel.’ He made to speak but Correia lifted a finger, stopping him dead. ‘Failing that, since I know how stubborn you all are, you need to brace for an assault. They are coming, I guarantee you that, and you will be overrun. They don’t want to buy breakfast, Master Stubley, they want to skin and eat you themselves.’ She wasn’t sure about that last part, in fact she doubted it entirely, but she did need to scare the man into action; the family into action and she noted more than one set of eyes widen, even a gasp from one of the stripe-dressed serving girls.
‘Should you decide to stay, Master Stubley,’ Giles said, drawing attention to him, ‘I shall have men ride to bolster these defences, for it is a strategic location like no other along this border. The longer it holds, the longer I’ll have to manoeuvre my forces for a counter-attack. I told Croal de Geelan, before I watched him tear his own throat out on the words of this foe, that I’d ride to take Easson back from those bastards, and I bloody well meant it.’ Giles finished by looking at Salliss. ‘I truly meant it,’ he said in Sirretan.
Salliss smiled and nodded her thanks. ‘I will join you, messire—’
‘No,’ Correia said, drawing the woman’s hard eyes. ‘You’re to fly to Royce with us, then on to Wesson—’
‘Like shit she is!’ one of Royce’s Reds said. Hud didn’t stop him. ‘I’m not carrying some Sirretan witch—’
‘You bloody well ride with the like!’ Giles rounded on the man beside him, arm outstretched, pointing at Hud.
The knight whacked Giles’ arm away and made to surge to his feet. Only a well-placed forehead crunching nasal cartilage stopped the action. The knight’s top lip matched his red surcoat before he could do anything about it.
‘Outside, now!’ Hud shouted at her man. He looked more shocked than when Giles had head butted him. With a bloody snarl and a hand to his broken nose, he obeyed.
‘My apologies, Earl Bratby.’
‘I’ve never experienced the like from a knight,’ Giles said, huffing before carrying on, ‘but I accept your apology, Captain Hud. I won’t mention your knight’s outburst to Hugh when I see him next. We’re all heated here, with all that has happened and all that is to come.’
They both nodded at one another, a clear agreement to leave it at that and not involve Hud’s – and so the knight’s – liege lord.
Correia rolled her eyes. ‘If this is how we’re to continue the evening, I suggest we don’t. I have much to discuss with Errolas and Master Stubley’s family. Captain Hud, you’re welcome to assist in the planning of what’s to come before we take our rest, otherwise, I bid you good night.’ Correia locked eyes with Hud, who stared back wordlessly for a moment.
Everyone watched the two scar-faced women, until, after some time, Hud nodded. ‘I’ll stay and offer what advice I can.’ She looked to her men. ‘Go check on the mounts,’ she said, whisking them away. They left with frowns on their faces, unable to drag their eyes from Salliss until they were walking out into the night.
‘Sav,’ Correia said, without looking at him, ‘go and check on the lads, I’ll be through to do the same when we’re done here.’
Sav nodded. He knew when to keep quiet and do as he was told, most of the time anyway. With a shallow bow to all present, Sav left the room.
‘I think I’ll turn in,’ Amis said, voice saturated with melancholy.
‘No, you won’t.’ Correia fixed Amis with a look that halted his half-risen departure, causing him to drop back onto the bench. Giles shuffled along to sit next to him, wrapped an arm around the man’s shoulders and pulled him in close as a father would a son.
At that point the inn folk chose to depart, leaving Stubley and two others, who worked the room, clearing dishes and re-filling pots and goblets.
‘Now, before we go on,’ Correia said, to Amis more than anyone else, ‘I’d like to hear all Amis knows about this Flavell de Steedon he escorted across Sirreta.’
Swallowing hard, Amis de Valmont nodded and began his tale.
Chapter 47 – Fight or flight
Eyes swollen from a smoke-filled night’s sleep in the tavern, Sav woke to the sounds of shouting, whinnying horses, barking dogs and a tolling bell.
‘Always a bloody bell,’ he said, climbing to his feet from the straw covered ground next to the hall’s hearth. He’d been supplied a bunk, but after everyone else settled – as much as they could – for the night, he’d come back to the hall for a snack, unable to sleep; thoughts of Starks haunted him. He should have been there, with them. Thoughts of Fal and the torture he’d endured had followed. It had been a rough night. He’d lost track of the time he’d spent staring into the glowing embers of the hall’s fire and hadn’t realised he was falling asleep there. Taking in the space about him, Sav checked his person to make sure he had everything he should. It wouldn’t be the first place he’d woken to find a lack of coins in his pouch.
‘Sav!’
He jumped and spun to see a sunlight-framed Correia in the doorway.
‘What’s happening?’
‘The bastards are here. Move, now!’ She disappeared into the light.
‘Shit!’ Sav hurried after her.
Despite sleeping next to a fire and the hoarse throat and sore eyes that followed, the smell of wood-smoke struck him more than ever when he reached the yard. Colourful inn-folk ran to and fro, carrying buckets of water, bundles of crossbow bolts, and saddles. He turned and saw flames licking up from the thatch of the stables.
‘Double shit!’ He raced towards the blazing building where Correia stood, helping with a distressed pegasus, the red-clad knight whose mount it was doing his best to calm the beast. Correia took hold of the reins as the knight attempted to mount the animal, its wings shuddering as much as its bay flank as it pawed the ground and pulled its head away from the reins Correia struggled to hold. Sav reached her side and leaned over her, placing a palm on the animal’s white-starred forehead. He whispered to it, easing Correia out of the way whilst taking the reins from her with his free hand. She raced off to help lead the rest of the animals out of the burning building whilst men and women did their best to douse the spreading fire with buckets of water.
The pegasus settled, slowly but surely. Once in the saddle, the knight leaned forward, patted its neck and took the offered reins from Sav. ‘Thank you, Sav.’
Sav smiled up at the man who had carried him from Easson, but said nothing. There was no time. As the bell continued and the animals and people added to the din, Sav caught Correia’s eye and pointed to the bunk-house. She nodded and Sav set out towards the building. He crossed a waterway to get there, the sound of the rushing river beneath the stone a pleasant contrast to everything else. Two inn-folk ran the other way, crossbows cradled in their arms. There were no words said between Sav and the men as they crossed paths. All hands were to the defence of the inn, he knew that and knew he needed to get to Fal and Gleave, to secure them, ready to be moved.
A chilling roar came from the forest, to the south. Sav shuddered before ducking into the bunk-house through a door a young girl held open for him. His imagination conjured all sorts of things that could produce such a roar. Perhaps one of the bipedal beasts that crashed
through homes in Easson as they’d flown from the scene? Perhaps something worse!
‘Fal? Gleave?’ It was all Sav said to the barber-surgeon as he raced into the second room, where he knew his friends to be. They weren’t there.
‘Gone already,’ the scrawny man said without looking. He was applying a salve to a red raw burn which covered a woman’s hand. She bit her bottom lip and sucked in breaths as the man smoothed the ointment over the blistering flesh.
Sav winced and shook himself free of the sight. ‘Where?’
‘The Sirretan witch took them.’
Sav frowned, nodded his thanks, turned and ran once more, through to where his bunk had been set. He grabbed his bow and quiver, sword and pack and raced through the building and out to find his companions. He ran back across the bridge to the stables, the yard of which was a chaotic mix of people, horses and winged beasts. ‘Where’s Fal and Gleave?’ he shouted, for anyone to answer.
‘What do you mean?’ Correia came running from the back of the stables, instinctively ducking as a burning wooden beam made an almighty cracking sound.
‘Everyone out!’ shouted an ageing man, who held his hand out to shield his face from the intense heat radiating from the stable. ‘Out, now!’
Two more inn-folk ran from the stables, which were close to collapsing. No sooner had they left, another loud crack preceded the caving in of the burning roof.
Sav caught Correia’s arm, his sword now sheathed at his side. ‘Who started this?’
Correia looked panicked, which in turn panicked Sav. ‘A girl—’
‘The one with the burnt hand?’
Correia nodded and Sav frowned. ‘She claims to have no recollection. Listen, there’s no time for this, we need to leave.’
‘Salliss took Fal and Gleave, but I don’t know where?’
It was Correia’s turn to frown. ‘She can’t have moved them on her own?’
Hud rode up beside her on her hippogriff. ‘We’re off to the Altolnan gate. We can’t take off in any of these yards, there’s no room to get to speed and there’s arrows coming in. It’s too big a risk.’ Hud leaned down, offered Correia her hand.
