A Solitary Journey (13 page)

‘You treacherous bastard!’ Goodman snapped.

‘And you are a dumb bastard,’ Longhands snidely replied. ‘Tell your war dog to drop his weapon. He might be a hero to your people, but he’s no match for our Warlord and he can’t single-handedly defeat two hundred soldiers. If he’s lucky, your King will pay for his release.’

Cutter’s response was to lunge at Bloodsword. The Kerwyn Warlord turned Cutter’s blade deftly aside and shaped up again. He said something brutally short in his Kerwyn tongue and stared grimly. ‘Give it up, Blade,’ Goodman advised quietly. Cutter did not move. He was measuring the Kerwyn Warlord. The interior door opened and Cutter saw the red armour of Kerwyn soldiers. With a grunt of rage he attacked Bloodsword, furiously beating the bigger man back several steps to the doorway. None of his sweeps, lunges or thrusts scored on the Kerwyn, but his speed and initiative forced Bloodsword to take defensive action and retreat.

Seeing the Warmaster’s refusal to surrender, Longhands approached the Seer and Intermediary, raising his sword menacingly. ‘Don’t make me have to kill one of your friends,’ he warned, but then he grunted as Goodman lashed out and kicked him in the groin. As he bent double, Goodman brought an elbow down across Longhands’ neck and dropped him to the floor. Gold grabbed the short sword and pressed it against the groaning victim’s neck.

Seeing the unexpected change in fortune, Bloodsword struck viciously, trying to push Cutter back and let the men enter whose doorway he blocked, but Cutter held his ground, parrying the Kerwyn’s strokes. From behind, Cutter heard someone yelling in Kerwyn and another person calling him to stop. Bloodsword’s weapon lowered, but Cutter was wary. The big Kerwyn leader grunted a reply to what was being spoken and his sword rose slightly as if he was ready to recommence, but a voice babbled again in Kerwyn and from its tone Cutter recognised the sound of pleading. Bloodsword glared at Cutter, his bearded visage glowing with hatred as he stepped back cautiously into the adjoining room.

‘Check that they’re leaving the house,’ Goodman said. Noting that Gold had the Kerwyn ambassador pinned with the short sword and Goodman was urging him to check beyond the door, Cutter wiped the seeping blood from his neck with his left hand, saw the shining Kerwyn blade still wedged in his armour and wrenched it free, before he stepped warily through the door to dog the Kerwyn retreat from the farmhouse.

Y
ou are dead men,’ Longhands murmured. ‘You don’t need—’

‘Gag him,’ Cutter snarled.

‘Gagging me won’t stop your death,’ Longhands argued as Seer Gold fashioned a gag from cloth and rope.

‘He’s right,’ said Cutter angrily. ‘Perhaps it’s better to slit your throat and be done with. Isn’t that what Bloodsword said?’

The reminder of Bloodsword’s parting words, that the ambassador was expendable, before he withdrew from the farmhouse silenced Longhands. Gold slid the gag over the Kerwyn’s mouth. ‘If I had to listen to him any longer I would have cheerfully surrendered,’ said Cutter.

‘Now what?’ Goodman asked. ‘Three of us in a farmhouse against two hundred Kerwyn and their army leader?’

Cutter nodded. ‘I agree it’s not the best of military situations, but I saw how you disarmed that piece of scum. Impressive for someone who’s not a soldier.’

‘I was trained to protect the Queen,’ Goodman replied. ‘I don’t just
oversee
the Elite Guards. I
am
one.’

‘Clearly.’

Gold stood beside him. ‘May I see that wound on your neck?’

Cutter acquiesced and Gold studied it carefully. ‘Well?’ Cutter asked.

‘It’s already swelling and red. There was poison on that blade.’

Cutter met the Seer’s gaze. ‘How serious?’

‘I need to try some healing.’

‘And?’

‘And you’ll need to pray to Jarudha for His forgiveness.’

Cutter pushed away from Gold. ‘I don’t need prayer. I need a plan to get us out of here.’

‘We need a miracle,’ said Goodman. ‘Perhaps you better pray.’

Cutter looked at the Intermediary and smiled for the first time that day. To Gold he said, ‘Heal me.’

A stone thudded against the farmhouse wall and a man shouted. Goodman peered carefully through a window. ‘Bloodsword is saying something.’

‘Translate it,’ said Cutter. The big voice outside yelled again. ‘Well?’ Cutter demanded. ‘What’s the Kerwyn Warlord saying?’

‘He says we have only this one chance to surrender. If we don’t come out now, his archers will set fire to the building and we will either die in the fire or be slaughtered when we crawl out.’

Cutter grinned and looked down at Longhands. ‘He doesn’t like you, does he?’ Longhands scowled and swore under his breath.

‘What do we do?’ asked Gold.

‘Some of Jarudha’s protection would be useful about now,’ said Cutter.

‘Or a Blessing,’ said Gold.

‘A Blessing, a prayer, something useful,’ Cutter muttered.

Gold straightened and reached inside his blue robe to retrieve a phial of purple powder. Goodman raised his eyebrows. ‘Euphoria?’ he asked.

Cutter glared at the phial. ‘That’s your answer?’

Gold smiled as he uncorked the phial. ‘I need some water to make a solution.’

Cutter gasped in amazement. ‘Are you serious? You’re going to take a drug to face the enemy?’

‘It might make dying easier,’ Goodman acknowledged, shrugging.

Gold shook his head as he found the pitcher of water that had been placed on the table for the negotiators and poured a measure in a mug. ‘Euphoria calms my nerves,’ he explained, ‘and makes casting my Blessing easier.’

‘And what exactly is your Blessing?’ Cutter asked, sceptical of the priest’s explanation for his unexpected drug use.

Gold shook a quantity of euphoria into the mug and stirred the contents with his finger until the purple powder dissolved to become a honey-coloured liquid with a reddish tinge. ‘I have a small healing gift,’ he said, and tasted the liquid. ‘You’ll need that very soon,’ he reminded Cutter. ‘I can also amplify sound.’ He lifted the mug and drank.

‘Amplify sound?’ Cutter asked. ‘Is that all?’ He turned to Goodman. ‘I don’t surrender to an enemy. Take the priest and yourself and save yourselves.’

‘I need one of you to lead me outside and describe things to me,’ Gold said, as if he hadn’t heard Cutter, ‘but you both have to put rags in your ears, bind them tightly until you can’t hear, and then I can do what must be done.’ His speech slowed and slurred as he reached the end of his instructions and was silent.

Goodman approached the motionless Seer, stared into his sightless eyes and expressionless face and shivered. He turned to Cutter and said, ‘He’s gone.’

Cutter swore. ‘I don’t believe that!’ he snarled. ‘I’ve seen soldiers take the drug before battle to numb their fear and the pain of wounds. I’ve even been told that there are men who are so afraid of dying that they dose themselves like this so they can die without knowing about it.’ He kicked over a stool and stomped to the window to look out at the encircling Kerwyn. The enemy were not close enough to see their faces clearly, but he saw the red robes of the scribe who he knew now was an assassin sent to kill him in the name of war expediency and he saw Bloodsword’s imposing figure. The Kerwyn wanted blood. Even if he surrendered, they would kill him.
Now I will never see my family,
he brooded, as his fingers wrapped about his sword grip.
My instincts are never wrong. And I didn’t trust them.

‘I think we do as Gold requested,’ said Goodman. Cutter turned to the Intermediary. ‘What have we got to lose?’ he asked. ‘We walk out as if we are going to surrender. If Gold wasn’t making an excuse for taking the drug he’ll use his Blessing to help us.’

‘And if he was lying?’ Cutter asked.

Goodman shrugged. ‘We die.’

‘You can save your skin by surrendering,’ said Cutter. ‘They’ll kill me whatever I do. Walk away from me when we go outside.’

Goodman’s lips adopted a grim smile, an expression Cutter didn’t expect from the man who was primarily a diplomat, even if he led the Elite Guards. ‘If the Seer’s promise is false, we die together.’

Cutter wanted to argue, but the determination in the Intermediary’s eyes told him there was no point. Instead, he said, ‘Are you going to lead the priest?’

‘My pleasure,’ said Goodman. ‘What about our friend?’ he added, indicating their prisoner.

Cutter went to the Kerwyn ambassador and pressed the point of his sword against Longhands’s throat. ‘As
much as slitting this windpipe would give me great pleasure, the risk that he will accompany us to the afterlife stops me enjoying it.’ He cut the skin precisely, letting blood flow without doing fatal damage, while Longhands wriggled and squirmed. ‘If we die,’ said Cutter, straightening up, ‘that will remind you of me every day of your miserable life. And if we live, I’ll find you one day and finish the job.’ He turned to Goodman who was leading Seer Gold to the door. ‘Is your Kerwyn good enough to tell them that we’re coming out?’

‘I can make them understand enough.’ Goodman yelled that they intended to surrender and to hold off the archers as they came out. He translated Bloodsword’s reply for Cutter. ‘I think he said he wants the King’s ambassador sent out first, and then us to follow without weapons.’

‘Tell him the ambassador’s dead.’ Goodman looked at Cutter. ‘I know he’s not dead—just say it. Bloodsword doesn’t care about the ambassador. Tell him we’re coming out with our weapons sheathed.’ Goodman hesitated, but when he saw Cutter’s earnest expression he called out the reply. Silence followed. ‘I don’t think that was the answer he wanted,’ Goodman said. Then Bloodsword yelled again.

‘And?’ Cutter asked.

‘He agrees. We can come out.’

Cutter smiled. ‘I think this man and I have an understanding,’ he said sarcastically. ‘Let’s go.’

‘Our ears,’ Goodman reminded him. ‘We need cloth.’

Cutter looked at Longhands and smiled wickedly. ‘I know where there’s plenty.’

Head wrapped in red cloth, ears packed tightly, Cutter gingerly opened the door and peered out to find that the Kerwyn troops were assembled as they had been when he looked through the window. He sheathed his sword and stepped into the dull daylight,
watching the Kerwyn while Goodman led the Seer outside. Cutter could see Goodman’s lips moving.
If we need our ears blocked,
he considered,
why doesn’t the priest?
The Kerwyn held their circle, but Cutter saw the archers taking aim.
Execution,
he decided.
Nice.
He saw four figures leave the circle and advance. Two were Kerwyn soldiers. One was Bloodsword. The fourth was the hooded assassin.
Maybe in my final fight I can cut some honour from these bastards’ hearts,
he decided grimly. He saw the Seer raise his arms as if he intended to bless the enemy and then he heard a rushing noise, like the noise of a storm from inside a thick-walled chamber and faint screaming as if men were being shredded in the wind. The entire Kerwyn force collapsed. The four men walking towards him buckled as if hit by a giant hand, clutching their heads and writhing like victims dying in agony. The Kerwyn horses reared and bolted north. He turned to see Goodman staring in awe at the vision and the Seer, arms wide, mouth wide as if he was screaming aloud. Gold closed his mouth and dropped his arms to his side and sank again into his glazed oblivion, but the Kerwyn soldiers remained on the ground, hands pressed to their ears.

Cutter recognised their chance. He beckoned to Goodman to lead Gold to the south before he strode towards the four Kerwyn leaders, unsheathing his sword and ripping the wrapping from his head. Seeing the approaching danger, the Kerwyn Warlord, blood trickling from both ears, wrenched his sword from its scabbard, but Cutter smashed the blade from his grip and kicked Bloodsword viciously in the face. As the Kerwyn leader rolled onto his side, groaning, Cutter hamstrung both of his legs. Then he turned to the assassin and methodically chopped off the man’s hands before he trotted after Goodman.

‘What did you do back there?’ Goodman asked, as he removed his head wrap.

‘I retired Warlord Bloodsword and the Scribe,’ Cutter answered cryptically.

‘We need horses,’ said Goodman.

Cutter looked back at the Kerwyn soldiers around the farmhouse. Some were staggering to their feet, stumbling as they tried to take steps, but many stayed on their knees, hands wrapped around their ears. ‘They won’t be chasing us,’ he told Goodman. ‘Whatever noise the priest created, it’s made them all deaf and disoriented. We have time.’

King Future slammed his fist against the black marble tabletop and swore before he crossed the chamber to face the Kerwyn ambassador. ‘You can tell Ironfist that I’ve grown tired of his treachery!’ he bellowed with all the authority he could muster. ‘His Warlord is defeated. His futile attempts to kill my people have failed. I will give him one more chance to withdraw or I will call down the full might of Jarudha on his unholy army and it will be swept from the face of my kingdom.’ He glanced at Seer Diamond, who nodded, before he turned back to the ambassador and said, ‘That’s my answer to your king!’

The ambassador bowed respectfully. As he raised his head, he asked, ‘May I be permitted to withdraw, Your Highness?’

‘Get out!’ Future snarled. The ambassador hastily left the chamber. Future glared at the closing door until it sealed, before he spoke to Diamond. ‘You promise that my soldiers will have the same magic as the Kerwyn?’

Diamond nodded. ‘You Highness, my colleagues are already creating the magic powder for the thundermakers. Seer Weaver is instructing the metalsmiths how to form the tubes for the powder.’

‘And what of your colleagues? Will they be able to use their Blessings as effectively as the reports inform me?’

‘We have been twice blessed, Your Highness,’ said Diamond as he moved to gaze out of the window. ‘We have discovered in our passion to serve the new King and servant of Jarudha that our Blessings have been magnified to do Jarudha’s work. That is our second blessing. The first is to be led in this by a king of great vision.’

The compliment made Future glow with pride. ‘I have begun Jarudha’s work as you advised. New temples are being built for the people.’

‘I’ve visited each one, Your Highness. They give the people hope and strength in their defence of the city.’

‘Jarudha will not fail us,’ Future said.

Diamond smiled. ‘Jarudha will not fail us,’ he confirmed.

Hordemaster Cleaver Broadback sat astride his horse, watching the fire creeping through the tract of forest, filling the sky with white and patches of black smoke. He was pleased with his campaign. The Shessian barbarians had been swept from the plains and driven into the vast forest, and now his men were hunting them methodically, cleansing the land of the enemy in preparation for his people’s settlement. Sometimes his army met minor suicidal resistance from fanatical barbarians, but the enemy generally posed no threat. They just melted under the advancing line of Kerwyn warriors and ran for their lives. In the wake of Broadback’s forces the Western Shess plains were littered with the smouldering ruins of towns and villages. He had done his duty.

He saw the riders approaching from the south-west long before they wove through the ranks of his resting
troops to his position on the crest of a gum-covered hill and he wondered what new orders Warlord Bloodsword was sending. He hoped that it was news of victory at the enemy capital. The lead rider bowed his head as he reached the Hordemaster, and said, ‘Hordemaster, I bring bad news. Warlord Bloodsword has fallen in battle and our army has withdrawn from the river near Port of Joy.’

Broadback thought that he had misheard the messenger. ‘The Warlord is dead?’

‘Crippled, Hordemaster,’ the messenger replied.

‘Why has the army retreated?’

‘The enemy king has turned the priests against us. Their magic has been unleashed and the barbarians now also use the thundermakers.’

‘And?’ Broadback asked. ‘Orders for me?’ With Warlord Bloodsword incapacitated, he wondered if an opportunity had opened—an ambition he barely dared to consider.
I never even thought I would be a Hordemaster,
he remembered.

‘No, Hordemaster,’ the messenger said. ‘I was told to make sure you knew the situation and that you continued the extermination of the barbarians. The fewer of them there are, the less the barbarian king can muster when we are reinforced.’

Broadback let the instruction settle into his understanding.
Who will be Warlord in Bloodsword’s absence?
he wondered. ‘Is that all?’ he asked.