Authors: Alex Bledsoe
He patted my stubbly cheek, then stepped aside. I snapped the reins, the wagon made a wide turn around the clearing, and we headed back to Nodlon.
chapter
TWENTY-SEVEN
The route led across farm country, along roads and trails most used at harvest time. Since that was several weeks away, they were overgrown and in need of repair; it was rough going. I couldn’t believe the constant jostling didn’t wake Jenny, but apparently Kern’s “magic” was as good as he said. I deliberately put his “prophecy” out of my mind.
The weather also didn’t cooperate as it had the night before. It was cloudy and therefore much darker, especially when we passed beneath the trees. I wondered if it would’ve been faster to go back the way I’d come; then I wondered if Kern sent us this way because it
was
. This wasn’t paranoia; by then I was sure no one on Grand Bruan did anything for the obvious or stated reasons.
As Kern promised, though, we came out just to the east of Astolat and turned west toward it, and Nodlon beyond.
Before that, though, I stopped and checked the coffin. Jenny had not moved, although the ride had disheveled her a bit. I straightened her clothes, rearranged her hair, and replaced the lid. I wondered if she was somehow aware of my presence, so I was careful not to touch anything untoward. The memory of that one kiss, whatever its real purpose, remained vivid. Too vivid.
An orange glow illuminated the clouds past Astolat, the distinctive reflection from a large fire. It was too close to be Nodlon Castle, and too far away to be the town. I didn’t recall anything in between big enough to make so large a blaze. But, since I was headed toward it anyway, it seemed useless to waste time pondering it. I’d find out soon enough.
Astolat was eerily quiet and still. No light showed in any windows, and none of the chimneys produced any smoke. A dog or wolf ran silently across the road without looking in my direction; it was the only sign of life. Granted it was the middle of the night, but usually there’d be
something,
such as a crying baby or a couple fighting. There was nothing.
This was extremely creepy. I didn’t speed the horses, but I drew the sword from my back and put it on the seat beside me. The empty scabbard was flexible enough I could finally slump a bit, although I was so tense I didn’t.
I passed the Crack’d Mirror, where I’d encountered Ted Medraft; its door stood open, and inside was solid darkness. No hearth fire or lamp glowed anywhere. I’d never known a tavern to close and leave its door unlocked. Something had happened here and either left no trace or the traces were hidden by the night.
As soon as we left town the road became a shambles of broken and missing stones. It hadn’t been like this yesterday, so something massive must’ve come through. I recalled the size of the dust cloud I’d seen to the north; it looked as if this was where the troops turned west, straight toward Nodlon just as I’d feared.
I kept the horses moving as fast as they would; on the broken stones, the wagon rattled so hard I feared my eyes might shake loose. Luckily the horses were in as big a hurry to leave the ghost town as I was.
* * *
THE
trees closed in over the road. They had tall, straight trunks so that when everything lined up, you could see quite a way through the forest. Through the trees, on the far side of the woods, I saw several distant fires; the glow on the clouds wasn’t from one big blaze, but from a scattering of smaller ones. They were too large for hearth blazes, but it was past midsummer and not yet first harvest. What would people be celebrating with bonfires?
I got my first hint of what had happened when the horses, growing progressively more nervous, finally stopped in the middle of the road and stomped in place. Nothing I did or said convinced them to move. Their whinnies were loud in the silence, and I realized no insects were singing.
I grabbed my sword when I spotted the large, dark shape on the road ahead. I watched it long enough to be reasonably sure it wasn’t moving. I got down from the wagon and approached. It was a dead horse and, still halfway in the saddle, its equally deceased rider. In the orange half-light I counted four arrows stuck in his torso and a half dozen more in the horse.
I knelt to look over the victim. His clothes marked him as a farmer, and his face showed him to be barely out of boyhood. I pulled an arrow from the horse and studied it as much as the light allowed. It wasn’t expensive or fancy but simple, utilitarian, and lethal.
Ten arrows is a good-size volley, which spoke of an awful lot of archers. I knew at once who had done this: the kind of soldiers who get paid to fight whoever they’re told is their enemy that day, and who think nothing about leaving a trail of dead civilians for no good reason except fun. Mercenaries, as I’d once been.
I recalled Ted Medraft’s presence in Astolat just before the troops from the north arrived. It was clear who put the gold in their pockets. Hoel had told me the truth.
I saw three more fires through the forest. They made sense now: farms or homesteads, looted and burned by men who had no one to fight. Medraft left a scorched trail reflected in the lowering clouds all the way to Nodlon.
There was no question of moving the dead horse, so I led the wagon team around it, giving as much leeway as I could. Then I climbed back on the seat and urged the horses on as fast as my rattling bones could stand it. I envied Jenny her oblivion.
As I got closer to Nodlon, I passed more burning farmhouses and bodies in the road. I’d been wrong: this wasn’t just professional killers blowing off steam, it was a battle tactic designed to terrify the civilian population into keeping its distance. The bodies were deliberately left on the road where they’d be found. After twenty years’ peace under King Marcus, the citizens were completely unprepared for this level of brutality.
Ahead of me a light moved on the side of the road, arcing back and forth in the air. As I got closer, I made out a torch waving to get my attention.
Again I drew my sword and put it on the wagon seat beside me. I had no shield, so if they had arrows, I’d be a pincushion. I stopped the wagon fifty feet away and called, “Who’s there?”
“I’ve got an injured Knight of the Double Tarn here,” a woman’s voice said. “Can you help me?”
I crouched as much as I could to make a smaller target. “How’d he get injured?”
“How do you think? Those dirty bastards who came through here cut him up and left him for dead.”
“Who is he?”
“Says his name is Kay.”
Well,
hell
. I jumped from the wagon and cautiously approached the torch. The old woman holding it had limp white hair and clothes that had never been new. “Where is he?”
She warningly pointed the torch in my direction. “Not so fast. How do I know you’re not one of them?”
“How do I know you’ve really got an injured knight?”
She pondered this, then raised the torch. “I reckon at this point it doesn’t matter. I’ve got nothing left anyway. Come on.”
I followed her down into the shallow, dry ditch. The torchlight reflected off armor that moved a little as we approached. A sword waved a weak warning in our direction.
“It’s okay,” the woman said. “It’s me. I’ve brought help.”
Bob Kay lay on his side, a bloody makeshift bandage around his neck. His face shone with sweat and his breathing was louder than the crackling torch. He lowered the sword but kept his hand around the hilt.
I knelt beside him. “Bob, it’s me, Eddie.”
It took him a moment to focus on me, and another moment for recognition to hit. “LaCrosse?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened?” His voice was thin and raspy.
“Isn’t that my line?”
He grabbed the front of my tunic with his empty hand and pulled me close. “Elliot never showed up, you bastard. You betrayed us.”
“The hell I did,” I said, and slapped his hand away. I was too tired to endure insults. He fell forward, and if I hadn’t caught him, he would’ve landed on his face. I pushed him back onto his side and said, “I got to Blithe Ward and delivered the message. He should’ve been at Nodlon yesterday morning.”
Kay’s eyes closed and his head sagged. “Then they got him, too. I went to find him under a flag of truce, and as soon as I got out of sight of Nodlon, they jumped me.” He sighed despairingly. “Without Elliot…”
“Is Ted Medraft behind all this? Did he bring in an army of mercenaries?”
Kay nodded, then winced at the movement and gingerly clutched his neck. “All those months he was supposed to be protecting our northern coast from raiders, he’s been hiring them instead. He’s got Marcus pinned at Nodlon. Brilliant move, tactically speaking. At Motlace, Medraft never could’ve forced a confrontation, but Nodlon’s not set up to endure a siege.” Kay coughed painfully. “How that little pig turd and his mother managed to pull all this together…”
“How bad is your neck?”
He shrugged. “Hurts like a bastard. Hard to breathe. But it can’t be too bad if I’m not dead yet.” He raised up on his elbows. “Polly here fixed me up. She’s got a sure hand.”
The white-haired woman shrugged. “I’ve had three husbands. They all tended to get into scrapes.”
I leaned close to Kay. “Listen, I know what’s happened and why. But we have to get to Nodlon before the real fight starts, and before Marcus does anything he can’t undo. And I have a secret weapon.”
“You’ve been busy,” Kay rasped. “Sorry for doubting you. Hard to know who to trust anymore on this fucking island.”
I nodded. “Ain’t it the truth.”
He saw the sword in its scabbard across my back. “That looks like one of Elliot’s.”
“I told you I found him.”
“Yeah. There was a time a whole division’s worth of men couldn’t have stopped him from getting to Jennifer. I guess we all slow down when we get older.”
Kay was a big man, and it wasn’t easy moving him out of the ditch; he was weak and couldn’t really help. Polly and I got him onto the road, and they waited while I brought the wagon closer.
Both of them stared at the coffin. “What the hell is that?” Polly asked.
“
Who
the hell is that?” Kay rephrased.
“Just a favor I’m doing for someone,” I said.
“Is that your secret weapon?” Kay muttered as he struggled up onto the seat. I didn’t answer.
“What about me?” Polly said. “You going to leave an old lady by the side of the road?”
“We’re heading literally into the middle of a battle,” I said. “Hopefully we’ll get there before it actually starts, but I can’t guarantee it. You sure you want to come?”
She gestured around her with the torch. “There’s not a standing farmhouse or a living person within ten miles of this road. I won’t be much better off.”
“You’ll have to ride in the back.”
She scraped the torch across the road stones and extinguished it in a shower of sparks. Then she jumped over the tailgate with surprising nimbleness. “It’s not the first time I’ve ridden with a coffin. Who’s in it?”
I didn’t answer. I made sure Kay wouldn’t fall off, then urged the horses on their way. We headed west into the blazing clouds toward Nodlon Castle.
chapter
TWENTY-EIGHT
Kay was too weak, and Polly apparently disinclined, so we rode without talking. I kept tabs on the old woman out of the corner of my eye; I knew exactly what her game was. But she just watched the fires, her expression unreadable.
The road became an obstacle course of bodies, both human and livestock. The nauseating death smell grew stronger as well. At one point I had to stop and drag an overlapping pile of corpses aside to make room for the wagon. They were tied together at the wrists and weren’t all adults. They’d been marched here and then executed; the family dog, no doubt loyally tagging along, was on the bottom.
When I returned to the wagon, Polly said flatly, “What a mess.”
“You think?” I said, and snapped the reins before she could reply.
* * *
AT
last the rising sun burned through the cloud cover and showed the full extent of the damage. Homes were reduced to their stone parts. Fields smoldered, bodies lay everywhere, and livestock stood numbly, not sure whether to flee or graze. Buzzards began to appear in the sky as wolves skittered for the shadows. The worst part was the utter silence: there seemed to be no wounded, only the dead.
“That son of a bitch,” Kay muttered. “That son of a
bitch
. This was never supposed to happen again. We
promised
the people it wouldn’t, and they trusted us. They made this a country, not just an island.” His rage, even muted by his injury, was fearsome.
“Why would he do this?” Polly asked from the back, as calmly as if discussing a pot roast.
“Because he enjoys it, the son of a bitch,” Kay said. “As a kid he liked to cut the legs off birds and watch them try to land.”
I remembered the adolescent Medraft I’d encountered. This is exactly how I’d have guessed he’d grow up. But as I came to appreciate the scale of it, it no longer made sense as a tactic. “If he’s planning a coup, then he must believe that all this will be his soon. Why destroy it?”
“I don’t know,” Kay growled. “You can be sure there’s a plan, though. Courtesy of the poison-titted bitch that suckled him.”
“That’s somebody’s mother you’re talking about,” Polly said, her words echoing Kern’s warning. “If he’s a grown man, his mother can’t make him do anything.”
Kay turned to snap a reply, having to swivel his whole body due to his neck. Instead he exclaimed, “Holy shit, that’s a coffin!”
Polly snorted. “Nothing gets past him, does it?”
Kay’s anger vanished in his confusion. “Seriously, LaCrosse, that’s a coffin. Has it been there all this time?”
“Yeah,” I said.
Kay’s face no longer shone with sweat; his fever must’ve broken. “Did you tell me about it before?”
“I mentioned it.”
“I guess I was really out of it. Who’s in it?”
“I’m doing a favor for a friend.”
“The favor involves taking a coffin to Nodlon? At a time like this?”