Empire of the Saviours (Chronicles of/Cosmic Warlord 1) (25 page)

After a short while the road rose in a slight gradient, although nothing to trouble him. In the far distance, however, he saw that the road took on a significant slope and the fields gave way to heather and rockier ground. He could just make out the top of a wall running the length of a ridge of higher ground. The closer he got, the higher and longer he realised the wall was. How big was the place and how many must make their home inside? How could his people ever hope to stand against the multitudes of the Empire, especially when the Empire had the power to construct a place like this? He revised his opinion of the lowlanders yet again.

He climbed the slope and found himself on an immense apron of ground before walls that were far longer than he’d ever seen in his life – perhaps even two miles – and at least six times more than his height. The place had to have been built by giants! His mouth hung open in wonder and fear, but he was soon blinking and looking around in equal wonder at the countless number of wagons covering the ground. Most were stacked with sacks, barrels, boxes and cages. An area of the apron had also been given over for animal pens. Surely there were enough beasts to both carry and feed an army! The din was terrible, as men and women shouted greetings, shared news and haggled over prices; chickens squawked; dogs snarled and barked at each other; horses whinnied and stamped; children screamed as they chased each other through the crowd; donkeys brayed; and hulking guards in brown leather yelled at people that they needed a permit to trade and that any further transgressions would result in broken heads. The place was terrifying, but at the same time thrilling.

‘Paradise it ain’t, eh?’ A passing stranger smiled, seeing his face and disappearing before Aspin could think of a reply.

‘Talon of Heroes’ Brook!’ called a familiar voice somewhere. ‘Well, I’ll be! I didn’t think to see you here. I’d heard the road of your town was still flooded. No? Someone I was travelling with said …’

Aspin realised it was Jacob’s voice and headed in another direction before he could be seen. He was bumped and jostled several times and someone cursed at him. People were beginning to look at him and he felt exposed even though he was in the thick of humanity. With no other obvious direction to go in, he made his way towards the long queue of people waiting to enter the gates of the town.

There were six guards manning the gates. They looked people up and down, checked permits carefully and asked questions. Aspin told himself he had nothing to worry about – no one knew he was from the mountains so he shouldn’t have a problem, should he? Yet the queue of people was restless, for individuals kept craning their necks and leaning out to see what was going on up at the front. Apparently, this sort of delay was not usual.

‘Here, what’s the hold-up?’ a woman standing behind Aspin called out. ‘Keep us waiting much longer and my pies’ll go stale. Who’ll want them then, eh? And I’m getting old standing here. Who’ll want
me
then, eh?’

There were a few chuckles from others in the queue. Aspin glanced back at the woman. She was middle-aged and wore a low-cut red dress that didn’t leave much to the imagination. Aspin guessed that the cloth must have been expensive, for he’d never seen such a colour before, but no one in the mountains would ever wear such a revealing dress – in part because it was too cold to do so.

The woman caught him looking and plumped her hair. ‘Like what you see, dearie? I have a field that needs ploughing.’ She grinned invitingly at him, revealing two rows of brown teeth with gaps in them.

Aspin blushed and turned away, a few bystanders laughing knowingly as he did so.

‘Quiet, woman!’ the man in front of Aspin said back over his shoulder. ‘Don’t you know who that is in the darker leather with the gold trim? That’s Skathis, the holy one’s Captain himself.’

‘Really?’ The woman smiled. ‘Maybe he’s heard I’m coming to market and can’t wait to see me.’

More laughs. Aspin looked for the man called Skathis and saw him standing with arms folded and forearms on display towards the back of the guards. His dark hair was cropped close to his head, not that all the white scars across his scalp would have allowed much hair to grow anyway. His face was similarly frightening, with most of the skin pulled tight or out of place by the way old cuts and injuries had healed. He must have seen countless fights, Aspin reasoned, and was a man to be feared given that he had survived them all. Strength and skill alone in combat could not be enough either – the man must also be charmed with good luck or a quick intelligence. Skathis silently watched and listened as people passed one by one through the gates.

Aspin tried to read more of the man, but could glean nothing. Was something blocking his reading or did the man just have very little soul to be read? He couldn’t help feeling nervous now. Was it really possible for him to pass under such intense scrutiny undetected? What had Jacob meant when he said the Saint always knew? He chewed the inside of his cheek and wondered whether he should just leave this place and find another town or village. Wouldn’t he find the same there, though? And if he stepped out of the line now, wouldn’t he serve to attract the attention he was trying to avoid? Despite the chill air, he felt himself sweating under his armpits.

‘What is it with all the questions then?’ the woman asked over Aspin’s head. ‘Are they asking after me?’

‘Hang on,’ said the man in front of Aspin as he asked the man ahead of him. Less than a minute later the man muttered back to them, ‘Asking where people are from, whether they’ve met anyone unusual on the road, anyone from Godsend.’

The woman snorted. ‘Everyone from Godsend is unusual! They live too close to the wilds, eh? They say the babes of the townsfolk are taken in the night by dark spirits and replaced with changelings. Knew a man from there once. Terrible appetites he had, and thick hair all over his back. Eyebrows met in the middle too.’

‘Nothing wrong with a bit of hair on a man’s back,’ a matron a few places further back in the queue answered. ‘It’s only manly and gives you something to hang onto. They don’t half complain if you have to hold them by the ears instead. And most men are animals given half a chance.’

Cackles, nudged elbows, agreeing nods or, from the more respectable, disapproving scowls. The queue edged forward and then it was Aspin’s turn. Four guards stood around him. Had the man Skathis just taken a half-step towards him? Were his eyes narrowed?

‘Where you from?’ asked a guard who had a flat nose and smelt overpoweringly of body odour.

Aspin licked his lips. ‘Heroes’ Brook. The road out of the town is no longer flooded. My name’s Aspin Longstep.’

‘Didn’t ask your name,’ the guard said, suspicion evident on his face. ‘And you’re short. Why would they call you Longstep?’

‘Err … it’s some sort of joke.’

The guard grunted. ‘Anyone else here can speak for you and confirm you’re from Heroes’ Brook?’

Aspin hesitated, thinking desperately. ‘Wait a second … Er … yes, Talon of Heroes’ Brook. Talon the trader. His wagon’s over there. He said I could sell my skins from his wagon in the marketplace later. He said he’d only take a copper a skin for the privilege.’ He tried not to swallow too obviously and carefully avoided the gaze of the man called Skathis.

‘Here to sell goatskins?’ the guard frowned. ‘Everyone’s got goatskins. Why would you come so far to sell goatskins?’

Why else would he come to a market?
‘It’s not just for the skins. I heard that there might be maidens who weren’t yet spoken for in a place as big as Saviours’ Paradise. All those in Heroes’ Brook seem to be taken.’ He managed a convincing blush and tone of embarrassment that made one of the guards grin for a moment until he noticed none of his fellows was smiling.

‘Meet anyone on the road?’ the flat-nosed guard asked, beginning to lose interest.

Aspin nodded with wide-eyed innocence. ‘Of course. Lots of people coming for the market.’

‘Anyone unusual? From Godsend? Wearing armour with lots of gold patterns on it perhaps?’

He could read that the guard now believed him and intended to let him through. He was just asking these last questions because he’d been told to and because the man called Skathis was listening. ‘Ha! Everyone from Godsend is unusual, I heard.’

‘’Sright!’ said the woman in the red dress behind Aspin.

Flatnose looked up at the woman and interest flickered in his dull eyes. He waved Aspin through, already forgetting him.

Aspin kept his eyes down and hurried forward. He kept his senses sharp. At the last moment he read that Skathis was coming for him. He dodged left but something heavy caught him across the back of the neck and stopped him in his tracks.

Everything went dark. He felt a rough fabric against his forehead and cheeks and a soporific herb filled his nostrils. They’d hooded him as if he were some untamed animal.

‘Move, you wretches!’ barked a razor-blade voice that could only be Skathis. ‘It’s him! He fits the description. Get that iron around his wrists and ankles. Quickly! He’s dangerous. No! Wrists pulled round behind him, dolt! Foot to the back of his knee. Get him down.’

Two men pinned Aspin to the ground. How could this be happening? He’d only met Jacob since he’d entered the lowlands and the trader wouldn’t yet have had a chance to betray him, even if it were unwittingly. How had these men known to be waiting for him here when he hadn’t even known himself he’d end up coming to Saviours’ Paradise?

‘Here, what are you doing to him?’ cried the voice of the woman in the red dress. ‘He’s only a boy. It doesn’t need all of you like that. No need to be so heavy-handed!’

Skathis ignored her. ‘Got the gag? Pull his head back.’

The material over his face pulled tight and his neck was bent back up off the ground.

‘Now.’

The hood came off. He blinked, disorientated. A fist came out of nowhere and punched him hard in the face. His top lip split and a tooth broke. His jaw hung loose. A balled piece of cloth was crammed into his mouth and he was tied with a gag.

His vision blurred and then focused on the pitiless face of Skathis.

‘Still conscious despite the herbs, eh? Tough little beggar.’ Skathis gave a small nod to a guard standing off to the side. Another punch caught Aspin on cheek and chin and sent him spinning into darkness.

‘Brutes!’

‘You two get him to the punishment chamber and I’ll inform the holy one of our success. And someone shut that woman up.’

Jillan watched in horror from the back of the queue as the Heroes dragged the innocent youth away. He exchanged glances with Ash.

‘You don’t think—’

‘Best not to think – out loud at any rate,’ Ash murmured. ‘All right, follow my lead now. Ready? Jillan, pay attention!’

‘What? Yes, okay.’

‘Stay close now. Let’s go.’

The woodsman drifted forward as the line of people moved left and right to get a better view of the excitement. Jillan stuck close behind him and found that they were steadily getting closer to the gates. There were fewer guards now, and they were struggling to deal in any sort of orderly fashion with the number of people trying to get into the town.

Ash seemed to have an instinct for when anyone ahead of him was going to move left or right, for he would step with perfect timing into any gap they left. Their progress was so smooth and effortless that it was almost as if the crowd was parting before them. They were right up near the gates in next to no time.

‘Stay close. Wait here for a second. Wait. Now we go.’

They stepped forward just as the guard before them leapt to steady a precarious stack of egg trays carried by a young girl. Ash turned side on, apparently to give the guard room, at the same time easing past him.

‘Thanks,’ the guard said distractedly as he caught his breath.

‘No problem,’ Ash mumbled as he led Jillan into the town.

They were on a cobbled street that led straight towards the centre of town and presumably the marketplace. It was wide enough for two wagons to pass each other, although all the traffic was heading into town at that moment. Everything was at a standstill, however, as a wagon had lost a wheel, spilling cages of chickens onto the cobbles and allowing a good number of hysterical birds to escape. A few pedestrians stood and watched the entertainment and a few tried to herd the chickens back towards the red-faced wagon-driver, while other drivers behind him either shouted in anger or rolled up their sleeves to help him get the wheel back on.

‘Who needs the Chaos, eh?’ Ash winked at Jillan. ‘People are more than capable of making trouble for themselves. Come on, let’s head down here.’

Ash led him into a narrow street on the left and down a little. The wooden buildings to either side were mostly two storeys high and leaned over the street so that any rain or garbage coming from above landed well away from front doors. The gutters along the street were near to full with rotting vegetables, fruit, clumps of hair and worse. A mangy-looking dog was eating something unidentifiable and an aggrieved rat was squeaking at it. A naked toddler with snot running from its nose sat on a doorstep whacking at the dead body of a rodent with a stick.

‘By the Saviours, it stinks!’ Jillan gagged, his eyes watering.

‘Oh, you get used to it and it puts hairs on your chest,’ Ash replied merrily. ‘It’s not the richest part of town, to be sure, and it could do with some fresh pitch in places, but it’s where you get the cheapest ale.’

‘We’re here for ale?’ Jillan asked loudly, coming to a stop.

‘What?’ Ash replied as a woman came out of her door with a babe suckling on one of her large bared teats. She smiled at Ash and then pouted as if the babe gave her both pleasure and pain. ‘I … er …’ Ash blinked and dragged his attention back to Jillan. ‘Look, there are a couple of inns down here,’ he said, lowering his voice, ‘where we can ask around for this Thomas friend of yours and have people keep an eye out for your parents without drawing the notice of the town’s Heroes. One of the innkeepers is fond of my wood carvings too, and will usually accept them in exchange for a good few flagons, unless you’re carrying silver with which we can buy information or the ale we need to loosen tongues. Well, got much silver about you?’