Betrayal in the Highlands (38 page)

Pond sighed. “Fine. We’ll go until we reach the mountains.”

“No. Not we.”

“You’re not going by yourself.”

“I’ll have Becky.”

Becky barked and leapt.

“Pond, look, I need you to stay here and—”

“If you say ‘look after me,’ ”—Abby made a fist—“I’m going to punch you!”

That was exactly what Edmund meant to say, but he didn’t dare admit it.

“I was going to say ‘look after Rood.’ The men need someone here to encourage them and assuage their fears. Who better to do that than you?”

“Ed …”

“Ed nothing. If my count is correct, there’ll only be three or four goblins left. And Kravel is hurt. So between Becky and this—” he held up his reforged short sword, “you don’t have to worry.”

Pond grumbled under his breath.

“What?” Edmund asked.

Pond turned away.

“He said he’s always going to worry.” Abby snorted. “Me, I think you’re an idiot.” Yet concern shone in her eyes as well.

“I appreciate that both of you care about me,” Edmund told them. “I really do. But I need you to promise that you won’t follow me. I have to do what I have to do alone.”

Silence.

“Pond, I mean it. Don’t come after me.”

Pond stared out the window again.

“I’ll be taking the knight’s horse,” Edmund said. “You’d never be able to catch up.”

Pond shifted uneasily.

“Rood needs you more than I do,” Edmund insisted.

“If you get captured …” Pond grumbled, eyes becoming moist. He glanced away again.

“Abby?” Edmund said, hoping for help.

“He’ll stay here. I’ll see to it.” Then her voice cracked. “But you’d better come back, understand? I’ll kill you if you get captured because of that woman.”

Chapter Forty-Two

The goblins didn’t attack that night. Neither did any magic users. By morning, the entire town was filled with men singing loudly and toasting one another with what little alcohol Edmund permitted them to have. They were all exhausted, but they were alive.

As clouds that hung over the eastern horizon glowed red with the rising sun, Hendrick and Bain brought forth a long table from The Buxom Barmaid. Others lifted Edmund high into the air and paraded him triumphantly to the makeshift stage.

“Speech! Speech! Speech!” the crowd chanted, waving weapons, hats, and empty flagons above their heads. The nearby smoldering remains of the bonfire snapped and sputtered. Black smoke rose into the morning sky.

Edmund climbed onto the table and called for them to quiet down, but they only cheered louder when Becky jumped up next to him.

“All right! All right!” Edmund shouted.

He pointed to the edge of the crowd where Pond stood with Abby, smiling and clapping along with everyone else. Another cheer erupted as two men picked up Pond, carried him over to the table, and placed him next to Edmund. Edmund and Pond hugged.

“You did it!” Pond said to him.

“One night of peace doesn’t amount to much,” Edmund replied.

“It’s one more than we could have had.”

“True.”

“Speech! Speech! Speech!”

Edmund waved for them to settle down. “Gentlemen!” he yelled. “Gentlemen! I’m not going to lie to you …”

The commotion lessened somewhat.

“The goblins may have left us alone …”

There was an explosion of applause and whistles.

“… but we aren’t out of danger,” Edmund said. “More will come, and we have to be ready!”

“What do you need us to do?” shouted a man with red hair and a two-handed sword resting against his shoulder.

“Plenty,” Edmund answered. “We’ve got to clear more trees away from the walls. If anybody comes within a hundred yards of Rood, we want to see them coming.”

Men nodded.

Make sure they understand that this is their kingdom. They’ll work harder and fight for it longer if they remember they have a vested interest in its survival.

“We also have to be ready to fight anyone who tries to take
our
home from us!”

“I’d like to see ’em try!” yelled a man with a longbow.

Weapons clashed on shields.

“Let me ask you this,” Edmund said. “How many of you can shoot a bow well?”

At least a hundred hands shot into the air.

“I mean really well. How many of you could hit a running rabbit from two hundred feet away?”

Most of the hands went down, but a few remained, including Hendrick’s, Bain’s, and those from the group of seasoned warriors clustered around them.

“Okay. First, we need to build a parapet around the inside of the wall so we can post archers in every direction. Second, we need you men skilled at shooting a bow to teach others. By the end of winter, I want you all to be expert marksmen.” Edmund pointed to Hendrick and Bain. “Can you take care of that?”

“Yes, sir!” they called back.

“Good. We also need to keep working on the winter barracks.” Edmund pointed to Cavin in the middle of the crowd. “Our master carpenter here is in charge. He knows exactly what to do.”

Several people patted Cavin on the back.

“And where’s our wonderful cook?” Edmund peered through the crowd. “Where’s the chef of The Buxom Barmaid?”

A short man raised his corpulent arm as high as he could.

“Keep cooking food like that stew of yours and you’ll be King of the Highlands!”

Laughter and more cheers filled the air. Several men attempted to lift the cook off his feet but, after several strained heaves, decided to slap him on the back instead.

“Master chef,” Edmund called out, “we need you to start planning how we’re going to store food for the winter. We don’t have a granary yet, but we can store jellies and preserves. Don’t worry about meat; there are herds of deer and moose that can be hunted all year round. But the winters are long, and these men deserve good food!”

“I’ll take care of it!” the cook shouted back. “I’ll start organizing the glassware we need!”

“Good.” Edmund put his arm around Pond and shook him. “And you all know this man!”

Abby whistled and applauded with the rest of the crowd.

“But if you don’t,” Edmund went on, “he’s Mr. Pond. There’s never been a finer man or a more loyal friend in these lands or any other!”

“Thanks, Ed,” Pond said.

Edmund motioned for the crowd to quiet down again. “Now, you all have your tasks, as do I. We need horses and grain and supplies for the winter.”

Somebody hollered, “We have everything we need right here!”

Many of the men shook their weapons in agreement.

Edmund let their clamor die.

“But in order to buy what we need,” he said, “we need money.”

There was a collective groan. The hats and flagons and weapons that were once brandished with a flourish now sunk low as the men of Rood faltered. They suspected what was next.

“But I ain’t got no money!” a man who looked like a miner yelled at Edmund.

“I spent all I had to come here!”

“Me too!”

Grumbles bubbled through the throng.

You’re losing them.

Edmund signaled for calm, but their anger was escalating.

“Listen to what he has to say!” Bain shouted. “Shut up and listen!”

Abby whistled, a shrill note that sliced through the commotion like a jagged piece of glass.

Silenced, everybody turned back to Edmund.

“As I was saying,” he went on, “thanks to some good fortune, Mr. Pond and I have enough money to keep us all well off for a few years. But after that, we’ll have to make our way using our brains and the strength of our backs.”

Relief swept over the men’s faces, followed by confusion and wonder.

“You? You have money, enough for the entire town?” somebody said doubtfully. “How’s that even possible?”

Edmund ignored the question. “We have enough, but our money is in Long Ravine.” He watched their reactions carefully. Thus far, nobody seemed disheartened; they all seemed to be mulling over how much money he and Pond had and how they could have amassed such a fortune. “So I’ll be leaving in a couple of hours to get what we need.”

“Bring back some women!” somebody cried.

The crowd burst into laughter.

Pond bristled. He wanted to tell the men the truth, but Edmund didn’t want them to feel obligated to chase after the goblins with him. It was his decision to attempt the rescue, and there weren’t going to be any more deaths because of him—not if he could help it.

“In my stead, Mr. Pond here will be assisting you.”

Some of the men seemed caught off guard by this.

“I should only be gone for a few weeks or so,” Edmund explained, avoiding Abby’s scowl of disgust.

“A few weeks?” somebody shouted. “It’ll take you at least twice that to get to Long Ravine and back, if not more!”

Other people seemed skeptical as well.

Damn it! I shouldn’t have mentioned where I was going.

Think quick!

“Perhaps,” Edmund replied. His voice boomed over the mostly quiet crowd. “But I’ll be taking the knight’s horse, that black destrier. If I’m any judge of horses, he’ll run twice as fast as any other. It shouldn’t take me long.”

Conversations broke out as men exchanged opinions on the knight’s horse. Many had clearly hoped to claim it as their own. Others indicated that Edmund would do better with a smaller breed. Edmund refocused their attention.

“So this is what I want you to do,” he called out. “Eat. I’m sure our master chef has prepared something wonderful for all of us.”

Cheers returned.

“And then get some rest,” he added. “You’ve all earned it!”

Shouts of concurrence rose up.

“Then this afternoon, do what needs to be done—cut back the trees, work on the barracks, build a rampart around the walls, and practice fighting.”

From atop the table, Edmund watched all of them shouting and cheering and carrying on. He knew very few of them by name; nevertheless, a fondness welled up inside him. He didn’t want to leave, and for a moment he actually considered staying. But he knew he could catch up with Kravel well before Kravel reached the mountains. And if he didn’t try to save Molly now, he’d regret it until his dying day.

“Look around, gentlemen.” Edmund gestured about them. “Look around.”

Puzzled, the men glanced around at the bleak ruins of Rood with its dusty streets, its dying trees, and its crumbled foundations that still lay open and filled with rubbish.

“This place is yours,” Edmund said. “Rebuild it into something you’ll be proud to call home. And I promise you, nobody is ever going to take it from us!”

Thunderous applause shook the table upon which Edmund stood.

You’d better hope King Lionel doesn’t try too hard to seize the town.

Let him try. Something tells me these men would never let him take it!

Chapter Forty-Three

Edmund pushed his horse on after Becky as she raced deeper and deeper into the dense forests that blanketed the rocky hills northeast of Rood. They’d been following the goblins’ trail for three days, headed straight toward the distant Haegthorn Mountains. Initially he believed they could overtake Kravel fairly quickly. But the huge black destrier was having difficulty maneuvering between the massive trees and over the uneven ground, which made travel excruciatingly slow. How far ahead Kravel and Molly were, Edmund hadn’t a clue; however, his heart feared that they were pulling farther and farther away.

For the third time that morning, Becky stopped, sniffed the ground, and barked back at him. Edmund dismounted and fought through the brush to examine the spot she was pawing.

More blood
…

Becky dashed around, nose plowing through the leaves from the previous autumn. Then she ran farther ahead, stopped, and barked over her shoulder at Edmund again.

There’s too much blood here for just a minor wound.

Maybe it’s from Kravel. Maybe you hurt him worse than you thought.

No. He would have bandaged his wound by this point. Besides, the trail of blood only began a mile back. If it had been Kravel, it would have started in the woods right outside of Rood.

Leading his horse through the forest, feet crunching on brittle twigs and debris, Edmund came to where Becky stood.

There’s even more here.

His gaze followed the trail. Bracken glistened a dark crimson. Cautiously, Edmund drew his short sword. He’d considered bringing a bow and a quiver of arrows, but he couldn’t shoot to save his life. If he was going to finally kill Kravel, his black blade would have to do it.

Nose to the ground and grey tail high in the air, Becky scurried between trees and through undergrowth. Then she bolted up the narrow dirt path they’d been following. Beneath the greenish rays of sunlight streaming through the forest canopy, Edmund saw her destination.

“Oh no!”

He started to run.

“No!”

Facedown in a clump of crushed ferns lay a crumpled body. The stench of death hovered around it.

He slid to a stop next to the body and turned it over.

He couldn’t breathe.

It was Molly.

One grey hand was outstretched as though reaching out for something dear. Her other hand, crawling with ants, maggots, and flies, held the jumbled mass of her intestines.

Chapter Forty-Four

How long Edmund sat and wailed in the bloody leaves, clutching Molly’s disemboweled body, he couldn’t say. But when he’d finally collapsed, empty of tears and throat scratched raw, the sun had passed the noontime mark and shadows were beginning to deepen.

Choking on his grief, he lifted himself from the ground.

Poor Molly
…

Down the path, the knight’s destrier chewed on leaves torn from the surrounding trees.

Poor, poor Molly
…

He sniffed and wiped the side of his hand across his nose.

“I’m going to kill them,” Edmund said to Molly’s body.

Becky, exploring the undergrowth along the trail, barked in agreement.

“I promise you, Mol. I’m going to gut them all like fish. Kravel …” He sobbed. “The Undead King … all of them. I promise.”