Dark Legion (21 page)

I no longer had a bed to call my own, so I decided to head back down to the brewhouse. A sack of malt would have to do that night. I had slept on worse.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Gone

 

I woke up early, as was my habit. Sacks of malt were not the most comfortable of beds, and my back ached. I stretched, but the satisfying click of vertebrae snapping into place eluded me. I was thankful for the relative warmth of the brewhouse, and I had slept fairly well, all things considered. I had deprived one of the barrels of its woolen blanket, and I replaced it then. When I'd come to the brewhouse the previous night, I was surprised and relieved that the others had already gone to bed. It had saved me from the awkward apology I owed Hobart. Alas, that remained to be done. That, and explaining why the girl was in my bed.

 

I made my way through the tavern and into the kitchen. The living area of the tavern shared its kitchen. The place was dead quiet, and everyone was still asleep. I put some coffee on to boil and sat down at a large dining table against the wall while I waited.

A note sat at the center of the table. I had just finished reading it when Marcus came stumbling in. His hair stuck up in interesting directions. He walked to the boiling coffee and poured us a cup each before joining me. There were few things I loved as much as coffee, especially in the morning.

“Hobart up yet?” Marcus asked.

I slid the piece of paper toward him. It was a letter from Hobart. He apologized for getting drunk and upsetting me. He also apologized that he had to leave, and that with what happened, he did not feel safe. He apologized for being a coward, and promised that if we ever found ourselves in Morwynne, he would provide us with a bed. It finished by saying that he felt obliged to leave some of the gold coins on the table beside his bed.

“He's gone?” Marcus asked.

“I'm sorry, Marcus, I just… snapped. I was so tired. And the ale…”

“It's okay, we will just have to carry on by ourselves,” Marcus said.

“I doubt I'll remember how to do it,” I said. I doubted I could remember even half of what Hobart had taught us. I hadn't paid nearly enough attention. I thought we'd have him with us another month. “At least he left us some money,” I said.

Marcus got up and walked out of the kitchen. He returned shortly, and slid another piece of paper to me. It read, “My husband is an idiot.”

“I found this on the table next to his bed,” Marcus said.

“I'm guessing in lieu of money?” I asked. Marcus nodded. “Isn't life grand?”

“I propose I cook us some breakfast, then we try our hand at brewing while his lessons are still fresh,” Marcus said.

I rubbed at my aching arms. “I propose a smaller batch, so that when we mess it up, we don't waste as much of the ingredients.”

“I do love your eternal optimism.” Marcus said.

 

While we drank our coffee, I explained the previous night's events and what had happened to the three would-be arsonists. I told of how Neysa had burned them to ash, and how I'd found her unconscious on the porch. We were halfway through our coffee when Neysa came into the kitchen.

“Er… coffee?” Marcus asked. She nodded and sat down at the table, and Marcus got up to pour her a cup. She did not meet my eyes.

“Thank you,” she said. “I am sorry I took your bed.”

“It's okay. Thanks for saving my life.”

“I guess we are even,” she said. “I couldn't let those fuckers burn the place. Besides, I was lying on the porch—I would have died too.”

“Why were you unconscious?”

“Well… when I use magic, it uses something like stamina. I drained it all in one blast.”

“And why were you under that bench? If you don't mind me asking…”

She shrugged. “When that pointy-eared bastard blew up his inn, he burned all of my possessions too. I had nowhere to sleep, and no money to pay for a bed. I would not sell myself for a soft place to sleep.”

“So you spoke to Malakai?” I asked.

She stared at me with narrow eyes. “How do you know?”

“You mentioned that Elijah was responsible. He told us the same. Besides, I assumed that scroll took you to him somehow.”

She nodded as Marcus placed the cup of coffee in front of her. “Yes, I saw him. And then he kicked me out of his ridiculous house, the old bastard. Thanks again for the bed,” she said. “Where did you sleep?”

“On a sack of malt in the brewhouse.”

“I apologize for that. I have no idea what I am going to do for a bed tonight, but I won't be taking yours again.” She signed, rubbing at her eyes. “Everything I own was at the inn. I have nothing.”

“You can stay in that room. There is a spare room now, I'll move in there,” I said.

“Won't the owner mind?”

“Nope. We are the owners,” Marcus said, smiling over her shoulder.

She looked between us, then shook her head. “It's not within me to take something I haven't worked for. I will need to find a job and pay my own way. I've been selling herbs in the market, but it's not enough to sustain me. I need to find something out of the way, too. I don't want to see those red-robed bastards again.”

“Great!” Marcus said. “Know how to cook?”

“Yeah…”

“Just what we need! We just bought a tavern, and we don't have a cook. Welcome aboard. We'll pay you…”

“A silver a month,” I offered.

“That,” Marcus said. “And your room and food is included. Sounds good?”

She nodded. “Too good…”

“Nonsense,” Marcus said. “We were just talking about breakfast. Mind showing us your skills? Feel free to say no if you're not up to it… with last night and all.”

“No, it's the least I can do,” she said.

“Thanks,” I said. “I hate to admit this, but I am a dreadful cook. Perhaps you can teach me?”

 

After breakfast, I was back in the brewhouse while I waited for Marcus to finish with his bath. Our brewing was unlikely to start till just short of lunch, and I wondered how late we would be up that night. I sat at a small table, cleaning and oiling my dagger, when I was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. I left the partially cleaned dagger to answer it. As soon as I opened the door, a legionnaire barged in.

“Where is he?” the guard asked scanning the room.

“Hobart left last night,” I said.

“The tavern keeper? No, I meant the scarred one. Someone reported they'd seen him lurking around here this morning.”

“I'm sorry,” I said. “I don't know what you are talking about.”

The guard took a step closer. Too close for my liking. “That boy freed more slaves last night,” the guard spat. “If you're hiding him, there will be hell to pay.”

I caught movement in my periphery, and looked up to see Kaleb hiding between the barrels. I quickly looked back at the legionnaire, but the man had seen the movement in my eye. He turned on his heels and started walking in Kaleb's direction. I looked over at my dagger across the room. What a time to be without it. I thought about retrieving it, but instead pulled one of the poisoned pins from my sleeve, and stabbed it deep into the back of the guard's neck. The man turned on me, drawing his sword as he did so. I backed away and put the large brewing kettle between myself and the man.

The guard feigned left, and I went right; then he rushed me. I managed to duck below his sword as he struck, and I felt the air move above me. Close. I ducked back behind the kettle and saw the guard swaying. The poison was taking effect, but taking its damn time. I managed to keep the kettle between myself and the guard as we circled round it. The man stumbled but found his feet again as we continued our dance. A minute later the man collapsed in a heap, and I rested my hands on my knees. I was out of breath.

I stood, still puffing, and looked to the barrels. Kaleb stood up, his eyes on the ground.

“Come,” I said.

Kaleb came out with his shoulders slumped. “I'm sorry, my prince,” Kaleb said.

“I'm no prince.”

“You should be. Those I have rescued agree.”

“I doubt the opinion of a couple dozen slaves count for much.”

Kaleb looked up at me, defiance in his eyes. “I have rescued more than a hundred over the past few days,” Kaleb said.

My eyes were wide. “Really? What happened to them?”

“They are on their way to the Great Oasis, as you commanded,” Kaleb said. I could not remember commanding anyone. “They will wait there for you to lead them.”

I felt light-headed. Lead them? Lead them where? In what? I sat down on a bag of malt. “Erm… I don't know what to say,” I said. “You know, I won't be able to leave here for the better part of a year.”

“I will send word with those I rescue next,” Kaleb said.

“Kaleb, if I could ask… why?”

Kaleb looked at me for what felt like at least a minute. “You helped me. You saved me when none else cared to, including me. I sense you have other work underway. Perhaps something personal to you. While you do, I will do what I can to help those who are like I was.”

“You won't go to the Great Oasis?”

“I may. In time. But not while I see our people suffering here.”

I was nodding my head with nothing to say when the door barged open. I jumped to my feet, but it was just Marcus. Marcus stopped in his tracks when he saw the legionnaire crumpled on the ground. He looked at me, then Kaleb. He quickly shut the door and barred it.

“What have you done now?” Marcus asked. I explained the situation, and expected rebuke. “Fair enough,” Marcus said. I felt relieved. I explained what Kaleb had told me, and of the slaves now waiting for me in the Great Oasis. “Huh… Kaleb, what do these men expect will happen?” Marcus asked. “When their fearless prince shows up, that is.”

Kaleb frowned at the question. “To fight, of course. To fight the empire, to take back our home. We are strong. We are tough. We are fit. We have nothing to lose, and much to gain.”

I found myself smiling, and clapped Marcus on the back. “Kaleb, let me introduce you to Marcus DeVasco. Infamous leader of the rebellion. He has found his rebels wanting and has cast them aside. He will lead you in this. Once our other tasks are completed of course.”

Marcus turned to me, his mouth agape.

“If he fights for you, we will fight for him,” Kaleb said.

Marcus looked at Kaleb again. “How old are you, son?”

“Fifteen,” Kaleb said.

“Fifteen…” Marcus said. He looked at the young man for a long moment, a question on his face. “Fifteen… and yet you have more balls than any man I've led.” He put his hands on the boy's shoulders, squeezing them. “If you will fight, I will lead,” Marcus said. He hugged Kaleb to him. Kaleb looked at me over Marcus's shoulder. He looked uncertain, but I nodded, and Kaleb relaxed.

 

We hid the legionnaire's body below bags of malt and set to brewing ale. I checked Kaleb's face and eyes, but he was recovering fast. It felt good to look after someone again, and it reminded me of my life back home. Kaleb's face was scarred, but nothing like I expected. When time allowed, Marcus trained Kaleb at the sword. Well, the stick, in this case. He was a fast learner, and Marcus a good teacher. When another knock on the door came, we hid Kaleb away. It was another legionnaire, come looking for his dead friend. We told him that he had come past but left again, and was heading to the abandoned temple next. The man nodded, had a brief look around, and then set off for the temple. No more came.

 

Our brewing went much better than expected. We discovered Hobart's brewing logs, and they helped a great deal as they essentially formed a recipe book. We brewed his pale ale recipe, and I was relatively confident that something approximating ale would result from our efforts. I was, however, dismayed to discover that the fermentation process took close to a month to complete. I was pretty sure that Hobart had failed to mention that part. We finished well into the evening and relaxed with some ale and a fantastic dinner courtesy of Neysa. She was a great cook. We opted not to open the tavern that day, and I wondered how often it actually would be open. I supposed that we needed to keep up appearances. I was tired, exhausted really, but it was one of the best days in recent memory.

 

After curfew, we loaded the legionnaire's body into the small boat tied to the pier and pushed it out into the lake. We watched as it slowly floated away.

“Do you want to stay here?” I asked Kaleb.

He shook his head. “My presence would only complicate your own mission, my prince. I have found a small cave in the forest. It has a stream nearby, and plenty of fruit. I know my snares too, so I have no shortage of food.”