The Bloody North (The Fallen Crown) (10 page)

"I understand."

"You asked me before, remember? About what I'd do after all the killing's done," Rowan said. His eyes were glassy, red, lit with the burning fire. "The truth is, I don't know. I can't see any further than that. I've lived a life of bloodshed. It's stained me for good, I know that. A man comes to think about what kind of legacy he's leaving behind, and I know what mine is. A legacy of blood. Those I've killed . . . and those who have died because of me."

Crowstone ate slowly, little bits of the roasted pigeon at a time, chewing thoughtfully in the drawn out silence.
Then he drew a deep breath. "Have you ever considered the stars, Rowan?"

He shook his head.

"I've heard tell that they are loved ones who have died. The souls of the departed shining up there in the darkness. In a way, I guess that is a comforting thought for one such as yourself who comes to question his life," Crowstone said slowly. "But you know what? That's a load of bullshit. The stars are distant points of light, each one a burning hot sun in its own right. But they are so far away, they appear as you see them. Specks of white. Like so many diamonds on a jeweler's cloth."

Rowan looked up again. Suns? He wasn't sure he agreed with Crow on
that one. They sure didn't look like suns to his eyes. However he had never held with the notion that they were friends and family who'd moved on. But the notion that each star was a sun, burning red hot seemed ludicrous. When the sun dawned beyond the distant mountains, you could feel its warm kiss on your face. The light of the stars was like that of the moon.
Cold
.

"There are so many, we cannot count them. Some of those, so far away we cannot see them. And the space between them, the black of night, is the deepest dark in all creation," Crow said. "Men and women have gone their whole lives under the gaze of those stars, in the assumption they were watched and judged by their kin. Trying to do their best. Judging themselves too harshly.
That up there? It's a view of something incomprehensible. An awesome facet of nature we were never meant to understand. If blood is meant to be on your hands, and that is what you're best at, then so be it. The stars were up there before you were born. They will be there when your flesh has rotted away and your bones have crumbled to dust. Our lives are but fleeting moments in the great opera of the universe. When the time comes, you will know what do next. You will live, Rowan, and on your own terms."

Crowstone returned to his food. Rowan continued to watch the night, and the embers merging with it.

"Where have you been?" Crow asked the bearcat as it came padding back to camp.

(went for a shit if you must know)

"Goodness, Kip!
I didn't need details, thank you very much," Crow said, full of laughter.

(n
ext time I'll do it next to your head, eh?)

"No need to be
like that."

(anyway, where's Rowan? finally left us has he?)

"Gone to check the snares he set last night, actually. I think you write him off too easily, Kip," Crow said sternly.

(don't get me wrong he's good enough
 . . . but his sort never stick about
)

"My, Kip. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were an expert on humanity!"

(very funny)

Crowstone could hear Rowan's boots in the snow, walking back to the camp. "I know we've seen some poor specimens in our travels, Kip. But I do believe there is more to this man than meets the eye. There must be a reason the Order are so certain of his importance," Crow said. "After all, they were firm about it.
Everything starts with him."

(hope you're right)

"As do I my friend, as do I."

* * *

Flat featureless countryside gave way to hills and minor valleys. Woods bordered the road on both sides, fallen trees here and there topped with snow. The days were clear of snowfall. Bright blue skies pushing the oppressive white clouds farther South, though the temperature had not risen in the least. The mountains loomed ever closer with each passing day, their peaks shining white.

"Have you ever been to the mountains, Crow?" Rowan asked.

"Several times. Beyond them lies the temple of my order. But few go that far."

Rowan ducked under the branch of a tree
that had extended, like an outstretched arm, across the road. "Understandable. I hear it's uncharted and dangerous."

"
That it is," Crow agreed.

"And what is beyond it?"

"A tundra," Crow told him, face serious. "A wasteland of ice across which none have ever journeyed."

Rowan laughed. "Why would you want to?"

"Some say there is a far distant land on the other side of it," Crow said. "Though I'll admit, such talk is more in the realm of fairy tale than anything else."

"I seem to remember a story. My Mother would tell me from time to time. 'The Mountain's Breath
,'" Rowan said. "Though as you say, a fairy tale."

"Hmm," Crow mumbled.

The woods fell away, allowing a clear view of the surrounding land. To their right, an incline rose up above, topped by scraggly trees. And beyond that a stream of grey smoke met the sky. Rowan heard a high-pitched scream from that direction and pulled his horse up. Again, another scream. He climbed down.

"Go on ahead. I'll secure these and follow along," Crow told him.

Rowan clambered up through the snow, using his hands to give him extra purchase where it became more steep. Panting hard, breath trailing behind him like smoke, he pressed carefully through the trees, thankful for their cover once he saw the scene playing out in the valley below.

A brook ran through it, sunlight flashing off of its surface where it gurgled over uneven stones. Beyond it, a heavyset man with white hair rode a tan steed, two women behind him, both riding their own horses. He talked to a group of men, no more than half a dozen. All armed. Posturing in a way Rowan didn't
like. They'd been camped down there; a fire still smouldered, hence the smoke they'd seen.

He heard movement behind, turned to see Crowstone settle in beside him, staff in hand, Kip next
in line. The bearcat's big eyes also watching what was happening below.

"Not sure, Kip. But they don't look friendly," Crow whispered to the animal.

The man at the front of the group ambled around to the side of the first horse, then lunged forward, took hold of the old man and pulled him out of the saddle. His arms and legs flailed as he was dragged away from the two women.

"Oh no," Rowan said
. A hatchet glinted in the sun as it was brought down on the old man's head, the thud audible even from there. "Fuck."

"What do you want to do?" Crow asked him as the group of men converged on the two frightened women. They tried to break way but the men took hold of their horses reins, held them fast.

Rowan looked at the younger of the two, and her horse, and realisation dawned suddenly.
Patti. The girl from the store . . .

"I'm going down there. I've gotta do it," he said,
already reaching for his sword. "How about you?"

"Well, there is
always a case to be made for going on our way and forgetting what we saw here," Crowstone said. He looked up at Rowan, eyes bright. "But I say fuck that. Let's go."

Rowan smiled, stepped out to the edge of the hill
then dropped down through the thick snow, Crowstone not far behind.

They didn't see him coming until they turned to look in the direction of his boots splashing through the brook. With his
formidable size and his rugged scarred appearance, he was intimidating as it was. But rushing upon them with his long sword raised high, roaring with a battle cry, it was the most they could do to try and get out of the way. Two stood in his path, reaching for their weapons. One wrestled with the old man's horse, while another pulled the corpse away. The last two had Patti on the ground, tearing her clothes off.

He hacked through the first man, sent him cartwheeling away
, spraying blood like a punctured water pipe. The one next to him pulled his weapon free, got as far as lifting it before Rowan smashed him in the face with his fist. He tottered back a step, shook his head. Rowan stabbed him in the stomach, all the way through. The man clung to him, clawed at his clothes.

"Get off!" Rowan tried to pull the sword free of the man's guts, but he held on tight, blood bubbling out behind his teeth, running down to his chin, eyes wide and desperate. "Get off you fucker!"

He butted the man, hard as he could, then yanked his sword free. Dark red gushed from the wound, ran like oil. Crowstone appeared to his right, headed straight for the fire the bandits had going. He aimed his staff at it and the flames erupted as if he'd doused them with oil. The man dragging the corpse was closest. The fire latched onto his clothing, ran up to his hair as he thrashed about, his whole body alight in seconds. He ran close to Crowstone, and the mage gave him a good thump with the end of the staff. The man flopped sideward into the roaring fire pit and was consumed by the inferno.

The two men had abandoned their attempt at raping the girl. She lay sprawled out, one white tit protruding from her torn top. They had swords in their hands and edged in closer to Rowan, dirty zealous faces lit on one side by Crow's
handiwork. The old woman ran to the girl on the floor, tried to help her up. Rowan rushed the two men, sword flying, skewered one in the face.

Crowstone was close behind. He spun his staff in his hands, lunged at the other man
, and hit him in the chest. The man's face contorted in agony, then he dropped to the ground, dead as a wren.

"What was
that?" Rowan asked as he pulled his sword free from his opponent's skull.

"I gave him a heart attack," Crow said, matter-of-factly. "He was dead before he hit the ground."

"How about that one?" Rowan nodded in the direction of the last man. He was looking back at them, face white with fear, foot already in one stirrup in an attempt to climb up onto the old man's horse.

Crow aimed the staff at the horse. "Into the fire," he said.

The horse started, reared up on its hind legs in panic, taking the man with it. It shook him side to side, he fell to the ground, then it cantered off. Kip sprang on him, clamped his jaws around the man's throat. He scrambled to pull the bearcat off of him, but Kip's claws dug into his skin. He had him pinned.

"
That's enough Kip," Crowstone said as Rowan drew near.

The bearcat released him.
Rowan pinned the man to the ground with his sword as Kip ran past. "You stay right there, fucker."

"Please
 . . . it wasn't my decision!"

"But you went along with it anyway," Rowan snarled.

The old woman helped Patti with her clothes. "Don't be under no illusions," she said. "That old codger was about to sell us to them men."

"He was going to sell you?" Crow asked.

She nodded, wrinkled old mouth screwed up tight with anger. "Caught me a couple of weeks back. Made me cook and clean for him till he could sell me on. The girl he got two days ago. Said he'd sell us together, the son of a bitch."

"Why didn't you run?" Rowan asked. He looke
d away to the old man's corpse.

So all
is not as it seemed. Is it ever?

"Said he'd kill us if we did. We came through here and got set upon by this lot. I knew we'd end up dead, but I was mighty pleased when they killed him," she said. "Mighty pleased."

"I'll bet," Rowan said. He shared a look with Crowstone.

Crow cleared his throat. "Kip! Get away from him!"

The bearcat had started nosing at the one Crowstone had given a heart attack.

"He was the
one in charge," the old woman said.

Patti
's face burned with anger. "Had his hands all over me," she said, looking down at his body with disgust. "Squeezing and touching . . ."

"Well he's not going to bother you now," Rowan said.

She looked up at him. "I remember you. You saved me."

"Fat lot of good it did," Rowan said.

"I was on the road when he got me. Clubbed me off my horse," she said, hand touching the sore spot at the back of her head where she'd been hit. "Took all the money too."

"What'
d he do with it?" Rowan asked.

She shrugged. "Don't know. I know he
doesn't have it on him now though."

Crowstone sighed, looked down at the last living member of the gang. "So what are
we doing about yellow belly here?"

The fire had run out of energy, gradually shrinking back down to what it had been before Crow ignited it. "First thing he's going to do is dig. Can you dig, fella?" Rowan asked, digging the tip of his sword into the man's cheek.

"Yes!" he squealed.

"Good. Set to it
then. A nice deep hole for these bodies."

Rowan
released him and the man scrambled to his feet, then set to work. Kip growled at him as he passed, teeth bared. The man rubbed at the cuts up his throat made by the bearcat.

"There's something you should know,"
Patti said. "I was in a town called Nyfe. Stayed at an inn for a week. Saw soldiers come by the town, pinning up posters. When it was the evening I went down in the street and read one."

"And?"

"They're looking for you. It said 'Wanted, dead or alive, Rowan Black, for high treason,'" Patti told him. "Thought you should know."

"I was set upon by two bounty hunters prior to finding myself in the company of Mister Crowstone here. Anything at the bottom to say who was posting the reward?"

"Yeah, a Captain Vrand," Patti said. "Does that mean anything?"

He smirked. It turned into a smile,
then a laugh. "It does. And where was this you say?"

"Nyfe."

"Not far from here," Crowstone said. "Farther westward than we are heading, but regardless you should expect to find such posters at Greyside when we arrive."

"
That's where you're headed?" Patti asked them.

Rowan looked at the curve of her hips, her youthful, pretty face. The slip of clothing covering where her breast had, only moments before, been exposed. For the first time in an age, he found himself contemplating the prospect of her completely naked. She was old enough. And he saw there were no more bruises. It had been hard, before, to see what she
'd really looked like under all the dirt and bruises. Stanthorpe had treated her like an animal.

But now he noticed she
really was a young woman, not a girl. "You're welcome to come along, if you'd both like."

"Is
that a good idea?" Crowstone murmured.

"They can come as far as the town, I reckon," Rowan said. "I'm sure they can figure something out from there."

"Yes," Crow said skeptically. "I'm sure they can."

* * *

"What is that? A dog?" the old woman asked, peering down at Kip.

(what is she? blind?)

Crowstone chuckled. "No my dear. Kip here is a bearcat. He has been my travelling companion for some years now."

Patti got down on her haunches and let him sniff her hand.

(it's all right i won't bite)

"He doesn't bite," Crow said.

"Made a good job of that man's throat from what I saw . . ." the old woman remarked, looking on.

(i only bite
arseholes)

"He, uh, only bites the wrong sort of people."

She started to stroke him. Kip's eyes closed as he nuzzled up against her.

"Seems tame enough to me," Patti said.

"Oh he is," Crowstone agreed. "A regular pussycat when you get to know him."

Kip opened one eye.

(jealous)

* * *

Crowstone rooted through the dead men's gear, liberating them of their tobacco, their dried meats, an unopened bottle of whiskey. The rest he threw in the pit that their last surviving member had dug. They watched as he dragged his former comrades' corpses into the grave, one on top of the other until they were all together. There was less than a foot from the topmost corpse and the surface. "Now cover them over. Let them all fucking rot together."

He did as he was told, scooping the dirt back on top with the spade. He patted the mound of earth down.

"Drop the spade and come here," Rowan said. He tied a rope around the man's wrists, so tight they bit into the skin. "You're coming with us. I was going to kill you, but then I recognised your face. You're Garth aren't you?"

The man swallowed. "No."

Rowan slugged him in the gut. "Next time it'll be something a little sharper. You
are
Garth Tyrer. One of a gang of six. There's a hefty price on your head, son. One I'll be cashing in on when we reach Greyside."

"No! Please! You can't do this!"

Rowan climbed up on his horse, still holding the rope. "Only it won't be me taking you in. It'll be one of the women here."

"When did you know about this?" Crowstone asked him.

Rowan shrugged. "When he got knocked to the ground. I recognised his face. Saw a poster a while back. The same kind Patti says she saw in town with
my
name on it. There's a big reward for this fucker."

"I am impressed," Crow said.

"Excuse me, Mister," the old woman said. "But why would
we
be taking him in?"

"Well, for one I'm a wanted man myself. Though I'll tell you the only crime I've committed of late is defending myself. There's another reason, too. You women don't have a penny to your names. Nothing to start out with," he said and pointed at Tyrer's sorry form, stood there
bent forward from the slug in the gut, his hands bound together. "That there is your ticket to a new, fruitful life."

"I don't know what to say,"
Patti said atop her horse. "This is the second time you've given me a chance at something new. I'll never be able to repay you."

"Yeah!" Tyrer yelled
, borderline hysterical. "At my fucking expense!"

Rowan landed him a sharp kick in
the face that snapped Garth's head back. He watched Tyrer roll about in pain on the ground, whimpering. Rowan's eyes met Patti's for a moment, and the smile at the corner of her mouth made his heart flutter. He snapped the reins. "Just a thank you will do," he told her, though every part of him said otherwise.