The Bloody North (The Fallen Crown) (13 page)

"Please," the boy said, looking up at Rowan. "Please don't hurt my Papa."

Rowan felt his heart break as he looked into the child's eyes.
Felt every ounce of fight leave him like vapour. He looked back at Quayle's wife, his other children. The look of fear on their faces.

I hold all the cards. I hold their entire lives in the palm of my hands. How can I do to them what he did to me?

He slid the sword back into his belt.

"Give me your weapon," Rowan told Quayle.

Quayle lifted it blade first, hilt toward Rowan. He closed his hand around it, regarded it for a moment, then tossed it away where it disappeared in the snow.

"What now?" Quayle asked.

"Now . . . nothing. Not between me and you. Far as I'm concerned, there is no me and you."

Quayle nodded.

"Do right by them," Rowan warned him. "They saved your life today."

As h
e walked off, Quayle's other three children rushed out to their father, wrapped their arms around him, sobbing. Rowan went around the side of the house, to the front. He felt . . . relief.

It's done.

Vrand –
now elevated to the rank of Captain following the death of his commanding officer, and his own success at defeating West's men
 – climbed down from his horse. As he did so, his entourage followed suit. Four men had ridden with him, one either side, one in front, and one taking up his rear.

The Captain walked into the lawman's office, resplendent in his spotless uniform.

"Captain Vrand," he said shaking the man's hand.

"
Brady," he said. "So, uh, what can I do for you?"

Vrand folded his arms. "It has been brought to my attention
that a wanted man has come to Greyside, a man I am most eager to get my hands on."

"Oh, this one,"
Brady said. He opened one of the cell doors at the back of the office. In the shadows he didn't look anything like Vrand had remembered. "Came in yesterday. Women held him up, put two and two together, worked out what he'd be worth and brought him in."

"Interesting. And they didn't have anyone else with them?"

"Only a bearded man. Tall fella, looked like some kind of wanderer," Brady said with distaste. "Carried a staff of some kind."

"Interesting," Vrand said again, though he visibly was anything but. "And no other male
traveller with them?"

"Not
that they said."

"What about him?" Vrand asked, peering into the cell. The man sat on a bench, head low, eyes to the floor. It was hard to tell if he was merely asleep or just trying unsuccessfully not to be seen. "Hey you, look up."

The man did as he was told.

Vrand shook his head. "No
that's not him. Has he said anything at all?"

"Yeah, plenty about how innocent he is,"
Brady said.

Vrand strode into the cell, lifted Tyrer's chin with one finger so
that he could stare down into his eyes. It had the desired effect of holding him completely captive.

"Who caught you?"

"Two women," the man said, but before he'd even finished saying the word 'women' a loud slap stopped him dead. Captain Vrand's hand.

"The truth," Vrand said.

The man cleared his throat. "Two women . . . and two men."

"Who were they?"

"One was a big bastard, called himself Crow. Kept showing off his skills," the man said. "What he could do with his staff, and on and on and on."

"And the other? You said there were two males."

"Yeah I know. Black? Something Black he's called?"

Vrand smiled, lips peeled back to show white teeth, as if he were a serpent.

Rowan Black.
"Excellent," he hissed.

* * *

Crowstone lit the end of his pipe, inhaled the smoke and released it slowly through his nose, savouring the effect. His staff rested against the wall to the side of him and there was a fresh pint on the table. He barely had time to lift the glass and take a sip before a Captain and his guards burst into the tavern, throwing the door wide.

His eyes fell immediately on Crow.

"So you would be the mage I've heard so much about," the Captain said.

Crowstone set his beer down on the table and wiped the
foam from around his mouth. "The name's William Crowstone. Friends call me Bill. Really good friends call me Crow," he said. His eyes were rock hard pools of darkness. "You can call me Crowstone."

"Ah," the Captain said. "
Like that is it?"

He pulled up a chair. His guards watched
everything around them. Two behind the Captain, one at the front door, and one at the back. Covering their leader on all sides.

"I didn't give you permission to join me," Crow said.

The Captain smiled but there was no humour in it. "I didn't ask."

He sucked on his pipe. "What do you want?"

"Black. Rowan Black. Where is he? Tell me and I will save you a death sentence."

"I don't know any Rowan Black," Crowstone said.

"You are a liar," the Captain sneered. "I know for a fact that you travelled with Black, and that he assisted in apprehending the wanted criminal Garth Tyrer. I also know that he stayed here last night."

"Oh?
Then you know considerably more than I."

Vrand slammed his fist down on the table. The beer glass jittered, drink slopping down its side. Crowstone watched the beer pool around the glass on the table top. When he looked up, his gaze was fierce. "You spilled my beer."

"I'll spill your fucking guts if that's what it takes, old man!"

Crowstone reached for his staff, stamped it on the floor. There was a flash of light, a plume of smoke where he'd been sitting. Vrand waved at the milky smoke, blinking away the after-image of the flash and peered forward. Crowstone's seat was empty.

"Where –"

Crow's staff struck one guard, sent him flying against a far wall as if he were an insect swatted aside by a giant. He ducked, the other guard's sword swishing over his head and swung his staff up and over behind him. There was another flash of light where it hit the guard, the life blasted out of him instantly.

Vrand was up, sword nearly out of its sheaf. Crow slapped him in the face. Vrand's hands reflexively rose to touch his cheeks. He looked like a performing monkey. Crowstone shoved the pointed end of his staff into the Captain's stomach, bowling him over the table top, the beer spilling over him. The guards from the front and back doors converged on him, swords raised. He closed his eyes, held the staff before him, their weapons a second away from cleaving him in two.

A
thunder crack broke the air, sent the two men flying in separate directions. Every bottle behind the bar shattered apart, glass blown to a thousand pieces. The tables were turned on their sides, chairs and stools upended. Vrand staggered to his feet, a deep gash along his forehead, a thick line of blood running down.

Crowstone opened his eyes, surveyed the carnage
, and slowly turned to face him.

"You are but an insect under my boot," Crow
boomed, his suddenly deep voice filling the entire room. "A bug to be
squashed.
"

Vrand swallowed hard, his eyes bloodshot and raw. "
Uhhh.
"

"Rowan Black is dead.
Repeat.
"

He looked back at Crowstone stupidly, as though he did not understand.
Then he repeated after him. "Rowan Black is . . . dead."

"You found nothing."

"I . . . found nothing."

"The criminal we delivered here, Garth Tyrer, is to be released without further charge," Crowstone said, his face dark, his voice low and intimidating as he took slow steps toward the quivering Captain. "He is to be given a second chance."

"Released . . . second chance . . ."

"And
that is what I shall give you. A second chance to prove that you are not a complete and utter weasel. You will remember this lesson, dear Captain, the next time you challenge a mage, and know the Order of Eld wields a power you couldn't ever comprehend. Has that entered your thick skull?"

Vrand blinked. "Uh
 . . . yes. Yes of course."

Crowstone slammed his staff down on the floor once more, and when the glare had subsided and the
milky vapour had thinned, all that was left before Captain Vrand were corpses and mess.

* * *

At the outskirts of town, Crowstone found Patti and Annette awaiting him as planned, his pony with them. He climbed up into the saddle.

"You've got glass in your hair," Annette said. "And your beard."

Crow laughed, absently brushing the pieces of glass out of his long tangle of beard. "Well. How did that happen I suppose?" He glanced about for Kip. "Where is that infernal creature? Wandered off again?"

As if on cue, the bearcat leapt from the bushes, a small bird in its jaws. It looked up at Crow happily.

(look what I got)

"Kip," Crow scolded the bearcat
, shaking his head. "Always thinking with your bloody stomach . . ."

Patti
nudged her horse. They set off, leaving the town of Greyside behind. Incidentally, it happened to be the exact same road Rowan had travelled that morning, though there was no sign of him. "So how far is this village you said, about?"

"Not far," Crow told
Patti, drawing up next to her. "I'll make sure you're properly set there before I move on."

"Travelling
on, are you?" Annette asked.

"I'm afraid so. My work takes me far and wide of Starkgard and beyond. But you will be safe there, in
Lilipuddle. They are good people, loyal to the Order of Eld. With the money you both made from the bounty, you will be able to afford a fine home," he said in a melancholy tone, a smile on his face. "Perfect for raising a family."

Annette broke out in sharp laughter. "My days of making children are far behind me!"

Crow shared a look with Patti, a silent exchange not unlike those Kip had with him. "Well who knows what will happen, eh?"

Patti
looked away, her eyes glistening with tears. He reached out, gripped her shoulder firmly. She looked back at him, searching for reassurance. "Everything will be fine," he said. "Trust me. It has been foretold."

"I hope you're right," she said.

Crowstone thought for a moment. It had started now. Everything the Order told him had slowly, gradually, turned out to be correct. A great tapestry of events, all of it coming together. All the threads.

"Trust me," he told her.

Night fell. Rowan found an outcropping beneath a jagged rock face. It was dry under there, and there was room enough to make a small fire. He sat before it, fur around his shoulders, trying to soak up the heat. His entire body ached, e
very part of it tired from the years spent on the road, fighting and killing and hurting.

What would he do tomorrow? Where would he go? He had not the faintest idea, only a notion
that he should ride. He was sure, knowing his luck, a purpose would find him. Destiny would see fit to throw something his way. Though his first call would be an out-of-the-way village somewhere he could rest up a while.

He looked out across a dark country, the snow
- and ice-covered land touched here and there by the light of the moon above. Soon the snow would melt. Soon the spring would return.

A great sense of calm had taken hold of him. It felt as though he had
license to leave the past in the past. His wife and children were gone. Nothing would ever bring them back. His only consolation was that now he could let them rest, finally, after so many years of hurting at their loss.

I can move on
.

Rowan felt like a man forced to carry a heavy load for years, finally liberated of his burden. For the first time in a long while, free to run. Yesterday was the past. Now there was just tomorrow and what he might do when the dawn broke.

The night was strangely quiet – as if the world held its breath to see what he might do next. Rowan Black liked that.

Like
d it a lot.

The Fallen Crown

continues with

Book 2: The Rising Fire