The Cor Chronicles: Volume 02 - Fire and Steel (26 page)

“I said what do you here!” shouted the red haired man; this time, it was a statement and not a question. His voice was deep and strong.

“I’m here to talk,” Holt said evenly, careful to make his voice heard but still sound passive. He was distinctly aware that the farmers had finally blocked the way back.

“Talk! Talk is for lovers!” the Northman retorted with a laugh. “Leave now and tell your queen we are free!”

“I am here only to discuss your grievances and end the bloodshed. You see that I’m alone and unarmed,” Holt reasoned, and he held his open palms into the air for all those watching to see. More men began to slowly filter from the surrounding buildings, and he knew he had their attention. “You wish to be free of the queen’s rule and the laws of Aquis. Very well, I am here to offer you that freedom in peace.”

“And how would you do that, dog?” boomed the Northman.

“Let’s meet in peace here in the temple at noon tomorrow, and I will present the queen’s offer. You need only listen to me, and then you may kill me if you wish. I’ll die having done my duty, but I don’t think that’ll happen,” Holt replied.

“I lead here,” the Northman said with arrogance. “I will meet with you now.”

“No. I will meet with all of your people tomorrow. At noon.”

“Why?” asked the red haired man, his head tilting slightly in suspicion.

“Because its about freedom. Your people joined you for freedom from Queen Erella, did they not? Then they all deserve the freedom of hearing what She offers.”

The Northman looked about the gathered people and knew he had lost. Several dozen had come out of hiding to listen to the soldier’s words, and many whispered enthusiastically amongst themselves, while others nodded. He had raised this rabble with talks of freedom and had now lost control of them due to the same words coming from the mouth of a soldier of Aquis. He sighed deeply.

“Very well. We will meet you at noon tomorrow,” he said, turning back into his home and slamming the door.

Holt turned his horse and rode back the way he had come, the three armed farmers parting to allow him passage. Once out of the village, he rode swiftly a rather circuitous path back to the grove hiding his wagon. Once there, he removed his armor and waited patiently. When the Northman crept, sword ready, into the grove just after nightfall, Holt neatly skewered the man with two arrows to the chest. The man lay dying, gasping for breath as blood filled his lungs when Holt severed his head from his body.

Holt managed only a few hours of sleep, and he felt exhausted and ragged when the morning sun lit up his world. He wasted little time in breakfasting and donning his chainmail. He rode into the village well before midday, having left his wagon behind holding the body of a red haired man that now collected flies. He was the first to the temple, and he tied his horse to a fence nearby and went in to wait.

The people began to arrive just before noon, slowly filtering in and then arriving in groups. Holt counted nearly forty, and more still straggled in one or two at a time. The absence of their leader did not go unnoticed, and some left to search for him. Many implored Holt to talk, to present the queen’s offer, but Holt curtly refused, saying, “I will when everyone is present. I’ll not have Her words repeated second hand.” The search for the Northman turned up nothing, and the people began to whisper that perhaps he had deserted them. Finally Holt stood up before the assembly.

“Outside of the Northman, is everyone here?” he asked, and the searching glances, nods and whispered comments answered his question. “Very well, one moment as I must retrieve something from my saddle bag. I believe you will all be most relieved.”

Holt strode up the center aisle and pushed his way out of the temple’s front doors. Once outside, he sprinted to his horse and removed the items he needed to finish his mission. He returned to the doors just as a farmer opened them that just yesterday menacingly brandished a pitchfork. The man looked over the chain, flint and torch in Holt’s arms, and his eyes widened in understanding just as Holt planted a swift and heavy kick into his groin. The man doubled over and fell to the ground moaning as the assembled people stood at once in surprise, and Holt quickly dropped his load and roughly threw the man back inside. He slammed the doors shut and wrapped the chain around the pulls as tightly as he could. Just as the people inside began to pull and push at the doors, he slid the lock home through several of the chain’s links.

He walked around the perimeter of Garod’s temple, torch in hand and setting small loose brush aflame. He had spent the previous night placing random and inconspicuous enough debris right up against the temple’s exterior walls and then dousing it and the walls in the whale oil, which was expensive but highly effective. Holt had also crept inside and painted whale oil on the inside walls, rafters and in rows across the floor. The loose brush caught immediately, and flames climbed the walls almost before he could blink. It was mere minutes before the flames spread inside, and he heard the cries and screams of those trapped inside, mostly men but not all. They realized too late that the rear doors were already chained shut, and all of the lower windows were shuttered and sealed tightly with Holt’s glue.

A few found a way to reach one of the upper windows, easily twenty feet above the ground. They thought they could escape by bursting through and falling to the ground. They discovered they were wrong as the first man received an arrow to the chest and fell back into the temple; a lifelong soldier, Holt was a skilled marksman. He had brought two full quivers and consistently hit his marks. One man was actually lucky enough to drop to the ground, having stayed low to avoid Holt’s arrows, but there was an awful wet snapping sound when he landed next to the blazing temple. This one Holt approached and ran through with his longsword.

Holt silently begged Garod for forgiveness as he retreated from the heat. He no longer heard a clamor from inside, and as he watched thick black smoke pour from the broken windows, he knew no more would attempt escape. He heard a soft tread of running feet and turned to see a small girl, no more than seven or eight, running south through the village away from the burning temple. Swearing softly, Holt notched and arrow and drew back his bowstring.

* * *

Holt awoke from his dream calmly, almost begrudging that he lived another day to serve Aquis. For years, he had woken up in a fright, sweating profusely and sometimes even shouting as he did so, but now he had become so used to his nightmare, his memory, that it was just a matter of course. As he sat up and considered the rising sun with squinting red eyes, Holt knew that he hated Palius. In fact, he hated himself and everything he had done over the years. His one comfort was that he had done it all for Queen Erella, and Garod would forgive him the multitude of sins when it was his time to be judged.

He couldn’t even remember the village’s name.

Holt pushed himself out of the bed in which he’d slept and stretched, feeling several twinges and cramps begin to work themselves out. Whether they were from his steadily advancing age or from having slept in a strange bed he did not know and nor did he care. He dressed himself in a simple, light wool tunic and breeches and belted his sword about his waist while staring at the new armor he’d bought in Byrverus. It was plain and unadorned steel plate - a hauberk and legguards. Holt had left his real armor behind in the barracks so as to avoid anyone connecting this operation with the queen. He went down into the noisy lower level of the inn to eat and see if Marek had yet arisen.

He found the lean, wiry man in the common room with his back in a corner eating as he watched the door to the inn. Also on the table was a second plate, this one still stocked with fried pork sausage, eggs and a hunk of bread. Holt sat across from his murdering companion and systematically began clearing his plate. He wasn’t really hungry, but he had learned long ago to eat when food was available.

“I went ahead and ordered you breakfast Sergeant.”

“How many times I have to tell you?” Holt asked in his gravelly voice without looking up from his food. “I’m just Holt for now. How close are we to being ready?”

“As soon as you’re done eating milord. They’re all here now.”

“What?” Holt asked, his mouth full of grease soaked bread. He looked around the common room and saw men of all sorts across the room breakfasting, many of them armed. In fact, he counted about a score in all. “Do we have enough? These people are hard to kill I hear.”

“There are only four,” Marek said, answering his own question.

“You are sure? And you are sure that we’re on the right road?”

Marek sighed and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling for several breaths while Holt merely gazed at him and chewed. Marek dropped his chair to the floor and leaned forward. “Look, I’m a professional. I placed several good men on the three most likely routes from Fort Haldon. They come this way, and there are four of them - three with gray skin and the woman.

“I’m surprised that a lord and lady would travel with so little protection, even if they’re as deadly as these two are claimed to be,” Holt grumbled, unconvinced. “What if others join them along the way?”

“We’ll have advance warning of any changes. Besides, I’m not worried about a few peasants turned soldier. These men here are the best professional soldiers money can buy.”

“Mercenaries. Larnd -“

Marek cut him off with a loud coughing fit, spraying Holt’s plate with crumbs. He made quite a show of regaining his breath, followed by a long, deep drink of not the clearest water. After being sure that no one paid them any mind, or at least no one other than the men they had hired, the black haired Marek said, “Don’t talk anymore. Yes, they’re all here. Yes, that’s how fast we move. Yes they’re ready to fight, and they know some will die. But none of them think they’ll be the ones. Frankly, I think the whole damn business is stupid and foolhardy, ‘cause we don’t really know how many we’ll have to fight, and we know one of ‘em breathes fire or something. I think my brother is blinded by that whole chest of gold we carted away from the old man for the job. I’d just as soon say forget it, but I’m contracted now. So shut up, eat your breakfast and let’s go.”

The old soldier stared at the murderer, locking eyes for a long moment, partially in disbelief at the man’s candor. For a moment, anger that a lowly criminal would dare speak to him in such a way roared in Holt’s mind, and he weighed the consequences of breaking the man’s jaw. Finally, Holt’s eyes cleared, and he went back to his food with nothing else to say on the matter. The mission was the most important thing. As he finished his meal and pushed the plate away with a belch, Marek stood from the table and leisurely made his way for the inn’s exit. Holt quickly followed, and as they passed, armed men followed suit one after the other. After a few minutes, only a few Westerners and one Northman remained to look about in surprise at the now empty common room.

23.

“Will you need an honor guard?” Thom asked.

Cor sat with Thyss and Fort Haldon’s commander as they ate a midday meal in Dahken Hall, or at least what was very quickly becoming Dahken Hall. The room was still open to the outdoors, and a hot sun shone down on them. The workers had finished the foundation and floor and had begun building a skeletal structure around and above with heavy timbers. Just a few weeks ago, Cor felt as if the construction made no noticeable progress, but now he knew that the hall would be done in a matter of weeks.

“No,” Cor answered. “I can take care of myself.”

“Lord Dahken, in light of what happened when you first arrived here, I have an issue with you going alone.”

“He won’t be alone,” Thyss said with a note of finality. As the spring season turned to an early summer, the sickness of her pregnancy disappeared, and it was replaced by a small but noticeable roundness about the lower part of her belly. Even still, she gingerly picked at her food for fear that she may suddenly become ill.

“I didn’t think -” Cor began to say, but he stopped himself when he saw Thyss’ blazing glare. “Can you ride?”

“I’ve been riding my entire life,” she said hotly. “Don’t think I’m going to let this stop me.”

“I suppose I’m just wondering if it’s safe.”

“Lord Dahken,” Thom intervened, “my wife has ridden her entire life including the several times she was with child. A midwife explained to me that if her body is used to such exercise, then there should be no concern.” He looked at Thyss as he spoke, and her gaze softened toward him, perhaps in a show of gratitude.

“Very well,” Cor said, sheepishly returning his attention to his food. He had known that Thyss wouldn’t stay at Fort Haldon no matter what his reason, but he hadn’t expected Thom to so soundly reason for her. It was just a trip to Byrverus for the gods’ sakes.

“You still need a retinue, Lord Dahken, someone to watch your back.”

Cor looked back up to meet Thom’s insistent stare. “I will bring Dahken Keth along, and no doubt Marya will come with him. Between the four of us, we will be safe enough. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

“What would you have me do with the Dahken, the children?”

“Protect them,” Cor answered. “I doubt we will be gone for much more than a month. Its been a long time since they’ve been able to be just children.”

After eating, Cor went off in search of Keth, as he had not yet informed the younger Dahken of the summons back to Byrverus. Of course, everyone knew what it was about, but Cor didn’t let it concern him too much. Keth was not at the training yards, likely having already dismissed the children as the day grew hotter. He made his way to the Dahken barracks, a building that would become obsolete as the hall and its surrounded rooms were completed. Passing the guardsmen outside, he found the interior full of his Dahken children, some slept, some ate and others played various games. Many of them looked up as he entered, and in seeing him, approached him for an embrace or a kind word.

“Do you know where Dahken Keth is?” he asked them.