The Long War 02 - The Dark Blood (25 page)

A vicious smile appeared on Kasimir’s face and the other captains swiftly drew their scimitars. ‘Kill the others,’ she shouted to the skirmisher units.

Dalian hesitated at the needless slaughter, but after a moment he joined the others launching their javelins at the marshal’s men. Several missed, but the men were few in number and they received sufficient wounds to unhorse all of them, leaving Wesson alone.

Those still alive were swiftly beheaded by the hounds and the marshal found himself surrounded in a matter of seconds. He was not a young man, but the speed with which he drew his longsword spoke volumes for his experience.

With a downward cut, he split a man’s head. With a wheel of his horse, he sent three hounds flying backwards and, for a moment, it looked as if he might escape. Then the swarming warriors of Karesia hacked at the horse’s legs and Marshal Wesson of Cozz, knight of Tor Funweir, was pulled to the ground. He shouted out oaths of defiance and struggled as best he could against the gauntleted hands that grabbed at him. His sword was pulled away and his arms and legs were grasped until he was spreadeagled on the floor.

Izra and Kasimir moved to stand over the beaten man. ‘Remove his armour,’ whispered Izra.

Try as he might, Wesson could do nothing but shout and struggle as his chain mail was cut from his chest and the tabard of Cozz was unceremoniously ripped in two. His greaves and gauntlets were thrown to the ground and within moments the man of Ro lay bare-chested in simple cotton trousers. Two hounds held each of his arms and legs, and another held his head still, forcing him to look at those standing above him with evil intent in their eyes.

Dalian seriously thought about intervening to assist the man. He had done nothing to deserve death, but the wind claw thought better of it and simply joined the rest of twenty-three watching the spectacle. In the distance, men of Cozz feverishly moved across the battlements with loaded crossbows.

‘Marshal Wesson, it is not easy being a woman in a man’s world,’ Izra spat with glee. ‘I will show you what I mean.’

The whip-mistress crouched on the ground in front of the marshal and, amid shouted insults and oaths of vengeance, ordered her men to spread his legs wide. She then took a small knife from her belt and cut away his trousers, leaving him naked and exposed.

Wesson stopped struggling and spoke, through quickened breathing, ‘There are brave men in Tor Funweir... strong men and honourable men who will make you pay for your actions today.’ Then he smiled. ‘Hound-bitch.’

Izra’s eyes were wide and she had begun to drool as she looked at Wesson. ‘I don’t think you’ll be fucking anything ever again, Ro cunt.’

Without further words, the whip-mistress placed her knife between the marshal’s legs and drew the blade firmly across the base of his genitals. A strangled cry erupted as he was brutally castrated, lying on the King’s Highway within sight of his home.

Izra howled with glee and pulled away a bloodied hand, discarding Wesson’s manhood over her shoulder and dancing like a crazed Gorlan. Then she whirled round. ‘Raze the town,’ she screamed.

It was an act of pure spite. Without their leader, Dalian knew the people of Cozz would have no chance of resisting the hounds. Reluctantly, he joined in the cries that rippled through the two thousand hounds as they shook with battle-fervour.

‘Any man or woman that bends the knee to us will be spared,’ ordered Izra. ‘Kill all others.’

The pack drew their scimitars and ran forward. With Izra and her captains in the lead, they moved as a sea of black plate armour and swirling blades towards the gates of Cozz.

Dalian spared a look through the press to where the naked body of Wesson still lay. He was twitching slightly, and blood was covering his legs and spreading in a pool away from him, but he seemed to be still alive. Loss of blood would take its toll, however, and the brave man would likely die on the road.

‘Sorry I could not stop this,’ he said to Jaa. ‘The man was just trying to protect his home.’

Dalian was not a soft or emotional man, but he believed in the word of the Fire Giant, and Jaa had no interest in the lands of Ro. It was the word of the Seven Sisters that drove the hounds.

He made sure he was at the front of the advancing column, though his legs were not as sprightly as once they were. He was determined to get into Cozz and find the blacksmith before any of the idiots with him had a chance to cut anything off the man. If the man of Cozz whom he sought knew the location of Rham Jas Rami, the Thief Taker would gladly protect him from the brutality of the hounds.

He remembered Culver’s Yard and he remembered the name Tobin, but nothing else, as he joined in the rousing cries of battle shouted all around him.

Dozens of crossbow bolts were fired from the walls. Those that were hit were shoved out of the way or trampled over. A large wagon had been wheeled across the open gates and within a moment the first line of hounds was swarming over it. Barrels of flaming pitch were rolled down at them, but few hounds were hurt and the rest flowed relentlessly into the courtyard.

‘You lot, to the battlements,’ shouted Kasimir to a nearby unit. ‘You lot, to the marshal’s barracks,’ he barked at another. ‘Numbers one and two, with me.’

The two assault units of the pack would accompany Kasimir and Izra to the great merchant estates that lay in the centre of Cozz. Despite their battle-fervour, the captains had not forgotten that they were here to seize the wealth of the enclave.

The few watchmen brave enough to stand against the hounds were killed quickly, and the crossbowmen on the battlements were thrown from the walls to be despatched below. The rest of the pack fanned out into Cozz, looking for people to kill and wealth to plunder, flooding through the well-tended streets.

Dalian kept close to his unit at first, not wishing to appear suspicious by leaving them to seek out the blacksmith. He made sure not to be at the very front so as to avoid the worst of the violence, as the common folk began to run and hide or drop to their knees in terrified surrender. He saw a dozen men die within the first few minutes and many more mutilated or tied up for later amusement. Izra actively encouraged her hounds to rape and torture, and Dalian had to fight the urge to defend some of the weaker citizens. He felt a deep surge of hatred towards what was being carried out here and he knew that Jaa would be watching with equal anguish.

Sounds of slaughter, oaths of challenge, cries of pain and of surrender filled the air. Doors were kicked in and the occupants – mostly commoners – were brutally dragged from their homes and businesses, to be executed or tied up by the faceless hounds of Karesia. Dalian saw a young man of Ro attempt to defend a woman and have his head severed as a result. He saw the woman stripped and added to a growing number of trophies corralled by the gate.

With a deep breath, he turned from the spectacle in the central squares of Cozz. Despite the number of hounds, it was not a small town and he knew that it would take Izra’s pack most of the day to cover the whole of the enclave. That gave him a chance. If he could locate Culver’s Yard and find the blacksmith, he was confident that he could smuggle him out of Cozz and not be spotted in the chaos.

He turned sharply away from his unit as twenty-three kicked in the door of a jewellery shop and charged in to kill or steal whatever they found within. He paused, his back against a wooden wall, and waited for a moment to check if his absence had been noticed. When no one emerged to find him, the wind claw concluded that they were too preoccupied to worry about a missing hound.

He ran down the adjoining alley and away from the bulk of the pack. The noise of the rape of Cozz could still be heard, even as Dalian turned from the main squares and hurried along a tree-lined street that led away from the markets. To his left was a green hill that rose above the rest of the enclave, housing the majority of the merchant lords’ estates. That was where Izra and Kasimir had taken most of the seasoned hounds. Within the hour, all the revered merchants of Cozz would be dead or imprisoned.

A watchman, armed with a crossbow, suddenly stepped out in front of him. The man was young and Dalian saw wide eyes and shaking hands as he fired his weapon wildly. He dropped the crossbow and fumbled at his waist to draw a short sword. Dalian stepped forward, punched him solidly in the stomach and grabbed him by the throat.

‘Where is Culver’s Yard?’ Dalian barked. ‘Tell me and live.’

The young man looked as if he were about to faint and the Thief Taker saw a steady trickle of urine beneath him. This was not someone who should have to fight for his life. He was a simple child of the One, and Dalian decided not to kill him. He relaxed his grip on his throat and allowed him to stand up straight. Then he removed his faceless helmet and glared at the man. ‘I’m not a hound and I’m not here to kill or steal. Culver’s Yard, where is it?’

The young man now looked every bit as confused as afraid, and he pointed weakly to his left, down the cobbled street and further away from the markets.

‘More specific,’ growled Dalian through clenched teeth.

The watchman stuttered over his reply. ‘It’s the third yard down. The biggest one,’ he blurted out.

‘I’d go and find a very dark place to hide in, young man,’ said the wind claw. ‘There are many men in this town who will kill you for holding a weapon. Consider yourself lucky that I am not one of them.’ He left the young man in terrified silence and ran down the cobbled street.

He was startled momentarily as a serious of explosions sounded from the centre of the enclave. The watchmen of Cozz had shown that they were far from helpless, and Dalian smiled. Marshal Wesson’s mutilation would be a spur to these common people to fight against the Karesians. Izra’s pack would at least get bloody as Cozz was annexed.

He didn’t slow down, though weeks of sleeping rough and tough living were beginning to catch up with him. Whatever it was the Ro were using to blow things up – Ranen pitch most likely – made his ears ring and he was tired and sore. Even the brief encounter with the young watchman had left him breathing heavily.

‘Lord, I would have been much more use twenty years ago... when my feet weren’t so sore.’

As he began to feel the pain of exertion in his side, he reached the bottom of the incline and turned away from the grassy hillock. In front of him, on level ground, were a dozen fenced-in yards containing open wooden structures and blacksmiths’ equipment. Culver’s Yard stood slightly higher than the others, flanking the grassy avenue that led back to the market squares. He turned abruptly into the dusty yard and stopped.

In front of him were anvils, forges and racks of freshly forged weaponry. The craft of the Ro was advanced compared with that of the Karesians, and Dalian paused for a moment to discard his hound scimitar and avail himself of two short swords. He preferred the feel of two lighter blades than one heavy one.

‘Get away from those weapons, thief,’ barked a voice from close by.

Dalian spun round and saw three burly men approaching him. They were all Ro and likely the owners of the yard. Each hefted a large hammer, more like smithing equipment than weaponry, but intimidating and well-handled nonetheless.

‘Cozz won’t fall without a fight,’ said the largest of the three, a barrel-chested blacksmith with bright red cheeks.

‘Which one of you is Tobin?’ asked the Thief Taker, tucking the two short swords into his belt.

Two of the men looked at the barrel-chested smith, answering Dalian’s question without speaking. He admired their willingness to fight for their home, but he didn’t have the time to take them for a drink.

‘I am not a hound,’ he said, advancing with his arms spread wide in a gesture of peace. ‘And I am here for Tobin. You can stay and die or you can come with me and live.’

Tobin the smith narrowed his eyes and relaxed his hammer. ‘Who are you, Karesian?’

‘My name wouldn’t mean anything to you, but I seek Rham Jas Rami and Al-Hasim. I understand you know these men.’ Dalian was pushed for time and could hear the approach of steel-shod feet, indicating that at least one squad of hounds was nearby.

‘What’s he talking about, Tobin?’ asked one of the other blacksmiths.

Before he could answer, six anonymous hounds rushed into Culver’s Yard. They made a quick assessment of the four men before them – one Karesian in hound armour and three Ro – and attacked.

‘Stay back,’ shouted Dalian to the three men of Ro. ‘Let me prove to you that I’m not an enemy.’

The hounds were more surprised than the blacksmiths as the wind claw interposed himself between the two groups and drew his new swords.

‘What are you doing, old dog?’ asked one of the Karesians from behind his plain steel helmet.

The Thief Taker didn’t respond with words. He thrust a short sword through the hound’s throat, sending blood over the floor and the man to the ground. Then he wheeled round and severed the next man’s leg, just above the knee. Dalian was impressed at the quality of Ro steel – and equally impressed that a tired old faithful of Jaa could kill two hounds in less than two seconds.

The remaining four all attacked at once, but succeeded mostly in getting in each other’s way. Dalian sprang backwards and let them flounder for a moment. He then rolled forward, tripping up the first two men and forcing the other two back. He couldn’t match them for youth or fitness, but he was clever and had killed more men than he could remember.

The two fallen men let out grunts of frustration as they tried to stand in their heavy steel armour. The last two died quickly, as Dalian parried a clumsy thrust and cut upwards between the first man’s legs. Kicking the final hound in the chest, he finished him off with a downward thrust into his head.

Before he could turn, Tobin and the other two men of Ro had jumped on the two fallen hounds and were pounding them to death with heavy blacksmiths’ equipment.

‘More will come,’ said Dalian between heavy breaths.

He was exhausted now and hoped he wouldn’t have to do much more fighting. As he grew older, he had come to the uncomfortable realization that, although he was still capable of killing any man who faced him, he would likely need a rest before the next one.