The Long War 02 - The Dark Blood (22 page)

If Pevain controlled the mercenaries, then it was he who sought to apprehend Utha and his men that they had encountered in Voy. Cozz was the likely next place for them to search and Randall swore silently at having insisted they warn Marshal Wesson about the hounds.

The Black cleric pushed back his hood to reveal his face, gripped the door handle and pushed it inwards. Utha did not knock but, with his squire following him, he stepped boldly into the knight marshal’s office.

Within was a large, simple room. A wooden desk dominated the space, positioned in the centre of the room. Behind, there was a wide, open balcony with billowing blue curtains.

The dozen men in the office all looked up sharply as Utha and his squire entered. Two were seated on either side of the desk, the larger of them with his back to the door. The one facing them was clearly Knight Marshal Wesson of Cozz. He wore a light-blue tabard with heraldry of an open purse, over a well-maintained chain shirt. He was a man in early middle age, with thinning brown hair, but still tough-looking and with a shrewd glint in his light eyes. Standing guard round the edge of the room were watchmen of Cozz. Each carried a loaded crossbow and made a movement to cover the door when Utha entered.

There were also three men in the office who were clearly not officials of the enclave. Two stood by the desk, glaring viciously, and the third was seated opposite the marshal, wearing black plate armour and carrying a strange war-hammer. Randall had to look twice at the two standing mercenaries before he realized they were twins, each slender and blonde-haired, with multiple hand-axes and knives poking out from their well-worn leather armour.

‘It’s clearly my day for interruptions,’ stated the marshal, with an ironic lilt to his voice. ‘And who would you be, my pale friend?’ The marshal was not alarmed by their presence.

‘My name is Brother Utha of Arnon, my lord,’ stated the Black cleric confidently, causing the seated mercenary to rise and stare at him.

The man was tall, almost seven feet, and wore a full beard. His black hair was long and curly but greased back from his face, lending him the image of a man who was endeavouring to look presentable. Sir Hallam Pevain was a hard-looking man by any standards and Randall tried not to meet his eye. The twins both growled gutturally and reached for their knives.

‘Enough!’ shouted Wesson. He raised his hand at the watchmen, who levelled their weapons. ‘You fight in my office and I’ll arrest you all.’

Pevain’s glare turned into a smile. He stood up and faced Utha. ‘You’re a bold one, Ghost.’ He straightened to his full height and looked down at the shorter man.

‘And you’re a son of a whore, sir knight,’ responded Utha. He didn’t back off and showed little concern for their difference in height. ‘I’m here to talk to Marshal Wesson, not to a sewer rat like you.’

‘Brave words, pig-fucker,’ said one of the twins, with a vicious look to his narrow eyes. ‘I should open you up right here...’ he glanced at Randall, ‘and fuck your boy while you lie bleeding.’

Wesson stood up sharply. ‘I said that’s enough. If I have to say it again, bolts fly. Understood?’ His watchmen dutifully took aim. ‘I’m sure you’re all very scary, but my crossbows aren’t afraid of you, so sit the fuck down,’ he barked with authority.

‘Marshal Wesson,’ said Pevain, without turning from Utha, ‘this man killed Prince Christophe Tiris and is a wanted criminal. You have a duty to arrest him if you are able.’

Wesson laughed. The sound was relaxed. ‘If I apprehended every man wanted in Tor Funweir, we’d have no merchants or clients left, Pevain.’

One of the twins spoke. ‘He’s a knight; you call him
sir
.’

Pevain waved away the mercenary’s objection. ‘Parag, just keep your mouth shut. Okay, Wesson, I’ll buy into this. I hope you realize what will happen to you if you let this man escape.’

Wesson raised an eyebrow at the threat and sat back down. ‘This is Cozz, not Tiris. As far as I know, this cleric has not committed any crime in my enclave. Until he does, you and he are equally welcome.’

Utha smiled at Pevain and motioned to the seat behind him. ‘Sit down,’ he said coldly. ‘This won’t end well if you don’t.’

The two men sized each other up. Pevain was taller by nearly a foot, but Utha was wider and more confident. The mercenary’s war-hammer looked to be of Ranen design and had ornate carvings around the metal braces. Randall didn’t want to think about the outcome if the two should fight, but he knew his master was one of the most dangerous men in Tor Funweir.

Slowly, and without taking his eyes from Utha, Pevain took his seat and waved the twins to step back. Then he faced Marshal Wesson. ‘I came here seeking assistance in hunting down a murderer. Now that murderer wanders freely into your office. So what do you propose we do about it?’

‘Nothing,’ responded Wesson. ‘He’s broken no law in Cozz.’

Utha chuckled to himself. ‘Fascinating as it is seeing you flounder around, Pevain, I have urgent news for the marshal.’

‘What news?’ asked Wesson.

‘My lord,’ spat Parag, ‘do we have to stand ’ere with this cunt and listen to his horse-shit?’ The twins were itching for combat and Randall disliked the way they were eyeing him up. He guessed that they enjoyed violating people.

‘Parag, Broot, both of you keep your mouths shut,’ ordered Pevain. ‘Wesson, I intend to make this man a captive. Our beloved allies will reward you handsomely for any assistance you can give.’

Utha snorted at the mention of the Seven Sisters and perched on the edge of the desk. ‘We can deal with how you want to die later, sir knight. Right now there is an army of hounds marching this way.’ The Black cleric spoke with conviction.

‘I know,’ replied Wesson. ‘They come from Ro Weir. No need to fret, though. I’ve already sent riders to Voy and Tiris asking for aid. The Karesian dogs won’t dare attack a town the size of Cozz. I’ll go out and parlay with them and we’ll turn them round in short order.’

Pevain smiled, clearly aware of the hounds’ approach.

‘My lord, this is not a scouting party. There are several thousand of them with siege equipment and... other weapons of war.’ Utha referred ambiguously to the captive forest-dwellers. Randall was sure they would not be believed should they mention the true nature of these
weapons of war
.

‘Brother Utha, your reputation is of a serious man, a man not to be trifled with. Whether you killed a prince or not, I will always respect the words of a Black cleric.’ Wesson leant back in his chair. ‘But Cozz is far from helpless. We have five hundred watchmen and many more yeomen can be pressed should the need arise. We also have high walls and solid gates. Only a military idiot would attack us.’

Utha nodded and was evidently searching for a well-reasoned argument to dissuade Wesson out of his overconfidence. He looked at Pevain – who was still smiling – then at the twins, Parag and Broot. Each of them was clearly concerned at the presence of the Black cleric, but showed not the slightest alarm at the news of two thousand hounds marching on Cozz.

‘And you, sir knight.’ Utha addressed Pevain, the title dripping with sarcasm as he spoke it. ‘What do you know of this army?’

The mercenary shrugged. ‘The same as everyone knows – they are our allies. The king has allowed their presence in Weir.’

‘But not in Cozz,’ interjected Wesson. ‘They can occupy Ro Weir for as long as they like, but the merchant lords are guaranteed autonomy by decree of the house of Tiris.’ He smiled at Utha. ‘Have no fear, brother, I’ve talked my way out of worse situations. Hanging around with merchants rubs off on you after a while. I just need to explain to these... allies... that the blood that would be required to annex Cozz really doesn’t make it an attractive proposition. Then we wait until Voy or Tiris sends aid.’ The knight marshal was supremely confident that his riders would return with reinforcements. ‘You’re welcome to stay if you wish,’ he said to the Black cleric.

Utha shook his head. ‘I’m sorry to say that our path lies elsewhere, my lord. We only came to Cozz to warn you. I’m not sure you appreciate how serious the warning is.’

‘And the warning is appreciated, Brother Utha, but we have the situation in hand.’

‘You hear that, Ghost?’ Pevain said with vicious glee. ‘It’s in hand. You can fuck off any time you like.’

Randall didn’t think before he spoke. ‘Excuse me, sir, but the hounds don’t look like they want to talk, or parlay, or whatever you call it. I think –’

‘Silence, boy!’ shouted Parag, ‘or you’ll get a good spanking.’ Both twins laughed and licked their lips suggestively. ‘You ever been fucked?’ asked Broot.

Utha glared across the table. ‘Better keep your cock out of sight, shit-stain, you’re likely to make us all laugh.’

‘I won’t tell any of you again,’ said Wesson, gesturing to his crossbowmen. ‘I won’t have brawling in my office.’

‘And outside?’ asked the mercenary, gripping the hilt of his war-hammer. ‘How do you feel about brawling in the street?’

‘Don’t push me, Pevain,’ responded Wesson, more aggressively this time. ‘I won’t hesitate to lock up a knight, or a cleric.’

Utha shook his head. ‘I’m sorry things have turned out so, my lord marshal,’ he said with respect, ‘but if our warning has gone unheeded, we need to leave.’

‘Very well. Sergeant Jerome,’ Wesson gestured to one of his watchmen, ‘please take a squad of men and escort Brother Utha to the south gate. And make sure Sir Pevain and his men don’t interfere.’

‘At once, my lord,’ responded the sergeant.

As Utha and Randall moved to the door, Pevain stood. ‘See you soon, Ghost.’

‘I’ll be easy to find, sir knight.’ Utha didn’t turn. ‘I’ll be the one burying my sword in your face.’

* * *

They had left the knight marshal’s office quickly. With five watchmen of Cozz in close guard, they headed south. Though Marshal Wesson had seemed friendly enough and had been respectful towards them, Randall was sure he wanted Utha out of the enclave as soon as possible. Unfortunately, they still had to wait at the gate as various important merchant lords had decided to leave. Evidently, they had learned that an army of hounds was approaching and did not share Wesson’s confidence.

The watchmen said nothing as they waited. They stood close to the cleric and his squire, their crossbows ready. Randall wasn’t sure whether the weapons were intended to make sure they left or to protect them from Pevain’s men.

‘How long do we have to wait?’ Utha asked Sergeant Jerome. ‘Your marshal seems keen on us not being here.’

‘I’m escorting you, but I don’t need to talk to you,’ replied the watchman. ‘We’ll have you on your way as soon as possible.’

Utha didn’t press the question and simply stood there, leaning on a low wooden fence that acted as a holding area in front of the gate. A number of people glanced across at them and Randall felt more exposed than was ideal. They were in plain view of everyone massed round the gate – merchant lords, common traders or mercenary guards. Several took a second glance at the bulky albino cleric and Randall heard the name
Utha the Ghost
murmured twice.

‘We’ve been here too long,’ Randall said quietly. ‘You stand out, you know.’

‘What?’ asked Utha, oblivious of people’s reactions to him. It was an infuriating trait.

‘Your face, it is white. See mine, it is not. See all their faces,
they
are not. You stand out.’ There was no hint of humour and Randall simply wanted the cleric to be aware of how exposed they were.

Utha glared at him. ‘And if I punch my squire in the head? Will that make me more or less conspicuous?’ The words were spoken without any ill intent and, for perhaps the first time, the young man of Darkwald did not feel afraid of his master.

He smiled to himself but said nothing further, content that they’d be on their way soon. Hopefully they could find a way to rescue the Dokkalfar – if they couldn’t save Cozz from the hounds, they could at least lessen the odds by preventing the darkwood trees making an appearance.

Then he saw something out of the corner of his eye. A drawn crossbow appeared through the press of waiting traders and pointed towards them. No one nearby had noticed, and it was only the steely glint catching the morning sun that alerted Randall.

‘Utha,’ he snapped, grabbing his master by the shoulder and turning him round, ‘crossbow.’ Just as he spoke, the bolt was loosed, making a whistling sound as it flew towards them. The watchmen began to turn, but the bolt was well aimed and pierced Sergeant Jerome through the chest.

‘To arms,’ shouted another of the watchmen.

Screaming and shouting erupted from the crowd and people began to run from the scene. The open ground leading to the gate was a wide roadway. Wagons and horses started to scatter, with guards and traders wielding weapons or protecting their goods.

Randall and Utha ducked down behind the wooden fence and drew their swords in unison. A quizzical look passed between them. ‘We’ve spent too much time together, young Randall. You’ve started to copy me.’ Then another bolt flew overhead.

A second watchman was wounded in the leg and cried out in pain, but he didn’t drop his crossbow. Randall peered out through the wooden fencing and saw the distinctive features of Parag. The mercenary was crouched low to the ground and had sneaked up on them through the crowd. He had a wild smile on his face and was dribbling slightly. Behind him, his brother and a dozen more of Pevain’s bastards appeared from between the wooden buildings and approached. All of them had crossbows and were now starting to fire.

‘Get down,’ Utha shouted to the remaining watchmen.

Two bolts caught fleeing citizens of Cozz. Randall could no longer see how many mercenaries were approaching. The watchmen behind him seemed to die in slow motion as bolts thudded into them.

No more bolts had been fired once the watchmen were all down, and the mercenaries were giving the populace a chance to leave. Utha was hurriedly looking around. Behind them was a high wooden palisade that led to the enclave’s stables. They had three sides of a solidly built wooden fence for cover, but no obvious means of escape.