The Hekamon Page 18

  "He was not resisting, then suddenly he hit me," Aegis said, wiping away some blood pouring from his nose.

  "Luckily there's no harm done. Well not much." he added, seeing Aegis's irritation at the suggestion that he was unharmed.

  Gregario dragged the unconscious tradesman into the kitchen, before returning to the store room to retrieve some of the rope.

  "At least he'll be easier to tie up like this," he said, but Aegis could only mumble his agreement.

  Once back in the kitchen, Gregario spent a few minutes binding the merchants arms and legs, and just as he was tying off the last knot, his companion entered. There was blood down the boy's tunic and around his mouth and nose, but it didn't seem like he was going to make a fuss about it. Maybe the son of the saceress was tougher than he gave him credit for.

  Gregario dragged the kitchen table to one side to give himself more room, before maneuvering the merchant's limp and bound body nearer to the stove, while Aegis looked on.

  "What are you going to do?"

  "You're slower on the uptake than this fellow," he said, holding up the poker and opening the door of the stove.

  "What, torture him?" Aegis asked, with more than a hint of disbelief.

  "We won't do any permanent harm, it will frighten him more than anything." He doubted the man would get so much as singed, Tansley was the kind who talked, he just needed a little prompting.

  "But we don't even know if he has the Eagle Standard, or knows anything about it."

  "A hot poker will find out one way or another. Go and get more wood for this fire and we'll put it to good use. He could be out for a while. First we'll have some food then the information we require."

  He watched as Aegis dabbed his bloody nose unhappily, before walking through the hallway and towards the woodshed. Gregario called after him as he went.

  "We'll wait here for Decarius, he shouldn't be long," he said, and a thought occurred to him.

  Decarius had gone after Tansley, yet the merchant had returned and there was no sign of his fellow militiaman. Could Tansley have given him the slip? Maybe Decarius never caught up with him, and is searching the forest for him right now. Or might he have switched targets?

  This seemed more plausible.

  Tansley spoke about an armory he had visited and he seemed to have returned without the sack he'd left with. Decarius stayed on the trail of the sack and let Tansley return knowing he and Aegis were waiting here. This must have been what had happened.

  Feeling more optimistic that things were being brought back under control, Gregario took his pugio dagger and started slicing the joint of ham. As he was doing so, there came the sound of falling logs from the woodshed at the back of the hut.

  "We only need a few logs, not the whole pile," he called through the doorway.

  He continued to slice the ham while thinking some more. The merchant had told him he had gone to an armory. It sounded like it was the place the man had intended to go after leaving his tunnel. Which meant he hadn't realized he was being followed. If so, Decarius would take is time and be the paragon of discretion. Gregario paused, this was Decarius he was thinking about. Well he might not be discrete but he would be relentless. The Standard would be recovered.

  Gregario peered quizzically from the kitchen, through the hall and into the store room, "You're taking along time with that wood."

  He took a few more slices of meat for the stove, it seemed tender and he felt his appetite growing. The small amount of bread he'd eaten earlier had hardly replenished the effort involved in traversing the mountain tunnels, let alone descending the cold, exposed rock face—

  Where had Aegis got to? He stopped slicing ham and moved to the kitchen doorway.

  "Is something wrong?" He called to the woodshed, but to no reply.

  Keeping hold of his dagger, he moved through the hall and into the store room. It was dark here, with the only light coming from the floor above. He could see the door to the woodshed was open slightly, and through the gap, he could see what appeared to be Aegis' feet. If so, then the boy was lying down.

  Gregario started walking quietly now, listening intently. He could hear something, but what? Someone moving? Logs settling?

  Reaching the door of the woodshed, he tried to push it open further. It moved but only a small way. It was prevented from opening fully by the prone body of his young companion.

  Squeezing through the half open door and into the woodshed, Gregario could see Aegis lying face down, surrounded by some logs of wood. He surveyed the scene, or as best he could in the darkness, and tried to figure out what had happened.

  He realized that the boy must have lazily taken some logs out from the middle of the pile, and in doing so brought the higher ones down on top of him. He stood, blinking in disbelief at his motionless colleague. Unable to think of another explanation, when, from the other side of the woodshed, there came a faint click.

  Gregario turned sharply and looked into the shadowy corner, the one into which the escape hatch was built. He looked at Aegis, then back to the hatch, holding his blade ahead of him. He could scarcely breathe. There had been someone else here.

  He stepped toward the far corner, edging nearer the hatch, crouching down, his breathing suddenly coming back to him in deep gasps. He worked the catch, opened the small door and looked inside.

  The tunnel was even darker than the woodshed. He crouched lower, but it was impossible to see anything. The trapdoor at the other end was not open, that's all he could be sure of. He listened, but only heard the sound of his own labored breathing. Did he need to follow whoever it was through the tunnel?

  Suddenly, he realized he could use the back door. He'd taken Tansley's key and unlocked it. He could be outside, across to the embankment and at the tunnel's exit before whoever it was had made it out. Gregario began to raise himself from his kneeling position and turned towards the door.

  As he did so, several thoughts coalesced into one ominous realization, and the darkness around him seemed to come alive.

  There was movement in the heavy, dust laden air. Shadows amidst the gloom. Something stirred from the dark recess of its lair above him, a blur of limbs and piercing eyes. Tansley hadn't been slow through the hatch, someone had blocked his way. They had emerged from the tunnel, they had attacked Aegis. They had not left again. The wood pile rattled, the dusty air swirled, the shadow landed on him with a crushing, splintering blow.

  Chapter 8

  48

  Kormak, Palfrey and Loccsleah, left the sanctuary of Ochre Hill, and started walking along the trail that lead south across the marshland toward Egret Stockade.

  Kormak was well aware that outsiders were more inclined to call it swampland, with the inference that it was dirty, dangerous and undesirable. In some locations, and during hot, wet summers, they would not be far wrong.

  To Kormak though, for all their deficiencies, the marshes were an oasis. A place of relative peace amidst the aggressive foes that surrounded them. And if there was one thing more than anything else that made the marshes livable, it was the hill that he and his two companions where now departing. The mound of earth that rose out of the marsh, the color of a beautiful sunrise, provided a dry and readily defendable site for their settlement.

  Walking away from hill, the three of them had remained quiet, Kormak was thinking about Alyssa, his friend must have been thinking of her, too.

  "Have you thought about what you are going to say to Tolle?" Palfrey asked.

  "I'll just tell him the situation, he'll understand."

  Palfrey gave a derisory snort, "Will he? Didn't he tell you to take care of Alyssa, I don't think coming home without her was what he had in mind."

  Kormak didn't answer, instead he trudged on, the path was difficult in places and he had to watch his step. The routes they traveled could be treacherous, but he'd noticed that they'd become even more so in recent years and it had started to worry him.

  Saskia had told him that Fennelbek had n
ot always been a wetland, or at least, not this wet. Water channeled from the mountains via the Rhavenbrook was making it that way. Good for certain herbs they grew and traded, but not for most of the other plants and trees.

  The trees in particular seemed to be suffering. Many of the them, even those still standing, were now dead and only remained upright because of the compacted mud at their base. The roots, preserved and still functioning in role of holding the tree up, but no longer taking up water, or helping to keep areas dry.

  Kormak knew, that without living and healthy roots, the inevitable would happen, and it did, quite often. It was becoming increasingly common for him to be woken in the night, his dreams disturbed by the crashing sound of another falling tree.

  Occasionally, the fallen trees landed in such a way as to create a helpfully traversable walkway, for a few weeks anyway, before they slowly sank into the mud. He made use of one such tree now, holding his arms outstretched for balance and taking small stuttering steps until across.

  Whenever he encountered a dead tree such as this, the thought occurred to him that the marshes themselves might be dying, or turning into a real swamp. It seemed to be an ever more likely possibility with each passing season. Trees were dying but none were growing in their place.

  They journeyed on, with the afternoon sun providing some welcome warmth. As the crow flies, the distance from Ochre to Egret was only about a mile, but the circuitous route they needed to take and slow going, meant it had taken them a better part of an hour. Kormak had spent some of the time telling Palfrey and Loccsleah of the previous evening excursion, before he spotted the wooden tower ahead.

  "We're nearly there," he said, seeing the stockade.

  Looking more closely, he could see two figures in the tower, just visible through the bare branches of the trees in between. Holding an arm aloft in a part-wave, part-salute gesture, he saw his signal returned by the two ferguths on lookout duty.

  They had no formal passwords or agreed signals, there was no need. There were only six ferguths in the Egret Patrol, and no visitors, friend or foe, ever came here, except Saskia and, on rare occasions, Vondern.

  "Who goes there?" A voice shouted from the tower. The voice belonged to Tolle, his patrol leader.

  The lack of need for any formal greetings didn't sit well with Tolle. He felt it showed an absence of seriousness and professionalism, but their lack of importance was hard to disguise. Kormak thought that by demanding a roll call from the few people he saw everyday, Tolle only made their irrelevance even more apparent.

  "It's us," he shouted back. "Friend," and "Hello," called out Palfrey and Loccsleah. It was just easier to play along and give some reply, and doing so was the signal for Tolle and Moxley to make their way down from the lookout as the trio approached.

  Walking up the gently sloping earthen mound, the mud underfoot gave way to firmer ground, while the trees parted to reveal the substantial wooden structure ahead. Kormak lead them in through the open gate of the rotting palisade wall and toward the main building inside.

  Their destination, and the patrols base, was Egret Stockade, which sat atop a small hill. It wouldn't be called a hill anywhere else, but in Fennelbek anything more than few feet above water level was dry land, and dry land was always put to use.

  The larger areas were used almost exclusively used as redoubts. It was said they had served another purpose before being turned into fortified camps, Kormak didn't know what, he just knew they were part of the Fennelbek defenses now, and Egret was his post.

  He reached the main door just as Tolle opened it, and the five ferguths exchanged greetings before going inside. Tolle and Moxley moved toward the main seating area, made up of a few wooden benches, probably expecting him to do likewise but instead, Kormak headed for the strongroom.

  "What are you doing?" Tolle asked.

  "We're not staying, I'm going to put something here and we're going to the bridge." Kormak replied, reaching up for a ring with several keys, hooked on a rafter nearby and unlocking the strongroom door.

  The reinforced strongroom had been used as an armory throughout the bewailing wars and for a good few years after. But the treaty and subsequent peace with Coralai and Demedelei to the south and west, meant everything had gradually been taken out and used to equip the north and eastern patrols instead. Those patrols secured the trading routes that saw herbs carted out and food brought in, and were thought more important.

  By rights the room was still an armory, but nobody called it that for reasons that were apparent when Kormak entered. It was empty. Except that is, for a single wooden chest, another key on the ring opened that, revealing that it too was empty. It had been for some time.

  Kormak planned to return this room to its former function, funded with their own trade route that he was in the process of establishing. This was the beginning, he said to himself, placing the leather bag containing the iron grippers inside. Feeling a sense of both satisfaction and trepidation, as he closed the chest, and then the strongroom door behind him. The first phase of his plan had not come without a cost.

  "What did you hide in there?" Moxley asked inquisitively.

  "And why are you going to the bridge?" Tolle asked, equally so, as Kormak emerged from the strongroom.

  He had tried playing it cool at Ochre Hill earlier, with his casual disclosure at leaving Alyssa behind and returning without her. It hadn't washed with Saskia and it was even less likely to with Tolle. Palfrey had been right to warn him, and Kormak had used the time it had taken for them to walk here, to decide on a change of tone.

  "Alyssa is still south," he said breathlessly, replacing the keys on the hook. His agitation was not an act, he was really becoming worried, and for a number of reasons.

  "What?" Tolle asked, "Why?"

  "She lost her necklace and stayed behind to look for it."

  "Kormak—" Tolle began, but he didn't let him finish.

  "I had to return alone, it was unavoidable, but now we're going to the bridge," he said already walking toward the stockade door, with Palfrey and Loccsleah following. "We'll wait for her there, and if she doesn't show, go look for her," he continued, a sense of urgency in his voice, before stopping at the doorway and turning, "Are you with us?"

  Tolle and Moxley looked at each other.

  "Of course," Tolle said, "tell us everything that happened."

  Kormak thought it might be for the best if he didn't, not everything, as the five of them set off in the direction of the Rhavenbrook Bridge. He would keep one detail to himself.

  49

  It had been the rumble of approaching thunder, or at least, that's what it had sounded like. A sudden avalanche of noise that brought Alyssa out of a restless dream. It was followed by the sound of a door opening and within seconds the hatch in front of her had partially opened, too, before immediately slamming shut. Causing the tunnel to shower her with lose soil and other things, strange, unseen creatures, that fell onto her and scurried away again, back into the safety of the earth.

  Alyssa was wide awake at this point, and had instinctively started making herself scarce as well. Inching back along the tunnel feet first. She had only gone a short way, when the initial shock of being suddenly woken wore off and her panic subsided. With considerable effort she managed to compose herself and, while taking some deep breaths, she halted her escape. She was in danger, she knew that much, but understanding the nature of the threat would be a form of defense in itself. She readied herself to start moving again but for the time being she waited and listened.

  There came through the hatch the muffled sound of voices. Men's voices, loud, demanding, and threatening. Torn between backing out of the tunnel, or moving closer to the hatch to better hear what was being said. Alyssa quickly realized she had no choice, leaving was not an option. The little of the conversation she'd already heard compelled her to remain. What she was hearing was too important.

  While laying still in the tunnel, Alyssa heard a deep voiced man askin
g about the iron grippers, gauntlets as he called them. Would the merchant reveal that he'd sold them to her brother? The aggressor, with the distinctive southern accent sounded violent and, from what she could discern, was threatening torture. Of course Tansley would talk. And once he'd revealed their whereabouts and the identities of the people he'd sold them to, the inquisitors would be after them next.

  Then what? Would these people coming looking for them in the marshes?

  Alyssa recalled the feeling when she'd first laid eyes the eagle embroidered bag. She knew it was something, Kormak had sensed it, too. If they were as important as it seemed, then they could expect visitors, and that would be a problem, since the safety of the marshes was as much to do with the fact that nobody went there, or wanted to go there, as anything else.

  Feeling trapped in the tunnel and with a growing sense of foreboding, Alyssa felt her panic start to rise again. Seemingly helpless to do anything and with options limited, it looked like all she could hope to do was get home to Fennelbek and warn the rest of the Egret Patrol to expect intruders. Yet more than anything else, she wanted to talk with Tansley and felt she couldn't leave until she had done so.

  The calm that had descended in the hut ended abruptly. There came another rumble of noise and once again the hut shook on its foundations. Moments later the hatch opened and Tansley's startled face was in front of her. She watched him recoil in horror at her presence, and understandably so. By simply being there she was impeding his attempt to escape from the aggressive sounding men.

  Yet his expression changed just as quickly, from one of shock to one of being delighted to see her, before he was almost immediately struck on the head by an unseen attacker. A combination of the way the hatch opened, its location in the shed and Tansley himself, obscured her from view. As Tansley was dragged away, the hatch slowly swung to, and she had reached out to prevent it from latching.

  Once the retreating sounds had suggested the way was clear, she had crept out from the tunnel and into the woodshed without any plan of what she was going to do there. The thought of immediately turning around and re-entering the tunnel again had been a tempting one. At least she would be facing in the right direction to crawl out.