The Hekamon Read online

  Instead she had stayed in an attempt to listen to more of what was going on. The next thing she had heard alarmed her, one of the men was being sent to the woodshed. Grabbing a log from the pile, she was able to surprise the intruder from behind the door. She guessed that the young man was not the main aggressor, but she had no choice, it was that or get caught.

  No sooner had she incapacitated the first man, than she could hear the other one calling to him, and detected the growing suspicion in his voice at the lack of response. This man would be more alert and so harder to ambush. Not only that, his was the demanding voice she had heard.

  Alyssa had half decided to leave again, even going so far as opening the hatch in order to do so, but another idea had formed in her mind. If she could disable the second man too, it would mean that she had rescued Tansley from their clutches and he would be able to return the favor. She decided the rewards were worth the risk. It was better to be the hunter than the hunted.

  Lithe and nimble, Alyssa climbed the stacks of wood against the wall and waited, before timing her attack perfectly. Knocking the second man out even more emphatically than the first.

  With the dust now settled, Alyssa took the log she had made use of, and placed it back on the pile next to her. Looking around the woodshed, she could see there was more tidying up to be done.

  Moving the smaller of the two men to one side, she opened the door to the interior of the trading post and began to drag the heavier man inside. Leaving him in the middle of the store room, she returned for his companion. Once both men were out of the shed, she started making preparations, and began by moving through the curtained doorway.

  Entering the shop front, Alyssa searched around in the dim light and quickly found what she was looking for. She'd look over the place the previous night and knew that it contained things she could make use of. Lengths of rope, and strips of fabric and leather. She grabbed what she needed, went back to where the two men were laying prostrate and began tying them up.

  The younger man was unmasked, with his face bloodied and pale. His injuries didn't look that bad and Alyssa guessed that he would wake before long. The bigger of the two, she didn't look at too closely. Blood was soaking into the hood he was wearing and his breathing was slow and shallow.

  Jumping from the woodpile, and with her full weight behind the blow, meant she'd hit him hard. While she hadn't killed him outright, she'd seen the less badly hurt, fade and die within days. The man was masked and she decided to leave him that way, so his face wouldn't haunt her dreams.

  His voice though, that she could still hear. It was the bigger of the two men who had been the doing the talking, the voice deep and menacing. The words he'd spoken, and the manner in which he'd said them, suggesting that he would get what he came for and would use any means necessary.

  With the men tied up, she entered the kitchen and checked on Tansley. Alyssa could see that the merchant had also been bound with rope. She would leave him that way and see what state he was in when he awoke, something that might take hours.

  What was she going to do with him when he did? There were some questions for him to answer but that was only part of it. What they were going to do with the Coralainians was equally pressing. She was sure that's what the men were, she had thought so just from their voices but now she had seen them, even in this dim light, she knew they were from the south. There was just something about them.

  With the three men now bound and not going anywhere, Alyssa moved through the hut, searching every room. Returning to the kitchen she crouched down and looked closely at Tansley. Shaking him to see if there was a chance he might wake up sooner rather than later. He didn't, and it wasn't really a surprise.

  She'd had a good view of him being struck over the head, and although it had only been a glancing blow, he would need to sleep it off.

  Thinking of the moment Tansley appeared in front of her, Alyssa recalled the expression on his face when he'd opened the hatch and saw her there. She smiled to herself, before trying to stifle a laugh but found herself unable to. She had some pent up emotions and a few moments laughing seemed to help. Her tears of laughter preferable to the other kind.

  Through her tiredness and fatigue, Alyssa suddenly felt awake and energized. It wasn't just that she'd been able to overpower the two violent men, or that she'd saved Tansley from their clutches. Or that in doing so, she may have protected her brother from their aggressive pursuit of his acquisition. As important as these considerations were. No, it was something else that had lifted her spirits.

  Her mind had now turned to the other part of the conversation she'd overheard. The details of which brought Alyssa hope and renewed optimism. She would make sure that once Tansley was awake, he would expand on what he knew. The man would answer her questions, he was in no position to refuse.

  What did he mean when he said that he'd come into possession of a valuable necklace? How had he? And how had the chain been become broken?

  Not only that, he was going to answer some questions that would help her to retrieve it. Who is this Croneygee he had visited? Where is his armory? And, most importantly, who is the apprentice with her necklace?

  It was not lost forever.

  50

  The barman had confirmed what Tregarron had suspected, Tansley was a creature of habit.

  Tregarron knew, that whenever the merchant came into town he visited the tavern, and today had been no exception. According to Duncan, he'd stayed five or ten minutes, had a drink and left. As to the question of his behavior; had the man seemed nervous, was he acting suspiciously or agitated in some way? Duncan had been more circumspect on this point, but then, he was a man of few words.

  Leaving the tavern, the four men walked up Market Street as it rose towards the High Gate. Tregarron lead them through the open portcullis and onto the crossroads beyond.

  Here, Market Street met with the Regis Highway to the left, Trinity Lane to the right with the mountain pass directly ahead. From this point is was possible for Tregarron to take a view of the whole pass, all the way up to where the path disappeared over the ridge.

  The stone columns that formed the mountains made for natural steps, and these had been further sculpted by the footfall of travelers for centuries past. The winding road found its way up through a thousand feet of rock-face, then over and through the saddle point, the lowest point in the ridgeline for many miles in either direction.

  Looking at the mountainside, Tregarron could see that there were two people, walking down the steps of the pass and in his direction. An elderly couple, laden with heavy bags, tentatively making their way down. Their slow progress meant it would take them quite some time to reach him, but since they were already close enough to be within earshot, he shouted to them.

  "Did you did see anyone going south?" he called out, trying to make himself heard without attracting too much attention. Even so, his voice echoed back conspicuously.

  Too loud, yet it also seemed not loud enough, as the elderly man cupped a hand to his ear.

  "Anyone?" Tregarron said again, making some hand gestures that seemed to convey the message.

  "No, nobody," the old man shouted back. The reverberations emphasizing the point.

  Tregarron had expected as much. The base of the mountain chain might not be very wide, but they did rise steeply. The weaving path would take an hour or more to clear, even for someone in good condition.

  Tregarron looked to his right and the road to the priory. The guards who'd taken Croneygee by stretcher to the priory would be approaching from that direction, but they wouldn't arrive for at least another thirty minutes.

  "Are we going to wait here for the others?" Teague asked.

  He considered it, but not for long. "No, we're only a few minutes behind Tansley and need to keep it that way, the four of us will be enough."

  51

  A search of the kitchen cupboards yielded little of interest, but Alyssa found a source of nourishment in a bread basket in a co
rner. Breaking off a chunk, she took a bite, neither fresh nor stale, she ate some more.

  She realized was going to have to go to Serfacre, either traveling there with Tansley, or by following the man's directions to the armory. The trouble was, the workshops were Demedelei territory and that was going to present her with some difficulties. Her attire marked her out as a Fennrean, her accent, too. She would disguise her voice as best she could, but her clothing would be an easier fix.

  She moved from the kitchen to the shop front, where there was enough light coming in through a partially open blind for her to see what she was doing.

  From her earlier visit, Alyssa knew there were some clothes here she could make use of, so set about finding something suitable. She wouldn't be able to walk around dressed like she was, that was for sure. Her mottled green and brown woolen tunic and tights concealed her well among trees and long grass, but in the towns and villages she would be neither camouflaged nor inconspicuous, but the complete opposite.

  She would clearly stand out as being from the marshes, and as such, would be looked on with suspicion. Thieves and troublemakers was how most people this side of the river thought of them.

  Browsing the shop, she saw it was stocked with clothes commonly seen in Demedelei. She recognized them from glimpsed views of travelers on the roads, along with various things her brother had picked up. Where from, he wouldn't say, found discarded along the road he would claim.

  Tansley seemed to have a lot of this type of clothing. Demedelei must have been the main source for his stock, which made sense given the town's close proximity.

  Alyssa picked out a gray hooded jacket, large leather walking boots and knee length leather braccae that would need to be held up with braces. It was not exactly an outfit for a young woman, but seemed more practical for her situation. She would be disguising herself as a serfacre apprentice after all, and since Tansley's shop offered little else by way of choice, Alyssa made do with these.

  She pulled the knee length braccae over her full length woolen tights. She thought the effect looked a little strange, so rolled the woolen tights up so they didn't show. Doing so exposed a small tattoo just above her ankle. It was discrete and not easy to see. Her mother's tattoo was of the same pattern but had covered her whole back.

  Vondern had refused to allow Alyssa to have one like it, or even a small one in the same design. Curiously, he'd hinted that her mother had not been tattooed willingly, and besides, such markings were for ferguths only, or so he'd said. So she'd done it herself. And kept its existence a secret.

  She put on the gray hooded top and tied it at the waist with a plain leather belt. Her own belt was in the traditional Fennrean style. A large, elaborate deerskin leather band, that had numerous pockets and places for keeping assorted accessories. A dagger in its scabbard, lengths of twine and rope, snares, lures, a water flask and a pouch containing flint and iron for fire lighting. It was fastened with a large ornately carved wooden buckle. It would need to be concealed beneath the jacket if her disguise was going to work.

  To complete the look she found some sturdy, oversize leather boots with wooden soles and pulled them over her own light, boar hide shoes. She tried walking around in them. They felt heavy, ungainly and noisy. Is this really what they wore? At least she wouldn't have to wear them for long.

  Moving upstairs she noticed how much lighter it was. The ground floor windows may have been blocked with wooden blinds, but not here. The unobstructed windows gave a good view of the road outside but it was something else that caught her attention. The bed.

  It was big, soft and a world away from the blanket covered pile grass she had to make do with at Ochre or Egret. She imagined this bed to be extremely comfortable and quickly discovered that it was. Her lack of proper sleep was catching up with her again, and she realized this might be as good a time as any to grab some rest. The men downstairs were all tied up, and besides, she was waiting on them waking up. Well, Tansley anyway.

  Perhaps she should sleep now and recover her alertness. She would undoubtedly need her wits about her if she was going to get the Ettinshel from out of a Serfacre armory.

  Making herself comfortable, her drowsiness took over, and Alyssa felt she would fall asleep in no time, as her head rested on the pillow.

  52

  Moving from the High Gate crossroads and onto the Regis Highway, Tregarron and his men started descending again. They walked quickly along the tree lined road, as it curved around the contours of the foot hills, until they reached the stretch of road with the trading posts.

  "Do you know which one is Tansley's?" Teague asked, out of breath at the fast pace they were setting.

  "Yes," Tregarron replied, but then, it was his job to know. The trading posts might not be Demedelei territory but they were close enough.

  It was for this reason that he made sure he had his sources, here and elsewhere along the route. People who kept him informed of any notable movement along the roads, from the bridge to the pass. Nothing, and no person of interest traveled along here without him knowing about it. Or at least, that's what he'd thought, just now he was not feeling quite so certain.

  Things had been quiet. The reports had become less frequent. He had allowed himself to become more reliant on the judgment others, making do with second hand information. At the same time the number of men under his command had diminished, His control had started to slip.

  If you don't look you won't find. He hadn't been looking.

  As he neared the trading posts he realized he hadn't been this way for quite some time. He welcomed the fact that he now had a justifiable reason to conduct a search. He would take the opportunity to question a few of the merchants while he was here. Living in the glades meant they wouldn't have to bow to his authority, but in Tregarron's experience, they knew it was in their interests not to antagonize him. If they wanted unfettered access to the town, they would talk with him. But that could come later, there was one merchant in particular he needed to speak with first.

  Approaching the trading post in question, Tregarron became increasingly wary with every step. Smoke was coming from the chimney but there seemed to be no other sign of activity. The ground floor of the building seemed dark, due to either shutters or blinds, while the upper floor windows were unobstructed. Just then, the calmness seemed to be disturbed. Was that movement he saw? It seemed to be. So Tansley was inside. In that case he would make sure the man would not evade questioning.

  At the moment he considered Tansley to be a witness. He had been the last person to see the victim of the assault. But if the merchant was involved or in anyway responsible for what had happened to Croneygee, then he wouldn't hang around if he saw guards approaching.

  With a silent gesture, he signaled for two of the guards, Holcroft and Pearson, to go to the rear.

  At his signal the men promptly moved off the highway and started to move through the trees, toward the back of the property. While they did, he and Teague approached the front of the trading post. Once there, he waited a few moments, until he was confident his men were in position, before hammering on the door three times with his clenched hand.

  After a few seconds, and with no reply, he tried the handle. The door was locked, and judging by how little give there was, probably bolted too. It would be difficult to break in here. He tried to peer through the windows but the blinds were closed and it was hard to see anything, the small gaps and dimly lit interior offered no clues. He moved to a different window and his fellow guardsman did likewise.

  "I see movement," he heard Teague say, the man to his right had found a more accommodating set of blinds to peer through, "There's somebody in there."

  There came the sound of bolts being slid and the handle rattled but the door didn't open.

  "Sir, it's locked and there's no key," Holcroft shouted through the door. "Captain, you will have to go around the back, you need to see this."

  The concern in the guard's voice prompted Tregarron to hasten ro
und the side of the hut to the back door. He entered into a woodshed and from there he stepped quickly into the store room.

  The sight that greeted him was not one he had expected. Two men were laying in the middle of the floor, bound with lengths of rope. One was bleeding from a facial injury the other from an head wound. At first, he thought one of the men had been gagged as well, but looking more closely he could see he was masked with a gray hood. It covered his head and wrapped around the face leaving just the eyes visible. Blood was seeping into it.

  "Another here," Pearson called from the kitchen.

  Leaving the two men on the floor, he moved through the hall to the kitchen and stared at the bound and unconscious body of Tansley. The guards looked at each other. With three men tied up it was obvious there was at least one person missing. He turned to two of his men and gave the order, and did so in little more than a whisper, "Check upstairs."

  53

  Every night before she went to sleep, Alyssa would remove her necklace and place it a small pocket she had sewn into the inside of her vest. Keeping it safe and close to her heart. It was in the moments before she fell asleep that her mind seemed most receptive and when her mother's voice was at its clearest and her advice most inspiring.

  It was at this moment, as her mind drifted into sleep, that the absence of the Ettinshel was most tangible. Her thoughts were hazy, her dreams would be restless. Yet there was a voice in her head, her own voice, and it seemed to fill the void. This voice was not tired, it was just waking up, and she felt the rest of her following its lead.

  No sooner had her head rested on the pillow, than she raised it again.

  It had not been her intention to come upstairs to sleep, but to look around for anything that might prove useful. If she was going to get some rest she would need to prepare first. She was in an unfamiliar house a long way from home and none of her family knew where she was. Her sleepiness began to subside and an awareness of her vulnerability started to take hold. Suddenly she was awake again and her mind was active, evaluating, questioning.