01 - Honour of the Grave (16 page)

The hill, like so many others they’d seen, was thick with pines and spruces,
with no clear path down to the valley floor. She found the slope steep at first,
but it became less severe as the trees gave way to weeds and ground-hugging
vines. She called out to the soldiers, waving her arms: this was not a situation
where it would be good to surprise them. One of the men nudged Benno, who
swivelled first his head, then the rest of his body, in her direction. He stood
and half-ran, several of the men puffing to keep up with his rapid pace toward
her. He shouted to Gelfrat, who broke off from chasing the horse, leaving it to
Heinrich. They were at the foot of the hill by the time she reached it.

“So you return to us,” Benno said, crossing his arms.

“At first I was disheartened by the way you threw rocks at me, as I left. But
gradually I came to realise how much I missed your company.”

“Your companion is not with you.”

“Franziskus is back in the forest, his watchful eye fixed on a person who may
be of interest to you.” She walked past Benno, toward the fire and the cooking
pot.

He took her arm and seized it, preventing her from moving further—as she’d
predicted he would. “There are limits to my tolerance,” he said, releasing her
arm.

Having made her point, she stood, gazing past him, up into the hills. “You
should have told me you were looking for
two
von Kopfs. It would have
made the search much easier.”

Gelfrat joined the group. He was winded. “He lives? The little maggot!”

“I see you’ve met him before.”

The muscles of Benno’s face twitched with annoyance. He looked haggard, as if
sleep had been eluding him. “We know him by reputation. Father feared he would
turn out to be a runner.”

“Old Jurgen will be pleased to get his son back in one piece, I’m sure.” She
looked into his eyes, to study his response.

He was examining her expression, too. It was obvious to her that he was
trying to work out how much the boy had revealed. “Few things please my father,
save victory. How did you find him?”

“Let’s call it a hunch.”

Gelfrat scowled at her, and muttered; Angelika thought she caught the words
tiresome bitch.
She turned to smile sweetly at him. “Now,” she said, “the
question of my revised fee.”

Benno closed his eyes and turned away in disgust.

“You mean to bleed more from us?” Gelfrat blustered.

“Naturally. The fee we negotiated was for me to take you to Claus’ bones.
Lukas’ rescue from beastmen surely goes beyond the bounds of that agreement.”

When she spoke the word “beastmen”, the soldiers clustered around. Benno
paled and gazed fearfully into the mountains. A couple made the sign of Sigmar.

“You met Chaos things?” Gelfrat asked. There was a quiver in his voice—perfectly justifiable, given the topic at hand.

Angelika remained outwardly nonchalant, though the mere mention of the
creatures constricted her chest. “Several waves of them, in fact. And, oh yes,
we also had to fight some of Davio’s men, who also sought him. Your half-brother
seems quite popular in these parts.”

“It was that treacherous swine, Isaak?” said Gelfrat.

“No, a smaller, better-informed group. An elf and two halflings. Elennath,
Toby Goatfield and Henty Redpot. Do those names strike any chords with you?”

Benno puffed out his lips blankly. “No. They served Davio, you say?”

“He seems to want your Lukas for some nefarious scheme or other. Once you pay
me for him, I advise you to protect him well.”

“You slew these rogues?”

“We left them hog-tied for you, up in the woods. I guess you didn’t find
them. The halflings are extremely formidable for their kind. I suggest you let
Gelfrat handle the big one with the war-axe.”

The brothers exchanged fretful glances.

“To return the subject to my reward,” said Angelika. “In addition to the
hundred and twenty-five you owe me for Claus’ bones—”

“That was never the true aim of—”

“But you are officers and would-be gentlemen, so let’s pretend you were being
honest. That’s one twenty-five for Claus. And a live brother should be worth at
least three times as much as a dead one. So that’ll be five hundred: an
agreeably round figure. I won’t charge you extra for the fights we fought, or
the mountain we had to climb.”

Failing to contain his anger, Benno shook. “We told you: we are not wealthy
men.”

“But your father, I now learn, is not just a warrior but also an illustrious
politician. Meaning that the pillows he sleeps on are no doubt feathered in
gold. You’ll get the remainder from him, and send a courier down to the Castello
to deliver it.”

Gelfrat grinned. “Of course; I’ll agree to that.”

Angelika grinned back at him. “And—of course—you’ll swear to it, on your
honour as officers of the Black Field Sabres.”

The smile fell from Gelfrat’s face.

“Generally,” Angelika continued, “I feel a man’s promise isn’t worth the rag
he wipes his sweat with. But in this case, seeing that you’re both hoping to
curry your father’s favour, and knowing how much stock he places in the
upholding of vows—”

Benno waved his hands at her. “Enough! You’ve made your point.”

“Then you, Benno Kopf, swear on your honour as an officer of the Black Field
Sabres that in exchange for my delivering Lukas von Kopf to you, you will make
haste to send a courier to deliver to me the sum of three hundred and
seventy-five crowns?”

He placed his palm on his heart. “I so swear.”

She repeated the vow for Gelfrat. “Yes, I swear to it,” he grumped.

“Then I’ll go retrieve him for you.”

She found Franziskus and Lukas—with his hands untied—crouching near a log.
They were engaged in earnest discussion, about their upbringings, or some such
nonsense. When they heard her approaching, they shut up. They seemed
embarrassed. She slapped her hands together, as if she was brushing the dust off
some old business, now completed.

“Time to go,” she said.

Franziskus laid a comforting hand on Lukas’ back and whispered something too
softly for Angelika to hear. Lukas stood and thrust his hands out for Angelika
to bind them. She did so, ignoring one of Franziskus’ more effective looks of
disapproval.

On her return to them, she’d found a more navigable trail to the valley
floor, so now she led Lukas along it. As they passed through the tree line, and
could see the soldiers camped below, the boy began sniffling.

“Stop that,” she said.

“I can’t.” With bound wrists he tried to hide the tears that dampened his
cheeks.

“Have courage,” Franziskus said.

“I don’t.” He stopped. Angelika tugged on his sleeve. He started up again.

“Remember what we talked about,” said Franziskus. “It is your duty.”

“I don’t see you doing
your
duty!”

“My duty is to discharge my debt to the one who—”

“Both of you shut up!” snapped Angelika. She grabbed Lukas by the crook of
the arm and urged him onward. He pulled his elbow away from her, but she kept
hold of it.

“Please don’t,” he said to her.

She pulled harder.

“I beg you.”

They reached the flatland. The Sabres, led by Benno and Gelfrat, came at them
as a group. They spread out, ready to block him if he ran.

Lukas dropped to his knees. “They’ll kill me!” he wailed. Angelika pulled him,
to drag him up, but he was making himself dead weight. He flopped prone in the
grass. She kicked him in the gut. He moaned. Having knocked the fight out of
him, Angelika was able to drag him upright, though he still refused to support
himself. She put her knife to his throat.

“I have no mercy for you, Lukas. Stop snivelling and pretend you’re a man.”

Gelfrat surged forward and clamped Lukas by the shoulders, pulling him away
from Angelika. She happily withdrew and put her knife away. Lukas kicked at
Gelfrat, who lifted him off the ground, leaving his legs to flail like a stick
insect’s. Impassively, he held Lukas aloft until the boy had worn himself out.

“My brother, please, you must take pity on me!” Lukas cried, trying
fruitlessly to turn himself in the big man’s arms, and look him in the eyes.

“Sure, my brother,” Gelfrat said, baring his incisors and canines. Applying
pressure with experienced precision, he embraced Lukas in a chokehold, watching
carefully until the boy passed out. Disengaging immediately, he then released
him, letting him drop to the ground.

Benno observed from a remove. Angelika went to his side and thrust her palm
out. Still regarding the boy, he pulled a purse from his belt and let it fall
into her hand. She hefted it, listening for the clink of coin on coin. She
resisted the urge to open it and look at the gold inside. As much as she yearned
to count it, she knew the purse would contain the correct amount. She’d already
pushed the Averlanders hard, and there was no good reason to offend Benno any
further.

“All right!” Benno cried, to his men. “Time to move out!”

Angelika tucked the purse into her belt and walked over to Franziskus. She
watched him watch Lukas, as Gelfrat draped his unconscious body across the back of the largest of the new horses—the
grey that had earlier escaped him. He called for rope, and a soldier stepped up
with a length. Gelfrat tied Lukas to the back of the horse, carefully checking
each knot.

“Shall we go?” she asked Franziskus.

No response.

The men broke camp quickly, and had their packs on their backs in less than
half an hour. They gathered into ranks and waited for Benno’s word.

“Damn me,” said Angelika, to herself. “Damn me, damn me. No, I won’t.”

“Pardon?” asked Franziskus.

“You said they won’t kill him.”

“Yes.”

“An accommodation will be made, you said.”

“Indeed.”

“And you’re sure of that?”

“I am sure of it,” Franziskus said. He did not sound sure of it.

“Damn me,” said Angelika. Abruptly leaving Franziskus’ side, she dashed at
Gelfrat’s horse. Helmeted heads pivoted, following her movement. Franziskus ran
with her, toward the mounts. She leapt onto Gelfrat’s nag, pivoting around to
grab Lukas’ tunic, just in case he wasn’t tied on as well as he seemed to be.
Shouts, angry and surprised, echoed around her. She kicked the horse’s sides. It
looked back at her with a lunatic and conspiratorial expression and bolted,
jerking her onto its neck. It pounded along the valley floor; she struggled to
stay mounted. She could make out shouted curses, behind her. Another horse rode
up towards her; she glanced back to see if she needed to throw a knife, but saw
that it was Franziskus.

“I’m going to regret this,” she yelled. Behind her, she heard the clopping of
the other two horses, in pursuit. She could only assume it would be Benno and
Gelfrat giving chase. Franziskus’ horse was smaller than hers, but he was a
better rider, and he drew up beside her. They slapped reins and sped their
mounts.

“Damn me,” she said, and jerked the purse from her belt. She tossed it over
her shoulder. It flew wide of Gelfrat, bouncing in the grass.

Amid the pounding of hooves, her ears picked up another sound, up ahead. She
looked to the right, into the trees. It was hard to tell, with the world
blurring past her, but she thought she’d caught a glint of sun on polished
metal. She urged her horse in its direction. Franziskus stayed close by her.
Gelfrat’s voice screamed at them.

As she got closer to the origin of the glint, she became surer. Again she
encouraged the horse; it was eager to run. It leapt over a depression; she
nearly fell from the saddle. She hoped all the jostling wouldn’t strangle Lukas
or break his neck; she wouldn’t put it past the forces of destiny to render this
merciful gesture all the more futile.

Now she was near enough to know for sure: the hillside to the right boiled
with the stunted, hunching forms of goblins, streaming down with outstretched
swords and jabbing spears. They were moving too fast to count but Angelika
reckoned there were about two dozen of them. Their skins were as green as the
grass they slid on; their faces were narrow and their chins sharp. Angelika was
too far away to see their pinprick eyes or jagged teeth, but knew they’d have
them, all the same. Their conical hats flopped after them as advanced; they wore
loose robes in a cacophony of colours, trimmed with stripes and chequerboard
patterns. Some fired arrows from small bows, which landed far short of their
targets. Two rode on the backs of gigantic, shaggy wolves that were half as high
as horses. Goblins in the rear blew bleatingly on sheep-horn trumpets. The
nearer ones sang a screeching song that made Angelika shudder.

Franziskus urged his horse away from the goblins, but she pointed herself
right at them. The wolf riders wheeled and came at her. Angelika knew her knife
was too short to do any good, but readied it regardless. Her nag whinnied
maniacally, as if it was looking forward to the collision. One wolf skidded
sideways as Angelika barrelled down on them, throwing its rider, who curved
through empty air with booted feet pointed heavenwards. The other returned the
grey horse’s charge, its toothy snout wide open and a long tongue lolling out
past its neck. The horse slammed right over it, and wolf and rider rolled
beneath its pounding hooves. The crazy steed angled for another pass at the
goblins, but Angelika tightened the reins and kicked frantically at its ribs. It straightened its course. She
looked to see if Franziskus had made it through the developing gauntlet of
goblins—and he had.

Benno and Gelfrat were not so blessed. She saw them rearing their mounts as
they fought to turn them around. The yammering goblins had gathered themselves
into a rough formation to chase them. She checked to see that Lukas was still
securely strapped to the horse’s hindquarters, then fixed her eyes on the route
ahead.