A Clash of Shadows (13 page)

“What do you say to letting me kill them?” she asked hesitantly.

“I think it would go the other way,” Leifur said. “They are led by an Acolyte.”

An Acolyte. The master killers of the Night Hand. Harbingers of evil, only used for the most vital tasks.

What is going on?

“Just... what is happening here?” she said slowly and let him feel the tip a bit more.

“I will tell you nothing about our methods or how we know what,” Leifur said. “But the signs all pointed the same way. The Night Hand wants something by the Inner Sea. Something important and dangerous. And we will not be robbed again. Not by
them
, not by
you
,” he leaned towards her and a drop of blood gathered under the sword tip, “or any other foe. They will not leave Farnar alive.”

“Are they still here?” Katja asked and was suddenly aware that she hadn’t been alert to her surroundings during the interrogation.

“We know they sent for reinforcements to replace the men we cost them. We are trying to get them again before they slip away. Have you been taught prioritising, little Red?” he asked mockingly.

They locked gazes, two natural enemies. He did not yield.

“Are you calling for
cooperation
??” she asked through clenched teeth. She wanted to kill him.

“I would be willing to point you to their hideout, once we find it,” Leifur said and Katja thought she saw a smile flicker on his face.

“You mean lead me into a trap when I return?”

“You can always be killed later,” Leifur said. “The Night Hand is our priority.”

Katja wavered. What was the right decision?

“We can meet,” the Brotherhood man stopped and thought, “by Old Stack. Do you know where that is?”

“I... can ask around.”

“Then we will meet there. Just you and me. Two nights hence. At three.”

“And peace until then, I take it?”

“If you don’t interfere with our matters.”

“Is Vajan working with you?”

She hoped he didn’t ask for details and she could pretend to be knowledgeable about the man.

Leifur snorted a bit.

“The Golden Plains bastard? I heard he had been seen. His coven has no business here and least of all him. Do please kill him for all I care.”

“And if w... what if I find the Acolyte before you do?”

He just stared at her. They both knew the answer to that question.

“So what do you say?” he asked after a stretched silence.

She warily let him go and stood up.

“We can try that,” she said despite an ill feeling about this. “But if you try something...” she said and wiggled the sword for emphasis. “Then I will not leave Farnar until I have found you again. That I promise.”

She started to walk backwards along the path. Leifur sat up and rubbed his neck where she had poked him.

“Red, listen to me,” he said darkly.

She stopped and did so.

“If we don’t meet again, remember this,” he said. “We will never give up. We are given that quality in the cradle. You will never manage to exterminate us or quench our thirst. We will tame the old power and wield the authority that comes with it. If not in this century then the next. Or the next. For the power never vanished. It is older than mankind.”

“Then I suppose I will never lack for tasks,” Katja responded and sheathed her sword.

She walked away with her eyes on Leifur as he sat in the dirt. She started running as soon as the foliage curtain was up between them. She didn’t want to wager that he couldn’t call for reinforcements from else in the swamp, or something.

Circumstances made the flight rather slower than she would have preferred, but she put up with scratches from branches and mud splashes to reach civilization as fast as possible. Nothing happened during the return and she had plenty of time to doubt her decision.

Seeing the ugly little houses on the edge of the Crescent after an hour was a relief. Katja relaxed and walked along the outskirts on her way to the road to then follow it into the city. She had found out enough for now.

Did I do the right thing?
she thought. As she mulled over the situation she felt worse and worse about sparing Leifur. The man deserved death. And now he and his comrades would presumably be on their guard against her.

Now two men know what I look like.

Had he made the story up? About the Acolyte and a common goal? It had come out of him smoothly, but then Katja was no master at reading people. Perhaps he had prepared a story to use in a tight spot.

Or what? Is that too far-fetched?

She was startled by fast footsteps approaching from behind and she whirled around.

Vajan came at a run and thrust at her with a knife. The training took over and she dodged and caught his arm. She tried to fell him with his own momentum but Vajan quickly regained his balance. He head-butted her before she could lock the arm and she lost her grip.

He thrust again and she had no time to draw the sword. She threw the cloak up between them to conceal her movements for a moment and caught the wrist in a better grip than before. She twisted and so opened the hand and the knife dropped down between them.

He tried to kick at her knee but her reflexes saved her. He was quick to make use of the distraction however and punched her in the elbow crook with his free arm. She lost her grip again and he ran her down into the ground.

It greeted her roughly and Katja lost her breath. Vajan landed on top of her and she struggled to get one leg up between them. He raised his fist for a blow but Katja struck him in the neck with the edge of the hand. It wasn’t a perfect throat strike but did stun him and she got her knife from its sheath.

He wrapped both his arms around her right arm and turned the blade away from himself, but she quickly shifted the weapon into her other hand and stabbed him in the side. Vajan was able to defend himself a bit with his arm but still received a wound. She grunted and was able to get both feet between them and push him off.

They rolled in the rough dirt and sprang up at the same time. Katja rose with her sword in hand and Vajan with his knife. He threw the weapon nimbly and she narrowly managed to twist away from the missile. It whizzed past her and he took to his feet towards the Crescent.

Katja gave chase with the sword by her side.

“Where are you going!?” she shouted.

There was no answer.

She ran hard but the man could really sprint. The lead allowed him to enter the Crescent ahead of her. When she herself entered the narrow, twisty paths she saw him disappear along one of them. She followed but didn’t see him when she came out from between the houses. She picked the nearest and most natural available path but then didn’t see him there either.

She ran back.

“Where did he go?!” she asked the few who were around, and kept away from her and the sword.

The Crescent taciturnity struck again and after a few moments of impatient shouting she realized it was too late. He had vanished somewhere into the maze. She had lost him.

11.

Katja sat on the brim of the fountain. It was tempting to let the trickling of the water soothe her nerves but she dared not lower her guard, despite all the people around.

Just where had Vajan come from? Had Leifur dispatched him, or had the man been shadowing her and just chosen that moment to strike? Or had he just spotted her by coincidence? She thought she had been paying attention. She thought she had been conscious of her own safety. What had gone wrong?

She spotted Serdra when there were a few metres between them.

“Hello,” she said.

Serdra nodded and sat down next to her.

“You have a small bruise there,” she said and touched Katja’s forehead. “And you are very tight.”

“I met Vajan,” Katja said. “And I’m afraid I didn’t manage to finish him. But... but you go first.”

“I asked around the western part as intended. Apparently there is a man around here known as the Fox who has great influence over burglaries and robberies around here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that he has enough underlings in the Crescent and the city to be able to demand portions of large crimes.”

“So he... organises crimes?” Katja said hesitantly.

“Given what I’ve heard, yes.”

“Then he must be as concerned with secrecy as our friends. How did you get these sullen louts to talk?”

“I didn’t get a speech out of any of the locals, but I did meet a foreigner who has been here longer than us and asked around for longer.”

“Oh, that is lucky.”

“Perhaps more than luck. He wants to get into the Rose Manor himself.”

Katja raised her eyebrows.

“Hasn’t he heard of the demon?”

“Yes, but he wants to go ahead nonetheless. And he has been in contact with the Fox.”

“And so Foxie know how we can get inside?”

“It seems so. If stories are be believed he knows of various convenient ways onto the properties of rich folk and charges money for revealing them to thieves. This new acquaintance of mine wants to pool money.”

Katja watched her mentor and knew that her surprise was evident.

“So you are going to enter with some thief we don’t even know?”

“Him and his comrade. There are two of them, on some business here. The man introduced himself as Haflidi and we agreed to meet at the tavern at six in the afternoon. There he will introduce us to his fellow.”

“Well, so be it,” Katja said. “I myself arranged a different kind of meeting,” she admitted hesitantly and suddenly felt that her own surprise wasn’t quite warranted.

Katja told the entire story. Serdra listened without commenting, only asking a few questions such as about the way to the cabin.

She finished describing Vajan’s flight and let silence take over. Her decision about Leifur seemed to hang in the air.

“Did I do the right thing?” she finally asked.

“That will depend on the consequences.”

Katja chuckled a bit, though she was no less stressed.

“What would you have done?” she asked.

“It would have depended on whether I believed him or not,” the woman said. “It could all have been true, but...” She fell silent and leaned forward, looking pensive. “What could the Night Hand be doing here?”

“What do Acolytes usually do?”

“There haven’t been enough direct encounters with them to speak of ‘usually’, but we know they have been bodyguards for leaders of the Hand, brought missives through dangerous territories and led important kill missions. Against us, for example.”

Katja clenched her fists and opened them.

“So... so they might have heard of a young R... or one of us here and gotten the same idea as the Brotherhood?”

“It is a possibility, yes,” Serdra said. “But for that to happen they would probably need to have contacts within the Brotherhood. I find that unlikely, but it is possible.”

“I see,” Katja said. She didn’t care for that possibility. Many had died over these events. “Do you know where or what Old Stack is?”

“No. And I think we should find out before the meeting.”

Getting directions to Old Stack was simple enough. It turned out to be an old bridge outside the city.

Katja stood on it and looked around. Old Stack had perhaps served some important purpose in its day but those days were long gone. The bridge bore signs of a lack of maintenance and the dirt road leading across it was vanishing into a bog.

On the other hand the bridge was isolated and little to no sound would carry to the nearest houses.

“This is a good place for a meeting,” Katja said.

“And murder,” Serdra said.

“Yes.”

Katja drummed her fingers on the guard rail and then stepped away from it.

“How do you want to do this? Do you want me to go alone as we discussed?”

“Certainly not,” Serdra said.

Katja hadn’t been thinking so either. She looked at the surrounding meadows and down into the ditch the bridge crossed and wondered how best to show up for the meeting. What would be the safest approach?

“How do you expect this to go?” she asked.

“Working with us isn’t exactly approved of within the Brotherhood,” her mentor said. “I would expect some trick, but perhaps they are truly desperate to deal with the Night Hand. But don’t expect it.”

“And what about us?” Katja positioned herself on the middle of the bridge and watched Serdra with her arms crossed. “Do we received directions from them and then leave them be?”

Serdra was silent for a bit and Katja yet again had to try to guess what was going on in that hundred-and-thirty-three -year-old mind. Behind those iron-like eyes.

“Opinions are divided on how to handle situations like this,” she then said. “It’s not good if the Brotherhood gets the message that there is no use in trying to reach a truce with us, even if only briefly. But on the other hand landing a hit on them is always a good thing.”

She thought a bit more.

“The Acolyte and his men take priority. We will gather what information is available and then finish that matter. We will return to Leifur and his comrades when that’s finished. Barring some new development.”

Serdra looked around.

“And Katja, since we are alone...” Serdra motioned for her to approach and Katja obeyed.

“What?”

“Close your eyes,” she said and Katja did. Serdra touched her shoulder and turned her in a certain direction.

“Look,” Serdra whispered and Katja realized she was now facing the Rose Manor.

She did as told and let her sensitivity take over.

Her attention was drawn to the north-west, to the lighthouse that shone for those who could sense it. It was as if her mind flew north on wings and she saw her memory of the grand, dilapidated building. The evil there was tangible. And stronger than before.

The demon was stirring.

Katja returned.

“We cannot afford delays,” Serdra said. “That’s why I agreed to work with others.”

Katja nodded and felt a different kind of worry.

“How much time do we have?”

“Not much. Perhaps we can exorcise it with the Sentinel Flame. Or perhaps it will fully rouse when it senses our approach. But we cannot afford it escaping.”

Another bloodbath
, Katja thought.

--------------------

Roras finished the last stitch and then cut the thread sticking out of Vajan’s side.

“Well, that could have gone much worse,” he said.

Vajan savoured being able to breathe normally again.

“Sure, and also considerably better,” he answered wittily.

“It doesn’t pay to rush into such a task,” Karl said as he sat and watched.

“I felt I couldn’t pass up on such a golden opportunity,” Vajan answered and put his shirt back on. The blood had been cleaned off.

Karl handed him a sack of strong apple wine. Vajan took a big gulp, allowed himself to enjoy the flavour for a few moments and then swallowed. He let it suffice. He needed his wits.

“Hong is coming,” Torbergur said, standing away and watching for traffic.

“With the men?” Vajan asked.

“Yes.”

“Alright then.”

He stood up and tested the stitches. The wound was minor and Roras’ sewing was fine enough to keep it that way. He ought to be able to manoeuvre freely.

“So how do we do this?” Roras asked and looked in the direction Hong was approaching from, though he still couldn’t be seen from where he sat.

“Well... we are almost finished,” Vajan answered. “We need only wait for the right moment, seize it and then get back home while everyone is distracted with other matters.”

“And how do you want to do that?” Karl asked. Vajan had gone on missions with him before. He had proved reliable, but lacked imagination.

“Come now!” Vajan said cheerily and gave a broad smile. He was excited. “That is no problem at all when away from home. Just you wait.”

“And what about your lady friend?”

Vajan refrained from shaking his head good-naturedly.

“We will have to rely on that special talent of yours,” he said to Roras.

Roras nodded. He wasn’t given to emoting but Vajan thought he saw a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. Roras was rather short, thin and haggard-looking and in fact looked aged ahead of time. His gift came at a price. But it was the reason he had come along for the mission. At times he was quite simply essential. Vajan could well imagine it was a sweet feeling.

“They are coming,” Torbergur said and walked down to join the rest.

Vajan heard footsteps a moment later and Hong entered the forest hollow.

Vajan immediately began assessing the five men who followed him. They carried themselves as he had hoped; as warriors. Hostile, hard and confident. Four of them wore leather on their knuckles and all wore wide overclothes that made it hard to see what they might be carrying. At a glance he saw four stumps in place of fingers, quite a lot of scars and one man had a scarf over the lower half of his face. Vajan remembered hearing about deserters being branded to the north.

All had long hair and sideburns and rings in their ears. Loghan-men, it seemed.

The new arrivals lined up opposite Vajan’s comrades and the one in the middle, the one the others watched for unspoken instructions, stepped forward. Vajan approached him.

“Hello,” he said casually and offered his hand. There had been an agreement not to share names.

The man watched him with narrowed, predatory eyes and kept him waiting.

Then he took the hand and gave it a quick shake. Vajan glimpsed a hard armguard beneath the sleeve.

“Hello,” he said without warmth. “So you need fighters.”

“One didn’t have to ask around long to find men with a reputation,” Vajan said. “You have been quite productive around here. And farther afield, I am told.”

“What do you want?” the leader asked as coldly as before.

“We...” Vajan indicated his brethren as they stood lined up against the guests, “we need someone disposed of. Possibly two. And perhaps within the city itself.”

The leader sniffled.

“That is more dangerous and expensive,” he said. “And it doesn’t sound like you quite know what you want.”

“Believe me,” Vajan said and looked to Roras with a smile. “It will only take a little bit of patience to find that out. We merely need you to be available when we find her.”

“
Her
?” the man said with a mocking little smile. “You are a tough lot.”

“Don’t celebrate victory just yet,” Vajan said and hoped the man had enough sense to listen. “She isn’t some milkmaid. And the rest of us have other things to tend to.”

“Meaning you are sending us on a suicide mission to spare yourselves?” the man asked defiantly. “Or are your weapons merely for show?”

The men had clearly earned their reputation with more than just toughness. Which was of course a fine thing. Vajan walked a little circle around the hollow to release tension.

“Believe me, northman, I
sincerely
want you to succeed at your task and escape so you cannot be interrogated,” he said and waved his hands for emphasis. “These two will be around to aid you.” He pointed at Roras and Torbergur. “The rest of us are simply busy with more important matters.”

The bandit leader thought matters over.

“We only accept cash as payment.”

“Of course, it is the most convenient way. And we can afford your services.”

Vajan looked over the group. The men were excited and one of them had particularly cruel eyes. Vajan smiled at him. The eyes became even more savage and he widened his smile.

“Not that we have the money here,” he said to the leader and waved his hand over the hollow. It held nothing but weapons and a few belongings.