A Darkness at Sethanon (25 page)

“I’ve
heard of him, too,” said Arutha. “He works from the Free
Cities or Queg, so he doesn’t have to deal with Kingdom laws on
mercenary service.

“What I
want to know, though, is what Murmandamus needs a corps of
high-priced engineers for. If he’s working this far west, he
must needs come through Tyr-Sog or Yabon. Farther east, the Border
Barons. But he’s still on the other side of the mountains and
won’t need them for months if he’s going to siege.”

“Maybe he
wants to make sure no one else hires this Segersen?” ventured
Locklear.

“Maybe,”
said Laurie. “But most likely he needs something Segersen can
provide.”

“Then we
must make sure he doesn’t get it,” said Arutha.

Roald said, “We
go half a day to Tyr-Sog, then turn back?”

Arutha only
nodded.

Arutha
signalled.

Roald, Laurie,
and Jimmy moved slowly forward, while Baru and Martin moved off, to
circle around. Locklear stayed behind to tend the horses. They had
spent half the day moving along the road to Tyr-Sog; then at a little
past noon, Martin had cut off the road and dropped back. He had
returned with the news the man called Crowe had turned back. Now they
stalked him through the night as the renegade met again with his
moredhel employers.

Arutha moved up
silently to look over Jimmy’s shoulder. Again the Prince
observed one of Murmandamus’s Black Slayers. The iron-clad
moredhel spoke. “Did you follow that band?”

“They
trundled up the road to Tyr-Sog, right proper. Hell, I told you they
was nothing. Wasted a whole day tagging after.”

“You will
do as our master orders.”

Jimmy whispered,
“That’s not the same voice. That’s the second
voice.”

Arutha nodded.
The boy had explained the two voices, and they had seen Murmandamus
take control of his servants before. “Good,” the Prince
whispered back.

The moredhel
said, “Now wait for Segersen. You know -”

The Black Slayer
seemed to leap forward, to suddenly be caught by Crowe, who held him
a moment, then dropped him. The startled renegade could only stare in
wide-eyed wonder at the cloth-yard shaft protruding from below the
edge of the creature’s helm. Martin’s arrow had punched
through the Black Slayer’s neck coif of chain mail, killing him
instantly.

Before the other
four moredhel could pull weapons, Martin had a second down, and Baru
was leaping from the woods, his long sword blurring as he struck a
moredhel down. Roald was across the clearing and killed another.
Martin shot the last moredhel while Jimmy and Arutha charged the
renegade, Crowe. He made little attempt to defend himself, being
shocked by the sudden attack and recognizing quickly he was
outnumbered. He seemed confused, especially as he saw Martin and Baru
begin to pull off the Black Slayer’s armour.

Fear was
replaced by shock as he saw Martin cut open the Slayer’s chest
and remove its heart. His eyes widened as he recognized who had taken
the moredhel band. “You, then –“ His eyes searched
each face as they gathered around him, then he studied Arutha’s
face. “You! You’re supposed to be dead!”

Jimmy quickly
stripped him of hidden weapons and searched about his neck. “No
ebon hawk. He’s not one of them.”

A feral light
seemed to kindle in Crowe’s eyes. “Me, one of them? No,
by no means, Your Worships. I’m only carrying messages, sir.
Making a little gold for myself, is all, Your Kindness. You know how
it can be.”

Arutha waved
Jimmy off. “Fetch Locky. I don’t want him out there alone
if there are other Dark Brothers about.” He said to the
prisoner, “What has Segersen to do with Murmandamus?”

“Segersen?
Who’s he?”

Roald stepped
forward and, with a heavy dagger hilt in his gloved fist, struck
Crowe across the face, bloodying his nose, and shattering his cheek.

“Don’t
break his jaw, for mercy’s sake,” said Laurie, “or
he won’t be able to tell us anything.”

Roald gave the
man a kick as he lay writhing on the ground. “Listen, laddie, I
don’t have time to be tender with you. Now, you’d best
answer up, or we’ll be taking you back to the inn in little
pieces.” He stroked the edge of his dagger for emphasis.

“What has
Segersen to do with Murmandamus?” Arutha repeated.

“I don’t
know,” said the man through bloody lips, and he yelled again
when Roald kicked him. “Honestly I don’t. I was only told
to meet him and give him a message.”

“What
message?” asked Laurie.

“The
message is simple. It was only “By the Inclindel Gap.” “

Baru said,
“Inclindel Gap is a narrow way through the mountains, directly
north from here. If Murmandamus has seized it, he can keep it open
long enough for Segersen’s crew to get through.”

“But we
still don’t know why Murmandamus needs a company of engineers,”
observed Laurie.

Roald quipped,
“For whatever you use them for, I would think.”

Arutha said,
“What is there to siege? Tyr-Sog? It’s too easy to
reinforce from Yabon City, and he has to find a way past the
Thunderhell nomads on the other side of the mountains. Ironpass and
Northwarden are too far east of here, and he wouldn’t need
engineers to take on the dwarves or elves. That leaves Highcastle.”

Martin had
finished his bloody work and said, “Perhaps, but it’s the
largest of the Border Baron fortresses.”

Arutha said,
“I’d not bother with siege. It’s designed to
withstand raids. You can swarm it, and there is nothing we’ve
seen of Murmandamus that indicates he’s reluctant to spend
lives. Besides, that would put him in the middle of the High Wold,
with no place to go. No, this makes no sense.”

“Look,”
said the man on the ground, “I’m just a go-between, a
fellow’s paid to do a job. Now, you can’t hold me
responsible for what the Brotherhood’s up to, can you, Your
Kindness?”

Jimmy returned
with Locklear in tow.

Martin said to
Arutha, “I don’t think he knows anything else.”

A dark-
expression crossed Arutha’s face. “He knows who we are.”

Martin nodded.
“He does.”

Suddenly Crowe’s
face drained of colour. “Look, you can rely on me. I’ll
keep my gob shut, Your Highness. You don’t have to give me
anything. Just let me go and I’ll light out of these parts.
Honestly.”

Locklear glanced
about his grim-looking companions, comprehension escaping him.

Arutha noticed
and nodded slightly to Jimmy. The older youth roughly grabbed
Locklear by the upper arm and propelled him away. “What -”
said the younger squire.

A short distance
away, Jimmy halted. “We wait.”

“For
what?” said the boy, confusion apparent on his face.

“For them
to do what they have to do.”

“To do
what?” insisted Locklear.

“To kill
the renegade.”

Locklear looked
sick. Jimmy’s tone became short. “Look, Locky, this is
war and people are killed. And that Crowe is among the least of those
who are going to die.” Locklear couldn’t believe the
harsh expression he was seeing on Jimmy’s face. For over a year
he had seen the rogue, the scoundrel, the charmer, but now he was
seeing someone he had never expected to encounter, the cold, ruthless
veteran of life, a young man who had killed and who would kill again.
“That man must die,” said Jimmy flatly. “He knows
who Arutha is, and do you think for a minute the Prince’s
life’s worth spit if Crowe gets loose?”

Locklear
appeared shaken, his face pale. He slowly closed his eyes. “Couldn’t
we . . .”

“What?”
demanded Jimmy savagely. “Wait for a patrol of militia to pass
so we can hand him over for trial in Tyr-Sog? Pop in to give
testimony? Tie him up for a few months? Look, if it helps, just keep
in mind Crowe is an outlaw and a traitor, and Arutha is dispensing
High Justice. But anyway you look at it, there’s no choice.”

Locklear’s
mind seemed to spin, then a strangled cry came from the clearing and
the boy winced. His confusion seemed to vanish, and he only nodded.
Jimmy placed his hand upon his friend’s shoulder and squeezed
lightly. Suddenly, he knew Locklear would never seem quite so young
again.

They had
returned to the inn and waited, to the delight of the somewhat
perplexed Geoffrey. After three days a stranger appeared who
approached Roald, who had taken to occupying the spot formerly used
by Crowe. The stranger had spoken briefly and then left in a rage, as
Roald had told him the contract between Murmandamus and Segersen was
cancelled. Martin had mentioned to Geoffrey that a famous and wanted
general of mercenaries might be camped in the area, and he was sure
there would be a reward to any who let the local militia know where
to find him. They had left the next day, heading northward.

As they had
ridden out of sight of the inn, Jimmy had remarked, “Geoffrey’s
in for a pleasant surprise.”

Arutha had
asked, “Why?”

“Well,
Crowe never paid for his last two days’ bill, so Geoffrey took
his shield as security against the debt.”

Roald laughed
along with Jimmy. “You mean one of these days he’s going
to look under that covering.”

When everyone
looked confused except Roald, Jimmy said, “It’s gold.”

“That’s
why Crowe had so much trouble lugging it along but never left it
behind,” added Roald.

“And why
you buried everything save what Baru’s using, but brought that
back with you,” said Martin.

“It’s
the payment for Segersen. No one would bother a disinherited fighter
without two coppers to rub together, now would they?” said
Jimmy as everyone laughed. “Seems proper Geoffrey should get
it. Heaven knows, where we’re going, we can’t use it.”

The laughter
died away.

Arutha motioned
a halt.

They had been
moving steadily northward from the inn for a week, twice staying in
Hadati villages where Baru was known. He had been greeted with
respect and honoured, for somehow his killing of Murad had become
known throughout the Hadati highlands. If the hillmen had been
curious about Baru’s companions, they showed no sign. And
Arutha and the others were certain no word of their passage would be
spread.

Now they found
themselves before a narrow trail leading up into the mountains, the
Inclindel Gap. Baru, who rode next to Arutha, told him, “Here
we again enter enemy territory. If Segersen doesn’t appear,
perhaps the moredhel will withdraw their watch upon the place, but it
may be we ride into their arms.”

Arutha only
nodded.

Baru had tied
his hair back behind his head and had wrapped his traditional swords
in his plaid and hidden them in his bedroll. Now he wore Morgan
Crowe’s sword at his side and the renegade’s chain mail
over his tunic. It was as if the Hadati had ceased to exist and
another common mercenary had taken his place. That was their story.
They would be simply another band of renegades flocking to
Murmandamus’s banner, and it was hoped that story would
withstand scrutiny. For days while travelling, they had discussed the
problem of reaching Murmandamus. All had agreed that, even should he
suspect Arutha to be still alive, the last thing Murmandamus would
expect would be for the Prince of Krondor to come enlist in his army.

Without further
conversation they moved out, Martin and Baru taking the lead, Arutha
and Jimmy behind, Laurie and Locklear, then Roald. The experienced
mercenary kept a constant watch to the rear as they rode higher into
the Inclindel Gap.

For two days
they rode upward, until the trail turned to the northeast. It seemed
to follow the rise of the mountains somewhat, though it still ran
along the south face of the mountains. In some strange sense they had
yet to leave the Kingdom, for the peaks about them were where royal
cartographers had chosen to indicate the boundaries between the
Kingdom and the Northlands. Jimmy had no illusions about such things.
They were in hostile territory. Anyone they met was likely to attack
them on sight.

Martin was
waiting at a bend in the road. He had resumed his habit from the trip
to Moraelin of scouting on foot. The terrain was too rocky for the
horses to move swiftly, so he could easily keep ahead of the party.
He signalled, and the others dismounted. Jimmy and Locklear took the
horses and began leading them a short way back down the trail,
turning them in case it was necessary to flee. Though, Jimmy thought,
that would prove a problem, for the trail was so narrow the only
outlet was back where they had started.

The others
reached the Duke, and he held his hand up for silence. In the
distance, they could hear what had caused him to halt the party: a
deep growl, punctuated by barking, and counterpointed by other, less
familiar growling.

They drew
weapons and crept forward. At a point less than ten yards beyond the
turn they saw a meeting point of two trails, one continuing
northeast, the other heading off to the west. A man lay upon the
ground, whether dead or unconscious they could not judge. Over his
still body stood a giant of a dog, resembling a bull mastiff but
twice the size, standing almost waist-high to a man. Around his neck
a leather collar studded with pointed iron spikes gave the impression
of a steel mane, while he bared teeth and growled and barked. Before
him crouched three trolls.

Martin let fly
with a cloth-yard arrow, taking the rearmost troll in the head. The
shaft punched through the thick skull and the creature was dead
without knowing it. The others turned, which proved a fatal mistake
to the troll nearest the dog, for he leaped at it, setting terrible
fangs in the creature’s throat. The third tried to flee when it
saw the five men charging, but Baru was quickest to leap over the
confusion of bodies on the ground and the troll died swiftly.

In a moment the
only sound was that of the dog worrying the dead troll. As the men
approached, the dog released the dead troll and backed away, standing
guard once more over the prone man.