A Skillful Warrior (SoulNecklace Stories Book 2) (12 page)

Jed came out of the pub with a glass of brown liquid. ‘Get this down you.’

Will sipped, choked. ‘What the hell is that?’

‘Whisky. Look like you could do with it.’

Will doubted it would help, but he drank some, nonetheless. Jed meant to be kind. It tasted like liquid fire and settled in his stomach like a flame.

Holding a foaming tankard, Jed sat beside him. ‘Strange. Those fisherfolk said they knew the men that took the Princess. Yet now, when I ask, that barman shakes his head and says he knows naught.’ Frowning, Jed sipped his beer. ‘Something strange about this place. Look, Will, don’t you fret. We’ll find her. A ship that large must have taken on provisions somewhere. Sure to be a chandlery that will know something. We’ll start asking questions first thing in the morning.’

Will took another drop of the firewater. He felt dead inside. Everything was broken. All he’d been looking forward to, now vanished.

Jed shook his head. ‘Mind, I can’t understand it. What happened to the Enchantress? How could she be taken so unawares like, her, with all her magic? And,’ he added, ‘You know what really puzzles me?’ He turned to Will. ‘How the hell did those men get the Princess down those cliffs? I mean, it took us the better part of a day and we weren’t carrying no captive. And that ship. The speed of her. No boat leaves a beach that fast. T’aint natural. How you going, lad?’

Will shrugged. Not much to say, really. He supposed he was grateful for Jed, for his presence, his rough attempts at sympathy.

He wasn’t so grateful on the morrow when he tried to rouse. His head ached and his mouth was dry, as if someone had stuffed straw in it.

‘Awake, Will?’ Jed ducked under the low door.

‘Where are we?’

‘At the inn. Thought it best to stay here, until we find a little more of that ship.’

Will nodded, then wished he hadn’t. His head ached something awful. Jed handed him a glass full of some liquid. Warily, Will sniffed at it.

‘Try it,’ Jed’s mouth twisted in amusement. ‘’Tis only a hangover cure.’

‘What’s in it?’ asked Will suspiciously.

‘Milk, raw egg, some spices and such. Drink it back. Then we’ll be up and doing.’

Will sipped cautiously.

Jed sighed. ‘Not like that. Come now, knock it down.’

‘Where did you learn this?’

‘My old sergeant. He was a terror, all right, but he knew a thing or two about curing a hangover.’

What did it matter if Jed poisoned him with some foul drink? Right now, Will didn’t see much to live for. He drank the liquid quickly, trying not to think of the taste — dirty feet, rotten cheese.

‘Good lad.’ Jed picked up the glass. ‘Come on down when you’re ready.’

Will stood slowly, trying to ignore the giddiness in his head and the sickness in his gut. The floor of the small room was uneven, so he felt even more unsteady when he took a step. A small double-sashed window set deep into the white plasterwork overlooked the harbor. He had to stoop to look through it. Outside, the weather was still fair, the tide out, ships resting on mud. Fishermen sat on low benches, mending nets. Don’t they get sick of fixing those nets?

He poured water from the jug into the washbowl and blinked at his reflection in the little mirror. He needed a shave. Where was Dana? Was she well? Was she thinking of him at this moment? Inexplicably, he felt cheered by this thought, and ducked his head into the basin, wetting his hair. He was still toweling it dry when Jed came back into the room.

‘How you feeling?’

Will thought about that for a moment. ‘Better,’ he said, slowly. ‘Thank you.’

Jed smiled briefly, but Will could see the concern in his eyes. ‘You owe me one. That whisky was damn expensive. And I didn’t sleep a wink, thanks to your snoring.’

There were two beds in the small chamber. Will’s, closer to the window, looked like a giant had twisted in it all night. The other, neatly made with a pink counterpane, appeared to have been unslept in.

‘You slept in that one?’

‘Not paying for two rooms. Been up for a while now. I’ve ordered breakfast.’

Breakfast. Will closed his eyes. ‘I’m not hungry.’

‘Course you are.’ Jed clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Come on, lad, she’s been taken captive, not you. You’re not doing either of you any favors by not eating.’

The serving maid, a sturdy girl with red cheeks and strong arms, cleared the breakfast dishes away. ‘Travelers, are you? You’ll be wanting to see the tower. All visitors to Towyn do.’

‘Towyn? That the name of this village?’ said Jed.

The girl looked surprised. ‘Of course.’

‘We’re more interested in that ship,’ said Will.

‘The one that appeared yesterday? The Evanses carried a girl on board, folk say. She your lass?’

Will nodded.

‘Ah, the world is a harsh place, and men do evil things, so they do.’

‘Evanses?’ asked Jed. ‘Who be they, now?’

The girl froze, stared wide-eyed at him. Then, shaking her head, she turned away.

Will coughed. ‘Ship that size, must be provisioned somewhere. Where’s the nearest chandlery?’

The girl looked relieved at the turn of question. ‘That would be south, at Abervale. So it’s off to Aber with you, is it? Will you be wanting a packed lunch?’

Will looked at Jed. The older man had been right; there was something not right here. Who were these Evanses? What had they done, that folk were so afraid of them? Jed nodded at him.
Go
.

‘I’ll get the horses ready,’ Will pushed back his stool. Dana was traveling further and further away, while all he did was sit and eat. The girl watched him leave. Her eyes were troubled and a little sad.

The weather held fine, clear and sunny, and the sky was clear all the way to the horizon. Perfect sailing weather, thought Will bitterly.

‘The girl mentioned a tower. Let’s go up there,’ said Jed. ‘Need a view of the land hereabouts.’

They rode to the hilltop. The tower was naught but a ruin; grey stones rising from a green field. Sheep grazed amongst the walls and larks trilled, rising towards the sky in song.

‘Wonder what happened here?’ Jed stared at the broken stone.

‘More wars, no doubt.’

If one was in the mood for gazing at scenery, there was a fine view from this castle mound. Far behind Will, in a haze of blue, were the high moorlands and the great jagged cliffs they’d come down so recently, when everything had seemed so fair and wonderful.

Will turned, not wanting to think of the speed at which his world had shifted. Southwards, the coast undulated gently; folding into beaches and yellow bluffs. Birds, dark specks in the sky, circled over the fields. And far in the distance, set into the coastline, stood a watchtower. Grim and grey, connected with the mainland by a thin arched bridge, it seemed to merge with the breakers. Waves fell and broke against its edge, streaking it with foam. In a storm, it would be near to swamped by the surf.

Beyond the watchtower a muddy river twisted slowly through the fields to the sea. Roofs clustered against the north bank, and the air was hazy with chimney smoke.

‘There’s the town,’ Jed pointed. ‘What did she call it? Abervale? A goodly size, ain’t it? I’ll warrant there’s a chandlery there, right enough.’

‘It’s a fair ride.’

‘Do you have any other thoughts?’

Will shrugged. Not really, although he wondered about that tower, set into the sea. What was its purpose? Then he stared. The birds that had been wheeling in a dark cloud had altered their flight. Now, they were diving down onto the field, as if something had caught their eye. ‘What’s that?’

‘Probably a farmer plowing.’

‘Farmers don’t set seed in mid-summer. This is the growing time.’ Once, bandits had waylaid Will and Jed. After the battle crows had come in a cloud, just like this. ‘I tell you, Jed, something’s not right.’

‘You want to check it out?’

Will nodded.

Jed looked at him for a moment and then turned his horse down the hill. ‘No great hardship to pass that way.’

They trotted across the pastures, towards the cloud of birds. With harsh cries, their dark shapes wheeled and swooped above just one field.

‘Crows,’ Jed said, in disgust.

They neared the hedgerow and peered over the gate. The meadow was empty save for four man-sized sacks. The crows were arguing over the contents. Will stared at the sacks. They seem mighty lumpy. What’s in them? Then suddenly, like a man spotting prey behind a brush, he realized just what he was looking at.

Not sacks at all. That’s a head. That’s a foot. There, that thing I thought was a bag — it’s a cloak. They’re corpses! How many are there? The crows squawked and scrabbled over the heads, pecking at the dead men’s hair.

‘Get off!’ Jed leant forward on his horse, shortening the reins, digging in his heels.

They jumped the low gate at a gallop, the horses landing easily on the soft turf. The crows flung themselves into the air in a black cloud as Jed and Will approached.

Will leapt from his horse. Four men lay on their sides, cloaks tangled in their legs. They had on dark jerkins and hose, unmarked with badge or design, but each man wore a silver ring on his left hand. Each ring was of the same distinctive design; an interweaving line, like an unending knot. They bore no wounds that Will could see, nothing to explain their death. All four had snow-white hair.

He pushed one over with his foot. The man flopped like a puppet and rolled onto his back. The crows hadn’t taken his eyes; they gazed up at the sky, unblinking.

‘Seen these folk before,’ said Jed, ‘but where?’

The corpse’s skin was pale with the waxy sheen of death. What would he have looked like when he was alive? Unbidden, Will saw an image of this man astride a horse, his cloak blowing in the breeze.

He stood up. ‘These are the men that captured Dana.’

‘The ones with the Princess? Lad, you’re dreaming.’

Will shook his head vigorously. ‘No I’m not.’ He turned the others over, one by one, showing their faces to the sky. ‘Look.’

‘I’m not saying you’re wrong, but ...’

Will stared at the men, committing their features to memory. ‘I’m sure.’

‘But, how could that be? They got onto the ship. We
watched
them, remember?’

Will stared back at the cliffs. Hard to believe that just two days ago, hundreds of men had fallen from that height to their death. Even the magicians had fallen. Then he remembered a tale from the Stronghold. Puppets, and a white sheet and shadows on a screen. In that story, a magician had borrowed a man’s face and spent the night with his unsuspecting wife. At the time, he’d thought the story was just a fantasy, a fairytale for children. But now he wondered. Possibly there was truth inside the tale. Often seemed that way, with magic workers.

‘
Magicians
fell from that cliff,’ said Will. ‘Jed, don’t you remember the stories about them? How they could take on the face of others? Well, suppose, there were more at the top of that cliff. And suppose some of them didn’t fall?’

‘That’s impossible!’

‘Is it?’ said Will. ‘Are you sure? They’re powerful. Dana told me that the Enchantress was hard-pressed to defeat just one. Think about it. There might have been more, hiding in the forest. What if they had a chance to plan, and get away?’ He was right; he knew he was. The speed of the ship’s leaving, the way Dana lay so quiet. And worse still, the absence of N’tombe. He felt sick inside.

Jed stared at the dead man, his face speculative, then nodded. ‘Well, that might explain the question of how they got down the cliff so fast.’ He stopped, swallowed hard. ‘Will, what of the Enchantress? Could they, might they have killed her?’

Will shook his head. No. No. How could anyone destroy someone so powerful? But inside, he wondered.

Jed dragged a corpse to the shade of the hedge.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Don’t have spades, do we? So can’t bury them. But we can cover them with branches like, so the birds don’t get to them.’

Will watched him for a moment, then bent to help. It seemed best to do something, keep the mourning at bay. N’tombe would be well. She must be — she was so strong, so vital. Perhaps these four men lay dead through purely natural causes. Maybe they’d caught an illness, or eaten something poisonous. There might be other explanations, one without magic.

‘Suppose you’re right, Will? I’m not saying you are, mind, but it does make a certain kind of sense.’ Jed rubbed his nose. ‘If it was magicians, my guess is they wanted to look like those men because they’re local. They could replenish the boats easily, with no questions asked.’

‘Perhaps,’ Will remembered the sudden stillness of the serving maid. ‘Or maybe it’s something particular about those four.’

Abervale was a larger version of Towyn. Cobbled streets sloped down towards the waterfront and tall grey-stoned houses overshadowed the pavement, funneling the wind. The place stank of fish.

Jed and Will seemed to occasion no little interest as they trotted gently down the hill. Will found this surprising, for ships must often visit this town, and ships meant strangers. Yet as the two men passed windows in the tall houses were flung open and folk called to their neighbors across the gulf of the street.

Jed looked up. ‘Maybe these people don’t get out much.’

‘Shouldn’t we find a town clerk or somesuch? Tell them about the men we found?’

Jed quirked a grin at a matron hanging out of the window to watch the exciting strangers below. She vanished back into the window like a startled rabbit.

‘Ah,’ he said, regretfully.

‘Well?’

‘I dunno, lad. We say anything about corpses in a field, we’ll stir this place up like an anthill. Might be hard to get away with that kind of disturbance.’

Jed was right, but still, it didn’t sit easy with Will to leave those men to be pecked by crows or eaten by foxes. Not respectful. But the men were dead, and he wasn’t, and he needed to find out about the ship that had Dana. And then, maybe, maybe, they could charter a vessel (if Jed had sufficient coin), or perhaps they could steal one. And then they could give chase.

Assuming, of course, there were no sudden storms to interrupt their voyage. And assuming also they could find their way on the sea. Will had little faith in Jed as a navigator. On their last voyage they’d only found the Kingdom because the Enchantress had led them there.