Messenger’s Legacy (13 page)

‘They were after us but their captain blew a horn and called them back,’ Derek said. ‘Seemed more interested in plunder and the Holy House than killing or taking prisoners.’

‘The Holy House?’ Elissa asked.

‘Krasians are fanatics,’ Ragen said. ‘What they do with the townsfolk will depend on the mood of their Kai, but Tenders are heretics – an affront to Everam. They’ll claim the Holy House for the coming
dama
, and kill Heath, if they haven’t already.’

‘Creator,’ Elissa said.

‘We have to go,’ Derek said again. ‘Now.’

Ragen nodded. There was nothing else they could do. ‘Let’s be quick about it. Last thing we want is another night in the ripping bog.’

He turned to Briar. ‘You’ll need to come with us. It’s not safe here.’

But the boy was gone.

Briar’s heart thudded in his chest as he raced through the bog. He saw villagers fleeing through the bog, and could guess well enough where they would gather. The
Sharum
would have to give up their horses to follow. Even their scouts had avoided the bog.

None of them noticed his passing, too concerned with themselves. All the Boggers knew the mire, but none so well as Briar. There were infinite places to seek cover while moving at speed.

There were horses and men in the Holy House yard as Briar scaled the wall and dropped among the grave markers.
Sharum
warriors watching with hard eyes as Boggers, eyes down, piled plunder to one side of the yard – food and livestock, mostly.

There was a crash from inside the house, and two
Sharum
came out, carrying the Offering table. This they hurled into a pile with other broken symbols of the Creator. They seemed intent to gut the place, save for the barrels of Heath’s ale. These had been carefully set aside and tapped, warriors drinking heavily as they supervised the beaten Boggers surrendering their possessions.

One of the
Sharum
whipped his spear into the back of Aric Bogger. ‘Hurry up,
chin
, or you’ll go on the fire, as well!’

The other
Sharum
laughed. It had been many years since Briar last heard the language of his father, but he understood enough of their words to fill him with dread.

Not waiting to be noticed, Briar darted through the graveyard to the Holy House wall, climbing quickly to the roof. There was a Krasian in the horn tower, spear and shield leaning against the rail as he held a slender tube to his eye, looking out over the town.

The Watcher did not see or hear Briar as he slipped over the rail behind him, but the smells that hid and protected him at night in the bog did the opposite here. The warrior sniffed, turning just in time to catch the butt of his own spear between the eyes.

The seeing tube fell with a crack, but the warrior rolled, controlling his fall. Before he could recover himself, Briar hit him again. He swung the spear like a club, beating the man about the head until he fell still.

Briar froze, listening, but it seemed none had heard them. He took off the stained and reeking rags he wore, putting on the
Sharum’s
blacks before creeping down the steps into the Holy House.

He wanted to pull up the veil to hide his face, but his father’s voice came to him, recounting stories of fabled
Sharum
.

No warrior hides his face in the day.

He left the veil down, simply tilting his face towards the wall as a warrior stumbled past carrying an ornately carved chair. The man barely gave Briar a glance, nodding and grunting as he went about his business.

There were others, but after years of hiding from the Tender as he made for the Offering, Briar knew the halls of the Holy House as well as he knew the briar patch. He moved unseen, searching until a cry of pain led him to the vestry.

Peeking into the room, Briar saw Tender Heath tied to a chair as two
Sharum
stood over him. Both wore black, but one had a white veil about his neck, the other a red. Kai and Drillmaster. The leaders.

Heath’s face was swollen, streaked with sweat and blood. His head lolled to the side, eyes closed, panting. His leg was still in a cast from his fall in the bog.

The Drillmaster wiped blood from his fist on the Tender’s robe. ‘Do we take him to the
dama
?’

The Kai shook his head. ‘He knows nothing. Kill him, and we will stake his body in the yard as a lesson to the
chin
.’

The Drillmaster nodded, producing a curved knife, but Briar was already moving. Before the man could take two steps towards the Tender, Briar drove his stolen spear into his back.

The other warrior whirled with a shout, but Briar reached into his robe, clutching a fistful of hogroot powder and hurling it into the man’s face. The powder would not affect a human the way it did corelings, but Briar knew from experience how the tiny particles could irritate the eyes.

As the
Sharum
clawed at his face, Briar ducked behind his shield, rushing forwards and knocking him into the wall. He groaned and pushed back, so Briar took a quick step back, then drove forwards again. He broke the press again, cocking back and hitting the Kai in the throat with the edge of his shield. The warrior dropped to his knees, gasping, and Briar took the heavy shield in both hands, bringing it down on the back of his head.

The Kai dropped to the floor and Briar snatched up the knife, cutting the Tender free.

‘Who?’ Heath asked. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and he had to turn his head for a good look. ‘Briar?’

Briar nodded. ‘Need to get to the bog. Others hiding there. Krasians won’t follow.’

Tender Heath allowed himself to be hauled to his feet. Briar gave him one of the warrior’s spears to use as a crutch as they made for the Holy House’s back entrance.

‘What of the demons?’ the Tender asked. ‘How will we survive when night falls?’

Briar smiled. ‘Cories are easy to hide from.’

‘Look! The Tender!’ a woman cried.

Ragen looked up, seeing Tender Heath stumbling into camp. His face was bruised and puffy and he leaned heavily on Briar. The boy was clad in Krasian black, but he had discarded the turban and his young, filthy face was unmistakable.

To Ragen.

‘And one of them corespawned desert rats!’ Masen Bales cried. He and his remaining brother raised their heavy peat spades, freshly inscribed by Elissa with Arlen’s fighting wards.

‘He’s not one of them!’ Heath cried, holding out an arm and stepping in front of Briar as several Boggers, led by Masen, moved in. ‘This is Briar Damaj! He rescued me from the Holy House!’

‘Move aside, Tender,’ Masen said. ‘Everyone knows those mudskins were spies for the invasion.’

‘They know it because you’ve been telling it to everyone who stands still more than a minute,’ Heath said. ‘Without a lick of evidence, I might add.’

Ragen shoved through the press to stand with them. ‘Briar had nothing to do with the invasion, Masen. He was with us when it happened. He only left when he heard Heath was taken.’

‘Then why’s he dressed like them?’ someone in the crowd demanded, the question echoed by others.

Briar was taut, ready to fight or flee. Ragen expected Masen would quickly regret it if he charged, but there were too many Boggers for them to fight, even as Derek, Elissa, and his remaining men joined them.

‘Stole clothes,’ Briar rasped. ‘To sneak.’

Masen turned and raised his voice to address the crowd. ‘Don’t be fooled by the Mudboy’s lies! He and his paved the way for this. This is the Creator’s punishment for accepting that heathen Relan!’

‘What nonsense!’ Heath cried.

‘Nonsense, is it?’ Masen demanded. ‘Whole town went to the Core when that desert rat showed up. And now we got their kind running wild through town doing Creator knows what!’

There were nods and shouts of agreement from the crowd. Ragen tightened his grip on his spear as Masen pointed the sharp edge of his peat spade at Briar.

‘Now you folks get out of the way,’ he said, ‘and let us skin the mud off that little traitor.’ The men in the crowd tensed, readying to close in.

‘What in the Creator’s name is the matter with all of you.’ a high voice shouted, cutting through the din. All eyes turned to Tami Bales, striding between her father and Briar.

Masen balled a fist. ‘Girl, you get …’

Tami ignored him, addressing the Boggers instead. ‘You should be ashamed of yourselves! The Damajes never did a corespawned thing but right by this town, and all we gave them was spit. Now you’ll turn on the Messenger who’s to guide us to safety, just for a taste of desert blood?’

Masen’s scowl only deepened, but the other townsfolk were shifting and looking at their feet now, unsure. He reached out to grip her by the hair, but she stepped back smoothly, delivering a resounding slap to his face.

‘Night, Da,’ Tami said. ‘What would Mum say if she saw you acting like this?’

Masen stood dumbfounded, and as his passion died, the other men took the cue and backed away. Soon it was just the Bales brothers standing alone before Briar, Ragen and his men, and their enthusiasm evaporated with their support.

‘Ent going anywhere with that Messenger,’ Masen said at last. ‘Bogton’s my home. Ent leaving it to the desert rats.’ None of the Boggers looked ready to lift their weapons again, but there were murmurs of agreement from many.

‘You don’t need to, Masen,’ Heath said loudly, though his voice was dry and hoarse. ‘Shepherd Alin of Lakton’s been putting a plan in place since Rizon was taken. There’s a monastery by the lakeshore with strong walls and a rocky bluff on three sides. The Tenders who’ve survived the raids will be leading their flocks there. Briar and I are going there, to join the resistance.’

He looked out at the Boggers. ‘Families will reunite there, and book passage to Lakton, where the desert dwellers cannot reach. But it is a hard road through the wetland. It may be safer and easier to go with the Messenger. It’s a decision each of you must make on your own.’

The Boggers made it quickly, their decision unanimous. They would make for the monastery.

Tami went with her father and uncles as they turned and rejoined the others, but glanced back at Briar as she did. The smile she flashed seemed to strike the boy as hard as the slap she gave her father.

He’ll never come to Miln with us now,
Ragen thought, but he found he was smiling, too.

He looked at Elissa, who nodded her assent, and turned to Heath. ‘I know the monastery. Been more than twenty years, but I can find it again. We’ll see you there, and then take Messenger Ways north to avoid the Krasians.’

Ragen looked at Briar. ‘The Laktonians will need Messengers in the coming years, Briar. One who can move through the bogs at night, pass for Krasian, and understand the tongue could mean the difference to the resistance.’

‘Father … Messaged with you?’ The words still fought with his tongue, but they were getting clearer.

‘He did,’ Ragen said. ‘Learned the craft quickly, and could have been great, if he hadn’t fallen in love with your mother.’ He laid a hand on Briar’s shoulder. ‘But you, Briar asu Relan, will be even better.’