Messenger’s Legacy (9 page)

Ragen argued, of course. An endless debate that lasted the two days it took them to prepare for the journey, and right up to the city gates. But the outcome had never really been in doubt. Elissa was resolute, and more, Ragen found he
wanted
her to come. Wanted her to see the wide world that had kept them apart for so many years. Perhaps then she would understand.

But though he wanted Elissa with him, he wanted her safe. He hired a team of guards to dissuade bandits, armed and armoured with no expense spared. He sent word ahead to Euchor’s waystations, reserving rooms and supplies. Derek was all too happy to join them, adding another familiar face to the group.

The first night they took refuge at the inn at Harden’s Grove. The Grove had a low wardwall to hold out land demons, though wind demons could still swoop into its streets at night. The inn was well warded, but there were occasional cracks and flashes of light as demons tested the forbidding.

Elissa jumped with each flare, and Ragen stroked the spear Arlen had warded for him. It would bite coreling flesh, Arlen had promised, and Ragen knew better than to doubt the man. Part of him longed to put it to use, to kill a demon after a lifetime of hiding behind the wards. A greater part, wiser, hoped he would never have need to put the weapon to the test.

He groaned as he climbed back into the saddle the second day, tugging at his armour.

‘Links pinching?’ Derek asked.

‘More like my gut squeezing,’ Ragen said. ‘Gained a pound or two since I last wore it.’

Elissa laughed. ‘Ay, just one or two. Like me when I was pregnant.’

‘Night, I hope it’s not that bad,’ Ragen said, pulling back smoothly to avoid Elissa’s playful smack.

Derek laughed, patting his own slender belly. ‘Easy to keep the weight off when you eat road fare most nights.’

‘Ay,’ Ragen said, ‘but you slow down when the years mount, Derek. Fire doesn’t burn as hot, but we keep piling the logs.’

It was more than three weeks’ travel from Miln to Bogton, even by the fastest route. A part of Ragen had been eager for the journey, eager to escape the confines of Miln. But Ragen found he had not missed many aspects of the road. His thighs screamed, for when had he last spent an entire day in the saddle? Even at the waystations, pallets were hard and foods were chosen more for how long they would last rather than the desires of the palate.

They would have good meals and beds in Riverbridge, and Angiers, but then there would be nights on the open road before they reached the Hollow, and even more before they reached Bogton.

That second day he got one of the first sunburns of his life. It was only then he noticed how white his hands had become. Messenger Ragen’s hands and face had been tanned a deep brown, immune to the sun.

But by the third day, Ragen found his legs again. They climbed a hill for vantage, and he leaned back in the saddle, stretching as the duchy spread out before them.

‘This, I’ve missed,’ he said.

Elissa gasped at the sight. ‘It’s beautiful.’

Ragen reached out, taking her hand. ‘It’s only the beginning.’

‘They’ll be rising soon,’ Ragen said. ‘Time to go inside.’

‘Inside’ was a canvas tent the men had raised. They were south of Angiers now, on the road to the Hollow.

‘No,’ Elissa said. ‘We’re no safer in the tent than out here. I’ve spent the better part of the last decade learning wardcraft. It’s time I saw a demon.’

Ragen could see the tension in her as she paced back and forth, waiting. Her hand were curled fists at her sides. ‘It won’t be just one. Wood demons rise in numbers near the road, and it won’t take them long to find us.’

Elissa stopped pacing. She took a deep breath, scanning the roadside woods as the sun slipped below the horizon and twilight took the world.

She did not have to wait long. The accursed mist began to seep from the ground, thickening and coalescing like a sculptor slapping clay until a recognizable shape began to form.

It was a wood demon, long-limbed with brown armour, knobbed and rough like the bark of a tree. Its talons could be broken sticks on the blunt side, but Ragen knew from experience the other side was sharp and hooked, equally suited for climbing trees and disembowelling prey.

Its snout split open, revealing hundreds of yellow teeth like etching awls, but Elissa met the coreling’s eyes, and he swelled with pride. He’d known seasoned Messengers who couldn’t abide to meet a demon’s stare.

But when the demon sprang, covering the distance between them in an instant and slashing its talons at Elissa, she shrieked and Ragen’s heart skipped like a novice on his first overnight.

The blow was stopped cold by the wardnet with a boom and flare that spiderwebbed from the point of impact like a bolt of lightning.

Elissa watched as the wardnet rebounded the energy, throwing the demon off its feet. She gave a sniff, then went into the tent. The coreling, infuriated by the dismissal, hurled itself at the net again and again, but to no avail.

It went on for some time. The first demon had drawn others, and soon a dozen of them lurked nearby, testing the net in turns.

Creator only knew how, but Elissa managed to fall asleep. Ragen remembered a time when he had been able to do the same, but the memory had given him nightmares since retirement, and now he lay awake, flinching at every blow.

He drifted off a bit before dawn as the demons quieted, only to be woken a short time later by the sounds of the guards breaking camp. Every bit of him ached as he climbed back into the saddle.

They made it to the Hollow not long after, and had two nights of inns before being back on the road. They asked after Arlen – the Hollowers happy to gossip about the Deliverer – but the news was unchanged. Many believed he would return, but none had seen him in the weeks since the battle.

After the sleepless nights on the road, Ragen was tempted to stay an extra day or two, perhaps pay a call on Count Thamos, but the Tender’s words stuck in his mind.

Briar is alone in the naked night
.

They pressed on.

They were nearing the fork to Bogton when a Messenger came thundering up the road. His horse was lathered with sweat, and there was a wild look in his eyes.

The man pulled up short at the sight of them, taking a long pull of his waterskin. Ragen didn’t know him. He’d been too long out of the business.

‘In the name of the Dockmasters, I need a fresh mount,’ the man said. ‘And you need to turn around.’

His tone set off alarms, but Ragen kept his voice calm. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Krasians,’ the man said. ‘They’ve taken Docktown. There’s a host of refugees fleeing this way, and no telling if the desert rats are in pursuit.’

‘Creator,’ Ragen said. ‘How far?’

The Messenger shrugged. ‘Two days. Maybe three. If the
Sharum
are coming this way, believe me when I say you don’t want to be here when they arrive.’

Ragen nodded, turning to Derek. ‘Give the man a fresh horse. The rest of you, turn around and head back to the Hollow. I’ll meet you there.’

‘And where are you going?’ Elissa demanded.

‘You know where I’m going,’ Ragen said. ‘Someone needs to warn the Boggers.’

‘You’re not going alone,’ Elissa said.

‘No arguments, Elissa,’ Ragen snapped. ‘I’m not letting you come.’

‘Try and stop me.’ Elissa yanked the reins, moving her horse out of reach before he could grab them. She was a skilled rider, and there was little hope of catching her if she did not allow it.

‘We don’t have time for this,’ Ragen said.

‘Ay, so stop being stubborn and let’s go,’ Elissa said.

Ragen scowled, but he turned to the guards. ‘Robbert, Natan, give the Messenger your horses so he can alternate. Meet us in Bogton. The rest of you are with us.’ He kicked his horse, and they set off for the town at a gallop.

Seventhday services were just ending as they approached the Holy House in Bogton. The faithful were spilling from the chapel doors, congregating in the yard to eat and drink and enjoy the sun on the warm spring afternoon.

‘Find the Speaker and give them the news,’ Ragen told Derek as they rode up to the hitching post. ‘Last time I was in Bogton it was a woman named Marta, but that was a decade ago. Take the men with you, and keep things quiet until the Speaker has a moment to think. These people need to evacuate, but panic won’t help anyone.’

‘Me?’ Derek asked. ‘Shouldn’t you …’

‘I’m not in the Messenger’s Guild any more, Derek,’ Ragen said. ‘It’s not my place, and I have other concerns if I’m going to find Briar before the town’s overrun.’

Derek pursed his lips, but he nodded, tying his horse and signalling the men to follow as he went into the crowd in search of the Speaker.

Ragen saw Tender Heath at the chapel doors, leaning on a crutch as he shook hands and traded smiles with the exiting faithful. His belly had doubled in size since Ragen had seen him last, but he looked healthy still. His hair more dark than grey, his eyes full of life.

Those eyes widened at the sight of Ragen, and the Tender broke off from a grey couple he had been speaking to, turning to greet him. ‘Ragen!’ He opened his arms. ‘Thank the Creator you’ve come.’

‘How could I not?’ Ragen said after a crushing hug. He half turned, gesturing to Elissa. ‘My wife, Mother Elissa.’ He said nothing of the coming Krasians. The Tender would hear of it soon enough, and Ragen meant to be out looking for Briar by then.

Heath bowed as far as his crutch would allow. ‘You honour our tiny village with your visit, Lady.’

‘Nonsense,’ Elissa said. ‘The honour is mine.’

‘Our sod roofs and mud streets may not impress as the fabled cobble streets of Miln,’ Heath said, ‘but there are good folk here.’

‘If that were true, we wouldn’t have needed to come all this way,’ Ragen said. ‘What good folk leave a boy not yet sixteen to wander the naked night?’

‘Ignorant, frightened ones,’ Heath said. ‘I’m not defending it, but since the Krasians took Fort Rizon, the Boggers have grown distrustful of outsiders.’

‘I don’t remember them being any better before,’ Ragen noted. ‘And it’s only going to get worse.’

‘Eh?’ the Tender asked.

‘Never mind,’ Ragen said. ‘Are you positive it was Briar you saw?’

‘Creator my witness,’ Heath said, using the crutch to step out of the shade of the doorway and into the open sun. ‘He’s been stealing the Seventhday Offering off and on for years.’

‘Years?’ Ragen felt a lump of anger welling in his throat. ‘Years?! And you write to me now?’

‘Peace, Messenger,’ Heath said, holding up a hand. ‘I wasn’t going to write all the way to Miln just to tell you my Offering was going missing. You might have come all this way and discovered it was squirrels.’

Elissa laid her hand over Ragen’s and he realized he was clenching it into a fist. He relaxed, breathing deeply.

‘Forgive my husband,’ Elissa said. ‘He has thought of nothing but Briar’s safety these past weeks, and is impatient to begin the search. Please go on.’

‘There is nothing to forgive.’ Heath drew a ward in the air at Ragen. ‘Those were words of love for Briar, and will weigh as such when the Creator judges your heart.’

Ragen forced himself to be patient. He had never been religious.

‘Been trying to catch the thief for years,’ Heath went on. ‘Put bells on every door and window, slept on the altar, everything I could think of. But sooner or later I nodded off or turned my back an instant, and the next thing I knew the Offering was gone.’

Heath held up a finger in triumph. ‘But then it hit me. I put a bell inside the tray cover. I was hiding in the vestibule, and when I heard the ring I —’ he clapped his hands loudly ‘— pounced! Caught him right in the act. He was filthy, and older, but it was undoubtedly Briar Damaj.’

‘How is that possible?’ Ragen asked. ‘A boy of six surviving a decade in the naked night?’

Heath spread his hands. ‘I prayed for a miracle. Perhaps the Creator had one to spare for the poor boy.’

‘I seen him, too.’ The three of them turned to see the speaker. She was perhaps sixteen summers, still a girl by Milnese terms, but a woman grown out in the hamlets. She was familiar, but Ragen couldn’t place her.