Scourge of the Betrayer (27 page)

Mulldoos moved close and lowered his voice. “You look like you just found a bloody finger in your soup. I had to guess, Cap, I’d have to say you’re disappointed there’s no trap.”

Braylar sighed, eyes still closed. “Oh, there’s a trap, Mulldoos. I just haven’t figured out the mechanism yet.”

“The trap’s ours. We’re the trap.”

Braylar didn’t reply, or look convinced. Mulldoos looked at Hewspear and stepped away again, shaking his head slightly.

Gurdinn approached. “What did your scouts report, Syldoon?”

Braylar said nothing, turning slightly left and right. Gurdinn cleared his throat, but Braylar ignored him, shaking the chains slightly, as if to wake the weapon.

“Your scouts, Syldoon? Do we proceed, or is there cause for concern?”

Braylar opened his eyes and faced Gurdinn. “You’ll address me as captain, or ‘sir’, or ‘my lord’, as is your fashion.”

Gurdinn rolled his lower jaw around like a cow chewing cud, and seemed to be measuring several uncivil and potentially dangerous responses.

Braylar smiled. “I shouldn’t need to remind you, although I will because I enjoy your black looks so, but your baron saw fit to place me in command of this mission, and therefore, in command of you and your men. If you fail again to address me as my rank affords, then I have grave doubts as to whether you’ll obey my orders once the time comes to spill blood. It would pain me greatly to report to Baron Brune that this mission was jeopardized, and subsequently, his life left in danger, due to insubordination on the part of his representative, but that’s exactly what I’ll do if I’m not certain of your obedience.”

Gurdinn had evil in his eyes, and all of the men looked on anxiously to see how this contest would be resolved, but he finally replied, “Very well. Can I assume then that we’re proceeding as planned? Captain.”

The last was offered very grudgingly, but Braylar let the point go as he released the chains. “We will proceed, yes.”

“You must forgive me… Captain, but it sounds like you have reservations.”

Braylar kept his voice level as he replied, “My scouts are exceptional, and I trust their judgment above all others. I’ve risked my life countless times on their intelligence, and I have no reason to believe they missed any signs in the last two days. However, High Priest Turncloak agreed to this location, so I’m immediately suspicious. Not that he’ll attempt still more treachery, because that’s a foregone inevitability, but I’m gravely surprised that my scouts didn’t encounter anything to confirm that suspicion.”

“He believes the deed is done,” Gurdinn said. “It’s possible he arrives intending only to pay you.”

Braylar laughed. “It’s possible I’ll bed a thousand virgins tonight, and about as likely. He arranged to have his natural lord assassinated. Do you believe he’s suddenly overcome by a desire to honor his agreements with the alleged assassins? No, he’ll do anything to ensure anyone with knowledge of his complicity lives as short a time as possible.”

“Perhaps he won’t show. Have you considered that?”

“I consider everything. But Henlester or an underpriest will show, and he’ll attempt to kill us. Outside his inner circle, we’re the only direct link to his complicity. He’ll need to kill us and wash his hands of all blood as quickly as possible. Whatever else he planned or is planning, he’ll be here today.”

Gurdinn smiled, though it was thin as the edge of a blade. “Sounds like you have a good deal of experience covering up evidence. Captain.”

Braylar nodded. “More than you know, Brunesman. I’m complicit in a good many unsavory things.”

“If it’s to happen at all, maybe the ambush will take place on the road back to the city.”

“Perhaps.”

The sky was the color of ingot iron, and the air was warm and heavy with moisture. It was a miracle we weren’t already drenched in rain. Far off beyond the hills, heat lightning flashed briefly, but there was no thunder to be heard.

We waited. And waited. And waited some more. Finally, Braylar had enough. He turned and faced Hewspear. “Is the pennon in place?”

Hewspear lifted his long slashing spear, the priest’s signal pennon attached to the blade. “It is, Captain.”

Mulldoos pulled his falchion out of the scabbard a few inches and slid it back in, then checked that his buckler slid free of the belt easily as well. He pulled his helmet on as Hewspear did the same. “About time.”

Braylar rolled his shoulders, his left hand never straying far from Bloodsounder. “If the timorous priests won’t show themselves, we’ll have to present ourselves and demonstrate our good intentions.” He faced everyone else. “We’re going down. The underpriest and his underlings should step out of the trees shortly. They—”

Gurdinn broke in. “How do you know they’re here? Your men have reported no arrivals.”

“I assure you, the underpriest is here, and will reveal himself shortly.” Braylar turned to Lloi. “If Vendurro reports sight of anyone besides the underpriest’s party, blow your horn and we withdraw with speed.”

Gurdinn laughed at that and Braylar turned his gaze back to him. “If all goes as planned, Brunesman, then lead your men out the moment you see the sign that our little ruse is over. Tomner, you as well.”

Gurdinn said, “Oh, most certainly, my lord. Should the elusive traitors suddenly materialize, my men will be ready.” He didn’t bother to disguise his disdain for the smaller man in front of him. “And what will the sign be?”

“One of the priest’s men will be lying in his blood, gurgling his last breath. I should hope that will be clear enough for you, yes? If for some reason you’re still confused, consult Lloi—she’ll be more than happy to explain the particulars again.”

With that, Braylar mounted his horse, as did Hewspear and Mulldoos. They rode out of the tree line and down the hill toward the ruins, leaning far back in the saddle to compensate for the incline. They made a good show of looking around for the underpriest and his men, as if they’d just arrived. Hewspear kept his spear with the pennon straight and high for all to see as the ground slowly flattened out and they neared the first broken wall and dismounted. They tethered their horses to a scraggly bush and waited.

The heat lightning continued to flash, closer now. As the moments dragged on, I began to suspect we were truly alone in this broken and forbidding place that men and gods saw fit to abandon. But then the underpriest and three men stepped out of the woods on the far side of the temple, leading their horses on foot, reins in hand.

I looked over at Lloi and the soldiers. Lloi remained impassive, and Gurdinn squinted his eyes to see more clearly, but his men all shared the same excitement now that their quarry was finally close at hand. The other two Syldoon appeared calm.

“That’s an underpriest of Truth,” Gurdinn said. “The bastard was right. But that doesn’t make the priest a traitor.”

Lloi’s eyes followed Braylar. “Proof is coming right quick, don’t you worry none.”

Below, Hewspear gestured with his free hand and Braylar and Mulldoos looked in the direction he indicated. Mulldoos strapped a round shield to his left forearm and then the three of them stepped over a low spot in the shattered wall and approached the center of the ruins.

The underpriest and his three men left their horses at the outer wall on the opposite side of the temple and made their way towards the center as well. The underpriest was wearing a long green tunic of his order, but he also had the plum-colored small cape and hood that marked him as something more than an initiate, and the hood was pulled back, revealing a mostly bald head. Besides the leather satchel on his side, he didn’t appear to be carrying anything. The other three men were clearly guards, and were wearing long green surcoats that, judging from the sheen and movement, appeared to be silk. Two of them were wearing nasal helms and carried halberds, but the third had on a greathelm that completely obscured his face, and he had a large shield strapped to his back, and a sword and dagger on his waist.

The two groups wound their way around collapsed columns and through several arches and the remains of walls, making their way through the debris slowly towards the open square at the middle, as apparently arranged. The wall closest to the river was largely intact, and clearly rose high enough to indicate that the temple had once had at least three stories. The walls with the arched doorways didn’t rise near as high, but they too were largely intact on the ground floor, so that both groups disappeared and reappeared as they closed in on the selected area.

The groups stopped about twenty paces apart.

I looked around again, wondering if everyone’s bellies were churning as much as mine. Gurdinn’s men were hardened and hand-chosen, but I assumed they were accustomed to patrolling the palace and keeping crowds at bay, not warfare. Still, there were only four men in the center of the temple who might draw blade against them, so perhaps the odds emboldened them or heated their blood. I didn’t ask and couldn’t say.

Turning back to the temple, I saw the underpriest pointing at the pennon, obviously realizing it was a poor disguise for a spear. Even from this distance, the shrug of Hewspear’s shoulders was clear and he casually indicated the underpriest’s guards with a wave of his hand.

The underpriest appeared to be quite angry. Hewspear shrugged again and waited him out. I glanced in the direction of the woods the other Syldoon were still hiding in, dreading one of them suddenly appearing to warn us more hostile troops had been sighted. But aside from the delicate sound of another pine cone dropping to the needled ground, and the breathing of the men around men, there was only stillness.

Whatever debate the two groups in the ruins had been having seemed to have concluded as they stepped closer, stopping six or seven paces apart now. A few more words were exchanged between Hewspear and the underpriest, the pennon rippling in the wind above them.

At last, both the underpriest and Hewspear stepped forward and the underpriest pulled the strap of the satchel over his head and threw it on the ground between them. It seemed he’d planned no trap at all, and was honoring his part of the dark bargain he’d made.

Hewspear laid the haft of the spear on his shoulder, took another step, and began to lean down as if to take up the satchel. But then he straightened immediately, his spear flying forward in two hands, thrusting into the guard to the right of the underpriest.

Hewspear had moved so quickly and abruptly, the guard hadn’t had time to dodge and the pennoned point of his spear struck him square in the belly. He doubled over and reached for the spear, but I didn’t see the expected splash of blood. Hewspear pulled his spear back and chopped down at the man’s shoulder. Even from this distance, I heard bone snap, but while the surcoat was torn open, there was still no blood—the torn surcoat revealed the mail hidden on the inside. Bloodied or not, the man dropped to the ground, the severed pennon fluttering and falling alongside him.

Mulldoos turned his round shield so the edge faced another halberdier, and I saw a blur of movement. The halberdier stumbled backwards, a bolt protruding from his chest, and fell to the stones. I didn’t understand what had happened until I saw Mulldoos discarding his shield—there was crossbow attached to the inside, which made for a one-shot surprise attack.

Odds suddenly reversed, the other two guards pulled the priest backwards and the three of them were retreating towards their horses, the guard with the greathelm now armed with sword and shield. Mulldoos and Braylar had their weapons and bucklers in hand now, and they stepped up alongside Hewspear, the three of them advancing forward.

Lloi shouted, “Now, Horntoad, send your men now! Tomner, go!”

I wondered at the urgency, as Braylar and his retinue had the advantage, but then I saw what she’d seen. Two lines of men were emerging from the ground closest to the towering, complete wall on the far side of the temple. I was sure my eyes deceived me—it seemed as if they materialized out of the very ground. And then I realized they had—they’d been waiting in two crypts covered in brush and grass mats, and now they were formed up, dirty and no doubt stiff, but a fighting force of twelve men, advancing at a trot, two hundred paces off. This was the trap Braylar had sensed but not seen.

The captain of the guards pushed the underpriest back with the edge of his shield and yelled something at him. The underpriest hesitated, head turning towards the river, no doubt looking for the arrival of his rescuers.

Braylar, Mulldoos, and Hewspear advanced and the captain shouted at the priest again, pushing him behind him as he kept walking backwards, the other guard at his side. The three Syldoon fanned out, but then Mulldoos glanced to his left and saw two guards scrambling over a low wall, followed by several more, moving quickly now they’d sighted the underpriest and his attackers.

Mulldoos must have called out a warning, as Braylar and Hewspear both looked there as well. Braylar took another step towards the underpriest but Mulldoos tried to move in front of him, shouting as he did. Braylar glanced at the approaching guards, back to the underpriest, gauging the distance and the little time he had, and then he began to move backwards towards the archway they’d entered from. With twelve men advancing on them and the rest of his reinforcements halfway up the hill, the three Syldoon couldn’t possibly hold out—they turned and ran for the archway.

The underpriest stepped towards the satchel lying between puddles, but the captain of guards slid his sword back in the scabbard and grabbed him by the shoulder, pointing towards their horses. The underpriest rounded on him and screamed in unpriestly fashion, but the captain gestured towards the Brunesmen and Syldoon coming down the hill as fast as they were able. The underpriest still seemed reluctant to leave, probably confident in their numbers, but even if he might not have moved as quickly as his protector liked, he began slowly walking in the direction of the horses. That must have been good enough for his captain, who didn’t touch or coerce him again.

It seemed they were sure to reach the horses and mount up, but then Vendurro came crashing out of the woods, riding hard for the three tethered horses on the perimeter of the temple. The halberdier and his captain ran forward, sword again in the captain’s hand, the underpriest jogging behind them. Vendurro reached the horses first and ripped their reins free from the branches.