Shades of the Past: The Morcyth Saga Book Six (8 page)

Jorry and Uther were sent ahead last night to
scout the town. They were supposed to have met them on the road
this morning but have yet to make an appearance.

“Do you think anything happened to them?”
Jiron asks.

“Hope not,” replies Illan. He thought he
would be feeling anger and rage at this point, but all that goes
through his mind are the memories of his Alaina. They first met
when he was but a lad and had just entered service with Madoc’s
army. He was on leave and had journeyed to Seastar for no better
reason than that he had never been there.

Riding through town, he saw a flash of auburn
hair and a friendly smile and was smitten forevermore. Their son
arrived three years after their wedding, the only child to have
survived. There were two other pregnancies after that but one had
been stillborn and the last, a girl, had died before reaching a
year.

Memories of their time together wash over him
as he passes through the first of the buildings. People upon the
street see him riding into town and stop in their tracks. Several
call to him but he ignores everyone, intent on his memories.

He leads the group through town and at first
James thought he was heading for the magistrate’s office. But
instead, leads them through town to the north and into the hills.
Not far out of town an estate appears ahead of them, a grand estate
with a large stone fence surrounding it. The manor house in the
distance stands three stories tall and the road leading through the
front gate to the house is cobblestone.

“Is this where you live?” Miko asks once it’s
become clear he means to go there.

Illan nods, “My family has lived here for six
generations.”

Half a mile from the gates of the estate, two
men emerge from the surrounding trees. James sees it’s Jorry and
Uther.

“Well?” Illan asks once they’ve come
near.

“Two guards stand at the gates,” Uther tells
him.

“Not sure how many are inside but we’ve seen
four men enter and two leave,” Jorry explains.

”Grab your horses,” Illan says and kicks his
horse to move toward the gate. They hurry into the trees and
reemerge shortly riding their horses, then fall in line with the
others.

He rides without hesitation and is shortly
approaching the gate. The two men standing guard move to stand
before the gate and one steps forward. Holding his hand up
indicating for them to stop, he says, “No one is allowed to
enter.”

“On whose authority?” Illan asks, bringing
his horse to a stop, scant inches from the man.

“By authority of Lord Faetherton,” he
replies.

Illan glares down at the man and asks, “Is
this Faetherton here?”

“
Lord
Faetherton is
currently in town,” the man explains.

Illan glances to Jiron next to him and says,
“Open the gate for me.”

“Sure,” Jiron replies. Hoping down from his
horse, he moves toward the gate.

The man steps in front of him and actually
puts his hand on Jiron’s chest. “I said, no one is allowed to
enter.”

Jiron pauses only a moment before his takes
the man’s wrist and twists it painfully. With his other hand, he
grabs the man by the back of the neck and throws him out of his
way. He resumes his progress toward the gate and the other guard
draws his sword, moving to bar his way.

“I wouldn’t do that,” a woman’s voice says in
the stillness. The guard glances to the others and sees Aleya with
arrow knocked and aimed straight at him.

Jiron comes to him and takes his sword.

“Scar, Shorty,” Illan says, “tie them up
please.” They immediately dismount and remove rope from their
saddle bags.

Outnumbered, the guards remain docile while
they’re being tied. “How many more of you are there?” Illan
asks.

One guard remains stoically silent but the
other says, “Five.”

“Shut up!” the other guard orders.

“What should we do with them?” James
asks.

Illan glances at him and says, “No reason to
kill them. It’s not with them that I have a quarrel.” He glances at
the two men sitting on the ground and adds, “At least not yet.” To
Scar and Shorty he says, “You two stay here and keep an eye on
them. Let us know if anyone comes.”

“You got it,” Scar assures him.

Jiron pulls the bar and draws the gate open.
He pushes it so it swings around and slams into the inner wall
where it remains. Returning to his horse, he joins the others as
they move toward the manor house.

The inner grounds have been meticulously
kept. Off to one side is a flowering garden of magnificent beauty.
Stone paths work their way through the blossoms and two benches can
be seen where people could take their ease while enjoying the
beauty surrounding them. The sight of the gardens brings sadness to
Illan. His Alaina had loved them and spent many sunny days among
them. A smile comes to him when he remembers his son as a boy and
how he once played in her flowers, ruining many young plants. Her
anger at him was fierce but he never really learned to stay out of
her plants.

As they move down the cobblestone road, the
front door opens and a man emerges. Dressed finely with an air of
command, he watches them approach. “How dare you forcibly enter
Lord Faetherton’s estate?” From windows on the second and third
floor, three men have crossbows aimed at them.

“This is my house and I have no need to
explain myself to you,” Illan tells the man as he looks down at him
from the back of his horse. “Tell those men with the crossbows to
lower their weapons or we’ll kill you all, right here, right
now.”

The man stands there a moment assessing the
situation. That was definitely not the response he was expecting.
Since coming here to Seastar, he’s heard rumors of this Illan for
this is who must be before him. Some of the rumors he didn’t give
much credence to. It only takes him a moment to decide he’s
woefully outnumbered and hollers up to the others, “Lower your
weapons.”

“And tell them to leave my house,” he
says.

“Everyone, out!” the man yells. The three men
covering them with crossbows from above leave the windows and come
join the man in front of Illan.

“Where’s the other guy?” James asks.

“There is no other,” he tells them.

“We were told to expect five here,” Illan
explains. “So where is he?”

“I assure you,” the man says, his nervousness
rising, “there is no one else here.”

“Jiron, take Yern and Potbelly and search the
house,” he says.

Dismounting, Jiron says “You got it.” With
Yern and Potbelly beside him, he makes his way to the front
door.

Raising his voice loudly, the man says, “I
assure you, there is no one inside this house!”

Jiron pushes him out of the way and enters
through the front door, the other two right behind.

“Miko, tie them up,” Illan says.

Getting down from his horse, Miko removes a
coil of rope and begins securing the hands and feet of the four
men.

“Lord Faetherton will not take too kindly to
this intrusion,” the man warns Illan as Miko ties his hands behind
his back.

“No, I suppose not,” he replies. “And as far
as Faetherton is concerned, where might I find him?” When the man
fails to respond, he says, “No matter. I’ll find him in due
course.”

Suddenly, from the back of the house, the
sound of a horse reaches them just before a man appears riding hard
toward the gate. “Don’t let him leave!” orders Illan.

Aleya and Errin turn in the saddle and draw
back their arrows. After taking aim, they let their arrows fly but
the rider dodges and the arrows fly wide. A whine begins to be
heard as several slingers twirl their slings before letting their
slugs fly toward the fleeing man. One manages to strike him in the
side and almost knocks him off his horse but he somehow keeps his
balance.

“Shorty!” Jiron yells as he races from the
back of the house.

At the gate, Shorty and Scar have been
observing the events transpiring by the manor house. When they see
the man racing toward them, Scar moves to close the gate while
Shorty takes position in the road. Shorty removes a throwing knife
and throws, catching the horse in the chest.

The horse stumbles and crashes to the ground,
throwing the man several feet where he lands hard. Shorty runs over
with another of his knives in hand but slows when he sees the man
is not moving. As he draws close, he finds that the man broke his
neck when he struck the ground.

Turning to the others at the manor house, he
yells, “He’s dead!”

“Get him and his horse out of the road and
behind the wall,” Illan hollers back to him.

Shorty nods and then he and Scar begin the
gruesome job of dragging the dead man and horse to the wall.

“Who was that?” Illan asks, turning back to
the man before him.

“Nobody,” he replies.

Illan eyes him a moment and then dismounts.
To Caleb he says, “Go tell Shorty and Scar to continue keeping
watch and to shut the gate.” When he runs off to do as bid, Illan
turns to Nerrin and Moyil. “Go down there and bring the two guards
back here with the others.”

“Yes, sir,” Nerrin says and then they begin
running down to the gate.

“Delia, take our prisoners around back and
keep an eye on them,” he tells her. “Don’t want them seen should
anyone approach.”

“Right,” she replies and then gets her
slingers to escort the prisoners to the rear of the house.

Illan gives James a glance then enters the
house with James, Jiron and Miko right behind.

The front room looks just like any other
lady’s drawing room with couches where visitors can rest and so
forth. He makes his way deeper into the house, passing a side
corridor and several doors before coming to what looks to have at
one time been a strong wooden door. Axes or something had chopped
away at it until a hole was wide enough for a man to enter.

“What’s in there?” Jiron asks.

“Some of the more important items my family
holds dear,” he explains as he stops before it. Reaching into his
pocket, he produces a key and inserts it into the lock. Turning it,
he unlocks the door and swings the broken door open.

“Shouldn’t we go get your son and his family
out of jail?” questions Miko.

“All in good time,” he replies. “They’ve been
there for months, another hour won’t do them any more harm.”
Entering through the door, he takes the stairs down to the
basement.

Signs of looting are everywhere. Shelves
smashed, boxes and chests opened if not outright destroyed. “They
took everything!” exclaims James.

Illan turns to him and asks, “Can we have
some light?” An orb springs to life on the palm of James’ hand,
flooding the basement with light. He glances to the others and
says, “They didn’t take everything.”

He moves to the far wall where two chests
stand smashed open. “Give me a hand,” he says and the others move
to help him slide the chests away from the wall. Once they’ve been
moved back four or five feet, he leaves the chest where it sits and
returns to the wall. He simultaneously presses four bricks and a
soft ‘click’ can be heard.

Another brick looks to have been damaged at
one time, a jagged hole, barely an inch in diameter sits just off
center. Illan inserts his finger into the hole and then pulls. The
wall swings open to reveal another room on the far side.

Indicating the smashed chests and boxes in
the outer room he says, “In case of thieves, we kept some of our
money and treasures out here, those we were willing to lose. The
important items lay in this room.”

Several chests sit undisturbed against one
wall. Many weapons of master craftsmanship are displayed upon the
walls. Other items, including statuettes and figurines are situated
upon various shelves lining the room.

“Magnificent,” James says as he comes into
the room.

“Why did we come in here?” Jiron asks. “I
mean, we have plenty of coins and gems.”

“That’s not why we’re here,” Illan says as he
crosses through the room and comes to the far wall. He again
removes a key and slides it in a crack between two bricks and turns
it. Pulling on the key, he opens yet another secret door.

When the door opens, James hears Jiron gasp
when he sees what lies on the other side. Looking within, he finds
a breast plate, a helm, a shield, a sword, and a banner, all
bearing the same insignia. A black bird of prey in flight poised to
strike, upon a red heraldic field. Behind the hawk are two crossed
swords.

“You’re the Black Hawk?” Jiron asks with a
trace of awe in his voice.

Nodding, Illan says, “I was.” He begins
removing his old sword belt from around his waist and casts it
aside. Stepping within the room, he takes the sword belt with the
Black Hawk insignia and straps it on.

“Black Hawk?” questions James.

“The Black Hawk was a ruthless leader during
the War of Barrowman’s Field,” explains Jiron. Glancing to Illan,
he says in a subdued voice, “Said to have committed all manner of
atrocities upon the enemy.”

“I heard that the Black Hawk once put an
entire village to the sword as an example,” Miko says.

Illan continues putting on his accouterments
bearing his insignia without commenting.

“What supposedly happened to this Black
Hawk?” questions James all the while watching Illan.

“None knew for sure,” replies Jiron. “Some
thought he had been killed while others claim he went to a far land
in search of more blood.”

James looks to Illan as he puts on the last
item, the helm. “Illan?” he asks.

Turning back toward the others, he stands
there in all his glory. From head to toe he looks like a hero out
of the sagas. “It’s true I’m sorry to say,” he says. “When the war
was over, I put Black Hawk away and became Illan. I had enough
blood and death to last a lifetime. We did what needed to be done
to stop the Empire, though I’m not proud of it.”