Shadow of a Dark Queen (44 page)

Calis shook his head. “How could you betray your vow?”

“I never did,” said Rian, with what was the closest to a show of emotion Erik had seen so far. He stared Calis in the eyes and repeated, “I never did. We were a regular company, soldiers for life, sworn in oath as brothers. We voted, and those who voted to stay and fight were on the losing side. But we swore an oath to each other long before we took the Raj's gold, and damn me if I'd leave a brother for being wrong-headed.”

“Then why did you seek service with us?”

“Because Bilbari's dead and our brotherhood is broken.” He looked genuinely sad. “If you knew Bilbari, you also knew he had his own way of taking care of his men. Some of us were with him ten, fifteen years, Captain. He was nobody's father, but he was everyone's eldest brother. And he'd kill the first man who harmed one of his own. I've been selling my sword since I was fifteen years old, and it's the only family I've known. But it's a dead family now. After Khaipur, no man will have us to service, and that means being a bandit or starving.”

“What will you do?” said Calis.

“I'd like to head out tonight and get a march on this news heading south. Maybe catch a boat out of Maharta if I can't find a billet there, head up coast to the City of the Serpent River or down to Chatisthan, someplace nobody knows me. I'll find another company who'll hire me, or a merchant needing a bodyguard.” He looked to the north for a moment with a thoughtful expression. “But with what's up there, I don't know that any of us can find a peaceful life anywhere. I've never seen war like this before. You saw the smoke, Captain?”

Calis nodded.

“They fired the city when they were through. I don't mean a fire here or there, but the entire city. We saw from a ridge to the south before we ran for our lives, but we saw.” His voice lowered as if he was afraid someone might overhear. “From one end to the other the fire burned, and the smoke rose so high it flattened and spread through the clouds like a big tent. Soot rained from the sky for days. Twenty, thirty thousand soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder before the gates, shouting and laughing, chanting
and singing as they killed those who wouldn't serve their cause. And I saw her.”

“Who?” said Calis with sudden interest.

“The Emerald Queen, some call her. In the distance. Couldn't see her face, but I saw a company of lizards on those damn big horses of theirs, and a big wagon, bigger'n anything I've ever seen before, and on the wagon was this big golden throne, and this woman sat there, in a long robe. You could see the green flicker of the emeralds at her throat and wrists, and she had a crown with emeralds. And the lizards all went wild, hissing and chanting, and even some of the men, those who'd been with them long enough, they all bowed when she came by.”

“You've been helpful,” said Calis. “Take a fresh horse and whatever food you need and slip out at the guard change at sundown.” Rian saluted and left.

Erik turned to leave and Calis said, “Keep what you heard to yourself.”

Erik nodded. Then he said, “Captain, the horses?”

Calis shook his head. “Very well. Do what you can, but nothing that diminishes our ability to care for our own animals. No medicines you can't replace . . . easily replace.”

Erik was about to say thank you, but Calis turned and reentered the hut, leaving him alone. After a moment he headed back to the horses; there was a great deal of work to do, and some of Zila's companions would be leaving on foot in two days if he didn't work miracles.

“Erik!”

Erik looked up to see Embrisa standing nearby, just outside the corral where he was examining a
horse's leg, and he said, “Hello.”

Shyly she said, “Can you have supper tonight?”

Erik smiled. The girl had asked him twice before, so he could meet her father and mother—though he already had in the market and knew them by sight, she wanted a formal meeting. It was becoming clear she had decided that Erik should court her, and he was both flattered and disturbed by the attention.

She would be of marrying age in another two years in Ravensburg, but that was Ravensburg. The people here were much poorer, and children meant hands that could work at three years of age, out in the field gleaning grain that fell from the stalks as the crops were harvested, helping with the heavy work by six or seven years. A boy was a man at twelve, and a father at fifteen.

He crossed to the rails, and climbed over, stepping down next to her. “Come here,” he said quietly. She stepped closer and he looked down and put his hand on her shoulder. He kept his voice low as he said, “I like you very much. You're as nice a girl as I've met, but I'm going to be leaving soon.”

“You could stay,” she said in a rush. “You're only a mercenary, and you can leave the company. A smith would be a man of importance here, and you'd quickly become a leader.”

Erik was suddenly aware that besides being pretty, she was also a cunning girl who had sized up the most likely man in the company to become rich—at least by village standards—should he remain and ply a trade.

“Isn't there a boy here—” he began.

“No,” she said, half in anger, half in embarrassment. “Most of them are already married or too
young. The girls outnumber them because of the wars.”

Erik nodded. His own company, though composed of condemned men, numbered more than one former farmer's son who had left home to seek his fortune as a soldier or bandit.

Suddenly Roo was standing beside them, and Erik knew he had overheard the entire conversation, though he pretended not to, by saying, “Embrisa! I didn't see you there. How are you?”

“Fine,” she said, lowering her eyes; her sullen tone showed she wasn't.

As if nothing was amiss, Roo said, “Did you talk to Henrik today?”

Erik knew who Roo spoke of, a young man from a village not too far from Ravensburg who served with another squad, but one whom he had barely exchanged a dozen words with over the course of his travels. Henrik was a dull man with little to say.

“No, not today,” answered Erik, wondering what Roo was leading up to.

Lowering his voice, Roo said, “He says he might come back here after we're done. Says he likes it and might just settle down”—he looked at Embrisa—“find a wife, and set up a mill.”

Embrisa's eyes widened. “He's a miller?”

“His father was one, or so he says.”

Embrisa said, “Well, I must go. Sorry you can't come to supper, Erik.”

After the girl was gone, Erik said, “Thanks.”

“I was over there and heard what was going on,” said Roo with a grin. “I figure a miller is the only one likely to make more money here than a smith, so I thought I'd give your young friend another target.”

Erik said, “Is Henrik really thinking of staying, or are you just making trouble?”

“Well, I don't know how much trouble, given she's a saucy lass with an ample bosom and a firm young bottom. If she nets our friend the miller's son, who knows? It could be true love, and he could indeed be thinking of staying by tomorrow.”

Erik shook his head. “Or hiding from her father.”

“Maybe, but as her father's downriver with his wife and their sons, leaving Embrisa here alone, I suspect she was laying a snare for you.” He glanced at where the girl had gone. “Though I think it might have been a pleasant one for a night.”

“The girl's not yet fifteen years old, Roo,” said Erik.

“Around here, that's old enough for motherhood,” answered Roo. “Anyway, it won't do the lass much good getting either of you in her bed, 'cause the Captain's not likely to let any of us wander off.”

“True,” agreed Erik.

“And besides, we're leaving in two days.”

“What?”

“Riders from the south came in about ten minutes ago with messages. Some more soldiers are joining us in two days' time, and we all ride north.”

“Well, I'd better get to work,” said Erik. “I've got to sort out this horse business with Zila's men. I think we'll have to leave about a dozen horses here.”

“The villagers will love that,” said Roo with a grin. “The ones they can't use for plowing they'll eat.”

Erik nodded, knowing he wasn't really joking. “Come on, give me a hand.”

Roo grumbled, but he followed Erik back into the corral to cut out the lame horses.

Erik looked toward the southern gate expectantly. Zila and his renegades had left the night before, as agreed, and now the new company from the south that was to join them was coming in ahead of schedule. De Loungville had already passed word: if the southern riders showed up before noon, they were off as soon as the company was mustered, all save a dozen men who would hold this fortress against the need of a southern retreat. Now the work made sense to Erik. A dozen well-armed soldiers could hold this village against up to three times that number of bandits, and if the villagers joined in the fight, it would require a small army to take it
.

Already, without the order being given, men were hurrying to get ready to move out. Then Erik caught sight of a familiar figure among those riding in the gate. “Greylock!” Erik exclaimed.

Owen Greylock turned. Gripping Erik's arm in a gesture of greeting, he then pulled him to his chest with a slap on the back. Releasing the young man, he said, “You look well.”

“We thought we spied that grey banner of yours on the deck of the
Ranger
one day in passage, but we didn't see you come ashore.”

Pulling loose a scarf that had been around his face to cut the road dust, the former Swordmaster of Darkmoor said, “That's because I didn't. I sailed on with a couple of others to the City of the Serpent River to make some arrangements, then on to Maharta to take care of some other matters. After the
Ranger
left for Krondor, it was ride like hell for a week getting up to Lanada, then another back-breaker getting here.”

Soldiers in various dress were riding in the south gate. “Who are they?” asked Erik dubiously.

“Don't let the ragged cut of their outfits fool you. Those are some of the best soldiers from around these parts, handpicked by our friend Praji over the last few years.” Lowering his voice, he said, “We need to blend in.”

“What are you doing here?” asked Erik. “Last I saw of you was before I was arrested.”

“Long story. Let me report to Calis, and after we've watered our mounts, share a cup of wine with me and I'll tell you all.”

“It's going to have to be at camp tonight,” answered Erik. “We leave in an hour. You've only got time to pick some fresh mounts and grab a bite before we're on our way.”

Greylock groaned. “That bastard isn't giving a man's spine a hope of recovery, is he?”

“I fear not. Come on, I've got some fine horses and I'll pick out one for you with a soft back.”

Greylock laughed and said, “Lead on.”

C
alis signaled
a halt.

Erik and his companions, first company in line behind Calis and de Loungville, reined in and passed word back for the halt. Owen Greylock was riding with Calis, and Erik hadn't found the opportunity to talk to him.

Two scouts who had ridden ahead at first light were galloping down the road. One of them, a clansman whose name was unknown to Erik, said, “A merchant caravan's been taken an hour ahead. They tried to stand and fight, but there were no more than six guards for six wagons.”

De Loungville said, “The merchant was traveling light.”

The other scout, a man named Durany, said, “They didn't even have time to stop the wagons. Looks like the raiders swooped down out of the trees and shot them full of arrows before they knew what was happening. The murderers stripped everyone down to the skin, and took their armor and weapons and everything else they could carry.”

Calis asked. “How many?”

The clansman said, “Twenty or twenty-five, maybe more.”

Erik said, “Where are the bandits?”

Ignoring the source of the question, Calis nodded, and Durany said, “They headed back into the trees. We followed their tracks about a hour's ride into the woods, where they turned south. They've been shadowing the road since.” He looked around. “We never overtook them. They may be looping behind us already.”

“What about the village?” asked de Loungville.

Calis said, “Our twelve can hold the village if they get advance warning. But these raiders are acting more like a mercenary company on a rampage than bandits. If they come up on the village undetected . . .” Turning to de Loungville, he said, “Bobby, take six men and head back to the village to warn them. That's the most we can do. Then catch up as soon as you can.”

De Loungville nodded. “You come along with me,” he said to Erik and as they rode past, he motioned for Erik's five companions to fall in. They pulled out of line, and soon the seven of them were riding back to the village of Weanat.

Smoke told them they were too late even before they could see the fort. As they crested a rise in the road, they saw the charred ruins of the outer wall and the still-unfinished tower now blazing like a banner.

Without waiting for orders, Erik spurred his horse forward to a canter and got as close to the fire as he could. He called out a few names of villagers he had come to know, and after a moment a man emerged from the woods.

“Tarmil!” shouted Erik. “What happened?”

The villager was covered in soot and looked tired but otherwise unhurt. “Those men who were supposed to leave yesterday morning came back last night with another band of men, asking to buy provisions. Your soldiers said no, and they got into an argument over giving their word and leaving and things I didn't follow.” He waved up the road. “While they were shouting at each other at the south gate, this other group climbed over the north wall and opened the north gate.