The Call (24 page)

These were hard men with deep eyes. The orders had come as a surprise but they rose quickly and without complaint and took weapons out of hiding. Carts, bags, boxes and rolled up carpets revealed spears, axes and clubs. There was tension in the air but all was nonetheless done efficiently and silently and they arranged in triple file without any bumping or chaos. Then the one in the lead gave a signal and they walked downhill. Towards the harbour.

Katja snapped back into the present.

It has begun!

She got to her feet.

Serdra must know of this! We must... I... what can we do?!

She headed back and initially forgot to be silent. She ground her teeth at her own foolishness and pulled herself together yet again this night.

Maybe I NEED another stabbing!

She prepared when the moon peered out again, and threw herself to the ground. She looked around in search of hostile eyes and then looked to the east. The moonlight reflected off the sea, and the channel was surprisingly visible. Yet she saw no sails.

The moon went back into hiding and Katja kept going. She had caught a glimpse of familiar knolls and soon knelt by the place where they'd split up. She waited a few moments for Serdra or Ronald to address her, but nothing happened.

Are they still sneaking about?

She took a deep breath and released it slowly. It seemed she would have to wait. She wanted no more mistakes tonight. She would have to have discipline and let Serdra come to her as the woman had planned.

She heard rustling from the east. Someone was coming.

“Katja.”

It was Ronald. Katja crept towards him.

“We found Thorkell. He is hurt.”

“Hurt?!”

“Not dangerously,” he added quickly. “I think. Come.”

He led her east. They passed a small cluster of houses where the lack of burning lights did nothing to quell Katja's fears and then to the northeast, into a grassy depression. There they found Serdra and Thorkell. The man sat semi-upright in the slope and breathed carefully, as if in pain.

“The camp is empty!” Katja whispered harshly. “They went down to the harbour!”

“We know,” Serdra said and pointed at Thorkell.

“Oh?” Katja said. “What happened?”

“Riders came from the north,” the man said. His voice was pained, but he didn't seem to be in mortal peril. “They went straight to the manor. I... meant to sneak after them and see if anything special was going on, but before I got all the way the 'workers' headed out.”

“They had weapons,” Katja said. “Hidden among equipment.”

“Yes,” Thorkell said. “I watched them. They boarded ships and sailed out into the channel. I didn't see
which
way, but I suppose it was north.”

“What happened to you?”

“Someone spotted me when the ships were heading out. I don't know who it was or what he was doing alone in the dark. I tackled him before I could give myself away and stabbed him dead. I hid the body as well as I could but someone will find it as soon as it dawns.”

“But happened to you?” Katja insisted.

“He managed to strike back a bit,” the Shade said and pointed to the right side of his chest. Katja didn't see a wound, but touched his shirt carefully and felt blood.

“He cut me with a knife. He didn't get through the ribs, but... this does hobble me considerably.”

“Can you fight?”

He tried to move his right arm. It clearly pained him.

“I
can
fight with the left one,” he sighed. “In an emergency. I don't know how much help I would be.”

It clearly weighed on him. Katja wanted to say something about her own wound, but would he then expect Serdra to fix him as well? Perhaps she should just keep quiet about a treatment available to her but not him.

“So are the riders at the manor now?” she asked.

“Maybe,” the man said. “I heard hoofbeats in the distance just before the mercenaries headed out. They didn't go the same way back, but I don't know exactly where they went or how many they were.”

“What do we do?” Ronald asked with some desperation. “The mercenaries presumably aren't going fishing. If we are to be of any use then... then it's now or never.”

“Yes,” Serdra said. “We must enter the manor. Regardless of dangers. We can do nothing unless we know what they are up to.”

“They must be ready for an attack after what happened in the forest,” Katja said.

“Yes. But they probably don't want to arouse their neighbour's suspicion. Their precautions will probably revolve around silent ambushes rather than loud combat. We can hopefully sneak past whatever they put in our paths.”

“And what if we can't? Do you have some plan for getting in and out of the manor?”

“No. Not yet. We will just have to let circumstances rule our actions.”

“What can the two of us do?” Ronald asked.

“Can you steal horses?” Serdra asked. “At least two of them?”

“I know where we can access horses,” Thorkell said. “It shouldn't be a problem. Unless the owners are in the Brotherhood and were alerted when the riders returned.”

“Move them to the edge of the forest, where we came down. I don't know what steps we will have to take to end this, but I suspect we will have to find the riders.”

“Do you want us to come along?” Thorkell asked, and Katja saw him testing his right arm again.

“We will see. If you find horses for the two of you. If not it's best that you return home and report this.”

“So everything is decided then?” Ronald asked.

“Are there any questions?” Serdra said.

No-one spoke.

“Let us move out,” she said and stood up.

--------------------

They crept upwards side by side. The manor loomed ever more over them in the darkness. Katja couldn't help but think of a storm cloud at night.

Once they were close enough to see the wall around the property they stopped on a slight knoll and hid among bushes.

“Sorcery,” Serdra whispered. “Hidden sorcery.”

Katja looked at her. She herself felt nothing, and her mentor didn't seem to expect an answer. She looked back at the manor.

The wall enclosed a large area. Excessively so, to her mind, given the number of smaller houses around the manor itself. What did they need all that space for?

“We will start by getting over the wall,” Serdra whispered. “Then look about before deciding our next step.”

Katja nodded.

“This takes precision,” the woman added. “
Perfect
precision. I know this night has been difficult for you but now you must take a firm hold of yourself, at least until we get back out. Especially if we are forced to enter the manor. We must seize the first opportunity to enter quietly, for it may be the only one. Do you understand me?”

“Yes. Yes I understand,” Katja answered, but didn't know how she was to comply. Suddenly her training period on Flat Top didn't feel so long after all. She felt like an amateur who didn't know what to do.

“What kind of defences does such an important stronghold of the Brotherhood possess?”

“Sorcery bound into the floor. Into the walls and even the air. Meant to react on command or just the presence of uninvited guests. The number and strength of spells depends on how clever Savaren's men are at concealing such things. But you can be sure something will be in there; dangerous but hidden from ordinary senses. Be on your guard.”

Sorcery. Oof.

Suddenly Serdra pressed lightly down on Katja head. She obeyed and lay down into cover, and a few moments later she heard footsteps approach from the east.

When the group was at the gate someone widened the slit on their lantern and the area lit up more. Katja made a slight adjustment to her position and looked north, towards the gate.

The group seemed to consist of nine men. All of them armed.

The one in the lead, a young man with dark hair and a severe face, walked to the gate and spoke a few words. Katja didn't understand them, but she sensed the power within them. It released something in the gate and they opened it without difficulty and walked through in single file.

They were closing it behind them when they and Katja heard more approaching from the south east. The men waited, and soon a smaller group appeared. This one had no lantern and they were considerably better armed.

The young man received them.

“What do you say?”

“We found nothing,” one of the new arrivals said. “And no-one knows where Olaf is. Something has happened to him.”

“I understand. They are here then. Did you wake everyone?”

“Everyone we could wake without rousing the plebs.”

“That won't suffice. Wake everyone.”

“That may be risky.”

“Risky?” the young man said with stiff restraint. “I don't intend to lose the town while it is in my care. Everything will be in order once my father returns from the Nest, regardless of risks incurred. Go back downhill. We will prepare for battle here.”

The leader of the small group seemed to disagree but did not make an issue of it.

“As you wish, young master.”

They turned and walked back towards the town, and the other group vanished from sight. Katja listened to the footsteps of both groups gradually fade away. The final sound was the creaking of hinges somewhere beyond the wall. Then all was silent.

“The nest?” Katja whispered.

“That tells me nothing,” Serdra whispered back. “It's probably some refuge. But come, before the smaller group returns.”

They carefully rose out of hiding and descended the knoll.

Serdra ran the short distance to the wall, pushed her foot up against it and threw herself upward. She grabbed the top and nimbly pulled herself up without stopping. She planted her feet on the wall, turned around and knelt and motioned Katja forward. Katja could not quite emulate the jump but Serdra grasped her hand and yanked her up. The woman steadied her for a moment and then jumped down and landed silently in the yard. Then she received Katja and helped her land softly.

Katja wanted to fill up with worry. She wanted to think about how enormously dangerous this situation was and how little it would take for everything to go wrong. But she couldn't. She didn't allow herself the indulgence.

Precision. Concentration.

Serdra stood still and listened for a little bit. As nothing happened she snuck to the nearest building. It seemed to be servant's quarters. Serdra stood beneath one of the windows and listened with her eyes closed. Then she glanced at Katja and shook her head.

She went to the next house, a stable. She lingered there briefly as well, but then lost interest.

Next she headed to a storehouse and had Katja follow. They stopped by the corner. Beyond it the manor loomed over everything else in the area. Not a single light could be seen there.

“There is much in that house,” Serdra said in a distant voice. “Much evil. Strong. And hidden.”

She pointed at the storehouse.

“But there is something here as well,” she whispered. “Open the doors. I will stand guard.”

The doors weren't in clear sight from the manor, but Katja could well imagine that once opened they would be visible from one of the windows and they were almost directly across from the servant's quarters. She was greatly relieved when the creaking of the hinges turned out to be minor, but still held her breath and didn't relax until the crack was wide enough for them to squeeze through.

Serdra was the first one in and Katja was right behind her and closed the doors.

“Here,” the woman said and lifted a carpet off the floor. Underneath it was a trapdoor. Serdra lifted it slowly and placed it carefully on the floor. Katja glimpsed stairs in the darkness and knew they would both be going down regardless of how she felt about it.

It turned out to be a surprisingly long descent. This was no ordinary storage cellar. This was a sanctuary far from all distractions. She couldn't see her hands when they finally touched down on a wooden floor, but she felt around and her fingertips found furniture and candlesticks. A heavy scent of wax hung in the air, along with something else. Something unnatural.

“See what you can see,” Serdra whispered. “I will guard the stairs.”

Katja nodded a moment before remembering that the woman of course couldn't see her.

She knelt and tried to pick up on something. It didn't take long. There was plenty.

She saw him. Tovar Savaren, the master of Mooncape and the Brotherhood coven of Baldur's Coast. He spent many evenings here, sometimes alone and sometimes in the company of his closest men. They went over ancient papers, some of them half-burnt or little more than torn snippets. They compared old stories to more recent tales and what written accounts they possessed. They wrote, threw papers into a fire and wrote again, spent long whiles coming up with minor changes and wrote and wrote and wrote.