The Hekamon (17 page)

"Who's there?" The voice came form above.
Decarius froze, before slowly raising his head.

The armorer's shout for help had been neither loud, nor
prolonged, but it had been enough. Almost directly above the east
gate, and through a gap in the bailey wall, was a silhouette. The
shape was unmistakable, it was a Demedelite guard.

Decarius remained still. He was in shade and beneath the
branches of some trees, if there were no more noises, the guard
might lose interest. Just then, the guard disappeared from the gap and
Decarius could hear footsteps. Might he be leaving already?

So absorbed was he on the activity of the guard, that
he had lost focus on the old man, who suddenly made an attempt break
his grasp. Decarius countered, yet the man freed a hand, there was a
blur of movement and he was hit, struck on the head by a rock. The
impact was jarring and it was all he could do not to lose control of
the man completely.

Suddenly, he realized how dangerous the situation
was. If the man were to get free, or call out, there would be guards
here in moments. He would be captured without a doubt and both he and
the gauntlets would be in the fort and at the mercy of Lord Jephson.

Decarius saw no other option, he had to incapacitate the
armorer, quickly and decisively. He reached for the rock that had
fallen from the man's grasp, and withstood some punches as he did so.
With the rock in hand, he raised the improvised club high above his
head and brought it crashing down, through the old man's attempt to
shield himself.

Two, three, four times and with as much strength as he
could muster, Decarius repeatedly struck the armorer about the head.
Blood splattering across the stony bank and nearby bushes. The man
became lifeless, his struggling ceased and his arms fell limp. The
first blow had probably been enough, but he had wanted to make sure.

With man silenced, Decarius slowly removed his hand from
the armorer's mouth. He had been sure not to let him cry out again,
not within earshot of the guard. Moving slowly, he carefully placed
the rock on the ground, while making as little noise as possible,
then remained still and surveyed the scene.

There was blood everywhere. It was on the bushes, on the
grass around him, all over the old man's face, head and jacket.
Decarius could see he was covered in blood, too, and when he reached up
to the side of his head, found that some of it was his own.

"Anyone, down there?" The voice came again.

Decarius looked up, once again he could see the
silhouette of a Demedelite guard, standing in a gap in the wall
above, the distinctive shape of the wide brimmed helmet clearly
visible. And although he could see the guard, he knew the guard would
have trouble seeing him from that location. The bushes and trees
concealed him well, as did the shade, the guard by contrast was in
sunlight.

For the moment Decarius stayed where he was, sitting on
the lifeless old man, waiting to see what the guard's next move would
be. Whatever it was, it seemed the ensuing silence had not put the
man off entirely.

Decarius could hear the sound of him walking back and
forth along the wall. The footsteps, continuing for a dozen paces or more, before stopping and starting back again. This happened several
times. Decarius was following the man's movements by sound rather than
sight. Along the wall then back again.

After what seemed an age, the
guard momentarily reappeared at the gap in the wall, before moving
out of sight once more. Only this time, his disappearance was
followed by the sound of a door closing and then silence.

The danger momentarily over, Decarius looked at the
bloodied and bleeding old man lying on the ground.

Whatever he did,
he was going to have to be quick about it. Looking around, he saw the
man's bag had rolled a little way down the bank and he moved to get
it, being sure to stay in the cover of the bushes.

Decarius reached the bag and grabbed it. The bag was
heavy and jangled when he moved it, he had a bad feeling about it
already. Looking closer, he could see that it was dark gray in color
and had a strap. The bag Tansley had been carrying had been lighter,
almost white, and had been tied with rope. It had been more like a
sack or a bundle, while this one was held shut with a leather buckle.

Decarius opened it, emptying the contents onto the
ground and doing so slowly, because the items it contained made
metallic clanking sounds as they rattled and fell.

With the bag now empty he stared into it, and then at
the collection of metal tongs, pliers and assorted tools lying on the
ground.

The gauntlets weren't there, and he knew they wouldn't be. It'd
felt wrong from the moment he'd picked it up.

Now what?

He looked at the lifeless man, the empty bag and, a few
yards away, the gate of the fort.

Tregarron left Serfacre and started along the Demedelei
Road toward the fort. He had some things on his mind.

Very few people lied to his face and those who did soon
regretted it. He knew Galvyn was smart, or at least, not
stupid, and Croneygee would have put him right about how things
worked around here.

Yet the boy's taciturn answers suggested he had
not been entirely forth coming. Who was he protecting? Not Tansley
surely, unless Tansley had threatened him. No, that wasn't the
merchant's style, and anyway, the Fennrean necklace was not something that
would easily come into the man's possession.

For it was a Fennrean
necklace, Tregarron knew that for certain. One of the symbols on the
pendant was very familiar to him. The last time he had seen a symbol
like that, it was tattooed on the back of a burning Fennrean woman.
Not something a person forgets easily, even someone like him, who had
seen a lot of things.

Tregarron reached the Briddlesford Bridge, the point
where the Demedelei road passed over the moat. Or at least, what
should be a moat. Jephson had foolishly had it drained, weakening the
forts natural defenses for the sake of some cheap coal. The bridge
gave a good view of the open expanse of what was now a dried out lake
bed.

He briefly stopped to look across but could see no sign of
Croneygee and Tansley. He wasn't surprised and didn't tarry long. He
knew where both men were. The merchant would be on his way to his
favorite tavern, while the armorer would have gone through the east
gate already.

Tregarron would make his way through the fort and meet
the armorer there, but first he would meet with Lord Jephson. He had
found something the man would be very interested in.

Tregarron felt the necklace in his pocket, and thought again about how it might have come to be in the possession of
the young serfacre apprentice. He didn't know, but he would let this one play
out. In his experience, the answers to some question were easier to
trap than chase. He closed his hand around the necklace and decided
to play the long game.

Within seconds, Decarius had dragged the body off the
path and into the bushes nearby. He'd thrown the empty bag into a
patch of nettles and, after gathering up the tools, he'd placed them
in a pile and out of sight, too.

His anxiety was palpable and the temptation to just up
and leave the mess he'd created was overwhelming. He imagined the
gate would open at any moment, with armed guards streaming out to
arrest him.

To be caught here, in this predicament, was unthinkable,
and he'd wanted to leave at the fist opportunity, but having concealed the
body of his victim, he knew he'd done the right thing. The few seconds
he'd spent clearing the area of signs of a struggle, had bought him
minutes, or more likely hours, should he need it.

Without further delay, he started northwards, and away
from the Briddlesford Bridge which overlooked the dry moat. He kept
close to the wall of the fort and ran alongside it for about a
hundred paces, staying among the bushes and trees, before heading
down the bank.

Thinking that his mask might draw attention to
himself, he considered removing it, but decided against it. While his
identity was concealed he could be anyone, even Hayden.

This thought caused him to stop dead in his tracks, as Decarius realized
this is exactly what he must do. If Hayden could be blamed for the
theft of the Eagle Standard, then he could be blamed for everything
else that happened here as well.

In Coralai, nobody would question that Hayden was to
blame. This violence was entirely in keeping with the man's
reputation. He was dangerous, reckless and a traitor. Once blame was
apportioned to him, nobody would argue against it or take Hayden's
side. If anything, a trail of destruction might be a good thing, it
would only add to his crimes and make his actions even less
defensible. Not only that, Saceress Volusia would be guilty by association, even
more than she was already.

Decarius felt a weight lift from him, more than that, he
felt emboldened. Since Hayden would be getting the blame, he could act
with impunity. If his actions violated the Aquassent Treaty, all the
better. Volusia's position would become even more vulnerable and it
would serve her right. It wasn't as though she didn't know the man
had a treacherous past, she knew better than anybody, she'd been
there and seen it at first hand.

His anxiety diminishing, Decarius began moving again.
Crouching and staying low among the grass, he started making his way
back across the Old Moat Road before stopping near a tree.

Now that he'd started thinking about Hayden, he found it
difficult to shake him from his mind. The man had the ability to enrage
him like no other.

Considering his crimes, the traitor had been
lucky to escape with just exile, yet he was allowed to return, and was
immediately next to the seat of power.

The Saceress had known of his reputation, yet within a few weeks of
him arriving in Coralai he was ensconce at the temple. The man had a
knack for creating trouble, and uncanny ability to get everyone he
met killed, wounded or weakened in some way. Volusia had been warned,
yet she had persisted. Why?

For a long time he didn't know, until one day, he found
out. After too much wine, Volusia had told him, or at least, hinted
enough, that he could work it out for himself. It was something even
Aegis and Hayden didn't know, a fact that would question Aegis's
legitimacy to become kentarch, along with Volusia's judgment and
authority.

If handled correctly the information presented an
opportunity for an injustice to be righted. It just needed the people
of Coralai to start asking the right questions. The questions that he
had been asking himself, who was Hayden, what was his game, why had
he returned and why was Volusia prepared to forgive his crimes so
readily?

Once he had provided people with the answers, there
would be changes. It just needed a spark, something to set things in
motion. An event to shake the scales from their eyes and reveal the
treachery of the man in question. Such as the audacious theft of an
important relic.

Decarius caught his breath and turned his attention to
the fort behind him. He mustn't allow himself to get distracted. He
was leaving behind a corpse and had blood on his hands. He looked around and
evaluated his situation.

From this position on the Old Moat Road, he was able to
see if the guard on the wall was still there. He wasn't. Perhaps the
man had decided the noise he'd heard wasn't anything to trouble
himself about. Alternatively, he was descending the east tower to
investigate further. Decarius sized up the tower and estimated how
long it would take for a guard to walk down the staircase inside.
It would not take him long, five minutes at the most.

For now, there was nobody on the wall, and the gate was
still closed. With luck it would stay that way for two more minutes.
Looking ahead, Decarius could see he would need only a minute.

Without further delay, he was moving again. Keeping low
in the grass and using the trees and bushes for added concealment. He was not following
one of the worn trails, but making a new one of his own, and when he
reached the stream, he waded knee deep through it. He kept low and
timed his movements, staying observant to ensure he remained unseen.

Looking back, he could see there was still no activity at the gate or
on the wall. It didn't matter so much now, since he was well across
the road and nearing the mine.

As
the possibility of being discovered by the guards receded, his mind
turned to the elusive Eagle Standard. So where was it? Tansley
entered workshop with one package, then he and the old man leave with
another.
It must
still be at the workshop
.
It had to be. And the boy he had seen sitting at the workbench,
either had it, or knew where it was. The boy would talk, he would
make sure of it.

Decarius checked that his mask was in place. His disguise
would remain until he was clear of Demedelei. For the time being he
was Hayden, and everything he did would be in that man's name.

The birdsong had ceased and he could taste blood.
Reaching up to his still bleeding head, he stemmed the flow as best
he could. The die had been cast, there could be no going back now.

Killing the armorer had raised the stakes, and if he was going to pin
the blame on Hayden, he would need to conceal his true identity. He
would go back to the armory, he would recover the Eagle Standard and
he would leave no witnesses.

Galvyn remained seated, head in hands. With the
trouble he would be in with Tansley and Tregarron, he thought it best
not to get on the wrong side of his boss, too. Pulling one of the
bracers over to him, he began repairing the worn thread.

No sooner
had he resumed his work, than a shadow appeared in the doorway. A man
stepped into the shop and stood there, silhouetted against the south
facing window.