The Long War 01 - The Black Guard (14 page)

Lady Bronwyn of Canarn stood off to the side in the great hall of her father’s keep. She had lost sight of Father Magnus amidst the melee of knights and she could no longer hear his primal roars of defiance. Her four guards were distracted, being the only knights not involved in the confrontation, and she steeled herself to act.

Her tears at the death of her father had been genuine, but those around her thought the duke’s daughter weak and she had played on this, appearing anguished beyond the capacity to act. Currently, she knelt on the floor of the hall with her head in her hands. With one eye she regarded those around her. They stood peering towards the platform, wishing they were involved in what was going on. One of them, still standing behind her, had drawn his sword as a reflex when Magnus broke his chains, but the others remained unarmed.

She could still see the Karesian woman, Ameira, whose attention was fixed on the fight. She had a twisted euphoria on her face, as if drugged or intoxicated.

Bronwyn breathed in and tensed her body. Just as she was about to act, a vicious-looking Karesian kris blade skidded across the floor and came to rest next to her left hand. The four knights around her scarcely looked down, the nearby combat masking the sound. She smiled to herself, recognizing the ruby-encrusted knife as she reached for it. As the knight behind her began to call out, an arm wrapped round his neck and a scimitar was drawn across his throat.

The dark-skinned man who appeared over the dying knight’s shoulder took the time to wink at Bronwyn before kicking the dead knight to the floor and killing a second with a fast upward cut to the man’s head. Bronwyn reacted quickly and thrust the kris blade into the exposed inner thigh of the man to her left. He fell, crying loudly, blood gushing from the wound. The last man involuntarily turned towards Bronwyn, opening himself to a swift cut across the back of his exposed neck from the dark-skinned man.

All four guards had fallen in a few seconds and Bronwyn leapt quickly to her feet, her simple brown dress now covered in blood. The intruder smiled and grabbed her arm.

‘Time to go, sweetness,’ he said, with a slight Karesian accent.

She let herself be grabbed and, sparing a quick look over her shoulder, ran with the man towards a side door. Ameira had seen her, as had half a dozen knights by the main door, but Rillion and the others were too preoccupied to act. The knight Bronwyn had stabbed was still alive and his cries rose in volume as she darted from the great hall with the intruder.

He was Al-Hasim, called the Prince of the Wastes by his friends. Bronwyn knew he’d been in Ro Canarn before the battle but had thought him dead along with so many others. He was a Karesian and occasional sword for hire, though he’d been in Canarn as a favour to Algenon Teardrop, the Ranen warlord, Magnus’s elder brother.

Her father had disliked him but Bronwyn found his constant flirting funny. Now she was glad of his stealth and skill with a scimitar. He was of medium height, but wiry and lightning-fast with sword and knife. His jet-black hair was tied roughly at the nape of his neck and he had the exotic bearing of a prince from a distant land. Bronwyn knew he had no actual claim to nobility, but he often spoke as if he did.

The two of them ran from the hall. The corridors of Duke Hector’s keep were narrow and labyrinthine, designed to confuse an invader, but his daughter knew them well. She wriggled out of Hasim’s grasp and darted left into an antechamber.

‘Er, your ladyship… the way out is this way.’ Hasim pointed along the vaulted corridor.

‘Yes, but the way to stay hidden is this way,’ Bronwyn answered, entering the antechamber and moving quickly to the weapon rack against the far wall. The chamber was part of the armoury, connected on three levels of the keep by wooden stairs.

Hasim looked concerned, but followed after a momentary pause.

Sounds from the great hall indicated that Magnus had been subdued and Bronwyn’s escape had been noticed. She removed a light short sword and pressed a wooden panel on the wall, causing a secret passage to open.

‘Why did no one tell me this place had secret doors? It would have made the rescue so much easier,’ Hasim said as he followed her into the narrow passageway, adding, ‘… but not as stylish.’

Bronwyn breathed heavily, pushing thoughts of her father to the back of her mind. She wished she had her armour. The brown dress she’d been given was ill suited to running along the small, dusty tunnel.

Her armour, a present from her father, had been roughly torn off by disrespectful knights of the Red and discarded somewhere in the keep. The knights had not touched her, save to disarm and restrain her, and she wished for another opportunity to prove she could hold her own against metal-armoured men.

Bronwyn led Hasim down the passage for several minutes. It curved left and right and, at intervals, rough-hewn stairs led further down, taking them out of the inner keep. Her grandfather had built these tunnels into the city walls long before she was born, and her father used to tell her and her brother stories about how he got lost in them as a child.

‘Bronwyn, where exactly does this tunnel go?’ Hasim pushed past her and peered into the gloomy darkness. ‘Oh, and I need my knife back.’ He held out his hand and Bronwyn placed the bloodstained kris blade, hilt-first, in his palm. It was the mark of the Karesian warrior class, a wavy-bladed knife with a vicious edge designed to cause wounds that wouldn’t close.

‘Are we going to come out of here in the middle of an army? Am I going to have to rescue you again?’ he asked.

‘I think it leads to the cliff overlooking the inner harbour.’ Bronwyn wasn’t sure, but she recalled playing in here with her brother when they were young. ‘It should end in a wooden door that’s hidden behind a boulder.’

Hasim did not look convinced. ‘Okay, but let me go first.’ He stood protectively over her.

‘I’m not weak, Karesian,’ she snapped.

Hasim frowned. ‘I know. A weak woman would have flinched before sticking a man in the thigh… you barely thought about it.’ He looked her up and down. ‘You may look like a serving wench at the moment, but you’ve your father’s strength… and your brother’s edge.’

Bromvy, her twin, was not in the city during the attack. He’d been in Ro Tiris when the fleet had appeared on the horizon. Bronwyn hoped her father had got word to him not to return, but she knew he’d still probably be found and branded a Black Guard.

Ahead, a dim light could be seen. Bronwyn knew it would be getting dark soon and she wanted to be out of the city before then. Hasim motioned for her to stay back and stepped cautiously towards the light. A few feet down the tunnel, he paused to look at something.

‘What is it?’ Bronwyn asked.

He slowly turned back to her. ‘I think the fleet of Red knights breached the city wall with catapults… I can see down into the town beyond the keep.’

Bronwyn moved to join him but was stopped by a swiftly raised hand. ‘Are you sure you want to see this, your ladyship?’ Hasim had a serious expression on his dark features.

‘My father is dead and my brother is running for his life. I think that makes me duchess of Canarn.’ She firmly pushed aside Hasim’s hand. ‘You can step aside and do as you’re told, or leave me alone.’

The Karesian did not move. ‘Look, woman, I am not here to make this difficult for you, but I am not your subject… so you can dispense with this duchess shit.’ He stared directly into her eyes as he spoke. ‘You can look out into the town if you want, but if you do you will see blood and death.’ He stepped aside. ‘It’s your choice, your ladyship.’ His bow was shallow and mocking.

Bronwyn stepped towards the light. The secret passage ran along the inside of one of the outer city walls, and a huge rock had been catapulted through the stone. A gap had appeared at head height where the boulder had hit the battlements above, and Bronwyn could see down across the buildings to the town square of Canarn.

The sight was indeed one of blood and death, and Bronwyn looked with cold eyes at the spectacle of Red knights and mercenaries piling up dead bodies. Several houses had been torn down to provide wood, and funeral pyres burned the fallen people of Canarn. The knights had discarded their swords and were pushing wooden carts of the dead from all corners of the city. They piled them up in the town square to await a fiery meeting with the One God, an old Black cleric intoning words over them.

The knights of the Red numbered nearly a thousand and they had been more than a match for the untrained defenders, men defending their livelihoods as much as their home. Bronwyn thought she recognized a farmer called Hobb, a man who had grown cabbages to the north of the city, and had wanted only to protect his land and family.

She didn’t cry, though she thought maybe that was wrong. More than anything, she wanted to turn back time and tell her father to retreat, not to stay and fight the knights.

‘Bronwyn, we need to leave.’ Hasim put a gentle hand on her arm. ‘They’re looking for us.’ He moved to stand in front of her, blocking her view. ‘At least, they’re looking for you.’

She looked him in the eye and pushed him aside. She didn’t know what she expected to achieve by continuing to look at the scene of death below, but Bronwyn was the lady of Canarn and felt deep kinship with her people.

Hasim breathed in and firmly grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her away and holding her against the opposite wall.

‘Listen to me, woman…’ he said through gritted teeth, ‘that Karesian witch, the marked woman…’

Bronwyn struggled in his grip. ‘How dare you…’

‘Listen… she’s of the Seven Sisters and if you stay in the city, she
will
find you.’ He released his grip and stepped back. ‘We need to get to the Grass Sea to the north. The witch won’t follow into the lands of Ranen.’

Bronwyn stopped struggling and looked at the ground, tears appearing in her eyes. ‘Why is this happening? What did my father do…?’ She didn’t look up, or expect an answer, but felt her legs give way as the enormity of what she’d seen flowed over her. Hasim held her, more tenderly this time, and pulled her upright to face him.

‘Rillion is weak. For all the strength in his sword arm, he has let himself become thrall to a Karesian witch.’ He unsheathed his kris blade and held it with the point facing downwards. ‘That’s why I’m here. Algenon Teardrop knew she was in Canarn… somehow… and he sent me to find out what she was doing here. I sent a report back just after the battle.’

Bronwyn processed this slowly, shaking her head and wiping away the tears. ‘I thought…’ she began, only to be interrupted by Hasim.

‘You thought that I was here to look after Magnus.’ He smiled. ‘Trust me, he can look after himself. The enchantress has Rillion’s heart and head in her elegant hand. Algenon doesn’t confide in me, but he knew something was going on,’ he said quietly. ‘I try not to worry about things I’m not told, but there’s something at work here beyond your father’s actions and the king’s pride.’

A sound from above caused them both to look up and dust fell from the wooden ceiling. Several men were walking through a parallel passageway. ‘Fuck… they’ve found the secret passages.’ Hasim turned to look further along the tunnel and asked, ‘How far to the exit?’

Bronwyn looked the same way and considered a moment before speaking. ‘I think the passage turns right up ahead and then down into a cave. The doorway is through the cave.’

Hasim stepped back, sheathed his knife and drew his scimitar. ‘Then we move quickly, your ladyship.’

The two of them ran along the dark tunnel. Hasim stayed ahead and held his scimitar loosely. Before the tunnel turned right another sound alerted them, this time from further along the passageway. Hasim stopped suddenly and backed against the wall, placing a restraining arm across Bronwyn and pushing her back to stand next to him. He placed a finger across his mouth as the flickering light of a torch appeared round the corner.

Hasim nodded towards the short sword tucked in Bronwyn’s belt. ‘How good are you with that?’ he whispered.

She tried to smile but rising fear overtook the expression before it reached her mouth. ‘Brom taught me how to use it, but I’ve never fought in a dress before.’

As the distinctive sound of armoured men approached, Hasim said, ‘Well, you may soon get a chance to test your brother’s tutelage.’ He stood close to the wall, letting the vertical wooden supports act as cover. The tunnel was dark and both Bronwyn and Hasim wore dark clothing. Maybe they could stay hidden.

As the globe of torchlight grew larger and the sound louder, Hasim drew his kris blade and held the two weapons across his chest. ‘Let them get close. Armoured men fight poorly in confined spaces.’

She breathed heavily and felt sweat appear on her forehead.

‘Strike for the face and neck, they won’t be wearing helmets and you’d never get that blade through their armour. If you need to, drop to your knees and go for the thighs and groin.’

She was barely listening and her vision was cloudy.

‘Bronwyn…’ he said quietly. ‘You need to focus. These men will kill you.’

She wished she was somewhere else, far from this narrow passageway and the Karesian who stood next to her.

Hasim slapped her sharply across the face. ‘Your ladyship, I cannot kill them all if you are going to pieces.’

She stared at him, not with indignity, but with newfound steel. Several deep breaths and she nodded at her rescuer.

Sword in hand, she waited. Hasim did not look along the passageway but focused on the opposite wall and she heard him whisper a quiet prayer to Jaa, the Fire Giant.

Words could now be heard from those approaching; the accent was Ro and the voices were unmistakably those of knights of the Red. Bronwyn heard five distinct voices and bit her lower lip at the odds.

The voices were relaxed and she was certain they were one of many patrols sent into the secret tunnels. They would not be expecting a fight and she was glad of the element of surprise. Hasim finished his prayer and kissed his kris blade, before leaning back close to the wall, his eyes watchful and alert.

The torchlight rounded the corner and an armoured knight emerged, peering into the darkness, followed by four more knights. All five wore full plate armour and their tabards showed the red aspect of the One God.