The Long War 01 - The Black Guard (38 page)

As he edged closer to the fire, Rham Jas could hear words spoken in the accent of Ro. Several men were standing around the fire and two were sitting on bedrolls. At first it appeared as if his guess about a gang of bandits had been correct, but as he passed a bramble thicket and secreted himself behind a thick tree trunk, it became clear that only those men standing up were bandits and those sitting down were being robbed.

Five men, with crossbows and short swords, stood in a rough circle round the fire, aiming their weapons at the two seated men.

Rham Jas decided to get a little closer and held a hand up to Brom, indicating that he should hold his position. The Kirin assassin moved swiftly and silently to stand behind a rocky protrusion within earshot of the camp.

The bandits were in good humour at having found two men alone in the wilds and Rham Jas guessed that the victims were not fighting men. One of the bandits had his back to Rham Jas and the Kirin could just about make out a seated Karesian not far in front of him.

‘You’re a long way from home, desert men… maybe you should think twice about coming through our land again, hey?’ said a gruff man of Ro, smirking and showing brown teeth and gums.

‘Mott, these bastards ain’t got much.’ The other man was riffling through a series of large rucksacks next to the fire. ‘Except wine, they’ve got a lot of that.’

‘Where’s your coin, Karesian?’ said the man identified as Mott.

Rham Jas estimated that the two Karesians were a little drunk, as they were gazing off into the night rather than focusing on the men robbing them. He couldn’t make out their faces, but thought they looked rather relaxed, reclining in front of their fire and making no particular effort to stop the robbery.

‘I’m talking to you,’ Mott said, slapping one of their faces.

‘I know you’re talking to me, you stupid Ro. I chose not to answer. Brains are clearly not required for banditry,’ slurred one of the Karesians in a voice that Rham Jas vaguely recognized.

The Karesian received another slap and toppled over on his bedroll. ‘Hitting me is not going to make finding my coin any easier, fuckpiece,’ he said with venom, the insult indistinct with the combination of accent and alcohol.

The speaker was called Kohli and Rham Jas guessed that his companion would be Jenner. They were Karesian brothers and smugglers from the far city of Thrakka, though what they were doing here was a mystery. The last time Rham Jas had met them, they, and Al-Hasim, had swindled a boat out of someone and were running illegal Karesian desert nectar into Ro Tiris. Rham Jas remembered them well enough to know that fighting was not counted amongst their skills, and he decided to intervene.

He waved back for Brom to approach through the trees and then moved to position himself as close to one of the bandits as possible, crouched in darkness a few feet from the man’s back.

‘We don’t like Karesian scum in these woods so you’d better come up with something or my boys will have to take payment in blood,’ Mott growled at the seated Karesians.

Rham Jas placed his bow on the floor and silently drew his katana. The five bandits were all facing inwards and were clearly not prepared for an ambush. He took a further step closer to the nearest man’s back and then darted forward, wrapping one arm around his neck and swinging his blade round to rest against the man’s cheek.

‘And how do you feel about Kirin?’ he asked loudly, as all the men present turned to look at him.

‘Where the fuck did you come from?’ Mott loudly retorted.

Kohli clapped his hands drunkenly. ‘Rham Jas, perfect timing. Will you join me and my bandit friends in a drink? They are most interested in coin, but I’m sure they’re just misunderstood.’

The other four bandits pointed their crossbows at Rham Jas and moved to stand in a line opposite him. ‘Let him go, Kirin, and you may live.’

‘Fuck off and
you
may live,’ replied Rham Jas quickly.

The bandits laughed with misplaced confidence as Brom suddenly appeared from the darkness, sword in hand. He had no cover from the crossbows, and to Rham Jas his eyes looked colder than usual.

‘Listen to the Kirin, he’s not as stupid as he looks and you’re not as dangerous as you think you are,’ said the lord of Canarn.

‘That’s a nice sword. I think I’ll take it from you when you’re lying bleeding at my feet, boy,’ Mott said, levelling his crossbow.

‘Come and take it, little man.’ Brom had murder in his eyes.

The macho posturing was becoming tiresome to Rham Jas. ‘Oh, this is getting silly,’ he said, realizing that his friend was going to get himself shot full off bolts if he wasn’t careful.

With a swift jerk of his sword arm he cut the throat of the man he was holding and shoved the dying bandit into the fire. The others were sufficiently distracted by the eruption of sparks and smoke for Rham Jas to dart to the side and kick a burning branch into the face of a second bandit.

Brom also used the distraction to move round the other side and roar an unnecessary challenge at the bandits. Rham Jas shook his head at Brom’s display, as the Kirin delivered a fatal downward strike to one man’s chest and spun dexterously to give a second man a solid kick in the stomach, winding him and sending him to the floor.

Two crossbow bolts were loosed, but these were not true fighting men and the distraction of two killers setting about them was sufficient to cause the shots to miss their mark.

Brom engaged a startled Mott and proceeded to teach him a lesson in swordsmanship, effortlessly disassembling the bandit’s technique and knocking away his short sword within moments. Brom punched him viciously to the floor.

‘Brom, that’s enough, they’re only bandits. Not worth more than a quick scrap.’ Rham Jas could see real anger in his friend’s eyes and guessed that this was the eruption of several days’ worth of pent-up rage.

Mott held his face and winced in pain as Brom levelled his longsword at the bandit’s neck. The two others who were still alive stayed on the floor, looking up in fear at Rham Jas.

‘Oh, stop that,’ he said to the cowering pair. ‘If your idiot boss hadn’t mentioned taking my friend’s sword, you might all have got away alive.’ Rham Jas didn’t like unnecessary death and these men were simply common folk making a dirty living.

‘You… Mott, whatever your name is,’ ordered Rham Jas, ‘pick up your men and leave… now. If I see you again, I’ll wear your skin as a hat. Do you understand me?’ Rham Jas was irritated at having to rescue two drunken friends and stop a sober one from giving in to bloodlust.

Mott nodded, not taking his eyes from Brom’s sword as it swayed next to his throat. The two other bandits stood up and, in obvious distress, picked up their two dead companions and began to back out of the clearing. Mott moved away from Brom, not thinking to pick up his weapons, quickly darted past his men and disappeared into the darkening forest.

‘You’re Lord Bromvy?’ asked Kohli from beside the fire.

Neither of the Karesian brothers was overly concerned about the fight they had witnessed, Rham Jas thought. Jenner was mostly preoccupied with keeping himself upright and not being sick.

Brom didn’t answer the question and glared at the patch of darkness through which the bandits had retreated.

‘Yes, he is,’ said Rham Jas. ‘And Kohli, what are you doing here? Isn’t there a child in need of drugs somewhere?’

Kohli blinked a few times. He, too, was considerably the worse for drink. ‘We lost our boat in Tiris when…’ he shot a dark look at his brother, ‘someone demanded we stop for some female company and the port authorities impounded it.’

‘The same boat you and Hasim stole last year?’ asked Rham Jas.

‘Yup, I think someone at the lord marshal’s office recognized it and we had to run from the city. Luckily, these Ro aren’t too bothered by forged clay documents.’

‘Glenwood?’ The Kirin was amazed that such a poor forger was still in business.

‘We didn’t know anyone else and he told us you were probably in Weir, so we thought we’d come and find you,’ he said with a drunken grin which, for some reason, made Rham Jas irrationally annoyed.

‘You thought you’d come and find me? Using the Kirin run, a route the two of you are spectacularly unsuited to travel?’ he asked with the tone of a disapproving parent.

Jenner retched a couple of times and held his hands against his head, rubbing his temples. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked vaguely. ‘Are we being robbed?’

Kohli looked across at his drunken brother and smiled. ‘Go to sleep, Jenner, we haven’t been robbed. Rham Jas is here.’

The two Karesians had the deeply bloodshot eyes of men who drink to excess and each was thin, with frail limbs and blotchy skin. The last time Rham Jas had seen them, they’d been celebrating their twenty-fifth birthdays in Ro Weir. The year that had passed since then had not been kind to the brothers. Their clothes were poor and travel-stained, and their belongings consisted mostly of wine. Rham Jas couldn’t see any weapons and neither was in any condition to defend himself if attacked.

Jenner straightened and said, ‘Rham Jas, excellent. We told Hasim that we’d find him. That’s, that’s really good.’ The last few words were said with a dopey grin and Jenner toppled over when he’d finished speaking.

Brom directed a quizzical look at the now unconscious form of Jenner. Rham Jas raised his eyebrows and stepped in front of Kohli, who was swaying contentedly.

‘What’s he talking about?’ Rham Jas asked, pointing at Jenner.

‘We were in Ro Canarn with Hasim,’ Kohli said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Brom nearly dropped his sword as he clumsily moved across the small camp and knelt down in front of the swaying Karesian smuggler.

Holding the man by the shoulders, he demanded, ‘When?’

‘We left about two weeks ago, just after Hasim got captured by the Red knights.’ Kohli’s eyes became unfocused and Rham Jas guessed he’d soon pass out from the wine.

‘Why were you there… why was Hasim there?’ Brom tumbled over the words as he tried to find out what the drunken man knew.

‘Easy, Brom, he won’t be much use until he’s sober.’ Rham Jas was almost as interested as his friend, but knew Kohli well enough to realize he was unlikely to prove coherent.

His words appeared prophetic, as Kohli collapsed forwards into Brom’s arms, his eyes glazing over and a foam of vomit appearing at his mouth.

‘Wake up, you fucking shit-stain,’ shouted Brom at the unconscious man.

Rham Jas let his friend shout racial insults at Kohli for a few minutes. He thought that, since he’d denied Brom the chance of killing the bandits, he should at least allow him to scream at a drunken smuggler. The Kirin assassin simply sheathed his katana, retrieved his longbow, and sat down by the fire.

Kohli and Jenner were human refuse – men who were useful if you needed something done quietly, but otherwise Rham Jas despised them. They had no cause beyond money – and wine – and their only loyalty lay with whoever gave them coin. Al-Hasim had often tried to defend them, telling Rham Jas that they were simply men outside the law who hated the Ro. This might be true, but they were still annoying drunkards with few discernible talents.

After a few minutes Brom slumped down on the uneven ground. He didn’t look away from the two unconscious Karesians and was panting rapidly, clenching and unclenching his fists. Rham Jas took a bottle of Kohli’s wine and pulled out the cork with his teeth. It was of decent quality and he took a deep swig before passing it to his friend.

‘I hate this…’ Brom said darkly.

Rham Jas knew what he meant, but asked anyway. ‘What do you hate?’

‘All this,’ he said, pointing to Kohli and Jenner and then gesturing around to the thinly spaced trees of the Kirin run. ‘The thieves, the running, the death… the clerics, all of it.’

Rham Jas nodded and realized that any residual excitement Brom might have felt about the itinerant lifestyle was rapidly wearing off. The young lord of Canarn had spent much of his life with Rham Jas, Magnus and Hasim, and had essentially lived the life of a criminal – travelling, causing trouble and having a good time. But this was different. Brom finally knew why some men
had
to live this life. Before, he’d been doing it from choice, for the adventure or just so as to spend time with his unlikely friends. Now he was named to the Black Guard, wanted by the clerics, and with a shattered homeland.

‘You get used to it, my friend,’ Rham Jas replied gently.

‘I don’t think I want to get used to it.’ Brom shifted himself around and kicked Kohli off his bedroll. Taking a swig of wine, he lay on his back, looking up at the thin canopy of branches above.

‘Just be patient, these idiots will wake up in a few hours and they can tell you everything.’

Rham Jas, too, was surprised to hear that Al-Hasim had been in Ro Canarn. The last he’d known, the Karesian scoundrel had been in Fredericksand, enjoying Algenon Teardrop’s hospitality.

‘Why would Hasim be there?’ Brom asked, not expecting an answer.

‘Not sure, but at least we may find out whether your sister is still alive.’ Rham Jas was speaking quietly and not pushing Brom any more. Rham Jas knew the signs and could see his friend was close to the edge. All he needed was for something else bad or frustrating to happen and he’d have some kind of breakdown.

‘Try and get some sleep, Brom, all these questions will wait until tomorrow.’

* * *

Rham Jas didn’t sleep at all. He sat in the same position for several hours, while Brom slowly drifted off into a fitful slumber. Then the Kirin decided to go for a walk in the woods.

A little moonlight shone through the trees, but the thin forest was otherwise dark and Rham Jas ghosted through the woods, making no sound. He didn’t really know how he had found himself in this situation, accompanying a Black Guard to a walled city occupied by Red knights. Despite his skill and bravado, Rham Jas was mostly concerned to be left alone to live his life and not to become involved in such foolish endeavours.

Brom knew virtually nothing about what had happened in Ro Canarn, other than the certain death of his father, and Rham Jas wondered if anything the drunken Karesians would have to say would lessen the young lord’s anger.