Legends 1 - Honoured Enemy Read online

  Dennis said nothing for a moment then finally he looked up.

  'Your story? I haven't heard a damn thing about you since the King's warrant for your head was handed to my grandfather. Hell, I was still just a stripling then.'

  Wolfgar laughed. 'Twenty years. That's what I get for composing bad verse about the pustulating sores on the royal buttocks.'

  'Well it never would have started if you hadn't been seen jumping out of the window of the favourite royal consort,' Dennis replied.

  'Prince Rodric, now our King, is as you may have noticed, mad, or so they say. That woman was his favourite. Of all the women to stoke your lust.'

  'I'd prefer to think that my troubles arose from art rather that lust.'

  'I remember the day a squadron of royal troops arrived, angry as hornets, figuring our place would be where you'd choose to hide out.'

  'I don't bring trouble on to friends.'

  'My grandfather laughed so damn hard when he heard the story he swore he'd fight the prince himself if you came to us.'

  'Like I said, I don't bring trouble on to friends.'

  'So what happened then?'

  'I decided it was wise to make my precious body scarce. I have an aversion to hangings, drawings and quarterings, and worst of all the litigators - if you can afford one - you have to put up with first before they get around to the punishments. Damn leeches, drain the last copper out of your coffer with their fees and you wind up dead anyhow. I couldn't work. That fornicating son of a dung-eating proprietor of a knocking-shop who calls himself a King these days had his agents everywhere. So there I was, a victim of me own fame, unable to work, and all because of a beautiful doxy, and a sore on the royal backside she had told me about.'

  Dennis laughed. 'You brought it on yourself. He might have let it pass, I mean the tumbling of his consort. He threw her out of the palace the following day. Admitting the truth - that he had been cuckolded - would have been embarrassing. Oh, you'd have been dodging assassins for a while, but it would have finally blown over. But to compose that epic poem, dedicated to all the prince's failings in bed and the sores on his backside was more than anyone could stand.'

  Wolfgar chuckled. 'It was a good piece of verse.'

  'They still sing it,' Dennis said with a smile, 'though far from the King's Palace in Rillanon.'

  'Well, after that little fiasco I figured it was time to go to a land where royal warrants couldn't find me. I tried to take ship to the southern lands but the dockyards were crawling with royal agents and snitches that would sell me for a few pieces of silver so I headed north instead. 'That is where I met my precious Roxanne, on the road not far from here.' As he said the name the old man smiled wistfully. 'Had my heart on the spot she did. She was a fortune-teller, a true wizard with the picture cards, the reading of entrails and cracked bones. She was travelling with a merry band of vagabonds and thieves, and there was always room for a minstrel in their company.'

  'Said I'd be hanged if I didn't stay with her, and so I did. Ahh, there was a time in my sin sodden youth when I thought I'd never worry for the companionship of a lovely woman, but at that age, to find just one more like her was a blessing. So we jumped the fire-pit together as they say, and soon thereafter she smiles and says we need to find a place to raise our family.'

  Again he laughed wistfully until a coughing fit doubled him over. The seizure passed and he wiped the spittle from his chin.

  'It was Roxanne who knew of this valley. Her little band of performers had found it years before: it was one of their secret hideouts and she led me here. We settled in; our two daughters came, and life continued, free, I might add, of any royal warrants and grasping lawyers looking for their fees. Free as well of the asinine wars that kings just love to get their people slaughtered in while they hide out in their palaces.'

  'Daughters?'

  Wolfgar smiled. 'Two lovelies they are.'

  'Where?'

  Wolfgar laughed. 'With a hundred hungry wolves at my gate last night, do you think I'd show my most precious treasures? I had them hide in the woods till things were settled. They came in with the other woman and children after your men bedded down for the night and slept in the servants' quarters. When the boy on watch came in reporting your arrival I knew we couldn't hold out against a hundred heavily-armed troops and was expecting the worst. We have a couple of small stockades up in the forests in case of trouble. This place is deliberately, out in the open. Bait, almost.'

  'Why didn't all of you go up in the woods and hide?'

  'Would you? Too many signs that we were here. Someone had to stay behind and lead you to believe that all of us had been taken.'

  Dennis nodded. 'Where are the men?' he asked. 'I didn't see a dozen here capable of bearing arms. All the rest are oldsters like yourself.'

  'The men?' and Wolfgar shook his head. 'Roxanne's people are wanderers. If they're in trouble, a warrant on their heads, they'll come here for a year or two to hide out, then they move on. One year we might have less than thirty living here, another year it might be a hundred. Most of the performers found ample riches working the army in the west. Those lads brighten up a great deal at the sight of a pretty woman dancing to the songs of a talented bard. The jugglers and acrobats get a copper or two also.'

  'And a couple of purses vanish from the crowd, as well, I warrant,' suggested Dennis.

  Wolfgar shrugged. 'Even when most of the performers are gone for months, we have a score of men around - too much work to be done by just women and children.' His expression darkened. 'A couple of months back, twenty of the men and most of their women went out of here to trade. Furs for salt, tools, a few trinkets and baubles for the children.'

  'And they never came back,' Dennis replied.

  Wolfgar nodded.

  'They most likely ran into the same trouble we did,' Dennis said.

  'Don't know what's up, but a lot of Dark Brothers are moving through the region just over that bridge.'

  'Figured it was something like that,' Wolfgar grumbled. 'Never much cared for Roxanne's people. Pack of thieving scoundrels, but fair enough if you married into the clan. I guess with all them gone, I'm the leader here now.' He looked back at the long house. 'We've got around twenty children here to look after now. As for the women who lost their men, they've mourned. Practical people though, and with a hundred men to choose from with your party, they'll get over it soon enough.'

  'What about the Dark Brotherhood?' Dennis asked.

  'Them bastards? Remember this is the between-lands. Until the war started your border marches only came up to the Broad River. The moredhel rarely ventured beyond the next range twenty miles to the north of here.'

  'You had an understanding with them, is that it?'

  'They never knew about this place.' He paused, glaring at Dennis. 'At least until yesterday. We stayed out of each other's way. I guess all that's changed.'

  'You hear rumours and gossip. This isn't the only human community north of the King's law. I've heard stories of . . . well, some are pretty far-fetched. Lost cities and ancient gods. Mostly scams to sell lost treasure maps to the gullible, I suspect. But there are those rumours that seem to have a gleam of truth in them. The Dark Brothers don't get close to the other side of those mountains, for a reason. Something keeps them away. I'm just as content not knowing what it is, rather than climbing over those icy crags to find out.'

  'But until yesterday no Dark Brother ever stumbled across that entrance to the valley. How much trouble that's going to bring, I don't know. I guess it depends on how badly they want to dig you out of here. You could be safe for the winter, or maybe only for a few hours. I just don't know.'

  A gust of wind caused the snow to swirl back into their faces so that they turned, facing back towards the long house.

  Men were beginning to stir, a few were out in the courtyard relieving themselves, a coil of smoke puffed up from the kitchen house carrying with it the scent of roasting meat.

  'How long are you stay
ing?' Wolfgar grumbled.

  'Depends - on what the Dark Brotherhood is doing, the weather. I don't know.'

  'This storm keeps up you'll be here a while. Damn, a hundred mouths to feed, I wasn't planning on it.'

  'We can take care of ourselves. I'll get hunting parties out before this storm really hits. I saw a lot of game signs; the valley seems rich.'

  'Best damn place in the world right now. At least it was till yesterday.'

  Dennis saw Sergeant Barry coming out of the long house, a dozen men following him, bows slung over their shoulder, and with them, several local boys to act as guides. With a nod to Dennis they ventured out and started up the slope to the treeline, spreading out as they advanced until they were lost to view in the snow.

  As he watched them leave he experienced another flash of memory: days like this, heading out with his father to hunt, the fresh snow helping them to track. His father was not the type to go out with a fanfare and a score of beaters to stir up the game for him, he much preferred the solitude and the opportunity to teach his son the ways of the woods on his own. If the weather was fair they'd go for as long as a fortnight, taking enough game to eat well, but no more, many times just tracking an elk for the pleasure of it, then leaving him alone.

  He swung his gaze back to the trail. The light snow had lifted for a moment and a quarter of a mile off he caught a glimpse of Gregory and Tinuva, riding slowly, coming back in.

  'Good. They gave up the chase back at the canyon,' Dennis said.

  Wolfgar nodded, hawked, and spat again over the stockade wall. 'That elf. Tinuva's his name isn't it?'

  'Yes. Why?'

  'Just I've heard a few rumours, that's all.'

  'Such as?'

  Wolfgar smiled knowingly. 'Remember the old saying, "never gossip about elves, for their ears are long and they hear all"?'

  Dennis nodded.

  'It doesn't bode well, that's all.'

  'Tell me.'

  'Do you trust him?'

  'Yes,' said Dennis.

  'Then he'll tell you if it's important for you to know.'

  Dennis seemed unsatisfied by the answer.

  'You're surrounded by death, Hartraft. But then again, your family usually was.'

  The old man hawked and spat again. Pulling his fur cape tight, he turned and slowly hobbled down the steps, leaving Dennis alone with his thoughts.

  Leaning back in his seat, Asayaga groaned and slapped his stomach.

  He had never been one to pay particular notice to food the way some did, especially the effete lords who would spend hours debating the merits of a particular year's vintage, or pay hundreds of gems, even thousands, for a slave that could create a unique sauce.

  Food was for the stopping of hunger, and the giving of strength so that one could continue to live.

  This meal, however, would stay forever in his memory, for it was, without a doubt, the most satisfying and varied he had encountered since arriving in this gods-forsaken world.

  The previous night all of them had been more concerned with sleep than anything else, but come dawn hunting parties had gone out in every direction. Hartraft had insisted that they provide their own food as much as possible so as not to burden their hosts and by mid-afternoon the Kingdom soldiers had yet again proven their skills in the forest: all of the hunting parties came back in heavily burdened, exclaiming about the unspoiled lands they had stalked through.

  Asayaga's men, as well, had contributed to the pot, spreading out along the streams, bringing in dozens of fish caught in makeshift nets, speared or simply grabbed and tossed out of the water, while others had laid traps for marmots and snagged half a dozen of them. Those who had not skills with either fishing or hunting had laboured throughout the day to bring in extra wood to heat the long house, worked in the kitchen butchering the meat, or helped tend to their wounded comrades resting quietly in the warm blacksmith's shop.

  By midday Wolfgar's prediction of a rising storm had come to pass, and the last of the hunting and fishing parties had staggered in covered with snow. By late in the afternoon a blizzard was howling outside the long house and the mere thought of it made Asayaga shudder with dread. If they had been caught out in the storm all of them would be dead. Instead he was safe inside, a roaring blaze crackled in the two great fireplaces that warmed the feasting hall and all was well with the world.

  As darkness settled, the first courses had emerged from the cook-house to be placed upon the great table. The hall was cramped with more than a hundred men jammed around the table, squeezed in together side by side, Wolfgar insisting that the two groups mix in.

  By mutual agreement any who came into the hall had to set aside all weapons, even daggers, and at first the men had looked warily at each other, feeling naked without a trusted blade at their side or hidden in a boot top. It was one thing to march side by side with a dreaded enemy in close pursuit, or to lie side by side in exhausted sleep, but another once strength had returned, and with it a realization of just who might be sitting to your left or right - an enemy that might have killed an old comrade or kin.

  Then the first platters had come out, heaped with steaming slabs of meat - venison, elk, wild boar - warm grease splattering on to the table, accompanied by bowls heaped with fried livers, tongues, roasted brains mixed with bread crumbs and delicious kidney pies followed by baked fish.

  The marmots came last, stuffed and roasted in the manner the Tsurani adored, and though most of the Kingdom troops turned up their noses at this fare the Tsurani cried out with joy, and friendly squabbles broke out over who had the honour of consuming the hearts and livers.

  More platters were spread out upon the table, laden with dried fruits, roasted potatoes, half a dozen different kinds of bread and even boiled eggs which the men greedily devoured.

  At first Wolfgar had been tight-fisted with his drink but as the room heated up with the scent of cooked meat and warm bodies he finally relented and called for extra kegs of beer to be brought in and tapped. Foaming goblets, drinking horns, and leather flagons were quickly filled and passed around to eager hands, the men laughing and cheering, downing the frothy brew and leaning back to belch with comfortable delight.

  As appropriate for such an occasion Dennis and Asayaga sat at one end of the long table, with Wolfgar between them, the scrunched-up old bard watching the proceedings with a jaundiced eye, mumbling about the expense, the noise, and the alien smell of the Tsurani. But after several beers he began to relax as well, and even accepted a platter of boar's ribs which one of the young women who had mysteriously appeared shortly after dawn personally brought to his side.

  'Thank you, daughter,' he whispered, reaching up to stroke her cheek as she put the plate before him.

  Asayaga had noticed her within minutes after awaking in the morning. She was short for her race, nearly at his own eye-level, but that was the only aspect that might make him think she was a woman of his homeland. Her hair was blonde, the palest of blondes so that her long twin braids seemed like cascades of spun gold thread. Such hair was not unknown in his homeland, but far to the north of Coltari province, and rarely seen in his home city. Her figure was full, the tightness of her calf-length leather dress sufficient to show off every detail. Her eyes were a shimmering blue and her skin a soft delicate pink.

  'Daughter?' Dennis asked, putting down his flagon of beer and staring straight at her.

  Wolfgar laughed, a warm and lascivious grin wrinkling his pitted and leathery face. 'Ahh, not my grand-daughter, or great-granddaughter, though I'll wager there's more than one of them around.' He reached out affectionately and pulled her to his side and the young woman planted a warm kiss on the top of his balding head. 'Her mother, may she rest in the Blessed Lands, she was a rare lass. Two of them she bore for me. Alyssa here, who will break any man's heart with a glance is the oldest.'

  Asayaga immediately rose, his gaze locked on hers and bowed formally. 'I am honoured to meet the daughter of our generous host,' he said. 'My swo
rd will always be at your service.'

  Dennis, watching Asayaga's show, rose and stepped between the Tsurani captain and Alyssa. 'Your father was always an honoured guest in my family's keep. A daughter of his shall always have my protection.'

  'Protection?' Wolfgar laughed. 'I think the two of you need protection from her.'

  Alyssa blushed but there was a light in her eyes as she stepped back slightly and looked from one captain to the other. 'My father shames me,' she said, and her voice was soft and whispery. 'I thank you, Dennis Hartraft, for the kindness of your protection and you too, Asayaga of the Tsurani. I must retire to see to the serving of the food.'

  'All is well tended to,' Wolfgar laughed, 'come sit by my side, it's safe here,' and he slapped the side of his wide chair and slid over.

  Alyssa demurely sat down on the side closer to Dennis.

  'Roxanne, join us!' Wolfgar cried, looking back over his shoulder.

  Asayaga was startled to see the second daughter standing behind her father's feasting chair. When she had appeared was a mystery, and even now she was barely visible, standing in the dark shadows. This one had the same hair as Alyssa but was taller and she had a lean, muscular look to her bare arms, and high-cheekboned face.

  Like her sister she wore a simple leather dress of calf length, the only feminine vanity to it a pale blue scarf tied around the waist as a belt, revealing just the slightest of curves beneath.

  She didn't move at her father's call but simply folded her arms. 'I prefer to remain standing,' she replied, her voice deep and clear.

  'I told her you think the men are dead,' Wolfgar said, looking over at Dennis. He lowered his voice. 'The one she had a preference for was one of them.'

  'He meant nothing to me,' she replied, 'other than his friendship.'

  Wolfgar threw a dark look over his shoulder at his daughter, then raised his voice. 'Pimply-faced, with the brain of a drunken hare. Typical of her mother's kin, and like a hare always fumbling after her. I was half-contemplating killing him myself.'

  'As if you're an example of model behaviour,' Roxanne replied coolly, and Wolfgar laughed at her response.