Damned - White Wolf Part 9

'I don't really want to talk about it.'

'Why?'

'It was ugly, Rabalyn. Horrible.'

The priest's face showed his sorrow, and Rabalyn watched him sitting quietly and staring into the fire. 'Is Jesper all right?' asked the boy.

'Jesper?'

'Kalia's dog.'

'Oh, yes, the dog is fine. Abbot Cethelin is looking after him.'

'Why is Brother Lantern not dressed like a priest?'

'He has left the Order. Like me he is ... was ... an acolyte. He had not taken his final vows.

Would you like something to eat?'

'I'd like to know what happened at the church,' said Rabalyn. 'What was so horrible?'

Braygan sighed. 'Men died, Rabalyn. The abbot was stabbed.'

'Brother Lantern stopped them, didn't he?'

Braygan glanced at the boy. 'How would you know that?'

'I don't know it. Just guessed really. I saw him knock over that Arbiter attacking you. He didn't seem afraid. Then he just ordered the crowd to carry the Arbiter into the tavern. I guessed he'd do the same if the mob came to the church. Who did he kill?'

'As I said, I do not want to talk about it. Perhaps you should ask Lantern when he returns.'

'He won't talk about it. And he doesn't like me.'

Braygan smiled sheepishly. 'He doesn't like me much either.'

'Then why are you travelling together?'

'The abbot asked him to see me safely to Mellicane.'

'What will you do when you get there?'

'Deliver letters to the church elders, and then take my vows before the bishop.'

'Is it a long way?'

'Just over a hundred and fifty miles. Lantern thinks the journey will take another twelve, perhaps fifteen days.'

'What about the war? Will we see soldiers?'

'I do hope not,' said Braygan, suddenly fearful. 'There are several settlements between here and the capital. We will purchase provisions from them and keep away from the major roads.'

'Have you ever been to the capital?'

'No. Never.'

'Kalia has. She said they have huge beasts there, who fight in the arena. And Kellias the Pedlar told us that some of them were going to be fighting in the war. He said they were called Joinings, and that the King had promised an army of them to fight off our evil enemies.'

'I do not like to speak of such things,' said Braygan, attempting a stern tone, and failing miserably.

'I'd like to see one,' added Rabalyn.

'Be careful of what you wish for, boy,' said Lantern, silently emerging from the trees. 'The Joinings are a curse, and anyone who seeks to use them is a fool.'

On the morning of the sixth day, tired and hungry, their provisions almost exhausted, they arrived at a waystation just outside a small village nestling in the hills. Skilgannon scanned the area. There were three wooden structures and a corral containing no horses. Smoke was drifting lazily from the chimney of the largest building. Beyond the waystation there was no sign of movement in the village, save for a fox that darted across the main street, disappearing into an alley.

Skilgannon told Rabalyn and Braygan to wait at the edge of the trees, then strode down to the corral. As he approached it a burly man appeared from the main building. He was tall and round-shouldered, his hair close-cropped, but his brown beard thick and s.h.a.ggy.

'Good morning to you,' he said.

'And to you. Where are your horses?'

'Soldiers took them. The station is closed until further notice.'

Skilgannon glanced towards the silent village. 'All gone,' said the man. 'The Datians are less than a day from here. So people grabbed what they could and fled.'

'But not you.'

The man shrugged. 'Nowhere to go, son. This is my home. There's still food left, so if you and your friends want breakfast you are welcome.'

That is kind of you.'

'Glad to have the company, tell you the truth. My name is Seth,' he said, stepping forward and extending his hand. Skilgannon shook it. Seth glanced down at the spider tattoo.

'There's men looking for you,' he added. 'They were here yesterday. Big reward, they said.'

'Huge,' agreed Skilgannon.

'Best you don't stay too long then,' said Seth, with a grin. 'Expect they'll be back.' Then he turned and walked back inside.

Skilgannon summoned the others. Most of the s.p.a.ce within the building was taken up by a storage area, now empty, but several tables and a dozen chairs had been set by the western wall. Seth seated them, then wandered away to the kitchen. Skilgannon rose and followed him. The big man took up a frying pan and placed it atop a large stove. Wrapping a cloth around his hand, he pulled clear the iron cover and moved the pan to the flames. Then from the larder he took a large chunk of smoked ham, and carved eight slices. As they were placed in the pan they began to sizzle. Skilgannon's stomach tightened as the smell of frying bacon filled the air.

'You don't need to worry about me, son,' said Seth. 'I'm not interested in bounties.'

'Where did the villagers go?'

'Some headed for Mellicane, others went south. Some headed up into the high hills. The war is lost. No doubt of it. The soldiers who stole the horses were deserters. They told me that only the capital still holds out against the Datians.' Seth flipped the bacon slices with a long knife. 'You are a Naashanite?'

'No, but I was raised there.'

'Word was that the Witch Queen would send an army to help us. Never came.' The bearded man pushed the bacon to the side of the large pan. From the larder he took a bowl of eggs, and, one by one, cracked six of them. Three of the yolks split, the golden centres seeping over the congealing mess in the pan. 'Never was much of a cook,' he said, with a grin. 'It will still taste good, though. Fine hens. Trust me.'

Skilgannon relaxed and smiled. 'How long have you been here?'

'Twelve years this summer. Not a bad place, you know. People are friendly, and - before the war - the station was pretty busy. Postal riders and travellers. I built the sleeping quarters myself. At one time I was even turning business away. Twenty beds, full for a month. Thought I was going to get rich.'

'What would you do if you were rich?'

Seth laughed. 'No idea, man. I've no taste for finery. Having said that, there was a fancy wh.o.r.ehouse in Mellicane that I always hankered to try. There was a woman there who charged ten gold raq for a single night. Can you believe that? She must have been something.' He glanced down at the mess in the pan. 'Well, I think it's ready.'

He served the meal onto four wooden platters. He and Skilgannon carried them back into the dining area, and they ate in silence - after Braygan had offered a prayer of thanks.

When they had finished Seth leaned back in his chair. 'Second breakfast of the day for me,'

he said. 'd.a.m.ned if it didn't taste better than the first.'

'How will you survive here on your own?' asked Braygan.

'I have my hens, and I know how to hunt. There's also quite a bit of grain hidden close by.

I'll do well enough - if this war ends by the summer. People will start coming back then.

Business will pick up.'

'Wouldn't it be safer to go to Mellicane?' asked Braygan.

Seth looked at the priest and smiled. 'Nowhere is truly safe in a war, young man. Mellicane is a city under siege. If it falls the slaughter will be terrible. Look what happened in Perapolis when the d.a.m.ned took it. He killed everyone, men, women, babes in arms. No, I think I'll stay here in my home. If I'm to be killed it'll be in a place I love.'

An uncomfortable silence fell. Braygan looked away.

'I'd like to purchase some supplies from you, Seth,' said Skilgannon.

For the next five days the travellers moved northwest, ever downwards into lush valleys and low woodland. The temperature rose sharply, and both Braygan and Rabalyn found the going increasingly hard. Sweat itched and tingled on Rabalyn's healing burns, and Braygan, unused to such sustained exercise, stumbled along on painful legs. Occasionally he would suffer severe cramps in his calves and be forced to sit until the agony pa.s.sed.

They saw few people in this time, though occasionally glimpsed riders in the distance.

On the morning of the sixth day they came across the smoking ruins of a small farm. Five bodies lay on the open ground. Crows were feasting on dead flesh. Braygan shepherded Rabalyn from the scene, while Skilgannon moved to where the bodies lay. As he approached the crows flew away a little distance and waited.

There were three adults, one man and two women, and two small girls. Skilgannon examined the ground around them. The earth was churned by the hooves of many horses, though it was impossible to tell how many. At least twenty, he thought. The bodies were all close together, so it was likely they were led from the building and murdered. Otherwise - if they had tried to run - they would have been slain further apart. There was no indication that the women had been raped. They were fully clothed. Skilgannon rose to his feet. A cavalry group had ridden in, looted the farmhouse, then murdered the family who lived there. The farm had then been torched. In the distance Skilgannon could see other farms.

Those had not been set ablaze.

Calling to Braygan and Rabalyn, he walked across the ploughed fields towards the next farmhouse. It was deserted.

'Why did they kill that family?' asked Braygan.

'Any number of reasons,' Skilgannon told him. 'The most likely is that such an act would spread terror. All the other families in this area, seeing the smoke, and perhaps even witnessing the killings, have fled. My guess is that by terrorizing the rural areas the Datians are forcing more and more people to seek refuge in Mellicane.'

'I don't understand.'

'Food, Braygan. Wars are not won merely by defeating enemies on the field of battle.

Mellicane is a fortress city. Everyone there needs to eat. If you swell the numbers then food will run out more swiftly. Without food they cannot resist an enemy. The city might then surrender, and save the need for a sustained siege.'

Skilgannon left Braygan and Rabalyn at a deserted farmhouse, then set out to scout the area.

There were few farm animals anywhere. Skilgannon saw two pigs and several hens, but any sheep or cattle had been driven away, probably to feed the armies converging on Mellicane.

Pausing at a well, he drew up a bucket of water and drank deeply.

Seth had talked of a Naashanite army that was supposed to come to the aid of the Tantrian King. It would come, Skilgannon knew, but intentionally too late. Centuries ago Tantria, Datia and Dospilis had been part of the Naashanite empire. The Queen desired those lands again. Better to let the three nations tear each other apart first, then move in to conquer them all.

He sat on the wall of the well and wished that he could just walk away, find a horse and head north towards Sherak. If the Temple of the Resurrectionists existed he would find it, then bring back to life the woman who had married him. 'I wish I could have loved you more,' he said aloud. Closing his eyes he pictured Dayan's face, her golden hair bound in a braid of silver wire, her smile bright and dazzling. Then, without warning, another face appeared, long dark hair framing features of singular perfection. Dark eyes looked into his own, and full lips parted in a smile that clove his heart.

Skilgannon groaned and surged upright. Even now he could not picture Dayan without summoning the memory of Jianna.

'Do you love me, Olek?' Dayan had asked, on the night of their wedding.

'Who could not love you, Dayan? You are everything a man could desire.'

'Do you love me with all your heart?'

'I will try to make you happy, and I will take no other wives, nor concubines. That is my promise to you.'

'My father warned me about you, Olek. He said you were in love with the Queen. That all men knew this. Have you lain with her?'

'No questions, Dayan. The past is gone. The future is ours. This is our night. The servants are gone, the moon is bright, and you are the most beautiful woman in all the world.'

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of horses' hooves. Glancing to the west he saw three riders approaching. They were soldiers, bearing white crests upon their helms.

Skilgannon stood quietly as they approached. They were carrying small, round, unadorned shields, and he could not identify which army they fought for.

The lead rider, a tall man with a wispy blond beard, drew rein. He said nothing, but stared at Skilgannon with cold, blue eyes. His comrades drew alongside, waiting for orders. 'Are you from this village?' asked the leader, after a few more moments of silence. The voice was low, with a soft burr that suggested the east. Probably Datian, thought Skilgannon.

'I am pa.s.sing through.'

'A refugee then?'

'Not yet.'

'What does that mean?'

'It means I see no reason to run and hide. Feel free to water your horses.'

A touch of anger showed in the rider's eyes. 'I am free to water my horses. I need no permission from you.'

'Were you in the group that murdered the farmer and his family?' asked Skilgannon, gesturing towards the blackened farmhouse in the distance.

The man leaned back in his saddle, crossing his hands on the pommel horn. 'You are very cool, stranger.'