The Orb And The Spectre (Book 2) (8 page)

   "I’ll decide after I have spoken to them again in the morning. If they prove to be too great a hindrance I may let them go."

   "The big fellow, Ombo, hails from a hamlet called Ghismile, which he calculates to lie no more than three leagues from here through the forest. From there it is an easy march to the Crosswood road. He suggests we rest there and replenish supplies, perhaps even hire horses. The injured can also remain there while we continue on to Enchantment's Reach. We can send help back then. I think it’s the best option."

   Issul nodded. "We will leave tomorrow.
But, Shenwolf, watch Ombo. I am not happy with him."

   "He is full of admiration for you."

   "I wish it had been so from the beginning. Now, what of the slooths?"

   "We followed the plan I outlined earlier, killing four immediately. They are stupid creatures. Three more returned to pick at the carcasses, and we killed them too. The others flapped away across the forest. Also, we have sealed the chamber with the magical oval device."

   "Is it secure?"

   "We boarded it with stout planks and supports, and piled boulders before it, covered with earth. We also barred and covered other entrances. However, I can do little to deter anyone who knows that the chamber exists and is determined to enter."

   "That’ll have to suffice." Issul put aside her bowl, stood and stretched. "Now, when is my watch duty?"

  
"Yours? I assigned no duty to you."

   "Then amend that. I will do what I ask others to do. Shenwolf, you look tired. When did you last sleep?"

   "I have no need."

  
"Sleep. I’ll take your watch."

   "Truly, I am not tired."

   "Shenwolf, it’s an order, not a debating point."

   Shenwolf grinned.
"Very well. My watch is pre-dawn, at the gate-tower."

   He saluted and made off, but Issul called him back. "There is one other thing. Think back, if you can, to when your platoon intercepted the
Karai ambush upon my party, on the road outside Crosswood. At that time did you see any sign of a child?"

  
"A child?"

  
"A boy, three years old, with tumbling fair locks."

   Shenwolf shook his head. "There may have been a child, but I saw none. There was great confusion. I just glimpsed you running into the forest, and went in pursuit."

   "I was chasing the child."

   "I’m sorry, I didn’t see him."

   "What about an old woman, heavily built, poorly dressed, almost in rags."

   "I glimpsed a woman running from the cart."

   "No, another, older and bulkier than she, and with blood upon her cheek."

   Shenwolf's eyes narrowed.
"An old woman in rags and a small fair-haired boy. No, on that day I saw no such pair."

IV

    The hours before dawn were quiet and chill. Issul huddled in a blanket in the gate-tower, walking back and forth in the limited space to keep the blood circulating in her veins and the numbing cold from the tips of her fingers and toes. The forest was beginning to emerge from the enveloping blackness as the first grey light touched the cloudy tree tops. Mist hung still upon the canopy, birds were just beginning to stir and sing, and a faint rose glow was appearing above the trees to the east.

   It had been a long watch. She had taken over from Kol some four hours earlier. Now she was looking forward to stepping down and enjoying a mug of hot green tea reinforced with spirit. But thankfully her watch had passed uneventfully. She had been haunted by the thought that the Karai patrol might return this night. Fifteen strong, they could well overcome Issul's group if they were alert. She was fearful of the Karai reputation for superior night-vision, though Shenwolf had said he did not believe their vision was significantly better than humans'.

   "They do see more than we in darkness, I would say that much, but they are not night creatures. They don’t by choice fight or conduct their operations at night, which
they would surely do if they could. No, I believe they have only minimal advantage in the dark."

   Still, Issul had not relaxed. Every tiny sound, every rustle in the undergrowth, had seized her attention, had her crouched and peering into the dense black for signs of moving bodies. Now she could look across the camp, see the other three towers and make out her own men in each.

   Then she froze. There was a movement, a faint sound, behind her, down in the compound. She watched, thinking she’d been mistaken, then saw it again. A shadow, a creeping figure, close to the former dormitory hut in which the two Karai prisoners were held. Issul hesitated. Raise the alarm, or wait? She chose the latter. If the Karai had somehow entered the camp in strength she wanted to establish more of their positions before making any move.

   She unslung her bow, notched an arrow, and knelt, waiting. The dark figure moved again, had almost reached the hut now. Then to her horror she saw another figure dart from between two of the tents. She took a breath, was about to cry a warning, when the second figure came onto open ground and stole across the compound. To her relief she recognized Shenwolf. He was tailing the intruder by the hut.

   Issul put aside her bow and silently descended, intending to give Shenwolf support. Drawing her sword she crept across the cold dirt, arriving beside the dormitory hut. The door was open. Within she could make out a dim figure. Shenwolf appeared on the other side of the door. Issul signalled to draw his attention, and when he had seen her, motioned inwards. Then with a yell she leapt through the door, Shenwolf just behind.

   The intruder spun, blade held before him.

   "Jace! Shenwolf! Don’t strike! It’s me!"

  
"Herbin!"

   "What are you doing here?" Shenwolf pushed past Herbin to where the two
Karai lay motionless upon the floor.

   "I came to deliver justice," said Herbin. His eyes in the dim light were glassy, his lips tightly compressed. "But I’m too late."

   Shenwolf looked over his shoulder at Issul. "They’re dead."

   "Herbin, you fool!" cried Issul.

   Herbin shook his head. "I’ve already said, I am too late. The job has been done for me."

   Issul shoved past him, stared down at the two pallid corpses. Neither appeared to bear new wounds, nor was blood to be seen.

   "What has happened here?"

   Shenwolf was kneeling beside the corpses, examining them. He shook his head. "I don’t know. Herbin, what happened?"

   "I did nothing!" declared Herbin vehemently. "And I feel no pride or pleasure in admitting it. I came here to kill them, to let them taste my steel as my brother tasted theirs. I would give them to the slooths if I could. How my father must have suffered! But the sword I took from their comrade was the best I had, and at least I would have been avenged. And Jace, believe me I would have made no secret of what I’d done. No, you would all have known it was Herbin who had delivered justice and cleansed the world of their vile lives. But I did not do this. I have been cheated."

   "'We are the dead'," said Shenwolf softly. "I don’t know how, but they spoke the truth when they said those words. By some means they have induced their own deaths."

   The Karai officer's eyes were open, fixed sightlessly upon the rafters. Their lustre was gone; no longer did they in any way resemble fabulous gems. The gorgeous blue membrane of the sclera already showed signs of etiolation, the slit of the pupil was dull and turning to grey.

   Issul turned away, cursing silently. "What am I to make of a people like these? Can we ever hope to meet on common ground?"

FOUR

I

   With the morning another death was discovered. One of the two prisoners the Karai had hung upon frames, the man who had taken an arrow in the thigh after Issul cut him down, had lacked the strength to survive the shock. The other, whose name was Aurfusk, seemed to be recovering, though he still lacked use of his hands.

   With Aurfusk the victorious company was now ten strong. Issul had the able-bodied assemble in the compound. "All of us are free beings once more. Some of us have homes to return to, loved ones to seek out. Others may not. For my part, I return to Enchantment's Reach where my home lies. Some of you, I know, travel also in that direction, part-way or beyond. Our chances of survival are soundest if we stick together. I occupy good station at the city-castle and can promise remuneration for those who choose to follow me there. But should any choose otherwise, you may go with my blessing and thanks."

   "I was brought here from my farmstead in the south," said one man, named Carkin. "That is the way I must go."

   Two others were of similar
voice, the rest chose to remain with Issul. Before parting they buried the dead. The Karai were put into a shallow pit in the labour compound. Those who had perished as prisoners were interred at the edge of the forest. Time did not allow the digging of individual graves, so all were laid side by side and covered with earth. Shenwolf and two others also collected the remains of those who had died in the slooths' feeding-pen, and they were laid with the others. The grave was left unmarked, out of concern that it might be desecrated by returning Karai.

   The sad task done the company selected and divided rations and supplies from the camp. Each man took as much as he could comfortably carry, including a few gold and silver coins. In
a storage hut some of the men found items of their own belongings. Issul discovered her own smallsword and dagger, which pleased her for they were lighter and better balanced for her than the more cumbersome Karai weapons. She also found clothing of finer quality than that which she had exchanged with Shenwolf: a thick shirt of pale brown cotton, loose jerkin, strong trousers and her own damask cape. These, with the padded armour of the Karai, provided her with adequate covering for the journey ahead.

   Their final task was to gather fallen branches, leaves and dry grass from the forest's edge. These, with other flammable materials from the
Karai huts and tents, they built into pyres at various places about the camp. Then they put torches to the pyres and watched in contemplative silence as the camp burned.

   It was time for farewells as the company split into two. Issul felt a twinge of sadness at parting with the three who were travelling south. She, like the others, was aware of the bond that had grown between them all by dint of shared suffering and the successful, if costly, struggle for freedom. Now she wanted to offer assurances of future assistance to those who were departing. But she could not reveal herself. None but Shenwolf knew that she was Queen, and until she was safe within Orbia it had to remain that way.

   So they departed that unhappy place and went their separate ways. With bright flames crackling at their backs and thick black smoke pouring into the dull sky, Issul and her little band forded the stream a little way north of where she had been made to scrub Karai clothing, and entered the forest.

   Shenwolf took the lead to begin with, for he knew the locations of the traps set by the
Karai. These they disarmed as they passed. Later Shenwolf fell back and walked beside Issul.

   "I can't help feeling that we should have delayed our departure," Issul said when they had been walking for half an hour.

   "For the Karai squad?"

   She nodded. "They will be almost certainly be returning with new prisoners. What will be their fate when the soldiers discover what we’ve done?"

   "We might wait days, or longer. Worse, they might somehow detect something amiss and spring a surprise attack on us. Furthermore, for all we know fresh units could be making their way to the camp from the southeast. No, Jace, we’ve done the right thing. It would have been rash to have delayed."

   She knew he was right, but the thought of the other prisoners she might have saved haunted her for many days.

   They were deep in the forest now, moving slowly and silently. Ombo led, navigating by the sun towards where he believed his home lay. At one point he stopped and pointed. Some distance off a pair of grullags stood beneath the trees, watching them. Huge creatures with the bodies of hirsute men and heads most closely resembling those of bears. They appeared curious but diffident. Hungry they would not hesitate to attack a solitary traveller, even a pair. But they were intelligent enough to stay clear of a well-armed group. Even so Shenwolf slipped to the rear as the group moved on, his eyes peeled lest the grullags to stalk them.

   Towards the latter part of the afternoon they mounted a low promontory which commanded a view over a wide wooded plain below. Ombo, panting, his face bright with sweat, pointed to where something glittered distantly between the trees.

   "I’ve not led us wrong. There is Ghismile's Tarn. My home, the hamlet of Ghismile, lies close on its furthest shore."

   Soon they were approaching the outlying buildings of the hamlet. The evening dark was gathering quickly, the curved moon reflected in the still, wide tarn along whose shore they walked. Before an old stone barn Ombo halted. "The folk of Ghismile are nervous, understandably considering the proximity of the
Karai and the plunder and abductions they have already wreaked upon us. I can’t predict their response to seven armed figures stealing in from the night. I propose going on alone to announce myself to family and friends, and to reassure them in your regard. This way there will be no accidental bloodshed. Wait here in this barn for my return."

   "I’m not happy with this," whispered Issul to Shenwolf after Ombo had departed and they waited inside.

   Shenwolf nodded in agreement. "You don’t trust Ombo."

   "I’ve said before, I am unconvinced by his change of heart."

   "Then let's hide outside in the wood and see what transpires."

   The six concealed themselves in the cover of trees and undergrowth beside the path opposite the old barn. Minutes passed,
then a swaying light was seen approaching slowly from the hamlet. The mammoth bulk of Ombo came into view, in company with another man, well padded but of shorter stature.

   "Ho, comrades!" Ombo thumped upon the door of the barn and pushed it open. "Come out now. All is safe.
Let’s to the tavern!"

   Issul glanced at Shenwolf, her expression sheepish. Shenwolf grinned. The six stepped out from hiding. "We’re here."

   Ombo's face in the lamplight was bemused.

   "We were concerned lest the
Karai be here," Issul said.

   "Ah. They’ve not been seen since my capture, so I’m assured," boomed Ombo, though the glint in his eyes said that he doubted her explanation. He indicated the man beside him. "This is Gramkintle, a farmer of our community."

   "Welcome to our humble hamlet," said Gramkintle, with a shallow bow. He was short, plump, with extremely wide buttocks, aged about forty. "I have just heard tell of your heroic exploits against the verminous Karai. Let me say, I’m most delighted to welcome you to our little community. Come, join us in our tavern and let us celebrate your freedom."

   They walked on behind Ombo and Gramkintle, passing rude stone cottages and outbuildings, until they came to the centre of the hamlet. Before them stood a rickety tavern which bore no sign. They entered the common-room where six or seven men sat at tables, tankards before them.

   "Friends, be seated," said Ombo, gesturing expansively. He turned to the landlord. "Gassar, the best ale of the house, if you please. This is a night for celebration!"

   Issul, Shenwolf and the others seated themselves around an unoccupied table in the centre of the common-room. Issul was weary, as she assumed the others to be. By choice she would have gone immediately to the nearest bed or pallet. But she acknowledged that more was expected of her. The community of Ghismile was no doubt excited by the unexpected return of one of their number who they had considered lost. She prepared herself for a long round of tale-telling and tankard
raising.

   The landlord, Gassar, came forth, carrying two heavy earthenware pitchers. As he approached the table he lifted the pitchers high and brought them down hard, one then the other, onto the exposed heads of Phisusandra and Herbin. Both men slumped forward, senseless.

   With a sharp cry Shenwolf sprang to his feet, drawing his sword, followed by Issul, Kol and Aurfusk. But they found themselves confronted by the tavern's other customers, who had risen as one, swords in hands. At the same moment the door burst open with a crash. Six burly men in helmets and corselets of tarnished mail, rushed in, swords drawn.

   "What’s this?" cried Shenwolf. He held his sword before him, but saw that the situation was hopeless. With Phisusandra and Herbin unconscious, and Aurfusk prevented from using his hands, the others were outnumbered by four to one.

   Issul turned blazing eyes to Ombo. "What treachery is this?"

   Ombo stood back, grinning, digging between his teeth with a thumb-nail.
"A little unfinished business to attend to,
Jace
. You’ve not forgotten, have you?"

   He turned to the man called Gramkintle. "Take their weapons and march them to the keep."

II

   They were taken along a narrow dark lane which led uphill to an ancient keep enclosed within mouldering, twenty foot high stone walls. Once within the main gate Ombo's thuggish henchmen prodded and pushed them inside, then down a dank flight of stairs into a dungeon area divided into a number of pokey lightless cells. Into one of these Issul was flung. The door closed behind her, keys grating in the lock. In the darkness she heard the dull clang of several other doors closing, and knew that her companions had been dealt similar fare.

   The footsteps of Ombo's men receded. She groped her way to her door: a strong frame of stout iron bars, between which she was able to thrust an arm but no more. Enraged and despondent she called out, "Shenwolf?
Herbin? Are any of you there?"

   Reassuringly Shenwolf's voice sounded from somewhere along the passage. "I’m here, Jace."

   "And I," came Kol's voice. Herbin, Phisusandra and Aurfusk also spoke up.

   "It seems we are each held in a separate cell," said Shenwolf.

   "Aye, and mine is cold and damp and dark," added Phisusandra, "and there are rats scuttling about my feet."

   Shenwolf cursed and Kol cried out, "This is the
most vile treachery. We have fought to win Ombo his freedom. What kind of man is it that treats his comrades in such a way?"

   From the darkness at one end of the passage came a deep, booming chuckle. A shriek of metal hinges preceded the opening of a door, which revealed a flickering dull rectangle of yellowish light at the head of a short flight of stone steps. Into this stepped Ombo, ogre-like in silhouette. "
Baron
Ombo, if you don't mind. Lord of Ghismile and the surrounding lands. As long as you are my guests I think I have a right to expect due and proper deference."

   Grasping a torch he descended to the passage and passed before the cells where they waited. "Still, you are
right, this is no way to deal with my comrades-in-arms. And in fact I have no argument with you. Once I have done here with sweet Jace, you others will be free to leave. Although you, Shenwolf, I find rather interesting. I may decide to let you linger a little longer, enjoying my hospitality. At least until I’ve learned more about you."

   "Ombo, let them go," demanded Issul. "You have said your argument is with me. These are men with no connection to me. They wish only to return to their homes."

   "And so they shall in due course. But I need their presence, for a short time at least." Ombo halted before the bars of Issul's cell and peered at her. "As insurance, you see. You and I, Jace, we have things to discuss, a little issue to resolve. And I think you’ll be better behaved knowing that your friends are waiting down here."

   "Ombo, you are making a grave mistake!" cried Shenwolf. "Leave her be!"

   Ombo merely chuckled and jangled the keys to the cells. "
Baron
Ombo, please."

   Inserting a heavy iron key into the lock on Issul's door, he twisted, stepped inside, grasped Issul's arm and hauled her out as though she weighed no more than a child.
"Now come along,
Jace
. Come and see what I have waiting for you upstairs."

   He took her up into the main part of the keep. With sinking spirits Issul became aware of the fine quality and workmanship of the furnishings and hangings, the splendid rugs that adorned the floors. Baron Ombo was plainly a wealthy man.