The Grim Company

Bonds of Blood

Brodar Kayne shifted on the old mattress and looked out of the window beside him. The sun was out, casting its warmth down on the small farming settlement. Villagers went about their daily routines in a perfunctory manner, still coming to terms with the disaster that had befallen the community. Only the timely arrival of their small group had saved Farrowgate from utter destruction.

He stared up at the sun until tears stung his eyes. The physician, Gaius, had warned him to keep away from bright light as a precaution, but he couldn’t resist. He had been without his sight for the best part of three days. There was a moment of absolute terror when he thought he might never see again, and that had unmanned him in a way he hadn’t thought possible. To his great relief, his vision had returned shortly after.

The infection in his wound had cleared and his flesh was well on the way to knitting itself back together. As an unexpected bonus, the prolonged rest had eased the aches and pains that had been troubling him for months. All things considered, he was feeling better than he had in years.

There was a knock at the door. He sat up on the bed and then pushed himself to his feet. ‘That you, lass?’ he said.

Sasha entered the room, looking annoyed. She frowned at him with those big dark eyes of hers. ‘You should be in bed.’

He made a face. ‘It’s been three weeks. I reckon that’s about long enough.’ He ran a rough hand over his beard and grimaced. How long had it been since he last shaved? Too bloody long. ‘Don’t suppose you got something with an edge on you, lass? I ain’t going to risk nicking myself with Magebane over yonder.’

Sasha sighed. On those rare occasions when she wasn’t scowling or looking as though she was about to hit someone, she was a fine-looking girl. With him confined to bed, the fractious relationship between her and Jerek had apparently deteriorated. He hoped Isaac was doing his best to keep them apart.

‘Men,’ she said. ‘Little more than apes, beating your chests to show the world how big and strong you are. I’d have thought a man your age would know better.’ She shook her head and pointed at him accusingly. ‘You’re worse, if anything.’

He tried to keep the smile from his face as she glowered at him. ‘Got to keep active,’ he responded. ‘There’s a saying in the High Fangs. “A man who hangs up his sword is a man with one foot in the grave.” I’ve still got some life in me yet.’

Sasha placed her hands on her hips. ‘You’ll have a lot more if you don’t insist on acting like an old fool.’

He stared at her for a time, said nothing. You could have been back in Dorminia by now. You didn’t need to remain here with us. Isaac would have gone with you, kept an eye out on the road.

As if reading his thoughts, her scowl grew even fiercer. And it ain’t like you’re some helpless damsel in distress yourself.

He cleared his throat. ‘Gaius says you came to check on me while I was recovering. You didn’t need to stick around. I appreciate it, I guess is what I’m trying to say.’

Sasha looked about as uncomfortable as he felt, which was to say very. ‘Well, I owed you that much. You’ve been true to your word. Of course,’ she added, ‘after what happened at the Rift, you won’t want to return to the city any time soon.’

‘Aye. You have that right.’

A travelling merchant had brought word of recent events to the village. Shadowport had been destroyed, the entire city buried beneath the waves. Now Dorminia was preparing to repel an invasion from Thelassa. He had hardly been able to believe it when Isaac had brought him the news.

Jerek had been furious. ‘Fucking priceless,’ he had rasped. ‘So what, now we’re gonna stroll into an ant’s nest of the red-cloaked cocksuckers while they’re getting ready to go to war? Might as well slit our throats now.’

The fact was, setting foot any nearer the city than they already were would be asking for trouble. They were lucky the soldiers that had come to investigate the disturbance at the mine had not pursued them as far as Farrowgate; it was even more fortunate that with conscription happening all over this part of the Trine, the village had so far avoided a visit from the Crimson Watch.

We’d stick out like a sore thumb, he thought. Even if the disaster at the Wailing Rift couldn’t be pinned on them, there was that incident with the two Watchmen and the Shard stripling. Someone was bound to have witnessed their bloody encounter.

Sasha was still watching him. ‘Since we can’t go west,’ he said carefully, ‘I reckon me and the Wolf will head east towards the Unclaimed Lands.’

‘You don’t have a copper to your name.’

He gestured at the faintly glowing dagger on the table next to the bed.

She narrowed her eyes. ‘That isn’t yours to sell.’

‘I had an agreement with your gaffer. Thirty gold spires for accompanying you safely to the Rift. That, or the weapon there.’

Sasha sighed. ‘Look, I’ll get your gold. Give me Magebane and I promise that I’ll have it delivered to you. You have my word.’

The old Highlander scratched his beard. It didn’t seem right, pawning something as precious as that dagger. He reckoned he could trust the girl, but to say Jerek might take a different view would be like wondering if a Highland cat wouldn’t mind a poke in the eye.

‘Where is the Wolf?’ he asked.

‘Hunting. I’ve barely seen him for days, which suits me just fine.’

‘He ain’t the man you think he is, lass.’

Sasha’s lip curled. ‘You might have tried convincing me of that before he almost took my head off and then repeatedly threatened to kill me. Three times in the last week, in fact — and as I said, I’ve barely seen him.’

‘In fairness,’ the Highlander ventured, ‘he was provoked. You did stick a quarrel in his arm. The Wolf’s got a temper on him and I’ll be the first to admit it.’

‘A temper? He’s a black-hearted bastard! I know all about men like him.’ She paused for a moment. ‘You’re different to him. I don’t know what kind of bond you two have, but the best thing you can do is to cut him loose. He’ll bring you down eventually.’

Kayne rubbed at his forehead. He didn’t want to have this conversation. ‘Like I said, he ain’t the man you think he is.’

‘Fine,’ Sasha huffed. ‘Be stubborn, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m going to find Isaac. It’s time we made plans to leave this damned village.’

He watched her storm out. The girl seemed awfully tense, like a bowstring about ready to snap. She’d been that way ever since Vicard’s death. Must have been closer to the alchemist than I thought.

With a satisfied groan he reached down and touched his toes. Then he rolled his shoulders and flexed his back, forcing his muscles into their old routine of familiarity. Age could rob a warrior of many things, but as long as the body and the mind remembered, everything else was trivial. You just had to fight through the pain.

There was another knock on the door, this one more hesitant. ‘Come in,’ he said. It was Gaius. The old physician was a wrinkled prune of a man, as thin as a rake, with a balding crown covered in a few strands of grey hair.

‘Ah, you’re up,’ said the physician. ‘I see you’re feeling much better. I have to say, you heal remarkably quickly. Is this a trait common to all you Highland folk?’

Kayne shrugged. ‘I guess so.’

‘A highly convenient attribute, I should imagine, with all the fighting and adventuring and such you people do.’

‘Probably.’

Gaius walked over to a cabinet and rummaged around inside a drawer. ‘I see you found the moon dust. You know, consuming so much of the drug in so short a time is unhealthy.’

‘What?’ He had no idea what the physician was talking about.

‘The silvery powder that was inside this small pouch here. An anaesthetic with considerable mood-stimulant properties. I quite understand why you would want to dull the pain. Still, you are aware moon dust can be highly addictive? The side effects are rather unpleasant.’

Kayne frowned. ‘What side effects are those?’

‘Oh, they can vary depending upon the individual. Dilation of the pupils. Intense periods of depression following the initial emotional response. In prolonged cases of abuse, the membrane of the nose itself can become weak, leading to permanent scarring.’ Gaius looked at him with a concerned expression. ‘Are you experiencing any of these? Here, let me check…’

‘Er, I think I’m all right,’ the barbarian protested as the physician poked around at his face and stared up into his nose.

‘You don’t seem to have any lasting damage,’ Gaius said. His voice took on a slightly disapproving tone. ‘However, I am going to have to insist you do not consume any more of the substance once the merchant returns here with fresh supplies. There are many others in the village that would benefit from a small measure, and you appear to be in rude health.’

‘Right you are,’ Kayne replied. ‘Sorry about that. In any case, I’ll be leaving soon.’

‘I’m sad to hear it. Farrowgate could use a warrior like you for protection. Who will defend us with Augmentor Rorshan gone and Dorminia at war? These are troubling times.’

‘Aye,’ the Highlander responded. ‘They are that. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get some air.’

He found Sasha and Isaac by the ancient well in the centre of the village. They were sitting on a bench overgrown with moss, enjoying the last of the sun. The manservant was instructing a small group of children on the best way to handle a sword, using a stick to demonstrate. The youngsters watched him with expressions of delight, excitement and determination. No doubt many of them had lost loved ones to the magical abomination that had ravaged the community.

Poor things, he thought. The world was a cruel place, and as far as he could see it wasn’t getting any kinder as the years rolled by.

Sasha looked up as he approached. Wide eyes. Dilated pupils. Aye, lass, I’m onto you. It wasn’t just concern for my well-being that kept you here, was it?

Isaac spotted him. A delighted grin split the manservant’s face. ‘Kayne!’ he exclaimed. ‘You’re looking well! Here, come and help me out. Show these children how a true master handles a blade.’

The old Highlander tried to hide his embarrassment as the children turned and stared up at him with grubby faces full of wonder. A freckle-faced girl gave him a gap-toothed smile. The boy next to her wiped snot from his chin with the back of his hand and gave it a good hard examination.

‘I reckon I’ll need a sword first,’ he said, nodding at the stick in Isaac’s hands. The manservant tossed it to him. He stood there uncertainly. ‘Right,’ he said. His audience watched him expectantly.

The girl with the freckles piped up. ‘How did you get that scar? Did a bear do it?’

‘This one?’ he said, pointing at the side of his face. ‘It wasn’t a bear that did that. It was outlaws, exiles from their Reaching. Bad people.’

‘Did they rape you?’ asked the girl.

‘What? No. No, they didn’t.’

‘What happened?’ asked one of the younger boys.

‘I was out hunting with my son. They ambushed us from a stand of trees. Four of them.’

‘You have a son? What’s his name? What happened to him?’ The girl leaned forwards, her face full of curiosity.

He glanced at Sasha and Isaac. They were watching him closely. ‘His name… Magnar. His name was Magnar.’

‘Where is he?’ The girl again.

Kayne closed his eyes. ‘Gone,’ he said.

‘What do you mean? Did he die?’

Might be less painful if he had. He sat there and watched his mother burn in the Shaman’s fire. I never raised him to be a coward, but he sat there and said nothing as his mother’s screams pounded in my skull.

‘It’s getting late,’ he said, deciding to change the subject entirely. ‘Why don’t you younglings grab yourselves a stick each? We’ll see if we can make warriors out of you all before the sun goes down.’

The assembled children all jumped to their feet and ran off to find make-believe swords, with the exception of the freckle-faced girl who gave him a sulky look. ‘You didn’t tell me what happened to your son!’ She pointed an accusing finger at him.

He sighed. ‘I-’

‘Kayne. Grab your sword. We’re fucked.’ Jerek burst into the clearing, sending children scattering away in panic. His burned face was dripping with perspiration. Heedless of his surroundings, he wiped sweat from his brow and spat out a goblet of phlegm.

Kayne grimaced. His interrogator stared down at the spittle covering the bottom of her dress and, with a horrified wail, turned and ran off. Kayne gave the Wolf a disapproving frown that wasn’t the least bit genuine. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked.

Jerek’s chest heaved as he sucked in air. He had obviously been running hard. ‘A score of Crimson Watchmen, maybe more. Approaching on horseback from the north-west. They got Augmentors with them, one of them a giant of some kind.’

‘How far?’

Jerek spat again. ‘A league, could be. Maybe a league and a half. They ain’t messing around. They’re armed to the teeth. I reckon we got twenty minutes before they get here.’

Brodar Kayne turned to Sasha and Isaac. ‘Listen. If they catch us things are gonna get bloody. We can’t fight that many men, but we can lead them away from here. Give you two a chance to make good an escape.’

Sasha shook her head. ‘What about you? You’ll be hunted down and slaughtered.’

He gave her a level stare. ‘I’ve escaped death often enough in the past, lass. If this is my time, so be it. But you and Isaac, you still got a chance of getting out of this alive.’

It was the manservant’s turn to shake his head. ‘I know the groom over at the stables. He has a few horses that didn’t fall victim to the tentacled monster. They’re not the quickest, but they might get us to the coast.’

Sasha nodded. ‘The Unclaimed Lands are too far. We’ll be ridden down and slaughtered. Maybe if we can cross over into Thelassan territory-’

‘You planning to swim the channel?’ Jerek snarled. ‘Ain’t a man alive who can do that. And we got thirty miles to the coast. I say we hole up here, give those fuckers the fight of their lives.’

‘No!’ exclaimed Sasha. ‘We can’t do that to these people. I know the Watch. They’ll torch the entire village if it means getting to us.’

‘Aye, she’s right.’ Kayne took a step forwards. ‘Isaac, fetch the horses. I’ll go get my sword. We’ll give them a chase they’ll remember.’

Jerek turned away and muttered something savage. Kayne ignored him. He was already running back towards the physician’s home where his greatsword was stashed.

Three weeks, he thought. Three weeks of peace. I’ve never felt so relaxed and carefree. His feet hammered on the dry muddy ground, sending jarring impacts up to his knees. They were already starting to ache. There was something almost comforting in that.

It took him a moment before he realized he had a smile on his face.

‘Not much further,’ Isaac shouted. He was out in front again, having taken the lead for most of their mad gallop from Farrowgate. To the surprise of none of them, it turned out he was a skilled rider. Brodar Kayne knew how to handle a horse, but even he’d found the uncertain terrain a challenge. The manservant, however, had guided them with an assuredness the chasing soldiers could not hope to match.

It had been almost two hours since they fled the village. The sun was a red orb sinking beneath the hills to the west. He could feel his horse heaving beneath him, sucking in great gasps of air. It couldn’t keep up the pace much longer, but it didn’t need to. The coast was only a few miles ahead of them.

The question of what they would do when they actually reached the coast was another matter entirely, but he figured it was enough to focus on one thing at a time.

He glanced behind him. The soldiers had gained some ground over the last ten miles, but there was still a good distance between them. Gaius had evidently succeeded in delaying them for a while back at Farrowgate. He hoped the physician had followed his advice and not been too obstinate with their pursuers; he didn’t want to be responsible for the kindly old man taking a beating or worse.

Sasha was clinging onto Isaac for dear life. The girl wasn’t very familiar with the back of a horse. That had become apparent as soon as she had vaulted onto her mount and promptly slid off to land in an undignified heap on the other side. At least Jerek had had a good chuckle out of it.

The Wolf tugged at his reins, closing the gap between them. ‘Kayne,’ he rasped. ‘We’re almost at the coast. What’s the plan?’

Right. A plan. Can’t put it off any longer. ‘We split up,’ he said. ‘I’ll get their attention, try and lead them west. You look for a way across the channel. Failing that, loop back around to the north.’

Jerek took a second to digest his words. ‘That’s it?’ he growled. ‘Fuck me, and there I was thinking you knew something I didn’t.’

The old barbarian shrugged. The horse beneath him stumbled suddenly, sending spasms of pain arching up his back. ‘Best outcome we can hope for is that they split their pursuit,’ he said between clenched teeth. ‘Three against ten, I reckon you stand a chance. Ain’t a hunter or tracker who can match you, Wolf, and you know it.’

‘Could be,’ Jerek agreed. ‘But that don’t help you much, does it?’

‘Just lead the girl and Isaac to safety and forget about me.’

‘Don’t start with that shit.’

‘You saved my life once already. I reckon your debt’s just about paid.’

Jerek’s face grew dark. ‘It’s paid when I say it’s paid. I ain’t leaving you to die. You want some noble death so maidens can get themselves wet thinking about your heroic sacrifice? Shove it up your arse, Kayne.’ The Wolf spurred his mount and the horse pulled away, taking him out of earshot.

Shit. Jerek was about as stubborn as he was, which meant his hastily formulated plan was dead in the water. Shortly to be followed by us, I reckon. He could see the edge of Deadman’s Channel now, the water glittering orange in the dying light.

His horse shuddered again. He patted the mare on the neck and his hand came away covered in lather. The beast reared suddenly, and before he knew it he was flying from the saddle as the animal stumbled to its knees.

He hit the ground with an impact that forced the air from his lungs. The pain was excruciating. He gasped, rolled three or four times down the slope before coming to a halt against a jutting slab of rock. He lay there in agony, listening to the pathetic sounds of his horse expiring nearby.

Somehow he rolled over and managed to lift his head. Jerek and Isaac had ridden on for a few hundred yards, oblivious to his misfortune. The Wolf must have noticed his absence then, as he swung his gelding around and thundered back towards him.

Kayne pushed himself up from the ground as Jerek drew near. He could see their pursuers closing on them with alarming pace.

‘Grab my hand,’ the Wolf snarled as he brought his horse around. Kayne reached out, grasped the scarred hand of the grim Highlander and pulled himself up behind him.

The Wolf kicked down hard, sending the animal beneath them galloping ahead at full tilt, every strike of every hoof against the hard ground igniting fresh spasms of pain throughout Kayne’s body.

Isaac had slowed. They caught up with him just as they approached the edge of Deadman’s Channel. The manservant shouted something and pointed down to the water. Kayne shielded his eyes from the sun and tried to make out what Isaac was gesturing at.

It was a small caravel. The ship was anchored barely fifty feet from the shoreline. He could make out a handful of figures watching their approach from the railing. Shit. Had another force been sent to intercept them?

As they grew nearer, however, he realized this vessel was not from Dorminia. The flag that flew from the mainmast displayed a circle of stars on a white background. Inside the circle a woman’s outstretched palm supported a cluster of towers. Kayne didn’t know much of the land south of Dorminia and its hinterland, but he was reasonably certain this was a Thelassan ship.

Several of the figures aboard the vessel had lowered themselves onto a tiny boat and were paddling towards them. He squinted. The man at the bow wore dark robes of some kind, but his hood was thrown back to reveal skin as black as the night. Behind him-

Sasha gasped. ‘It can’t be…’

The dinghy reached the shallows and the young man in the middle of the boat vaulted out and splashed towards them. That swagger, that ridiculous beard, the cocksure smile: they were unmistakable.

‘Sash!’ the boy exclaimed in delight. ‘How long has it been? A month? I have some stories to tell you! Here, meet my new companions. This is the Darkson, a master assassin from Shamaath. And this’ — he pointed at the largest of the three men wading through the surf — ‘is Three-Finger. He’s my henchman.’ This last one was an ugly fellow with thinning hair and an unpleasant skin disease ravaging his face. He looked faintly annoyed as the boy finished his introductions.

‘Greetings,’ lisped the dark-skinned newcomer. Kayne narrowed his eyes. The way this one moved, the confidence with which he appraised their ragged little band — everything about him spoke of the kind of man who was as comfortable killing as he was breathing.

The assassin continued, ‘I see you, too, are familiar with Davarus Cole. You must be Brodar Kayne.’

The old barbarian swung around on the horse and lowered himself gingerly to the ground. ‘Aye, pleasure to meet you,’ he said. He glanced back up the hill, where two dozen men approached them on horseback, outlined in red by the departing sun. He cleared his throat.

‘Before we continue with the introductions, I guess I ought to mention a small matter that’s going to require our attention pretty damned soon…’