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Tor stared in horror at the man who had just entered the room. He was a well-built man whose rough, weatherworn face indicated he was used to spending most of his time outside. His hair was wet and had been brushed back, away from his eyes. He must have just come from the bathhouse.
“Jebba?” Ban asked, ignoring the man’s words. “Is that you?”
The farmer suddenly burst out laughing and ran up to Ban, grabbing the tayman in a bear hug. “It is so good to see you. Where have you been all these years?”
Tor looked from one to the other in confusion. They obviously knew each other and Jebba’s initial reaction had just been a way of teasing an old friend, but he still felt unsure how to react.
Ban diffused the tense situation. “Tor, let me introduce my childhood friend. I have not seen him in many years. He left our village to marry a farmer’s daughter and never returned.” He gave Kulley an appraising eye. “And now I see why.”
Kulley blushed as her husband punched Ban’s arm. “You old rogue,” he said good naturedly. “Keep your eyes off my wife.”
He then turned to Tor. “Please forgive me. I recognised Ban as soon as I set eyes on him and could not resist greeting him the way my father always used to. He was a cantankerous man who never liked my friendship with a non-human. My name, as you have probably gathered, is Jebba. Welcome to my home.”
A quick explanation as to why so many people had invaded the farm was given and Jebba said he was more than happy to have so much company, stating that the house felt empty since most of his children had left to start their own families. At Tor’s request, Jebba and his family agreed to treat him as an ordinary man instead of a Prince.
After introductions Jebba ushered everyone into the dining room where food was soon served. It was a noisy meal with Jebba and Ban doing most of the talking and the wine flowed freely. Jalique, having taken offence that Patrick had not responded to her flirtations, seated herself between Jem and William and made a point of ignoring Patrick the entire meal.
The topic of why Ban and Jebba had lost touch came up and Jebba explained that he rarely left the farm so he was not surprised that Ban did not know he lived there. On top of that, Ban did not often stray from the village he had made his home.
When Jebba first went to live on the farm, which was owned by his father-in-law, the older man went to the town, neighbouring villages and even the closest city in order to sell his wares and purchase any new equipment. When he retired, Jebba’s sons were old enough to take over that duty, so Jebba himself never saw a reason to stray from the lands he now owned, having been left them in his father-in-law’s will.
It was a relaxing evening and all too soon Jebba announced that he must seek out his bed as he had an early start in the morning.
The two couples were shown to rooms and Ellen and Marie shared another, while Nosmas and Hurst were given a fourth. There was a small attic room which Ria found delightful and Patrick and Tor were offered the last one. Tor, however, refused it, saying he felt uncomfortable sleeping in a bed while others in his party made do with sleeping pallets, so Jem and William grabbed it before anyone else had the chance.
Everyone else bedded down in the front room and found the bedding provided made the sleeping pallets so comfortable that it was not long before they were all asleep.
“Jalique seems to be quite taken with you,” William observed as he removed his outer clothing.
“What are you talking about?” Jem asked as he slipped under the covers, wearing just his underwear.
“Jalique, John’s sister.”
Jem rolled his eyes. William was being irritating on purpose. “I know who Jalique is. What do you mean by she is taken with me?”
William stopped removing his trousers and stared at his brother. “Are you seriously telling me you did not notice that she was flirting with you all night?”
“No,” Jem said, his tone indicating he had absolutely no interest in what William was saying. “Was she?”
William pulled his trousers over his left foot, folded them neatly and placed them on top of his tunic. “What has gotten into you lately? Your mind always seems to be somewhere else.”
“Just because I am thinking about more important things than a pretty young girl who is way too young to be paying any attention to the likes of you and me does not mean that there is something wrong.”
“At least you noticed that she is pretty,” William said in a sulky voice as he rolled over so his back was to Jem and pulled the blanket up over his shoulder.
––––––––
William was woken by the sound of a cockerel crowing. He rolled over, opened his eyes and found that he was alone in the room. He lit the lamp that he had placed on the table beside the bed before he had turned in for the night and looked around for his clothes.
Noticing that Jem’s were missing, he reluctantly got dressed and made his way down the stairs. Following the sound of voices, he found his brother in the kitchen with Kulley and Marie. They appeared to be giving him a cooking lesson.
“I will have some bacon with my eggs,” he said sarcastically.
“You will have to go and collect them then,” Marie told him, handing him a basket and pushing him toward the door.
“The hen house is to the left,” Kulley called after him.
Muttering to himself, he tried to do as he had been told, but a short time later he returned with the basket still empty and his hands bleeding from multiple wounds.
“Those are not hens,” he complained as he showed off his injuries. “They are vicious killers. I am lucky to get out of there alive.”
Jalique, who had been chatting to Jem as William walked in, came up to him and inspected his hands. The wounds caused by the beaks were not deep and she commented on how superficial they were.
“Those hens are lovely docile birds,” she informed him. “Like any woman, you just need to know how to speak to them.” She grabbed the basket from where William had dropped it on the table and skipped out of the room.
“Let me take a look,” Marie said and inspected his hands closely. “They just need cleaning,” she told him and grabbed a bowl of water and a clean cloth. As she gently washed each wound, William glanced up at his brother and was surprised to see he was glaring at him.
The rest of the group soon arrived and all hands were put to work preparing breakfast. William tried to explain that he was too badly injured to do anything, but his protests were ignored and eventually he gave up.
Jebba had already been at work for a few hours by the time the food was ready and was happy to sit down for a while. He asked about the quest and Tor, despite his usual reservation about giving much away, told him of the latest clue and what the group thought it meant.
“I take it you are going to Gitwerc,” he said once Tor had finished. Tor confirmed this, so the farmer continued. “There is an ironworks on the border between Dannavon and Gitwerc, close to the border with Emvale. I purchase all of my metalwork from there. It is run by one of the few honest dwarfs I know. His brother, a dwarf named Grimmel, went to work there when the owner was taken sick. When he recovered, instead of returning home, Grimmel expressed a desire to travel and has been doing all of the deliveries ever since. He is a hard worker and knows how to take care of himself. I would like to say he is friendly, but I would be lying, however he would be a good candidate to join you if you need a dwarf. He is loyal and almost as honest as his brother.”
Tor thanked the farmer for his advice and obtained directions on how to find the ironworks. Jebba could not guarantee that Grimmel would be there, as he spent most of his life on the road, but it was not too much of a detour and the group could always continue further into Gitwerc if they needed to, so Tor decided to give Grimmel a try.
Before leaving, Tor mentioned that they would need to return to the town to buy supplies for the next leg of the journey. He was taken aback when Jebba laughed at him.
One of the reasons the farm was so successful, he explained, was because of its size. It did not specialise so there was always a need for some of the produce it supplied.
Kulley spent a lot of time baking and, while a bakery had a lot more bread for sale, the farmer’s wife had cooked enough to supply the group for the next couple of days.
Jebba was happy to provide them with cured hams, salted pork, dried beef, a variety of different vegetables, eggs (which William refused to collect), butter, cheese and milk, as well as a generous supply of wine and ale, all of which the farm workers made themselves.
It took a lot of doing, but eventually Tor managed to persuade the farmer to accept a payment far in excess of what he was asking. Tor knew that the sum quoted by Jebba was less than he would have received had he sold the goods in the town and he also wanted to pay for the food and accommodation that had already been provided.
It was a relaxed and happy group of people who left the farm that morning, memories of the verbal abuse Modo had received all but forgotten.
When they stopped for a break, Tor took a map from his pack and spread it out on the ground. He then called everyone over and asked their opinion as to the route they should take.
They were still in Mercia, a few day’s ride from the Dannavon border, but, as Tor pointed out, they did not necessarily have to enter that country again. Their destination was just inside Gitwerc, so there were a number of ways they could go.
Jem and William, who knew the roads of Dannavon better than anyone else, explained the pros and cons of each main route then Patrick talked about the different ways of entering Gitwerc through Emvale.
Everything was discussed, the length of the journey, the difficulties they would face, the likelihood of encountering bandits or getting caught up in a war between lords, as well as the state of repair of the roads.
After much debate it was decided to head east toward Emvale, but before entering the country, they would turn south into Dannavon for a few days, then head east once more and enter Gitwerc close to where the ironworks was located.
For a number of reasons, including how easy it would be to resupply their stock of food, it was the best way to go.
Only Bellak objected, stating that they had already spent too much time in Dannavon and that he did not want to enter it again without good reason, but he was outvoted, so enter the country once again they would.
Their remaining days in Mercia passed by uneventfully. There was no sign of any guards hunting either Ria or Modo, though they avoided as many populated places as possible, just to be on the safe side.
They crossed into Dannavon without even noticing, but when Jem pointed out where they were, they doubled the guard each night.
At first everything went smoothly. They found good ground to camp on, easily defendable should the need arise and there was plenty of game to hunt once their meat supplies ran out. Edible greenery was easy to come by, as was fresh water, so it was only bread and butter they were lacking, both of which they could survive without.
Then the scenery changed. Smoke in the distance, which at first appeared to be from a chimney probably caused by the occupant of the building cooking, soon became denser and blacker.
As they neared the outskirts of a village the smell of the smoke reached them. It did not smell like an ordinary wood fire. Something unpleasant was mixed in with it, making them gag as they got closer to the source.
The first house they found was just a burnt out shell. Nothing remained of the cottage, its contents or its occupants. A dead dog in the yard was all that could be seen of anything that used to be living. It had an arrow through its heart.
Tor called a halt. He did not like the look of this. “I think the ladies should remain here,” he announced, earning a scowl from Ria. “Some of us should go and investigate.”
Jem volunteered to guard the women and Hurst, along with Nosmas and Bellak. Ria insisted on joining the men. Initially Tor was going to argue against it, then changed his mind. He had no idea what he was going to find when he went deeper into the village and having a woman along might be a good idea, especially if they found anyone scared or injured.
The men, along with Ria, dismounted and armed themselves. Ria refused the sword that was offered to her and Tor was about to suggest she take it when she opened her jacket, revealing two knives held securely in the lining. She then bent over and demonstrated that she had another knife secreted down each of her boots.
Tor nodded his approval, all concerns that she would not be able to adequately defend herself satisfactorily addressed.
Modo, too, refused the sword, stating that he rarely used one and did not intend to do so unless there was no alternative. He was only going along in case his special eyesight was needed.
Somewhat reluctantly, the men started walking into the village. They passed a number of houses which were nothing but ashes, with no sign of human life anywhere. Smoke was still rising from the centre of the village and as they got closer the smell became worse.
Patrick was the first to recognise what it was. Only one thing had that distinctive aroma. The smell of burning human flesh. He quickly looked around at Ria.
“You may want to go back,” he advised. “What lays ahead is not going to be pleasant.”
She shook her head, not wanting to appear weak. Knowing she was probably going to regret doing so, she slowly followed on.
As they got nearer to the centre the buildings became closer together. Not a single one was untouched by fire. Even those made from stone were in ruins.
“What do you think happened here?” Seth asked.
“I do not know,” Tor replied. “But this does not look natural.”
“I agree,” William stated. “If this was a natural fire it may have claimed most of the houses and businesses here, easily leaping from one to the other, but those on the outskirts would not have been touched.”
“And where are the people?” Ban asked. Nobody had any idea.
When they reached the village square they got their answer. Piled high, right in the centre, was a mass of smouldering corpses. The charred remains could still be identified as human, but not easily.
Bodies of all shapes and sizes had been piled into a heap and set alight. Only the fact that one of the corpses, which must have rolled away from the bonfire before it caught light, had an arrow protruding from its chest suggested that the people had been murdered before being set on fire. It was a small mercy.
“There are babies here,” Ria cried out, tears filling her eyes as she looked at the tiny remains of what used to be a child.
“Whoever could have done this and why?” Seth asked, his voice choking up with emotion.
“Search everywhere,” Tor announced. “If there is anyone left alive they will need our help.”
Nobody needed to be told twice. In pairs they carefully searched through all of the burnt out buildings, calling out as they did so in case anyone was hiding.
Torrick thought he heard the sound of movement from under one of the burnt out shells that was once a house, or a store, and called over to Modo. Suspecting that there was a basement below that may have escaped the fire, he asked the vexen to look through all of the cracks in the floorboards in case he could see anything.
The sun was shining brightly, sending narrow beams of light into the darkness below. It did not penetrate far, but was enough for Modo to see as he slipped his fingers through the cracks and opened his eyes, closing the main one in the middle of his forehead as he did so.
He looked around carefully, blinking until he got used to the gloom. There was, indeed, a cellar. He could make out boxes, some of which contained apples, and barrels of some kind.
He was about to withdraw his fingers, having seen nothing of interest, when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked closer in that direction and could make out the figure of a young boy, shaking with fear.
“There is someone down there,” he called out. “Ban, help move these floorboards. Ria, we need you. The poor boy looks terrified.”
Ria ran over and as soon as Ban had prised away enough of the floorboards for her to fit through, she slipped down into the cellar, landing neatly on her feet.
Removal of the wooden covering allowed more light to filter through, but only in one spot. The recesses were in shadow so she asked for a torch to be passed down.
Holding the light high above her, she made her way around the room, stopping once her eyes fell on the shaking bundle of clothes.
Instead of approaching, she sat on the ground and crossed her legs. She began to talk softly, telling the boy who she was and why she was there. She promised she meant him no harm and would go no closer until he gave her permission to do so.
She had a water container slung around her neck and she removed it, undid the stopper and took a long drink. Then she held it out to the boy.
“Want some water?” she asked. He did not move, but continued to stare at her with wide eyes.
How long she stayed down there, talking gently to the child, she did not know, but by the time she convinced him that she was not an enemy the men had finished searching the rest of the village. No other living creature remained.
Everyone had been slaughtered, even the pets and the cattle. Whoever had attacked had been brutal, intent on destruction not conquest.
Eventually the young boy crept forward, grabbed the drink container from Ria’s outstretched hand and scurried back to his corner.
Tears streaked his smoke stained face. He could not be more than four years old. From the smell of him he had soiled his trousers and Ria did not blame him. Whatever had happened here would have made many a grown man do the same.
“Is everything alright down there?” Tor called out. He was becoming concerned that Ria had been down in the cellar for so long.
“Everything is fine,” she called back. “My new friend and I are just having a chat. At least we would be if I could get him to join in.”
The child froze when he heard Tor’s voice, the water container half way to his lips. Water spilled down his chin and dripped onto his chest, but he did not notice. The shaking which had finally ceased a few moments before Tor spoke had returned.
“That is Tor,” Ria told him. “He is a very nice man. He never does anything to hurt good people. Am I right in thinking that you are a good boy?”
To her surprise, the child shook his head.
“What makes you say you are not good?”
“I must be bad. That is why those men took my parents away.” It was the first words the child had said and they broke Ria’s heart. Unable to stop herself, she rushed forward, pulled the boy into her arms and held him tight.
“This is not your fault,” she whispered in his ear as she rocked him gently. He did not struggle to get away. “The men who did this are the bad ones, not you.”
Then he started crying once more. She waited until his tears had stopped flowing before asking him if she could take him up into the sunlight. Feeling him nod, she pulled her legs under her so she could stand up without letting go of him.
“I am going to pass you up to my friends,” she informed him, but he clung on to her neck so tightly she could not pry him loose.
“Lift up your arm,” Ban called to her. She did as requested and he reached down, grabbed hold of her hand firmly and hauled the two of them out of the cellar.
“A giant,” the boy cried out when his eyes fell on Ban. Ban did not correct him.
“Do not worry. I am friendly.” He reached out and tousled the boy’s hair. He did not pull away.
“What do we call you little one?” Patrick asked him.
He looked about him and, finding himself surrounded by strange men, began to shake once more.
“We are all friends here,” Patrick reassured him. He then looked at Ria. “We should get him back to Ellen.” She nodded.
“We are going to take you to the rest of our friends now,” she said softly. “They have food there. But we have to walk through the village. I need to you be brave. Can you be brave for me?”
She felt movement of the head which she took as agreement. “Please close your eyes and do not open them again until I tell you it is safe to do so.” She did not want him seeing what was in the village square. She knew she was going to have nightmares about it and she did not dare think what the sight would do to such a young mind.
He did as asked and buried his head into her shoulder. Patrick removed his jacket and placed it over the boy’s head so that, should he open his eyes, he would be unable to see what had become of his village.
Ria walked slowly, not wishing to startle the boy. Her legs wanted to run, to get as far away from the destruction as she could, but she resisted the urge.
Seth ran ahead so Ellen had a soothing broth prepared by the time Ria and the child arrived. As he was handed over to Liselle’s waiting arms, Patrick removed his jacket from the boy’s head.
Young eyes held his before he forced himself to look away. “My friends call me Rabbit,” a tiny voice said.
Patrick smiled. “I am very pleased to meet you Rabbit,” he said and held out his hand for the boy to shake.
Rabbit was left with the ladies, who fussed over him, forced food down him and cleaned him up, while the men moved away to discuss what they should do.
Ellen, using a blanket and a little bit of magic, created clean clothes for the boy and by the time the men returned he was sleeping peacefully in the back of the wagon.
The decision had been made to find the nearest place where the King’s guards were stationed. They needed to be informed about what had taken place and hopefully they would be able to find a family to take in the child.
They soon reached a crossroads. Their destination was to the east, but the nearest guardhouse was to the west. No discussion was needed; they headed west.
Less than an hour later the sound of hoof beats could be heard in the distance. There were many of them and they were moving fast.
Seth did his best to manoeuvre the cart out of the way of the oncoming riders while the rest of the group moved into single file.
By the amount of dust being thrown up in the distance it appeared to be a large number of horses coming toward them and, as they approached, Tor looked carefully to see if they were dressed in any sort of uniform.
“The King’s guard,” William was the first to call out, being more familiar with the pattern than most of the others.
“How fortunate,” Patrick observed.
Tor moved his horse to the middle of the road and held up his hand. Anyone coming down the road would be forced to stop or swerve around him.
The front runner for the King’s guardsmen made the wise decision to come to a halt, but he was not pleased about it.
“Get out of our way,” he yelled at Tor. “We are on the King’s business.”
“This is the King’s business.” Tor’s voice was calm, but full of authority. He quickly outlined what he had seen at the village and, indicating toward the cart with his head, explained that they had rescued a survivor.
The King’s guard listened attentively, never for one moment doubting what he was being told.
“I was afraid of this,” he finally said. He removed his helmet, revealing a full head of white hair and a bushy beard. “My name is Captain Hallock. A few days ago the leader of a notorious band of robbers was caught near the village you have just described. His followers sent a message to the King, demanding his release and stating that the consequences of non-compliance would not be pleasant. We were sent here to protect the villagers. It appears we are too late.”
The man, whose age Tor was unable to determine, but from his tone he assumed he had been in a position of command for quite a while, sounded genuinely sad.
“I am sorry,” was all Tor could think of to say.
“Did the King plan to give in to the bandits’ demands?” Patrick enquired.
Captain Hallock shook his head. “Their leader was executed this morning.”
“Pity,” they heard Modo say. All eyes looked at him, some filled with anger.
Modo grinned. It was not a nice grin. “I would have liked to have gotten my hands on him first, that is all I meant. What do you plan to do now?”
“Hunt down every one of those murdering bastards and make them regret the day they were born.”
Tor was shocked by the viciousness of the Captain’s tone, but it was what came next that shocked him more.
“Want some help?” Ria asked. Tor turned around to find her playing with one of her daggers, testing the sharpness of its point.
“I think you will get a number of volunteers from this group,” Patrick told the Captain, who gave the offer serious consideration.
“Alright,” he finally said. “I will gladly take all the help I can get. But not the women. I will have one of my men escort them to our headquarters where a full statement can be made. The boy may prove to be a good witness, if he is up to talking about it.”
Ria was not happy with this comment and the look she gave the Captain made him shiver.
In the end, most of those who had entered the village left with the King’s guards. It took a lot of persuading on Tor’s part, but eventually Ria agreed to go with the women to the headquarters, but only on the understanding that she was there to report what they had all witnessed, not because she was a woman who needed protecting.
As most of the men headed off, a young soldier approached Ria, requesting that she allow him to be her guide. He said it so sweetly that her anger at his Captain evaporated.
“You are going to have a long career ahead of you, young man,” she told him. “Lead on.”
It took them most of the rest of the day to reach their destination and the sun was beginning to set when they approached the compound.
The young soldier spoke to the guard on duty and everyone was allowed inside. Stable boys rushed over to them and took their horses while they were escorted into the main building.
“I am taking you straight to our commander,” the young man explained. “He will be eager to hear your story first hand.”
By this time Rabbit was awake and nervously entered the building, holding Ria’s hand tight. They were led through a series of corridors, eventually stopping outside a large wooden door on the right.
The soldier knocked on the door, waited for a response, then slipped inside. Voices could be heard from within the room and a short while later the door reopened and he gestured for everyone else to enter.
A tall thin man with a pencil moustache and a stern face was seated behind a desk. Other than the desk and a few chairs, the room was completely bare.
“This is General Klitch,” the soldier explained. “General, these are the people I was telling you about.”
The general looked up from the parchment he was perusing and inspected them all closely. As soon as his eyes fell upon Bellak he visibly paled.
“Guards,” he called out. “Arrest this man.”