In the end, Gull did the deed for her. The stoic man appeared from out of the rain, his longsword swiping in measured arcs, cutting down each of the acolytes before he had a chance to turn. The deed done, Gull drove his blade into a fallen soldier’s throat and then whipped it out before him, flicking the blood from the steel before sheathing it on his back.
“It’s over,” he said. He bowed to her and turned away. Moira sheathed one sword, retrieved the other, and joined the rest of her Movers at the storehouse.
All seventeen soldiers were dead, as were ten of the twelve acolytes, the other two having scampered off into the night.
“Should we give chase?” Rodin asked.
“Leave them,” Moira said, kneeling beside Willer, the only man injured of their group. “The wolves or coyotes will find them before they cross the miles to the nearest village.”
“What if they return?” asked Danco.
“Won’t matter,” Moira said, still staring at Willer. “They’re two boys. Not a threat.”
“I. . I’m sorry,” Willer blubbered. He lay in Tabar’s arms, hands clutching his gut, which bore a deep, bloody stab wound. “I thought I had him. . ”
Moira met Tabar’s eyes, and she mouthed her question. In answer, the seemingly unsympathetic man slowly shook his head.
“Hush now,” said Tabar calmly. Willer obeyed, sniveling in silence as rain pelted his body. Tabar placed his palm over Willer’s eyes, slid his dagger from his belt, and drove the blade into the young man’s heart. Blood poured over Tabar’s fist as Willer’s body offered a few last spasms and then fell still. The deed done, Tabar slid the young Mover off his lap and stood up. The other Movers gathered around their fallen companion, heads bowed in respect.
“He died fighting,” said Gull. “A worthy death for an unworthy man, for on this day, he was not good enough.”
“Here, here,” the rest of them answered, and then they went back about their business.
It was a shockingly chilling goodbye, Moira thought.
They hauled Willer’s corpse, along with those of the dead sentries and acolytes, onto the clipper. After dumping a barrel of lamp oil onto the deck of the clipper and the four barges, Gull set them aflame. When the lines tying them to the dock were cut, the five flaming ships moved slowly south with the Rigon’s current, like sluggish, indifferent hell beasts. Moira and her Movers proceeded to shatter the rafts with axes from the boathouse before setting fire to the boathouse itself, the barracks and the docks along with it.
Before long the rain stopped, and with the fires raging it was as bright and hot as a summer day in the delta. Only the stable and the four shacks housing the food stores remained untouched. Moira gazed at them, then the stables, and finally at the six rickety wagons sitting idle at the top of the rise. She thought of what Rachida, always the altruistic one in their relationship, would have done. She would help as many as she could.
“What do we do now?” asked Rodin, throwing his arm around her. “You’ve completed the task Lady Catherine set you to.” Moira thought to wiggle out of his grasp but decided against it. Her emotions were still on edge after the deaths of Willer and the young acolytes. She would take comfort from whoever offered it, even if that someone was a cold-hearted bastard like all her Movers were. She rested her head on his shoulder, pretending he was Rachida. The mirage almost worked.
“There are nine horses in the stables,” she said wearily. “They’re old, but they’ll do to pull those wagons up there. I’ll load them up with food and then strike out north. I’m sure there are many folks starving right now. I can feed them on my way to Veldaren.”
“What’s in Veldaren?”
She shrugged. “The king of Neldar, and hopefully Cornwall Lawrence’s last surviving heir.”
Rodin gazed down at her, giving her a knowing half smile.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said, playfully punching him. “I promised Elias I would bring Laurel safely back to Omnmount to take her rightful seat. I’m not one to turn my back on promises.”
She thought of her promise to Rachida, and her bed play with Penetta, one of Catherine Brennan’s maids, and guilt snapped her mouth shut.
Thankfully, Rodin changed the subject as they climbed back up the rise together. “What of the rest of the food? It will go to rot eventually, if it doesn’t attract predators first. Seems like such a waste.”
“Oh, it won’t be wasted.”
“No?”
“Absolutely not.”
“And why would that be?”
She smiled up at him, and once they reached the top of the hill, where the muddy access road stretched off to the northeast, she shoved away from the man and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hey, all of you!” she shouted. “I know you’re out there. Come show yourselves.”
Rodin passed her a queer look, but she simply nodded to him and tapped her foot. For a long while there was nothing but the rustling of the leafless trees in the wind, but then a few shadowy forms emerged. There were only a couple at first, but more and more exited the forest on either side of the road. They were old men, women both young and old, and children; at least two hundred staggering beings, all wandering up to them with wary yet hopeful eyes. The children led the procession, a familiar disheveled boy at the front.
The rest of the Movers had joined them at the top of the hill by then.
“What is this?” asked Danco. His hand fell reflexively to his sword.
“Don’t,” Moira said. “They mean no harm.”
“Who are they?” asked Tabar.
“The children from Omnmount, along with those who were hidden in the cottages when we arrived.”
“What are they doing here now?” asked Gull.
She looked up at the stoic man and shook her head. “Surviving.” She took a step then toward the approaching mass of humanity. They stopped in their tracks, staring at her. Moira nodded at the boy Slug, who grinned in return.
“There is food in the storehouses,” she told them, raising her voice to all. “I will be taking some of what is in that one,”-she pointed toward the third rickety building-“but the food in the other two is yours to do with as you please.”
A hundred disbelieving smiles stared back at her.
“Can we get it now?” asked Slug.
“You can,” she replied. “All of you can.”
The wary, the bedraggled, and the starving tottered past her and her Movers. Moira watched them with a smile on her face, each thankful gesture warming her heart. When they had finally reached the first of the shacks, she finally let out a breath and confronted her Movers.
“So what are you all going to do?” she asked. “Return to Port Lancaster? Find your way in a new town, with new masters? I hear there are many about in need of quality swords.”
Rodin and Danco laughed at that, and Tabar chortled, but Gull simply stared at her with that deadly serious expression of his.
“We will do neither,” Gull said. “Our place is with you, Moira. You have proven yourself to be greater than any of us.” He withdrew his bloody longsword and crossed it over his chest. “Until you are bested, our loyalty lies with you.”
“With you,” said Tabar.
“With you,” said Danco.
“With you. . always,” said Rodin.
It was an answer Moira had somewhat expected, but she was grateful for it nonetheless.
“Here’s to making a new life for ourselves up north,” she said. “But first, if you truly are dedicated to me, you need to find me a trained bird somewhere. We can kill all the bastards we want to later, but right now I need to send the last letter to Catherine before she makes my life completely fucking miserable.”
CHAPTER 21
Hope and faith were two things Bardiya Gorgoros had always possessed in abundance, but even those were beginning to fade. He was exhausted, disenchanted, and in a state of constant, spine-rending pain, a creature made to stoop day and night while chained to three wagons, alone though surrounded by people, the shadow of the Black Spire falling over him as the sun crawled across the late afternoon sky.