I got my first hint of what had happened when the horses, growing progressively more nervous, finally stopped in the middle of the road and stomped in place. Nothing I did or said convinced them to move. Their whinnies were loud in the silence, and I realized no insects were singing.
I grabbed my sword when I spotted the large, dark shape on the road ahead. I watched it long enough to be reasonably sure it wasn’t moving. I got down from the wagon and approached. It was a dead horse and, still halfway in the saddle, its equally deceased rider. In the orange half-light I counted four arrows stuck in his torso and a half dozen more in the horse.
I knelt to look over the victim. His clothes marked him as a farmer, and his face showed him to be barely out of boyhood. I pulled an arrow from the horse and studied it as much as the light allowed. It wasn’t expensive or fancy but simple, utilitarian, and lethal.
Ten arrows is a good-size volley, which spoke of an awful lot of archers. I knew at once who had done this: the kind of soldiers who get paid to fight whoever they’re told is their enemy that day, and who think nothing about leaving a trail of dead civilians for no good reason except fun. Mercenaries, as I’d once been.
I recalled Ted Medraft’s presence in Astolat just before the troops from the north arrived. It was clear who put the gold in their pockets. Hoel had told me the truth.
I saw three more fires through the forest. They made sense now: farms or homesteads, looted and burned by men who had no one to fight. Medraft left a scorched trail reflected in the lowering clouds all the way to Nodlon.
There was no question of moving the dead horse, so I led the wagon team around it, giving as much leeway as I could. Then I climbed back on the seat and urged the horses on as fast as my rattling bones could stand it. I envied Jenny her oblivion.
As I got closer to Nodlon, I passed more burning farmhouses and bodies in the road. I’d been wrong: this wasn’t just professional killers blowing off steam, it was a battle tactic designed to terrify the civilian population into keeping its distance. The bodies were deliberately left on the road where they’d be found. After twenty years’ peace under King Marcus, the citizens were completely unprepared for this level of brutality.
Ahead of me a light moved on the side of the road, arcing back and forth in the air. As I got closer, I made out a torch waving to get my attention.
Again I drew my sword and put it on the wagon seat beside me. I had no shield, so if they had arrows, I’d be a pincushion. I stopped the wagon fifty feet away and called, “Who’s there?”
“I’ve got an injured Knight of the Double Tarn here,” a woman’s voice said. “Can you help me?”
I crouched as much as I could to make a smaller target. “How’d he get injured?”
“How do you think? Those dirty bastards who came through here cut him up and left him for dead.”
“Who is he?”
“Says his name is Kay.”
Well, hell. I jumped from the wagon and cautiously approached the torch. The old woman holding it had limp white hair and clothes that had never been new. “Where is he?”
She warningly pointed the torch in my direction. “Not so fast. How do I know you’re not one of them?”
“How do I know you’ve really got an injured knight?”
She pondered this, then raised the torch. “I reckon at this point it doesn’t matter. I’ve got nothing left anyway. Come on.”
I followed her down into the shallow, dry ditch. The torchlight reflected off armor that moved a little as we approached. A sword waved a weak warning in our direction.
“It’s okay,” the woman said. “It’s me. I’ve brought help.”
Bob Kay lay on his side, a bloody makeshift bandage around his neck. His face shone with sweat and his breathing was louder than the crackling torch. He lowered the sword but kept his hand around the hilt.
I knelt beside him. “Bob, it’s me, Eddie.”
It took him a moment to focus on me, and another moment for recognition to hit. “LaCrosse?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened?” His voice was thin and raspy.
“Isn’t that my line?”
He grabbed the front of my tunic with his empty hand and pulled me close. “Elliot never showed up, you bastard. You betrayed us.”
“The hell I did,” I said, and slapped his hand away. I was too tired to endure insults. He fell forward, and if I hadn’t caught him, he would’ve landed on his face. I pushed him back onto his side and said, “I got to Blithe Ward and delivered the message. He should’ve been at Nodlon yesterday morning.”
Kay’s eyes closed and his head sagged. “Then they got him, too. I went to find him under a flag of truce, and as soon as I got out of sight of Nodlon, they jumped me.” He sighed despairingly. “Without Elliot…”
“Is Ted Medraft behind all this? Did he bring in an army of mercenaries?”
Kay nodded, then winced at the movement and gingerly clutched his neck. “All those months he was supposed to be protecting our northern coast from raiders, he’s been hiring them instead. He’s got Marcus pinned at Nodlon. Brilliant move, tactically speaking. At Motlace, Medraft never could’ve forced a confrontation, but Nodlon’s not set up to endure a siege.” Kay coughed painfully. “How that little pig turd and his mother managed to pull all this together…”
“How bad is your neck?”
He shrugged. “Hurts like a bastard. Hard to breathe. But it can’t be too bad if I’m not dead yet.” He raised up on his elbows. “Polly here fixed me up. She’s got a sure hand.”
The white-haired woman shrugged. “I’ve had three husbands. They all tended to get into scrapes.”
I leaned close to Kay. “Listen, I know what’s happened and why. But we have to get to Nodlon before the real fight starts, and before Marcus does anything he can’t undo. And I have a secret weapon.”
“You’ve been busy,” Kay rasped. “Sorry for doubting you. Hard to know who to trust anymore on this fucking island.”
I nodded. “Ain’t it the truth.”
He saw the sword in its scabbard across my back. “That looks like one of Elliot’s.”
“I told you I found him.”
“Yeah. There was a time a whole division’s worth of men couldn’t have stopped him from getting to Jennifer. I guess we all slow down when we get older.”
Kay was a big man, and it wasn’t easy moving him out of the ditch; he was weak and couldn’t really help. Polly and I got him onto the road, and they waited while I brought the wagon closer.
Both of them stared at the coffin. “What the hell is that?” Polly asked.
“ Who the hell is that?” Kay rephrased.
“Just a favor I’m doing for someone,” I said.
“Is that your secret weapon?” Kay muttered as he struggled up onto the seat. I didn’t answer.
“What about me?” Polly said. “You going to leave an old lady by the side of the road?”
“We’re heading literally into the middle of a battle,” I said. “Hopefully we’ll get there before it actually starts, but I can’t guarantee it. You sure you want to come?”
She gestured around her with the torch. “There’s not a standing farmhouse or a living person within ten miles of this road. I won’t be much better off.”
“You’ll have to ride in the back.”
She scraped the torch across the road stones and extinguished it in a shower of sparks. Then she jumped over the tailgate with surprising nimbleness. “It’s not the first time I’ve ridden with a coffin. Who’s in it?”
I didn’t answer. I made sure Kay wouldn’t fall off, then urged the horses on their way. We headed west into the blazing clouds toward Nodlon Castle.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Kay was too weak, and Polly apparently disinclined, so we rode without talking. I kept tabs on the old woman out of the corner of my eye; I knew exactly what her game was. But she just watched the fires, her expression unreadable.