The Complete Darkwar Trilogy

Zane had scuttled backwards when released and now he rose and came to stand next to Tad. After a moment, he whispered, ‘He’s not breathing.’

‘I hope he’s not,’ said Tad.

‘You killed him,’ said Zane softly, in mixed admiration and shock.

‘He would have killed us,’ was Tad’s reply.

‘Hey!’

Both boys turned as one at the sound from below, the second man trudging back up the wash. ‘Did you see them?’

Zane glanced at Tad, who nodded, and yelled back in a faux deep voice, ‘Up here!’

Zane’s eyes grew wide, but Tad pointed upwards, and put his hands together. Zane stepped into the stirrup Tad formed, and took the boost to reach the branch. ‘I’ll draw him here,’ said Tad. ‘You hit him!’

Zane said, ‘Then give me the branch, you fool!’

Tad was just on the verge of tossing it up to Zane when the second bandit came hurrying up the gully. He was out of breath but the instant he saw Tad standing over his fallen comrade holding the makeshift bludgeon, he pointed his sword and ran towards the boy.

Tad stood rooted in terror for an instant, then at the last he ducked as the bandit tried to cut his head from his shoulders. The blade struck the tree trunk and cut deep, like an axe. The blade was wedged deep and the bandit yanked to free it. Tad thrust upwards into the man’s face with the butt end of the dried branch, and the erstwhile club struck him square on the nose. ‘Damn!’ shouted the man as he threw up his left arm, knocking aside the branch while he staggered back. Tad could see the man had some small cuts on his face and a few embedded splinters, but the blow did nothing more than annoy him. Tad grabbed the hilt of the man’s sword and yanked the blade free, then stood resolutely facing the bandit.

The man drew back his dagger. ‘If you know how to use it, y’whelp, you’d best be about it, else I’ll cut you from chin to crotch for what you did to Mathias.’ He stepped forward, blade ready, as a pair of feet appeared directly over his head. Zane jumped from the branch above, one foot striking the side of the man’s neck, the other landing on his shoulder. The boy’s weight drove the bandit straight to his knees and Tad could see the wide-eyed, startled expression on his face as his head twisted impossibly to one side, and he could hear the loud crack as his neck broke.

Zane again tumbled hard to the ground and lay there uttering a groan. Tad looked downward, first at the bandit who now lay at his feet, his head bent at an unnatural angle, his vacant eyes staring up at the night sky. He then looked at Zane who lay on his back, also wide-eyed and motionless. Tad knelt next to his foster brother who took in a large gasp of air and softly said, ‘I think my back is broken.’

Tad said, ‘Are you serious?’ with concern approaching panic in his voice.

‘It hurts like it is,’ said the shorter boy.

Tad stuck his thumbnail into his companion’s leg and said, ‘Can you feel that?’

‘Ow!’ said Zane, sitting up. ‘That hurt.’

‘Your back’s not broken,’ said Tad, standing and giving Zane a hand up as he did.

‘How do you know?’ said the ill-used boy.

‘Jacob Stephenson told me that when Twomy Croom’s father broke his back from that fall in their barn, the old man couldn’t move his legs, couldn’t even feel anything below the waist.’

‘That’s bad,’ said Zane.

‘Didn’t matter,’ offered Tad. ‘The old man died a day later.’

‘Feels like I broke it,’ said Zane in a weak bid for sympathy.

‘Get the other sword,’ said Tad.

Zane took the one next to the first man they had killed. Tad hefted the other and the taller boy said, ‘We should get back to the wagon.’

Zane said, ‘But Caleb said not to come back?’

Tad’s blood was up and he almost shouted, ‘But he may need our help!’

‘You think Caleb’s all right?’

Fear and exultation mixed in equal measure as Tad said, ‘If we can kill two of these bastards, I’m sure Caleb was the equal of the other three.’

Zane didn’t look convinced, but he followed his foster brother.

They moved cautiously up the hillside towards the road. It was now full night and the way was difficult as they navigated their way through the underbrush and thick boles. As they reached the verge of the road, they stopped and listened for any hint of the bandits. The sounds of the forest at night was all they heard. A light evening breeze rustled leaves and the sound of night birds echoed from some distance away. All appeared peaceful.

They ventured onto the road and looked in both directions. ‘Where’s the wagon?’ whispered Tad.

Zane shrugged, the gesture lost on his companion, so he said, ‘I don’t know. I don’t know if this is where we were, or if we were that way’ he pointed down the road to his left, ‘or the other.’

Then they heard a horse’s snort and the rattle of traces coming from the left. They had climbed back to the road farther to the east than they had thought. The boys hurried along the edge of the road, ready to dart back into the trees should they encounter bandits.

In the gloom they barely saw the first body, sprawled on the far side of the road. It was the bandit who had first accosted them. Farther down the road the wagon was stationary on the other side of the road while the two horses attempted to crop whatever they could from the underbrush. Another bandit lay dead as they reached the end of the wagon.

The boys circled around and saw two figures, the last bandit, the one with the crossbow, lying dead next to the wagon’s left front wheel and another figure slumped down beside him, back against the wheel of the wagon.

Caleb sat upright, but was unconscious, his body held in place by the wagon wheel and the dead bowman’s corpse. Tad knelt next to him and said, ‘He’s breathing!’

Zane pulled the corpse of the last bandit aside, and Caleb fell over sideways. Tad examined him and found a deep gash in his side where a crossbow bolt had found its mark, as well as several sword cuts. ‘We’ve got to do something!’

Zane said, ‘Strip that man’s shirt,’ as he pointed to the nearest bandit. ‘Cut bandages.’

Tad did as Zane said and pulled out Caleb’s huge hunting knife, using it to cut bandages from the man’s filthy shirt. Zane hurried to inspect the other two corpses and returned with two more swords and a small purse. ‘They must have robbed before,’ said Zane.

Throwing an impatient look at Zane, Tad said, ‘You think?’

‘I mean recently,’ said Zane, holding up the purse. ‘It’s got some coins in it.’

‘Well, we had better get Caleb into the wagon, because I don’t know how long he’s going to make it without help.’

Both boys picked up the injured man and deposited him in the back of the wagon. Tad said, ‘You stay back there with him. I’ll drive.’

Neither boy was an experienced teamster, but both had spelled Caleb on their journey, and Zane admitted Tad was a better driver. The horses were reluctant to leave their forage and head down the road. ‘How far did he say that village was?’ asked Tad.

‘I don’t remember,’ said Zane. ‘But hurry. I don’t think we have much time.’ Tad pulled to the right and got the horses pointed down the road and with a flick of the reins and a shout got them moving. With another flick and a louder shout, he got them up to a brisk trot, the fastest he could manage in the darkness without running themselves off the dark road.

Caleb lay motionless, his head resting on a bundle of empty sacks while Zane tried his best to halt the bleeding. Softly, Zane whispered, ‘Don’t die!’

Tad silently echoed his foster brother’s request as he urged the horses down the dark and forbidding road.

The ride through the forest seemed to take forever. The boys alternated between an almost panic-stricken terror and a determined optimism that everything would turn out for the best.

They had no sense of time, as the minutes passed by and the road passed under the hooves of the horses. The animals had not been rested for hours before the ambush, and they were panting and the one on the left seemed to be favouring his left hind leg, but Tad ignored it; he’d kill both horses in their traces if it would save Caleb.

Both boys liked the tall, quiet hunter, as they thought of him. They knew he was related to the owners of Stardock, though the exact nature of the relationship was vague to them. They also knew that their mother was in love with Caleb and that he cared deeply for her. Resentful of his attentions at first, they had both come to appreciate how happy his visits made her. Tad’s deepest fear was having to return to Stardock and seeing the look on his mother’s face should he have to tell her of Caleb’s death.

Suddenly they were in the village. Tad realized that he had been so focused on what he would have to tell his mother and that Zane had been tending Caleb so closely, neither had noticed they had left the forest and had been passing by farms for some time now. The large moon was up and in the shimmering light of its reflected glow they could see the village of Yar-Rin. A few huts lined the roadway into the village square, and three large buildings dominated. One was the mill, on the far side of the square, and the other two appeared to be a shop of some sort, and an inn. The inn showed a sign with a sleeping rooster ignoring a sunrise. Remembering Caleb’s instructions, Tad pulled up before the inn and went to bang hard on the bolted door.

After a minute a voice from above sounded as a window was thrown open. ‘What is it?’ shouted an angry landlord as he thrust his head out the window.

‘Are you McGrudder? We need help!’ shouted Tad.

‘Wait a minute,’ said the man as he withdrew his head.

A moment later the door opened and a large man in a nightshirt appeared in the doorway holding a lantern. ‘Now, who’s we and what sort of help—’ His questions died on his lips as he saw Zane kneeling next to the prone figure in the wagon bed. He held the lantern close and said, ‘Gods of mercy!’

Looking at the two boys, both obviously exhausted and filthy, he said, ‘Help me get him inside.’

Tad jumped up next to Zane and they both got one of Caleb’s arms over their shoulder, then got him upright. The innkeeper came to the end of the wagon and said, ‘Give him to me.’

They allowed Caleb to fall slowly over the large man’s shoulder, and ignoring the blood that was soaking into his nightshirt, the landlord took the wounded man inside. ‘Elizabeth!’ he shouted as he entered the inn. ‘Get up, woman!’

A few moments later a plump but still attractive older woman appeared on the stairs, as the landlord put Caleb on a table. ‘It’s Caleb,’ said the man.

‘Are you McGrudder?’ asked Tad.

‘That I am, and this is my inn, the Sleeping Rooster. And who might you two be, and how did my friend come to this sorry state?’

The woman quickly began examining the wounds and said, ‘He’s lost a lot of blood, Henry.’

‘I can see that, woman. Do what you can.’

‘Tad and I are from Stardock,’ said Zane, and he quickly outlined the tale of their ambush.

‘Damn road agents,’ said McGrudder. ‘Had a Keshian patrol from Yadom out looking for them a couple of weeks back.’

‘Well, they’re all dead now,’ said Tad.

‘All of them?’

‘Five men,’ said Zane. ‘Tad and I killed two of them, Caleb the other three.’

‘You killed two?’ asked McGrudder, then he fell silent as the boys nodded.

When he said nothing for a few moments, Tad offered, ‘We were lucky.’

‘Indeed,’ said McGrudder.

The woman called Elizabeth said, ‘Henry, I don’t think I can do anything to save him. He’s too far gone.’

‘Damn,’ said the innkeeper. ‘Margaret!’ he roared.

Within a minute a young girl, about the same age as the boys, appeared from a door in the rear of the common room. ‘Get dressed and hurry down to the witch’s hut.’

The girl’s eyes grew wide. ‘The witch!’

‘Do it!’ the landlord shouted. ‘We’ve got a dying man here.’

The girl’s face went pale, and she vanished back through the door. A few minutes later she reappeared wearing a simple grey homespun dress and a pair of leather shoes. Turning to Zane, McGrudder said, ‘Take the lantern and go with her. The old witch won’t talk to strangers, but she knows Margaret.’ To Margaret, he said, ‘She’ll not want to come, but when she tells you to be away, say this and no more, “McGrudder says it’s time to repay a debt.” She’ll come then.’

Zane followed the obviously agitated girl out the door and across the small village square. This side of the village was upslope from a small stream and devoid of farms. The few huts bordering on the square were quickly left behind and they plunged into a thick copse of trees.

Zane hurried to keep up with the girl who seemed determined to get this over as quickly as possible. After a couple of minutes of silence, he said, ‘My name is Zane.’

‘Shut up!’ said the girl.

Zane felt his cheeks burn but said nothing. He had no idea why she was being rude to him, but decided that was something best explored when things weren’t so confused.

They came to a small game path and followed it, until they came near the edge of the stream. A flat clearing jutted into the stream, forming a small bend in the stream. The surface was rock covered by recently dried mud. Zane wondered why the hut that sat snug in the middle of the clearing hadn’t been washed away by the recent flooding.

The hut was constructed of sticks covered with mud, with a thatch roof and a rude stone chimney at the back. It looked barely large enough to contain one person. A leather curtain served as a door and what looked to be a small opening high up on the left appeared to be the only window.

The girl stopped a few yards from the hut and shouted, ‘Hello, old woman!’

Instantly a voice answered, ‘What do you want, girl?’

‘I’m Margaret, from McGrudder’s,’ she answered.

In a cross tone, Zane heard the reply: ‘I know who you are, you stupid girl. Why do you trouble my sleep?’

‘McGrudder says you have to come. There’s a man in need of aid at the tavern.’

‘In need of aid,’ said the voice from within. ‘And why should I give aid to any who pass through this village?’

‘McGrudder says it’s time to repay a debt.’

There was a moment of silence, then the leather curtain was pushed away as the old woman stepped through. Zane had never seen a smaller person in his life. She looked barely more than four and a half feet tall. He had met a dwarf once, travelling through Stardock on his way to the dwarven stronghold near Dorgin, and even he had been a good four or five inches taller than this old woman.

Her hair was white and her skin so sun-browned, like ancient leather, he couldn’t tell if she had once been fair or dark as a girl. Her stoop made her even shorter.

But even in the dark Zane could see her eyes, alight as if glowing from within. In the dim moonlight he could see they were a startling and vivid blue.

Toothless, she slurred her words slightly as she spoke. ‘Then come to McGrudder’s I shall, for I let no man hold debt over me.’

She didn’t wait for either Margaret or Zane, but marched past them purposefully, muttering to herself.

Zane and the girl easily kept pace, and when they reached the inn and went inside, Zane was amazed that the little woman looked even more frail and tiny than before.

She marched up to McGrudder and said, ‘So, what debt do I owe you, McGrudder, that you’d call in?’

‘Not me, old woman,’ said the innkeeper. ‘Him.’

The woman looked at the prone figure on the table and said, ‘Caleb!’ She hurried to his side and said, ‘Get this tunic off so I may look at his wounds.’

McGrudder began to pull Caleb upright to attempt to pull his jacket and tunic off, and the woman nearly screeched as she said, ‘Cut them off, you fool. Do you want to kill him?’

Tad had been keeping Caleb’s hunting knife; he pulled out and reversed it, handing the hilt first to the innkeeper. McGrudder set to with practiced efficiency and cut away the jacket, then the tunic.

The old woman looked at the wounds and said, ‘He’s near to death. Boil bandages, and fetch me a cup of wine. Hurry.’

The woman carried a small leather pouch on a strap she wore over one shoulder. She moved to stand next to the table and rummaged around in the pouch, finding what she sought. She removed a folded parchment and when the wine was produced, she unfolded it, letting a fine powder fall into the wine. To Zane, she said, ‘You, boy, hold his head up and don’t let him choke as I give him the wine to drink.’

Zane did as she instructed and Caleb’s lips moved slightly as she administered the potion. Then she went to the fire to check the cauldron. When the water began to roil, she put the bandages that had been cut from some spare bedding into it, and said, ‘You, girl, fetch me soap and cold water.’

Margaret brought a bucket of cold water and the soap. The tiny woman ladled some hot water out of the cauldron into the bucket to warm the water then told Tad to put the bandages into the water.

She set to with surprising vigour and washed Caleb’s wounds. She instructed McGrudder to use the metal ladle to fish out the bandages and let them drip on the floor, holding them before the fire so they would dry. When she was satisfied they were dry enough, she bound Caleb’s wounds and said, ‘Now, carry him up to a room and let him sleep.’

McGrudder picked up Caleb as a man might a child and lugged him up the stairs. Zane asked, ‘Will he live?’

The old woman fixed him with a sceptical eye and said, ‘Probably not. But he’ll linger, and that’s important.’

‘Why?’ asked Tad.

The old woman gave him a faint smile and said, ‘Wait.’

McGrudder returned and asked, ‘What more can we do?’

‘You know what you must do,’ and she turned to leave.

‘Wait!’ said Zane. ‘That’s all? A cup of wine and bandages?’

‘My potion is more than a cup of wine, boy. It’ll keep him alive long enough for McGrudder to fetch more help, and that help will save Caleb, son of Pug.’

‘What help?’ asked McGrudder.

‘Don’t dissemble with me, you old fraud,’ said the woman. ‘I know who your true master is, and I know if an emergency warrants you can send word in haste.’ She hiked a thumb towards the stairs and said, ‘His son lies dying, and if that’s not an emergency, I don’t know what is.’

McGrudder looked hard at the old woman and said, ‘For a simple woman who claims to practice only herbs and root lore, you know a great deal more.’

‘Live a long time and you learn things,’ she said as she reached the door. ‘But Caleb did me a favour, and his father did one years ago, and there was another, a friend of his father’s who did me a great service as well, so that in the end, there is a great debt still. But to you and your masters I owe nothing; let us not be confused on that matter, McGrudder. The next time you disturb my sleep, you do so at risk.’

Saying nothing more, she left the inn and Tad and Zane exchanged glances. McGrudder saw the look and said, ‘You boys can sleep in the room with Caleb, the second door on the left at the top of the stairs. He’s in the only bed, but there’s a large mat rolled up under the bed you can share.’ He glanced at the girl and said, ‘Get yourself back to bed, girl, we have a long day tomorrow.’ He then motioned to his wife who had been quietly washing the blood off the table and floor and said, ‘I’ll help you in a moment, Elizabeth.’

She nodded. ‘I know. You need to send that message.’

He returned the nod and left the common room through the door in the rear. The innkeeper’s wife looked at the boys and said, ‘Go up and get what rest you may. It is only three hours until sunrise, and there will be work for all tomorrow.’ She indicated a candle on the bar.

Zane picked up the candleholder and the boys mounted the stairs without a word and paused a moment before the door, then entered. Caleb lay in his bed, a heavy down comforter pulled up to his chin, his face pale and drawn.

Tad knelt and pulled the rolled-up mat, and the boys lay on it.

‘What do we do now?’ whispered Zane after a while.