Grim winced as he pulled as he pulled the steel gauntlet over the hand of his injured arm. His shoulder ached like all hells, but he could move the arm if he absolutely had to, though the tugging of the stitches was a distinctly unpleasant feeling. He flexed his fingers inside, watching as the fine plates covering his fingers interlocked, mimicking his joints. The craftsmanship was beyond incredible.
Around him, the courtyard before the Marshal’s residence was abuzz with activity, as servants passed to and fro, carting supplies, mounts, and weapons to the where the contestants were making their individual preparations. For the occasion, he’d been supplied with a dappled black mare. A solid riding horse, but a far cry from the muscled stallions some of the contestants rode. Grim had few illusions about his chances during this event.
Many of the nobles and their seconds were already mounting their horses and setting off toward the fort’s gate where the race would be started at mid-day. Edgar would be waiting for him there, lacking permission to enter the grounds of the manse. Grim had been surprised to see the man return willingly, having expected him to desert and slip into the night. Grim may very well have done so himself in Edgar’s position. He didn’t deserve this kind of loyalty.
Brian watched Grim test the straps of his armor while he checked the saddlebags of his horse. He gave Grim a weird look. “Remind me again why you’re putting on-,” he paused, gesturing with his hand toward Grim, “Whatever this is, for a contest of speed and endurance?”
Grim grunted as he checked the straps of his armor. It was heavy and made his shoulder ache, but the weight was well-distributed and didn’t overly hinder his mobility. “If you’d seen what was beyond the walls last week, you’d be arming yourself too.”
“We’ll have guards to escort us from the city,” Brian said.
“And after that?” Grim asked.
“The roads are safe,” I traveled them just a few months ago.
Grim wasn’t so sure. “You haven’t been outside the fort. Things have changed. And if they’ve changed here, then who’s to say they haven’t elsewhere?”
Brian frowned “So you’re saying I should have brought a sword?”
Grim snorted. “That’d be a start.”
“And where do I get one of- whatever it is that you’re wearing?” he asked.
Grim shrugged. “You’d have to ask my father.”
Brian shrugged in return. “Then I suppose, I’ll have to settle for being comfortable,” he said, tugging at the edges of the fur coat draped about his shoulders.
Grim shook his head as searched for any belongings he’d forgotten to pack. His spare travel clothes and boots had already been stowed away along with foodstuffs for the three-day journey. An axe, shield and spear were well secured to the saddle by leather straps. There was no way he’d be convinced to leave the limits of the inner city without them. His family wasn’t the target of the Sons ire, but there was little to stop him getting caught in the cross-fire.
As Grim tied off his fur cloak about his shoulders, he saw Rafe approaching. The man wore fine travel garments above a pair of riding boots.
Brian looked him up and down appraisingly. “I thought you said there was ‘no bloody way in hell you’d accompany us on a three-day traipse through the devil’s frosty anus, even if you are my second.”
Rafe grinned as he came to a stop near them. “I’ll not be accompanying you through said frosty anus. Instead, I’ll be gallantly defending the fine ladies seeking a taste of adventure and danger on the road,” he said.
Grim raised an eyebrow. “They’re still doing that this year?”
Rafe nodded. “Indeed. Most of the court young and fit enough for the journey will be setting out.”
Grim was quiet a moment. “Do they not understand what just happened? A lot of people died and more will.” It was one thing to send the contestants out. Sending a menagerie out to celebrate a party in neighboring town was a whole different level of madness.
Rafe waved dismissively. “The danger just adds to the excitement. Our group will be accompanied by the Fifth Cohort for security,” he said with a meaningful look at Brian.
Brian’s eyebrows rose and stopped cataloging his belongings to meet Rafe’s gaze. “Harren will be leading the security as we leave?”
Rafe grinned. “I’m way ahead of you, little Bearington. I handsomely paid a messenger to deliver a very specific request to my dear friend. I think it’s safe to assume the competition may experience some delays when leaving the city.”
Brian chuckled. “I look forward to hearing the complaints as we ride past.
Rafe leaned forward and clapped a hand on Brian’s shoulder then turned his attention to Grim. “What in the hells are you wearing?”
“Armor,” Grim answered as he finished securing his cloak. He looked to the sky, taking in the sight of the sun nearing its zenith. The race would be starting soon, and he didn’t intend to be late.
***
The area around the barracks had been unusually empty since last week’s raid. The soldiers were working double shifts to cover those who had fallen and meet the increased security needs around the city, which left few men in reserve. Bags hung around many of their eyes, but Grim felt it difficult to feel sorry for them.
He and Brian rode down the main boulevard of the camp to where a small crowd had gathered around the gate. The contestants all sat ready in their saddles, hands tightly gripping the reins of their mounts. Conversation buzzed amongst the assembled nobles as they waited for the Marshal to start the newest event.
Longreen himself stood atop the gatehouse, high over the assembled crowd and waiting riders. He appeared deep in a conversation with his wife who was attired in a fine riding dress suited to travel. The man looked deeply displeased, a scowl written across his face.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Grim tore his eyes from the scene as he noticed Edgar waiting atop his mount on the edge of the crowd. The man’s expression had been dark since the night of the fire, and he’d been unwilling to talk to Grim about whatever he’d seen beyond the wall.
Grim glanced to Brian. “I’ll meet you at the start,” he said.
Brian met his gaze and nodded. “See you there.”
As Brian made his way to where the contestants and their seconds waited, Grim steered his horse towards Edger. Grim realized the man’s eyes were fixed on Longreen. As he noticed Grim’s approach, he turned to face him. Heavy bags hung under eyes filled with a simmering fire.
Grim turned his horse to bring it astride Edgar, taking a deep breath and looking up to where Longreen stood. “I wouldn’t fault you for sitting this out. It’s my punishment to bear.”
Edgar didn’t answer for a long moment. “My place is here,” he said, his remaining hand drifting to the axe strapped to his saddle.
Grim fought the urge to ask him what had happened that night. Whatever it was, it was bad. “Then let’s go,” he said, setting his borrowed horse into motion.
Edgar mirrored his motion, following close on his heels as Grim joined his place among the competitors. They occupied the road leaving the fort, facing the closed portcullis. On either side of them, the nobles could be seen making guesses and bets on who would come out ahead. This was one of the more dangerous challenges and it was not entirely unknown for a contestant to find himself waylaid by bandits who seemed interested only in breaking their legs and leaving them on the side of the road alongside their mount.
The conversation began to die down and heads began to turn upward. Grim followed their gazes to see Longreen facing the crowd from atop the gatehouse, hands raised. “My esteemed guests,” he greeted, “Today we are marking the beginning of the third trial. Some thought we should cancel this tradition on account of the sedition occurring beyond the walls, but I will not stand to see us shackled by fear.”
He paused for a moment letting his gaze drift over each of the contestants. “Each of you is a fine example of Venaran manhood, but not all were created equal. In the coming days, we shall take your measure and know those found wanting.”
Murmers rose from the crowd along with many a sidelong glance. Longreen raised his hand once more to quiet the murmurs. “The rules are simple, but I’ll state them again. The first to report to the Chancellor of Calumn will be the victor of the third trial. The Fourth trial will begin the moment you complete the Third,” he said, “In the woods near the township, you will lead a hunt and return to my wife with a freshly earned bear pelt. Sadly, I’ll be unable to attend the festivities in Calumn, myself, due to operations in the city requiring my direct attention, but I leave you in Cassandra’s capable hands.”
Polite applause broke out at that pronouncement as Cassandra waved to the crowd from her place by her husband’s side. Longreen gestured to somebody on the ground, and a clank sounded from the portcullis as the great gate began to rise. A man stepped forward into the roadway ahead of the riders. Grim recognized him as the herald from the previous challenge.
The herald held a flag aloft, eyes fixed on the horsemen. Hands tightened on reins. The teeth of the portcullis rose higher, high enough to ride beneath. The flag came down and, as one, over a score of horses set into motion as one, galloping into the city.
Grim grimaced as he passed beneath the teeth of the portcullis and emerged into the city beyond. He was near Brian at the end of the pack of horsemen, but it mattered little at this leg of the race. This was a test of endurance, not speed, and that was reflected in the middling pace riders set their horses to.
The streets beyond were surreal, devoid of pedestrians and emptied of any obstacles for the occasion. Roads were cordoned off by squads of Greencloaks while annoyed citizens watched them from the far side of blockades, waiting for their opportunity to cross the major streets. Grim remembered being among them before, watching as the dandy fops rode past. And now, here he was- one of them. He sighed and set himself to focusing on maintaining an easy pace for his horse as they turned down the planned path out of the city.
Within minutes, they came in sight of the southern gate, leading out of the city proper. Grim blinked at the sight through the gate. It looked as if the King’s Road itself had been walled off from the Outwalls. He’d heard talk of that being done, but thought it exaggerated. In fact, he could see what looked like the beginnings of a fucking fortress a long ways down the straight road.
He shook his head as they rode through the gate, emerging into the Outwalls. A chill ran down his spine as memories of his last arose- the bodies, the tunnel, the fire. He gripped his reins tighter to keep his hands from shaking as he forced his gaze forward, doing his best to keep from looking for Sons in the alleyways.
The road proper was heavily reinforced with soldiers today, an armed contingent at the ready every hundred paces. All traffic seemed to have been halted to keep the roadway clear, and-
Grim’s eyes widened as the corpses came into sight and he slowed his mount to look up at them. Hundreds of men and women were nailed to the beams of the palisade lining the road. A contingent of Greencloaks were pulling down the corpses and finishing off those who still lingered, doubtless to provide a more pleasant view for Cassandra and her retinue.
Grim stared at the dead eyes, wondering what they had done to deserve this, wondering if it mattered. “I hate them,” Edger whispered.
Grim swallowed, tearing his eyes from the dead. The other riders had gained a lead on them, though Brian had slowed to wait for Grim. The boy looked as if he might be ill. “Come on,” Grim said, increasing his speed.
Edgar was deathly silent, following as ordered.
Catching up to Brian, they rode in silence. What was there to say?
Together, they followed the other contestants toward the forward base. A queue was starting to form at the entrance as a cordon of soldiers barred passage through the camp. It looked as if each noble was being asked to dismount and submit to a search of their saddlebags.
They approached to the sounds of outraged yelling, watching as one of the nobles had to be restrained. Another tried galloping through the cordon. Grim winced as one of the soldiers rammed his spear into the meat of the horse’s thigh as it passed, sending both the rider and mount crashing into the ground. Soldiers grabbed the nobleman as he rose and dragged him away as he yelled in pain and fury. The horse was quickly silenced with a sword to the throat, ending its cries and its rider’s hopes to win.
The display quickly silenced the other nobles, and Grim caught sight of Harren barking orders to his men past the cordon. He caught the man’s gaze a moment later and a grin spread across his lips.
Harren waved toward Brian. “Brian! Come on over here!”
Brian led the way with Grim and Edgar in his wake as Harren commanded the others to make way. Their competitors glared at them, understanding exactly what was happening. Grim made a point to catch Reginald’s gaze and grin. The young man’s hand was wrapped tightly around a sword on his waist, teeth grit in frustration.
Harren called out to his men, “Make way for my brother and his escorts. I consider them above suspicion.”
The ranks of soldiers parted for them, and they rode through into the camp. Harren was grinning up at Brian from the ground. “Good to see you, Brian. Sorry for the unpleasantness,” he said, gesturing to where the horse had fallen. “We got word that the Sons are using the day’s proceeding to deliver messages to traitors within the camp. We’re taking every precaution necessary.
Grim looked to the line of dismounting nobles where soldiers were emptying their saddlebags onto the ground and rifling through their possessions at an astoundingly slow pace.
“And maybe a few more that aren’t strictly necessary,” Harren said with a chuckle.
“Thanks, Harren,” Brian said.
Harren waved him off. “You’d best get going. I can’t hold them forever.”
Brian nodded and set his mount into motion. As he passed, Grim locked eyes with Harren and gave him a curt nod which the other man returned. They passed through the camp at a sustainable gallop and set off into the hilly countryside beyond.
It’d been a long time since Grim had left the outskirts of the town, but things had changed. The hills beyond were now covered in a patchwork shantytown of tents and thousands of people crowded among them, doing their best to eke out living until reconstruction could occur- if it ever would.
As they ascended the first hill on the King’s Road, Grim looked over his shoulder and got his first good look at the devastation that had been wrought on the Outwalls. Over a square mile of the slums was just gone- from the road all the way to the collapsed wharfs by the sea. It was a blackened scar across the face of the city, and Grim had the uneasy feeling that this wound wouldn’t be healed easily.