The road was as empty as it had been throughout their journey, the hooves of their horses beating a steady rhythm as they cantered down the seemingly endless dirt road. Grim’s mare snorted in protest as the trail inclined, wrapping up towards the crest of a hill. Grim sighed and patted the side of the horse’s neck. They’d been on the road almost two days while setting a hard pace, and the horses were getting tired. Grim’s own legs ached like all hells from being in the saddle so long, and he knew it’d only get worse.
They hadn’t run across any of their competitors yet, or anyone else for that matter. It made for a lonely, desolate ride across the rocky hills of the Rills. The most disturbing part was the lack of fellow travelers. Grim would have expected to see some of the hundreds of travelers the girl mentioned having passed. There were old campfires that had been long abandoned along the road- some showing signs of some kind of struggle, but there were no bodies or people remaining to remark on what had happened. They’d even come across fully laden wagon filled to the brim with iron ore. The horses, however, were notably missing.
It gave the journey a disturbing quality and Grim found himself questioning whether they should keep going. He hadn’t heard of anything bad having happened in these parts, but it was becoming clear that anybody traveling toward Bleakridge these past days weren’t reaching their destination. And even if they did turn back, he couldn’t go to his father or the Marshall without some explanation of what was happening.
Beneath him, his mare panted as they crested the top of the hill, revealing a deep valley beyond. The sun was sinking on the horizon, its rays kissing the ridges of far distant mountains to the north. It was rare to see them from such a distance, but the day was as clear as the air was crisp.
Edgar sidled up next to him and nodded down toward the valley. “Fires,” he said.
Grim followed his gaze. Sure enough there was a scattering of camps far below. He could just make out the figures of people setting to building fires or fetching wood from the sparse copses of trees scattered across the lowlands. It was clear that their company had been spotted. The figures were pausing in their wok to gaze up at them. It was hard to miss men dressed in mail on horseback at any distance.
“Think they’re responsible for what we’ve seen on the road?” Grim asked.
Edgar shrugged. “Does it matter?”
Brian rode around them and looked down. “Is there any way around them?”
Grim looked at the steep hills and ridges surrounding the valley. “Not without losing the horses or adding a week to our trip.”
Brian bit his lip. “Somebody is getting their wings down there.”
Grim squinted his eyes and saw that Brian was right. A man thrashed as several others held him down against what looked like a makeshift cross. It was too far to make out the details or hear the screams.
He took a deep breath and looked to Edgar. “Help me with the armor.”
Edgar nodded as he set to dismounting. Grim leapt from his own seat and set to removing the metal plates from where they’d been stored across his saddle bags. Within a few minutes, he was encased in a new layer of steel. Grim ran a gauntlet along the briar etched into the steel, wondering if he’d soon be testing its strength.
He glanced to Brian, taking in the boy’s woolen coat and hunting knife. “If something happens, stay behind us,” he said, climbing back into the saddle.
Brian chuckled nervously, “Wish I brought that sword after all. Think we could just camp on the other side of the hill?”
Grim lowered the visor of his helmet, gathering the reins in his hand. The sun was dipping below the horizon, and he did not want to be caught in the freezing dark without a fire. “Better we go to them in the light than they come to us in the dark.”
Brian swallowed. Grim kicked his horse into motion, the mare snorting before moving into a trot, descending down the steep incline of the road. Grim undid the straps holding his spear in place and hefted the weapon, holding the tip in the air.
As they descended, the disparate camps below seemed to coalesce, perhaps seeking safety in numbers. There had to be at least two dozen men collected on the road, with many more figures remaining around the fires. As Grim drew nearer, it became clear that those blocking their way were armed with a variety of axes, picks, and even the occasional proper weapon.
By the time they’d reached the floor of the valley, the sky had darkened, and the twilight was giving way to the inky blackness of night. Grim slowed the pace of his horse as they drew near to the crowd. They were a sorry looking lot. Most had gaunt faces stretched around ragged beards, looking as if they hadn’t eaten properly in at least a week. They watched him with hungry eyes.
Grim didn’t see any bowmen among them and risked raising his visor. “Evening gents,” he called out.
The crowd mumbled amongst themselves, clearly not having properly discussed what to do now that Grim and his party were actually here. Grim waited as they conferred amongst themselves, his breath beginning to frost in the cooling air.
After a long moment of deliberation, an older man stepped from the crowd, his skin stretched taut against his face and eyes dark beneath a heavy brow. He scratched at his beard as he looked up at Grim. “Evening sirrah. What’s bringing you down our stretch of road?”
Grim didn’t miss the possessive statement. He leaned the spear over his shoulder and walked his horse a few paces closer to the man whose eyes widened a fraction. “Making my way to Calumn in the name of Earl Thorne. Been a few days since we’ve received word from the city,” Grim said, having a feeling that would go over better than confessing to being the Marshall’s bitch boy.
An uncomfortable silence fell across the crowd and the old man sucked a gap between his teeth, eyes drifting to Brian. “Odd of you to bring a southerner with you.”
“Odd of you to block my way,” Grim answered in kind.
The old man spat.
Grim swallowed his unease. “All I’m looking for is a fire. If there’s a man among you willing to provide it, we have food to share.”
The old man barked a laugh. “And what’s to stop us from taking it?”
“Try.” Grim answered, hands flexing around the haft of his spear.
Nobody moved. The tension hung heavy in the air as Grim wondered whether they’d call his bluff here and now. Each of them was doing the math. There was no doubt they’d win this fight, but how many of them would die, and how likely was it that it’d be them?
To Grim’s right, Edgar readied his own spear.
“It’d be a shame to ruin so fine a night with blood,” Grim said, giving them an out.
The old man sucked at his teeth. “Aye. You may be right,” he said, waving the men behind him down. The tension bled from the air as he met Grim’s gaze.
This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.
“You can share my fire for the night for one of the horses,” he said. “Man’s gotta eat.”
Grim frowned. “Done,” he said- seeing little real choice in the matter.
The old man nodded and waved for Grim to follow him. The crowd began to disperse as some of the men returned to the fires they’d come from and others parted to make way for them, all still eying Grim and his party with feral eyes.
Grim doubted he’d find any sleep tonight. He followed the old man down the road, keenly aware of the eyes on his back and the footsteps following them as they passed small copses of trees down the curving road. A moment later, the foliage gave way and revealed the makeshift cross they’d spotted from the crest of the hill. Reginald hung limply from it, blood trickling down his leg into a muddy pool at the base of the cross.
Grim let out a slow breath as the old man looked over his shoulder. “He was a bit more rude than you were. Think we botched the job though. Didn’t last near as long as my brother did a few years ago.”
Grim said nothing as he followed in the man’s wake. Brian looked pale, hands tense around the reins of his horse. Edgar barely spared the corpse a glance as they left the road and headed toward one of the many fires.
The day’s light had nearly vanished by the time they reached the outskirts of what was presumably the old man’s flame. Over a dozen women and children were crowded around the large fire, looking just as malnourished as the men from earlier had. A spit hung over the flames, roasting some kind of meat. Grim hoped it was from one of Reginald’s horses, but he hadn’t seen any evidence of the man’s retainers.
His appearance had a mixed reception- the women trying to shield their children while the kids peeked around their mothers to get a better look at the newcomers. Their eyes looked too old for the youthful faces.
Grim bit his lip before taking a deep breath and dismounting from his horse. He held on to his spear- not particularly wanting anyone to get their hands on it when he wasn’t looking. He considered taking the food from the saddlebags before handing over the horse, but it seemed poor form to take food directly from the hands of hungry children. There was enough for the three of them between Edgar and Brian’s stores.
He walked to the old man who had turned to face him and held out his arm. The man glanced down at the arm and hesitated a moment before clasping arms. “Vargeld Therric,” he said.
“Grim Thorne,” Grim answered.
The man’s eyes widened a fraction as he pulled his hand away. “Bullshit.”
Grim shrugged and held out the reins of the horse to him. “As promised.”
Vargeld sucked air through his missing tooth. “Dane,” he called. A young man around Brian’s age came bounding from the shadows. “Take her with the others and bring back the saddle.”
Dane nodded, taking the reins and leading the horse off into the darkness. Vargeld looked between Brian and Edgar. “You can tie yours off anywhere. No guarantees somebody won’t try and take them tonight.”
Edgar clapped Brian on the shoulder and pulled him toward the treeline to find a place to hitch the horses. Grim felt extremely exposed without them at his back, but he tried not to let his unease show. He eyed Vargeld, gaze drifting across him and the men returning to join their families by the fire.
“Where are you all from?” Grim asked.
The man snorted. “Come. Sit by the fire. I’m not going to stand here and chat with my balls crawling into my stomach.” With that, he turned and settled onto the ground by the fire.
Grim looked over his shoulder and, not seeing anyone trying to stick a knife in him yet, followed the man to the flames, sticking the point of his spear into the hard ground and taking a seat on the edge of the fire. The quiet was oppressive, with every eye shifting toward Grim uneasily.
“Where are you all from?” Grim asked again, his words cutting through the silence like a knife.
“Bleakridge,” Vargeld answered. “Left after the fire when food started running out.”
“Food was being distributed,” Grim said. “Why leave?”
Vargeld shook his head. “A drop in the ocean of need. Blood is in the water. We chose to leave before the frenzy.”
Grim’s eyes drifted to the meat hanging from the spit. Around them, hushed conversations had picked up though the furtive glances still clung to Grim. “On the way here, we came across a burned down homestead and stripped corpses,” he said, carefully watching Vargeld’s expression.
The man was quiet a long moment, face impassive until at last he nodded toward the fire. “Aye.”
Grim’s stomach churned as his gaze drifted across the dozen gaunt faces shooting him furtive glances, the air filled with unease and disquiet.
Brian joined them a moment later, settling to the cold ground by Grim’s side. Grim looked past him towards where Edgar stood by the horses. “He insisted on keeping watch,” Brian explained.
Vargeld’s eyes seemed to bore into Brian. “Friend of yours?” he asked nodding his head in the direction of the cross Reginald’s corpse hung from.
The blood drained from Brian’s face. “No,” he whispered.
Vargeld’s attention shifted to Grim. “How do you look yourself in the mirror after fraternizing with them? After all they’ve done to us?”
“The company may be lacking, but dying in the alternative is worse,” Grim said, jaw clenching.
Brian narrowed his eyes at Grim.
Vargeld scowled then nodded slowly. “Aye, but is it better to live a dog or die a man?”
“I could ask you the same.” Grim answered, patience already wearing thin.
The man’s eyes drifted to where the children were huddled on the far side of the fire, a frown creasing his lips. “You actually Thorne’s bastard?”
Grim nodded, seeing no reason to be shy about it.
“He is,” Brian affirmed.
Vargeld spat into the fire. “Next time you see him, tell him to go fuck himself for me.”
“I’ll be sure to relay the message,” Grim muttered, flexing his fingers. “Any Idea what’s down the road?”
“A couple thousand just like us, from what I’ve gathered,” Vargeld said.
Grim’s eyebrows rose. “Thousands?”
“Aye,” Vargeld answered, “Gonna be a bloody fucking mess at Calumn, but anything is better than Bleakridge.”
Grim wasn’t so sure. There was only a few thousand people in the city of Calumn itself. “Do you lead this group?”
Vargeld shrugged. “I’m old. I fought in the last war. Young fools look to old fools when the days are dark.” He lowered his voice. “Guess they think I know what I’m doing,” he muttered. “We lived on the same block in the Outwalls. Lost everything in the fire. Tried to go back to our jobs with the forgers a few days after and found they replaced us.”
A silence fell over them as Grim gazed into the fire, watching droplets of fat fall and steam into the flames. One of the women rose and began cutting strips of meat with a long knife, handing them out amongst those gathered.
Vargeld broke their quiet with a sigh, “Truth be told, I could use you and your companions,” he said, “I’m sure you’ve noticed the roads aren’t exactly safe, and we’ve lost good men along the way.”
Grim shook his head and waved the woman away as she held out a strip of the mystery meat in his direction. Vargeld declined as well when offered.
“How many are you?” Brian asked.
“Fifty some odd,” Vargeld said, eyes drifting across those at the fire. “Was a few more when we first set out.” He shook his head, meeting Grim’s gaze. “And there’s no telling what we’ll find at Calumn.”
“Come across anyone on the road?” Grim asked.
“Some dead. A few bandits,” Vargeld answered.
Brian leaned toward Grim, whispering. “We should go back.”
Grim sighed, releasing a slow beath. Brian likely had the right of it, but Grim couldn’t conscience returning without knowing what was happening at Calumn. “You’re welcome to one of the horses,” he answered.
Brian glanced toward where Edgar stood with their remaining mounts, brushing the dirt from them with a rough brush. Then he looked into the dark of the night where the road would be. The boy sighed, shoulders slumping with resignation. “So be it.”
Grim forced a grin. “I hear Calumn is lovely this time of year.” He patted Brian on the shoulder, eyes drifting toward Edgar. The man stood stiffly by their mounts, running a brush along the horses’ flanks. His eyes were cold, and he’d been distant since they’d begun their journey.
“Wait here,” he said to Brian, rising to his feet and pulling his spear from the ground. The boy followed him with worried eyes as Grim walked to Edgar, leaving him surrounded by a crowd of Rillish folk. He’d be fine- probably.
Edgar met Grim’s gaze as he neared before returning his focus to the horses. “Think we’re safe enough here for the night?” Edgar asked.
“Are you okay?” Grim asked, ignoring the man’s question.
Edgar stiffened at the question, his brushing ceasing. The horse snorted as Edgar stared at its flank a long moment before answering. “What the hell are we doing out here, Grim?”
Grim dug the butt of his spear into the ground, leaning some of his weight against it. “What choice do we have?”
Edgar barked a humorless laugh. “We could have ridden right off into the Outwalls and stopped playing this fucking game,” he spat.
Grim grimaced. “There’s more at risk than winning or losing their game. People could die if I do the wrong thing.”
Edgar’s voice raised as he turned to Grim. “People are dying. People have died. Look around you. This is about nothing more than you wanting to secure your family’s place.”
Grim’s jaw tightened. “That’s not the full picture.”
Edgar met his gaze. “Then enlighten me.”
Grim tensed. On some level, Edgar was right. But, to fight back would doom them all. His father was consolidating power and resources in case such a thing became necessary, but could he tell Edgar that? In his hesitation, the moment passed.
Edgar spat at his feet. “I made an oath, but once this is all over, I will be resigning my post.” He turned back to the horse. “Please leave me be, my lord.”
Grim winced, considering saying something more before he at last turned from Edgar and returned to his place at the fire by Brian. Somehow it felt colder by the flames.