Hero Born Page 29
‘Who is down there?’ Brann asked, his voice wavering with the elation and relief of finding his friends alive and in surprisingly good spirits.
‘Just the three of us,’ Gerens said, returning to his normal considered delivery as the vestiges of his tirade at the supposed bandit wore off. ‘Grakk, Hakon and myself. The guards died at the clearing but for some reason they took us alive. I could not see if Lord High and Mighty survived, however.’
‘I am here,’ Konall said implacably, looking over the edge of the pit.
Gerens was unperturbed. ‘Very good,’ was all he said, although his tone hinted that he was not sure if Konall was a welcome member of any rescue party.
The noble boy dismissed the subject. Working at a bolt that secured the wooded grille, he said, ‘My page, how is he?’
‘I am fine, Lord Konall,’ the boy said from the shadows. ‘I am uninjured, although I have smelt better.’
‘If that is the worst that you are, then you are lucky,’ Konall reassured him. He stood and flipped open the grille. ‘And, Hakon…’
‘Yes, my lord?’
‘I am pleased that you are well.’
If the page was astonished at this unprecedented show of feeling, Gerens was more pragmatic. ‘If I could interrupt, I feel we should move from here with some urgency. These savages occasionally manage to make it as far as this pit to relieve themselves, and several times already tonight, we have been visited.’
As if to prove his words, there was movement from among the buildings and a figure emerged from the gloom, already pulling apart his clothing in anticipation of reaching the pit. Brann and Konall dropped flat and lay still, hoping that, by some miracle, they would not be noticed. They could not even reach for their weapons for fear of the movement attracting attention.
The bandit stumbled drowsily to the edge of the pit, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Looking down, he at last noticed the open grille and the two bodies lying at his feet, returning his gaze. Before his surprise could register enough to allow any sort of reaction, vocal or physical, Konall had hammered his straight arm into the back of the man’s calves. He was close to the edge, and the blow was enough to send him dropping into the darkness. He landed with a squelch and, almost immediately, there was a sharp crack as his neck was broken.
The episode sparked them into hurried action. The rag clothes were stripped from the corpse and knotted together to form a rough rope that was tossed to the boys above. Brann and Konall held it together and braced their feet against the open grille as they pulled up the three captives.
The smell from them was overpowering. ‘Pardon me if I do not embrace you,’ Brann said to Gerens.
The larger boy smiled. Looking around, he said, ‘Where are the others?’
Brann shrugged. ‘This is it.’
Gerens nodded. ‘That makes sense. Two of you slipped in to avoid detection and the rest are waiting out of sight.’
‘No,’ Brann said. ‘This is it. We came on our own.’
Gerens was a picture of confusion. ‘Only two of you, right to the heart of their camp?’ He looked at Konall. ‘Including him?’
‘There were debts that required repayment,’ Konall said simply, and led them away from the hole. Brann ran to catch him.
‘I presume you are heading for the boats,’ he said.
‘You presume correctly. It was our preferred option, was it not?’
‘Yes,’ Brann agreed. ‘But that was before we knew that we would have to pass through the village for a third time to reach them. Our luck in remaining undetected can only last so long.’
Konall stopped to allow him to speak before they came too close to the buildings. ‘Managing it twice already merely proves twice over that it can be done. And the boats are still the quickest means of escape. Especially as the legs of these three will probably have cramped up slightly in that confined hole for so long.’
‘Good idea,’ Brann acknowledged benignly. ‘I believe you are learning from me.’
Konall ignored him. ‘As I am more experienced in such matters, and as I am the noble here – a fact that you appear to conveniently forget all too often – I will lead the party to the boats. You protect the rear.’
‘Behind the smell,’ Brann observed.
‘Precisely,’ Konall said, and headed into the village.
Gerens looked questioningly at him as he passed, as much puzzled by Konall’s change in demeanour as by the fact that Konall had come to rescue them. ‘I will explain later,’ Brann whispered, and took up his place at the back of the line.
The three captives soon managed to each collect a weapon – poorly made, as expected, but better than bare hands – among the detritus through which they had to pick their way. Brann noticed that Gerens winced slightly as he bent down, and resolved to ask him at a more appropriate time about the cause of the problem. Their main objective, however, was not to use their weapons, but to avoid any confrontation – something that, much to their surprise, they achieved, though not without their nerves being severely tested on several occasions. Movement was heard within huts; on two occasions, figures – presumably prompted by their bladders – moved from the doorways (though, thankfully, not in the direction of the latrine pit that now contained one corpse rather than three live captives); and Konall had visibly struggled with his self-control as they passed within sight of Loku’s residence.
They heard the river before they saw it, but they still came upon it sooner than they expected, having fallen into a rhythm of moving silently, with every nerve on edge, from one shadow to the next. As they slipped around the corner of a hovel, they found it, an expanse of darker gloom, before them. The surprise caused them to bunch as they avoided spilling into the open, and Brann found himself beside Konall.
‘What are we waiting for?’ he hissed nervously. ‘We need to get out of here.’
Konall whispered evenly, ‘Not so easy to work out the advantages and disadvantages when you are in the midst of a frightening situation, is it? Have patience: we need to check that the way is clear of obstacles, whether there is anything that may have to bear our weight, or if there are any guards. Small matters like that.’ As he spoke, his eyes had been scanning the ground ahead of them. ‘That is why.’
Brann followed his pointing finger and stared into the dim light. It took a few moments – irritatingly long – for him to start to see what Konall had spotted amid the broken barrels, rotting food and miscellaneous debris. A pile of rags had initially looked to be just that but, the more Brann looked at it, the more he realised that it was a man’s slumped body under a voluminous cloak. And it seemed alive – a fact that was confirmed almost immediately by a loud snore.
Whatever the reason for the bandit’s presence, whether he had fallen asleep in sentry duty or succumbed to drunkenness, they were left with the same decision to make.
‘We cannot creep past him,’ Konall breathed into Brann’s ear. ‘He is directly in front of the jetty and we do not know how much noise it will make walking on that structure.’
Having witnessed the bandits’ construction expertise at close quarters, Brann was inclined to agree – they would be lucky if they managed to pass over the jetty without it collapsing, never mind having to rely on it being built soundly enough to bear their weight without a single creak. ‘So how do we dispose of him?’ he whispered.
‘How do you think?’ Konall replied, taking his bow from his back.
Brann put out a restraining hand. ‘What if you do not kill him outright? It is dark, and you cannot make out his shape clearly under that cloak. If he screams…’
Konall sighed. ‘Well, what do you suggest? I think I preferred it when you just wanted to run blindly from here.’
‘I do not know,’ Brann whispered. ‘Maybe we could both shoot him at the same time. Then there is more chance of hitting something vital.’
Konall grunted. ‘Not with your accuracy. You would probably hit a bucket and wake up the whole village.’
Konall turned to Brann. ‘Slaves or not, your companions do have a certain appeal,’ he muttered.
They crept to the jetty, apprehensive about knocking against anything that might raise the alarm. The structure, when they reached it, met their expectations exactly. To describe it as ramshackle would have been kind. To a man, they looked at it dubiously. The boats were tethered to it, so they would be forced to cross it, yet it looked as if it would collapse under the weight of even one of them.
Gerens shrugged. ‘There is only one course available to us. One of us swims around, brings a couple of the boats as close to the bank as possible, and the rest wade out to them.’ He started towards the water’s edge. ‘I am more desperate for a wash than you will ever know, so it may as well be me that swims.’
Konall’s hand shot out and dragged him back. ‘Not a good idea,’ he said. Gerens angrily shook off his hand, and Brann stepped between them.
He said quickly, ‘Konall and I saw the state of the river in daylight. I don’t think hygiene is of great importance to these people. From the look of the scum on the surface, you would be lucky to reach the boats without being poisoned.’
Gerens, who had fixed Konall with a hostile glare, shrugged and turned away. Brann stepped onto the jetty. ‘I suppose, as the smallest one here, I should try it out.’
This time, nobody objected. Stepping gingerly, Brann moved onto the jetty. To his surprise it seemed more solid than it looked to the naked eye. He stood, waiting for movement beneath his feet. The others watched intensely, holding their breath as much as Brann was doing. Other than the creaking that would be expected from any such structure, there was little noise and even less movement. He bent his knees and, without letting his feet leave the surface, he bounced several times. Still, nothing untoward transpired.
‘Well, boy,’ he said quietly to himself, ‘it is all or nothing now. We have got to know, one way or another, and quickly.’
He bent his knees once again, but this time he jumped slightly off the surface. As quietly as he could manage, he landed… with no undue effects. He jumped again. And again.
‘All right,’ Konall said. ‘Do not get carried away. I think it is safe to say you have tested it for us. Let us go.’
Grakk spoke softly. ‘Speed is important, yes, but one at a time. Best not to risk too much, yes?’
Konall paused, then nodded. ‘Yes.’ Gerens and Hakon’s eyes widened in surprise. If Grakk felt the same, as usual, he did not show it. Konall continued, ‘We must move at once, however. You three take one boat. I will take Hakon in another.’
Brann stepped into what looked like a sturdily built boat – then stepped back quickly onto the jetty as water began to rise around his feet. More tentatively, he tried another that was big enough to take the three of them. This time, he had more success, and he turned his attention to the knot on the rope holding it to the jetty. The water had swollen the rope, and he started working at it so that he would be ready by the time the others were aboard. Quickly, the others joined him, and Konall and Hakon started across the jetty. Hakon tried a narrow boat, little wider than a canoe, and found it, as far as cursory testing could show, to be watertight.
Checking behind him, Konall ran back and hoisted the dead bandit over his shoulder. He headed back over the jetty and dumped the corpse in a third boat.
‘No sense in there being any tell-tale signs of our departure,’ he grunted. As he moved towards his own boat, however, the jetty shifted sideways violently. With a look of alarm, Konall made an ungainly lurch for his boat, succeeding in boarding it as, with a creaking groan, the jetty tilted, then fell sideways into the water, leaving only the posts at its outer edge, which the boats were tethered to, standing starkly along in the water.
They froze, but the sound must have seemed greater to their ears than it had been in reality, or the locals have been much sounder sleepers than they had feared. There was no apparent reaction from the nearby huts, and the relief prompted Brann to giggle at Konall’s discomfort. He managed to stifle the sound, but Gerens was less successful at hiding his amusement.
‘Did you say something about tell-tale signs?’ Gerens asked with fake innocence. ‘Did that include noise, or was it only referring to dead arseholes?’ Sitting behind him, Brann dug him in the ribs, then returned to his attempt to untie the rope. The impulse to laugh at Konall passed quickly as his desperation grew, and he ignored the raw pain in his fingers as he frantically tugged at the knot. Grakk turned calmly and, with a swipe of his blade, severed the taut rope. The boat immediately started to drift, and Brann leant out and grabbed at the ropes tethering the remaining boats to the posts. He fumbled for his sword, but it was jammed at an angle underneath him, and he could not draw it and hold the ropes with his other hand at the same time.
Breathing heavily with the effort, he gasped at Grakk to pass him his machete-like sword. The tattooed tribesman did so without question, although Gerens was looking anxious at the delay. Konall had followed Grakk’s example and sliced the rope tethering his boat with his sword, and they were already heading downriver. The effort in hanging onto the ropes took too much of his strength to allow talk, much as he dearly wanted to explain himself. The other two, however, noticed his struggles. On climbing into the boat, they had found rough-hewn paddles, and they now used these to help Brann, moving the boat against the current. He was able to turn properly and hack at the remaining three boats. To his surprise, the ropes were severed fairly easily – Grakk’s blade must have been sharper than it looked. He grabbed the severed ropes and they pushed away from the moorings, with Brann towing the three boats behind them.
‘Removing one method of pursuit, are we?’ Gerens grunted.
‘That we are,’ Brann replied, managing a smile through his exhaustion.
One of the boats soon began to fill with water and Brann let go of the rope to allow it to founder. The other two, he towed until they stopped for Konall to leap ashore and retrieve their packs from the undergrowth. As he did so, Brann pulled the other two boats alongside and, with the help of his two companions, they used their weapons to ease the wood apart as quietly as they could, allowing the water to rush in and flood the boats. The body of the bandit in one of them floated as the boat that had borne him sank beneath him.
‘Leave him,’ Konall said shortly, returning with the packs. ‘It matters not if they find him. By that time, they will already know that we are gone.’
Grakk said, ‘They check us when they wake in the morning. We should have several hours’ start by then.’
Brann shook his head. ‘Not today. Loku is intending to pay his respects just before dawn.’
Hakon’s head snapped round in surprise. ‘Loku?’
‘You heard correctly,’ Konall said darkly, settling back into the boat. ‘I will explain as we travel.’ He glanced eastwards. ‘The sky is beginning to lighten. We should move.’
Brann looked at the relevant part of the sky, but could see no difference in the half-light that had served as night. He was inclined to take Konall’s word for it, however, and picking up his paddle, he pushed the floating corpse – which had drifted against their boat as if loath to leave them – out into the river. He thrust the paddle into the water and started to drive the boat forward. The others were doing the same and soon they had picked up speed, although Brann found himself breathing more heavily from the effort that he had expected.
‘You are out of practice, my friend,’ Gerens called back to him. ‘Either that, or you are not used to facing the way you are going in a boat.’
Brann kicked him sharply in the back, alarmed that Konall had picked up on the truth revealed by Gerens’ words. Fortunately, however, Konall appeared not to have heard; he was lost in concentration
as he worked with Hakon to forge their boat through the water, his long, white-gold hair blowing in the slight wind that was following them.
Realising his mistake, Gerens slapped himself on the side of the head in a self-chiding manner. Brann hoped that it was a sign that his friend’s new-found devil-may-care attitude towards what he said and to whom was wearing off. Apart from the danger of revealing any secrets, it was beginning to irritate him.
Gerens spoke up again, but in a more restrained manner, Brann was relieved to note. ‘So what lies ahead of us?’
As he grew more used to the rhythm, Brann found his breathing easing, although speech was still more laboured than his pride would have liked. ‘There is a waterfall ahead.’ He sensed Gerens’s alarm at the words. ‘Do not worry: even if we do not hear it, there is a bridge before it to warn us that we are getting close. We can ditch the boats there and the rest, I am afraid, is on foot.’
Gerens shrugged. ‘At least we seem to be making good speed. We should be well clear of them before they head after us. We’ll have built up a good lead upon those bandit scum before we have to take to foot.’
‘True,’ Brann agreed. He remembered the picket lines and ordered tents back at the settlement. ‘But it could be touch and go with the horsemen. I am sure they will be trying to get to the bridge before us to head us off.’
‘Horsemen?’ Gerens shouted. ‘Do you hear that, Grakk? It seems to have slipped his mind to tell us that there are horsemen involved.’
Konall, who had heard this particular exchange, observed, ‘Your friend seems to have a problem with gratitude. Maybe we should have left him where he was.’ Brann grunted. ‘Maybe we should leave him here,’ he suggested darkly.
‘Say what you will,’ Gerens said. ‘But it still would have helped to have known that there were horsemen involved. What do you think, Grakk?’
Without turning round, Grakk said, ‘I think that chatter is a waste of energy. And that the noise of chatter would be a good help to any bandit patrols that may be ahead of us returning to their home.’