CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
TRAPPED
“What do mean the road’s blocked?” Chert slapped his hand on his knee. “Speak!”
The villager wrung his hands nervously. “The… There’s been a landslide, and a big one too. It’s gonna take days to move that lot.”
The boss rolled his eyes. “Landslides at this time of the year? The ground is frozen solid. How the hell do you get a landslide in winter?”
“It could happen, boss,” Stran added, showing the villager out.
Chert clicked his tongue. “Perhaps, but I don’t like coincidences, Stran. Never have, never will. I sure as hell don’t like this one.”
Stran scratched his head. “Boss?”
“I mean, the young girl, the villagers, and now this. It stinks, Stran, like we’re being corralled, like cattle to the slaughter.”
The younger man sniffed. “I still think it’s wild animals, Boss. The tracks we found by the girl and in the forest were all horse-like, but we searched for hours and came up with nothing.”
Chert nodded. It was true—they’d swept through the village and surrounding hills in force and hadn’t found anything other than the frozen remains of the two young ones. What had been done to then was sickening, but it was no animal that did that. No, animals did not tie knots.
The other bodies they had found scattered throughout the forest told more of the gruesome story. Some had been cut down with bladed weapons, others shot with arrows. Whoever had done this had taken the time to remove them, but the large distinctive wounds they left were still clear.
Despite the carnage, however, Nasta wasn’t the only survivor. Two girls and one boy had made it back as well, but none of them had been able to describe their attackers. The only thing Chert had been able to determine was that whoever they were, they were mounted. Stran, however, was convinced the mounts weren’t horses, and that worried him.
“They’re not nags, Boss,” he had said. “The hoof prints are not right, too pointy. My old dad used to be a farrier in his day, taught me all I know. Trust me, when you’ve been kicked in the arse as much as I have, you remember the shape of the bloody thing’s feet!”
Chert trusted Stran’s opinion. He may not be the brightest of his men, but he was honest, loyal, and reliable; a rare commodity in his line of work. If he said it wasn’t a regular horse, then it wasn’t a regular horse. Even so, that didn’t mean they weren’t an unusual breed or some other creature that they just hadn’t seen before. He’d heard of other cultures, other peoples that used beasts other than ‘regular’ horses as mounts.
The boss rubbed his head. Hellfire, this wasn’t making any sense at all! Why would the village be targeted anyway? And by the gods, that was how it felt as well. This didn’t feel like some random attack—it felt co-ordinated, unlike the usual bandit raids where they’d ride in, steal what they wanted, and leave just as quickly as they’d appeared.
Jinu knocked on the door. “Boss? Nasta’s here to see you.”
The door was opened just in time to allow a flustered Nasta to squeeze through and stand, panting, before Chert. The boss eyed him up quickly. The man was clearly upset about something. Nasta was normally a fastidiously clean and neat individual. Now, the bedraggled and red-faced man standing there looked more like a complete stranger than the man he knew. Just looking at him made him feel uncomfortable.
Chert nodded to him. “Nasta. Sit down, please.”
The tall man slammed himself onto the floor, fidgeting nervously all the while. “Chert, what’s this I hear about a landslide? I want to get my family out of this place as soon as I can! What am I going to do now?!”
Chert placed a hand on his shoulder. “Calm down, for the gods’ sakes, man. You’re setting my nerves on edge just looking at you!”
Stran interrupted. “Tea, Boss?”
The boss nodded. “And see if you can find Pai, will you? He was supposed to be here hours ago.”
“Yes, Boss.” Stran bowed and left.
Chert smiled at his old friend. “So, Nasta, how’s the family?”
“How do think they are, Chert?” Nasta blurted out. “They’re bloody terrified! Everyone is! That ‘thing’ is still out there, I know it is… I can feel its eyes everywhere I go…”
The boss shook his head. “Nasta, this isn’t good. I haven’t seen you like this before. You look a mess.”
Nasta shook his head. “Never mind how I look. What are we going to do? You’ve got children, Chert; you want them to end up like the others? Like Blossom?”
Chert angrily slammed his hand on the floor. “And running about like a headless chicken is going to accomplish what, Nasta? Look at yourself! You’re a bloody wreck! The state you’re in right now, you couldn’t find your arse with both hands, let alone trek through the hills with your family. You need to calm down and think rationally if we’re going to sort this mess out.”
Nasta closed his eyes and took several calming breaths. His heart was beating so fast that it felt like it would burst out of his chest. He wanted to get out of here, to escape this nightmare, but… but Cray’s warning… He hadn’t forgotten it, but just the thought of staying here…
The door opened and Jinu bowed, entering with a tray of tea and steamed buns. “Just cooked, Boss. Thought you may like a couple.”
Chert clapped his hands together and laughed. “Excellent! Jinu, your timing’s perfect!”
Stran stuck his head round the door. “Boss? I found Pai. He’s outside.”
“Ask him to wait, Stran. On second thought, no, send him in.” Chert turned to Nasta. “I want you to see this as well. I think you need to.”
The steamed bun was delicious, just the right consistency and warming on such a cold day. Washed down with the tea, it was one of life’s little luxuries that the gang boss could enjoy. It was also a good way of distracting his somewhat ‘temperamental’ guest from constantly worrying.
“Boss?” A small, rather rotund man in a floor-length green robe appeared in the doorway.
“Ah! Pai, please, come in.” Chert indicated to a space beside Nasta. “This is Nasta, a family friend. Nasta, this is Pai, a new addition to my… team.”
The man bobbed his head to Nasta and bowed to the boss before kneeling on the small cushion Stran passed him.
“You have it?” Chert asked levelly.
Pai nodded. “Yes, Boss.”
The small man placed a wrapped package between them and began to carefully unfold it. Nasta held his breath, his heart racing. His eyes felt like they were going to bulge out of their sockets.
Chert noticed it as well, shaking his head in dismay. “It can’t hurt you, Nasta.”
His friend stared anxiously down at the deadly projectile sitting in the middle of the cloth. “I saw enough of them in the forest, Chert. I don’t need to see another one. Never as long as I live.”
“What’s your opinion, Pai?” the boss asked the newcomer.
Pai raised an eyebrow. “It’s not made of a wood I’m familiar with. It’s as hard as steel and the tip is razor-sharp. The flights are made of some sort of hair that looks like horse hair, condensed and glued. All in all, it’s well constructed and functional.”
“Crossbow?” Chert asked.
“Without a doubt. It’s too short for a regular bow, but longer than most crossbows I’ve seen. Those things are foreign to our shores in any case, but if the length and weight are indication of the weapon that shot this, armour wouldn’t do much to defeat it.”
“So,” the boss announced, “probably mercenaries, or pirates then?”
Pai scratched his chin. “I would say so.”
Nasta shook his head. “I don’t understand, Chert. What are you getting at?”
Chert tapped his fan on the floor. “That this is exactly what it looks like, Nasta. There’s a group of bandits operating in the area, and our headstrong young deputy blundered right into them.”
“But Blossom—!”
“—was in all likelihood killed by a wild animal as we all thought.”
“What about the hoof prints?! The tracks, they weren’t—”
“For the gods’ sake, Nasta!” Chert cut in. “Animals don’t use blasted crossbows, do they? When was the last time you saw a sword-wielding squirrel? You’ll be terrified the chickens will try to take over the village next!”
From the doorway, Stran stifled a laugh.
Nasta hung his head, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t see any riders though. There weren’t any that I could see.”
“And what were you doing at the time, eh?” Chert asked pointedly.
“I…”
“I’ll tell you what you were doing. Running for your bloody life, that’s what! And that’s what any sane person would have done.” The boss patted a hand on Nasta’s knee. “Nasta, it was dark. Besides, the forest is a terrifying place at the best of times, let alone when you’re running through snow and people are trying to kill you.
Nasta closed his eyes, wishing away the images of that night from his mind. He wasn’t convinced. That… That thing; he’d glimpsed it through the darkness of the forest. Those eyes, like the red pits of hell, watching him, hunting him…
Chert lifted the crossbow bolt, examining it closely. The thing was unlike anything he’d ever seen, but it was definitely man-made. Men, he could deal with. Finishing off his tea, he rammed the bolt into the table top, making everyone jump.
“Stran?”
“Yes, Boss?”
“Get the boys, and a work detail.”
Nasta’s head shot up. “Chert?”
“If you still intend to leave the village, Nasta, we’ll need to re-open the road first. So, time a grab a shovel and get to work. You up to it?”
The thought of going back up into the hills, alone with his family on that isolated road… Nasta shuddered. Suddenly, his earlier excitement at the prospect of leaving had lost some of its appeal, but…if Chert was with them, they could open the road, and he could get his family out of here. Out, to the bigger towns, the cities where there were people, money, and best of all, no monsters lurking in the hills.
“Bring me a shovel and I’ll show you.”
Chert grinned. “Good man!”
********************
The litters bounced along the uneven road leading up into the hills. Chert enjoyed the freshness of the winter air, but these days his age was beginning to tell, and he had to wrap himself up as warmly as he could. It didn’t do to show any form of weakness in front of his men—bosses seldom lived to see old age in his line of work—but out here, he’d hoped to live out his days in peace and pass the business down to a successor. His daughter was still too young, but some day she’d be ready. He smiled to himself, looking out at the panorama of snow-laden trees; there was life in the old dog yet. Chert took a draw on his pipe and watched the smoke curl lazily away. Just what was going on in these hills?
Snow crunched underfoot, the breeze carrying the occasional cry of a bird or the creak of a tree branch overloaded with snow. The odd snap would make his companion twitch and stare out into the forest as if he could see something watching them. It was unsettling, not only for Chert, but his men were picking up on it now as well.
He leaned out and called to Nasta, “Wonderful view from up here, isn’t it? I never tire of it.”
Nasta’s head whipped round. He was as white as a sheet. Y…Yes, it’s… it’s very nice…”
“What are Petal and the girls doing today? Any plans?”
“No… No, I don’t think so.”
“Have you still got that little dog, what was his name? Marlin?”
Nasta shook his head. “No. He died, a few weeks ago. The girls were devastated.”
“The market’s on soon, isn’t it? Why not get them another one?”
“I’m not so sure…”
“Go on! They’ll love you all the more for a puppy. You’ll be the best dad in the village!”
Nasta shook his head and, despite himself, grinned. “Maybe.”
Chert laughed, slapping his thigh. “There you go! I knew you couldn’t be a miserable bugger all the time.” He leaned out of the litter and turned to his men. “You see? Got a smile out of him after all! You owe me for that, Stran!”
The tattooed man raised an eyebrow, shouldering his long sword. “You got it, Boss.”
Climbing up into the hills, the air quickly became a lot colder than it had been down in the village. It was cleaner, pure, and had a distinct freshness to it, rather than the dusty mustiness of the well-worn streets. The sun seemed brighter up here, the sky bright blue and clear. The grey clouds from earlier were now only lingering in patches here and there. A shout from up ahead caught his attention, and the column came to a halt. One of the villagers hurried up to Chert’s litter.
“Boss, we’re here. The road’s completely solid alright.”
Chert climbed out of the litter, closely followed by Nasta and Stran. Several of the villagers had already begun to unload shovels, wheelbarrows, and other tools from the carts. Stran quickly set about organising them and left the boss and his friend to talk in peace.
The gang boss scratched his head thoughtfully. “I still don’t understand it. The ground’s so hard here. I guess we should just count ourselves lucky no poor bugger was under that when it came down.”
Nasta stared up at the dark scar on the hillside, the mass of grey rocks and brown mud intermingling with the white of the snow and remnants of smashed trees. If they could get this shifted, he’d have to see about hiring Chert’s boys to escort his family out and on to the next town. If they managed to kill that damned ‘thing’ in the meantime, so much the better. In actual fact, it looked like it may have moved on of its own accord. Chert’s gang had scoured the hills around the village and found nothing, so maybe, just maybe, the beast had gone to look for food elsewhere.
Unbidden, the image of Rush entered his mind, and he closed his eyes. He’d left him, left him to that… that ‘thing’. He’d heard Rush cry out in the darkness behind him, but he hadn’t dared stop or go back to see if he was alright. He’d been so scared! If he’d stopped, if he’d even slowed for a second, the beast would have had him!
Rush would be dead now, of course, but… maybe it was for the best. He was a lonely man and entering middle age. Living out there in the hills, the harsh life would have eventually claimed him. He’d done what he could, but Rush had been so stubborn. His eldest daughter who lived in the next village would have been ideal for…
A yell suddenly made everyone stop in their tracks. Nasta spun round to see Chert rush over to talk to one of the labourers, who was panting and pointing at the landslide. Curiosity taking the better of him, Nasta moved closer to hear what was being said.
“…on the other side. Gods! They’re all…”
Stran scrambled over to the top of the pile of earth and rocks where the workers had placed planks to help their footing. Nasta could see him looking down at the other side and shaking his head.
“I think you want to see this, Boss.”
With the help of the villagers, Chert clambered up to where Stran was standing. The earth was loose in places, making the boards shift worryingly under his weight. Chert’s tattooed subordinate caught hold of his sleeve to help steady him as he finally reached the top, brushing dirt from his hands. Taking a breath, he looked out at the road on the other side of the landslide.
“Right then, let’s…” The next words died in his mouth. He simply didn’t know what to say. How on earth could you describe such a scene?
Stran shook his head slowly. “Boss, what do want to do?”
Chert ran his hand over his face. Great gods, what the hell were they going to do now? The food supplies had nearly all been completely destroyed in the fire, and now this!
His voice was a near whisper. “Stran, get your best men, ones who can keep their mouths shut, and get rid of these bodies as quick as you can. Delay the labourers until the area’s clear.” Stran nodded silently.
Navigating his way back down the rickety planking, the boss’ path was blocked by an anxious Nasta. “Well? How is it? Will we be able to get through?”
Chert did his best to keep his true emotions from showing on his face. “Of course we will, Nasta!” He slapped his friend on the back and led him back down to the rest of the expedition. “It’s going to take a while, but we’ll clear it, don’t you worry. For now, let’s get back to the village and get a hot meal down. I don’t know about you, but I’m bloody freezing out here.”
He glanced back at Stran, who was already issuing orders to a group of his men while the rest of the party started a fire and began to play dice with the labourers as they waited. That was the good thing about villagers: as a whole, they didn’t question things, just did as they were told. With a rap on the side of the litter, they were off back to the village.
The images of the dead warriors, strewn along the road replayed through mind. Whoever these bandits were, there was a lot of them.
A hell of a lot.