CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
AN UNEXPECTED GIFT
“This seems extraordinarily dangerous to me,” Chert muttered to Stran as they watched the villagers carrying wood back and forth to the marketplace.
Stran said nothing. He simply stood in silence, watching the structure slowly taking shape. With a clink of china, Jinu appeared behind them.
“Tea, Boss?”
The small tray of cups was truly a welcome sight on such a cold day. Jinu gave him a smile and… was that a wink? Good gods, it was! Why that…
He laughed out loud, Stran raising an eyebrow at his boss’ unusual behaviour. Jinu had been with him for years, and even after his wife had died, she’d been there for him. So, after all this time, had he only just truly noticed her? Chert shook his head. Damn it all! He must be going soft in the brain with age, but still… Jinu? They’d been together since the early days when he was a young man in the employ of another boss—until he’d been ‘retired’, and Chert had taken his place. Those had been cruel and violent days, with deceit and death never far away. Despite everything, she’d stayed with him through it all.
Chert had eventually married and had a beautiful daughter, but as so often happened at the happiest of times, tragedy struck. His wife had died during childbirth. She was far too young, but the world had continued regardless. Business was still business, after all, irrespective of the hole in your heart. Nobody could feel it but you, nobody could see your pain, and as a boss, he was good at hiding things. He’d never bothered with women after that, despite the fact that he was surrounded by them.
He knocked back the tea in one quick slug and handed the empty cup to Jinu, looking into her eyes and seeing what he should have realised had been there all along. She blushed, looking away shyly. Damn it all, it was warm out here today… too warm!
“Boss?” Stran mumbled, passing his own cup back to Jinu. “That fella’s coming back.”
Chert could have kissed him. That ‘moment’ with Jinu had sent his blood pressure soaring, and this was just the sort of distraction he needed right now; if not necessarily the sort he’d particularly like.
The ‘fella’ turned out to be Lord Ire. He bowed. “Good morning, my lord.”
The young man yawned. “It is, Chert, a very good morning. And even more so for that extremely, er, ‘comfortable’ night’s sleep.”
Chert bowed. “Of course, my lord. I’m glad you’re enjoying our meagre accommodation.”
Ire waved it off. “Yes, yes. Now, how’s our little project coming along?”
“Very well, it seems. They should be finished by tomorrow at the present rate.”
Ire shook his head, wandering over to inspect the construction. “No. I want it to take at least another two days. It’s too quick, Chert, far, far too quick.”
The boss’ eyebrows shot up in surprise. “But… I thought you wanted this building—”
“—I do,” Ire cut in, “but it needs to draw that thing’s attention. Make a lot of noise, cut the trees down in the forest for the wood, drag it here, and do all the work in the marketplace.” He waved his arms. “Think big, Chert, BIG!”
The boss nodded. It made sense of sorts, but even so, he was worried about what this was going to mean for the village. He’d already installed extra fire buckets in the house and had extra guards posted, especially to protect his daughter. Gods help him, he’d even considered sending her away with Jinu to another town until all this was over, but the risk of sending them along that hill road was simply too great. At least here, he could keep them close, and safe.
“Good morning.” Elder Huro emerged from behind a group of workers, sporting a new growth of stubble. Chert grinned to himself; the old bugger had done his bit for ‘decorum’ and had quickly reverted back to the Huro they all knew. If Ire noticed, he never said. The young lord didn’t seem quite as formal as he’d expected, but from what he knew of the young noble’s father, it shouldn’t have been that surprising.
Huro watched the work and nodded sagely. “If your plan works, Lord Ire, then we’ll all be in your debt. Our village needs trade to survive, and we’re starving for it.”
Ire shrugged. “It’ll work, Elder. I have no doubt on that score.”
Chert scrubbed his head with his hand. “My lord, pardon me for saying so, but you do seem to put a great deal of faith in that creature. How can we be so sure she isn’t tricking us somehow? I’m not a superstitious man, but even I’ve heard the tales of the trickery of spirits.”
Ire stretched, chuckling to himself. “I understand, my friend.” He slapped Chert on the back, making the other man jump. “I understand entirely.” He turned and faced both of them. “She is no spirit, nor one of the hill gods. She’s as real as you or me, and could have proved to be an especially powerful ally. Sadly, all she wants is to go home and has agreed to assist in our little plan to help rid us of this ‘thestral’ that is in the hills. It seems we’ve stumbled into a war, gentlemen, a war from another world.”
Ire took out his pipe and began loading it with tobacco. “So you see, by helping the princess, we help ourselves. She goes home, we have our road re-opened, and the hills become safe for… for…” he waved his hand expansively, “whatever it is you do in these hills!”
He laughed and scratched his behind while grinning at Jinu, who glowered back at him. “I like it here, Chert. There’s a life here in this village, a spark that gives me hope for its future.” Ire adjusted his tunic. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a smoke, a bath and some breakfast. “Oh,” he added, turning back, “and if some rampaging monster attacks us, tell it to come back in at least an hour or two, will you?”
Still laughing, the young lord wandered back into the main building, the guards either side of the entrance bowing as he passed them. Huro chuckled to himself.
“He makes me long for my youth, that young lord; so much energy and optimism.”
Chert shook his head. “Too much, if you ask me. I don’t think he knows what he’s getting himself into, Huro.”
“Don’t be too negative, Chert,” Huro replied tersely. “It’s bad for your body as well as your soul. Hope is what keeps us all looking forward to the next sunrise.”
Chert clapped the older man on the shoulder. “I suppose so, old friend. Now, I want to talk to you about what we’re going to do when that thestral, or whatever it is, arrives to kill us in our beds.”
Huro tutted loudly. “Being so positive keeps you going eh, Boss?”
“Absolutely!” Chert quipped. “I’m a very positive person; just in varying degrees.”
**********************
Time passed slowly in the village, more so in winter with the short days and even longer nights. Fresh snow had already covered a lot of the construction the workers had built, making it look more like a bizarrely frosted piece of artwork. Chert gazed wistfully out of the window at the slowly falling flakes, the way they muffled sound, drifting from the sky in absolute silence. They had a strange sort of ethereal beauty all their own, but the sky today was another matter. The red-orange tinge was strangely bright for this time of day, casting a peculiar half-light across the village and surrounding hills that sent a shiver down his spine.
Swallow was sleeping in the room upstairs with Jinu, Stran downstairs dozing by the front door. The gang members were taking it in shifts to act as guards for the household, sometimes even sharing the duties with Ire’s men. The world felt like it was on a knife’s edge, waiting for something, the proverbial calm before the storm. He gave himself a shake. It wasn’t like him to be pessimistic. Cynical maybe, yes… definitely cynical, but then, he’d always considered cynics to be realists, and his tendency towards caution when dealing with some of the more shadowy people he’d encountered over the years had saved him on more than one occasion.
Huro tapped his pipe out on the window ledge and stretched his back, the cracking sounds making Chert wince in sympathy. That couldn’t have been normal, surely? The village elder saw the boss watching him and sniffed back a laugh.
“You’ll be old one day too, you know. Creaking bones are all part of the journey.”
Chert raised an eyebrow. “Maybe, old friend, maybe.”
Huro patted him on the shoulder. “I’m off to bed. It’s far too late for an old goat like me to be up and about. What about you?”
“I’m going to stay up a little longer.” Chert stifled a yawn. “I can’t sleep too well at the min—”
The words died in his mouth as he stared up the street. Something was coming, or rather some ‘things’. It was hard to make out, but by the gods there were a lot of them. Dark shapes, looking like little more than shadows in the falling snow, were slowly coming nearer. Damn this bloody snow! He couldn’t see or hear a blasted thing!
One of his men rushed in through the front door, his hair covered in white snow. “Boss! It looks like there’s half an army coming this way, and they’re not Ire’s men, that’s for sure.”
Huro, his tiredness suddenly forgotten, addressed the shivering man. “Did you see their banner? What colour was it?”
“Yellow, like two serpents chasing each other tails, with three spots in the middle.”
Chert exchanged a glance with the elder. “Oh gods…” His heart felt like lead in his chest. “It’s Lord Saru.”
*********************
Ire grabbed his swords from the attendant, turning to his commander. “Acceptable?”
The gruff man nodded. “You look fine, my lord.”
“Good. Come on then, let’s go see what this bloody nonsense is about.”
Ire fumed inwardly. What in the gods’ name was that man doing here, at this time? It was far too late in the day for this sort of thing. Was he trying to catch him out? He sniffed; probably. The sneaky old rat would like nothing more than to try and catch him out and use it as an excuse to absorb his clan. He’d have to try and think of something else now; and after all that blasted planning too!
Outside, Huro and Chert waited for him, bowing formally as he followed his hastily assembled entourage out to greet their unexpected guest. Saru climbed down from his litter onto the velvet foot stand provided by one of his unsurprisingly large number of retainers. His face was unreadable, but there was a quiet menace behind those eyes, a snake-like cunning that Ire hated.
“Lord Saru,” Ire said respectfully, bowing low. “This is an unexpected pleasure.”
Saru grunted. “Yes, it is, isn’t it, Ire?” He glanced up the road at the half-constructed wheeled cage before clicking his fingers. A thin man carrying a document case hurried up to stand beside him and bowed.
“My lord?”
Saru fixed Ire with a steely-eyed gaze. “The bandits?”
“My lord, we are addressing the problem with all due haste.”
“All due haste…”
Ire gritted his teeth, but stayed bowed. All the while, cold wet snow dropped onto the back of his neck, sending its icy finger down his spine.
Saru’s voice was a near snarl, “And your other guest, Ire? Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
“Other guest? I don’t understand—”
The large man suddenly reached out and grabbed Ire’s tunic. Around them, there was a collective gasp as hands gripped swords, and Ire’s men faced off against Saru’s.
“DON’T PLAY GAMES WITH ME, YOU DAMNED PUP!” Saru roared, bringing Ire’s face up to his. “You know damned well who and what I’m talking about!”
With surprising strength, Saru shoved Ire backwards into one of his warriors, who quickly caught him, preventing him from being slammed into the snow.
“A funny thing happened, Ire,” Saru continued in a menacingly low voice. “A dead man appeared at the governor’s office, one who had somehow survived this ‘bandit’ attack. The story he told me was incredible, a truly remarkable tale indeed.” He glared at the thin figure beside him. “All he needed was a little persuading, and he told me everything.” Saru’s beady eyes bored into Ire’s. “I can be very persuasive, Ire.”
Saru gripped his dagger and looked about at the assembled warriors and retainers. “Where is she?”
“My lord?”
Saru’s voice was a low hiss. “The white horse creature, this ‘Princess Celestia’. Take me to her, Ire, now, unless you wish someone else to ‘take your place’?”
Lord Ire’s blood was at boiling point. Biting back his words, he strained to keep as much calm and respect in them as he could muster. “Of course, Lord Saru, please follow me.”
That blustering fat pig! One day, he would meet his maker, and Ire would give everything he had in this world to be the one to send him there. An image of his sword flashing through the old fool’s throat sent a thrill of adrenalin through him. It would be so easy, just half a second and that would be it, no more Saru. He shuddered. No more clan either, for his warriors wouldn’t stand a chance against this lot in a pitched battle—there were just too many of them.
Inside the storehouse was little warmer than outside, their warm breath creating small white clouds before them. Saru gripped the bars of Celestia’s cell door in his meaty hands, straining to see in the dim interior.
“Tell it come here.”
Ire took a deep breath. “Princess, forgive the intrusion. May we speak with you?”
Saru glared at him, before staring in amazement at the apparition in white walking slowly toward them from the gloom at the back of the cell. In all her regal glory, the Princess of Equestria looked up at Lord Saru, who involuntarily backed up a step. His jaw was slack, his eyes wide in shock. She was… beautiful…
“You can speak?”
Celestia nodded slowly. “I can.”
Saru balked, wiping his hand across his sweating face. “I…Ire…” he stammered. “I want that cage finished tomorrow.” He suddenly turned and headed for the door. “Tomorrow! Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Lord Saru.”
Ire watched him go, his heart as heavy as lead in his chest. The princess said nothing, observing him in silence from behind the barred door.
“I’m sorry, princess,” he said weakly. “I… I’m sorry.”
Stepping away from her, a hand shot out and grabbed his tunic sleeve. Rush’s eyes glared angrily from the gloom, his skin sallow from being out of the sun for so long. Ire nearly choked in surprise at the sight of the man. Rush’s grip was like iron.
“Let her go…”
“What?”
“Let her go. Ire, I know how you feel; I can tell. Please, if you have any heart in you at all… free her.”
Ire yanked himself out of Rush’s grasp. “You don’t think I would if I could?” he snapped. “You don’t know what Saru’s capable of. That man would kill us all without any hesitation.”
Rush’s hands gripped the bars so hard his knuckles went white. “Then free me. Give me a knife, get me close to Saru, and I’ll kill him.”
“Rush… I …”
“NO!” Celestia crashed into the door, her foreleg stretched out pleadingly. “Gods, Rush! Don’t, please! It’s not our way!”
Rush’s voice was calm, taking on a strange, flat, emotionless tone she’d never heard from him before. “I’ll do it, Ire. Nobody else needs to die. If you promise to free her, I will do this.”
Ire stood back, watching the man. Could he do it? Would the simple actions of one individual be able to eliminate the other lord? If he could encourage the boss’ men into taking his side, they could help set the trap… It could work.
Celestia pressed herself up against the bars in the door. “Lord Ire! I beg you, please don’t do this! I will go with Lord Saru; maybe he will let me go and… Lord Ire? LORD IRE!”
It was too late. Ire had gone, walking out of the building and leaving the princess leaning against the wall in absolute anguish. How could he? How could either of them? To kill, to murder, just to save her? It would taint Rush’s soul, change him from the one she… she…
The princess covered her face with her hooves, her voice a mere whisper. “Oh gods, no…”
Rush sat in his cell, stuffing the bamboo tube down his tunic and taking out the small tinder box. He wouldn’t need a knife—the plan he had would suffice. Soon, his beloved Tia would be free to return home to her ponies. She could save her home, his home, and at long last, his miserable life would have been worth something after all. It made some sort of sense, really. Perhaps it was fate? He had to have been alive here, now, at this time for a reason. There had to be a meaning to all of this, and now, it looked like he’d finally found it.
On the other side of the wall, Celestia hid her face under her wing, sobbing.
*********************
The following morning was as cold as it had ever been. This day, however, a thick, freezing fog had descended from the hills and engulfed the town in its bitter embrace. Lord Ire stood on the porch step as the village carpenter ploughed his way to him through the snow and bowed.
“My lord, the cage is ready.”
“I see. Thank you.” He rubbed his hands together. “Tell your workers to go into the house and have breakfast. I’ll pay.”
“Thank you my lord!” The villager near ran back to the others, who began to chatter excitedly, bowing to Lord Ire as they passed him.
The cart was a fairly large affair, with a cage firmly attached to its heavy bed. He’d intended to use this purely as bait to attract the thestral into the town where they could kill it and then give the damned monster’s head to Saru. Now, he couldn’t bear the sight of the thing. Saru would use it to take her away, and the gods knew what that monstrous tub of lard would do to her. If he…
Ire shook himself, pulling his hand away from his sword’s hilt. The pattern of the cords had left an impression where they’d pressed into his skin, he’d been gripping it that hard. Walking around the cart, he did his best to calm his nerves and heart. His father wouldn’t have worried like this! He would have done what was right, what was necessary. As long as the job got done, some sacrifices were necessary, even if Celestia ended up hating him for it. Her home needed her, his honour demanded it, and on some level, his heart did too. He didn’t feel anything for the reed cutter—it was a shame, naturally, but it was the princess who would suffer the most from what they had planned. He’d seen the look in the man’s eyes, his determination to sacrifice himself for the one he loved. And by the gods, such a love it was that the man would die with a smile on his face, knowing he had saved one so precious.
“Lord Ire? Lord Saru is here.”
Sure enough, from out of the fog, two warriors emerged, flanking the bulky form of Lord Saru. His appearance was about as welcome to Ire as a dose of the summer flux. Behind him, the thin clerk from the governor’s office kept a respectful distance, while Saru strode up through the snow and peered up at the cage.
“You have horses in this dung hole, I take it?”
“Yes, Lord Saru,” Ire replied respectfully.
The big man nodded. “Good. I wouldn’t want mine tethered to such a contraption. The princess will just have to put up with it until she reaches her new home.”
“Yes, Lord Saru.”
Saru gripped his dagger, leaning toward Ire. “And my son? Where is his body, Ire?”
The young lord looked up at the window of the house and sighed. The lady looking back at him was just his type too. He’d hoped to have had many happy years with her, and many children as well. He still may, if the gods smiled on him. He snorted back a laugh.
“If…”
Saru shot him a sidelong glare. “Ire? My son?”
“Pardon me, my Lord Saru. You understand that the villagers had to cremate the bodies due to the risk of disease and—”
“—Yes, yes, yes, I’m not a fool, Ire. Now where is he? My patience is beginning to wear thin.”
From behind them, a well-wrapped figure walked up the main street, carrying a large stoneware urn covered in a white cloth and tied with a red ribbon.
“Please, my Lord Saru, accept these humble remains of your beloved late son.”
Saru said nothing as the man approached. Ire closed his eyes momentarily. Celestia forgive him…
The man walked up to them and stopped, holding the urn reverently in his large hands. Ire couldn’t help but look down at them. They seemed different somehow. Was the reed cutter really this bulky? Ah, yes, probably the clothes.
He sniffed the air. Something smelt like it was smouldering, and it stank too.
The man was shaking, his ragged breath coming out in long white plumes. Saru cocked his head on one side. “Well? Give it to me, man!”
One of Saru’s men stepped forward impatiently, reaching out and grabbing the man’s cloak. With a yank, the cloak came free, revealing the person beneath, but not the one Ire had been expecting. The heavy-set man glanced at Ire before his gaze settled on the thin man with the document case. A look of recognition, fear, and grief flashed over his face as he held up the length of a smouldering match.
“Ghai… I’m so sorry…”
The thin man dropped his document case and dived forward, not at Saru, but at Ire. Grabbing him with surprising speed and strength, the young lord was taken to the ground as Cray, his eyes streaming with tears, placed the lit match to an opening on the urn.