Herald of the Storm

FORTY-EIGHT

He would have taken a ship, would have fled far across the oceans where no one would ever find him, but he had no coin for passage. Of course he’d had plenty of coin right there in his hands. More than he could have ever spent, at least this year, but someone had given all that away. Merrick couldn’t even begin to express how fucking annoying that was, how much that fact vexed him. So instead of trying to find the words he was trying to hide himself inside a bottle of dubious spirits. The barkeep had told him where it was from and what it was called, but Merrick didn’t care. He just wanted to get blind drunk, and from the taste of whatever was in the bottle, that wouldn’t take very long.

Of course, he could have left the city northwards, but where would he have gone? There was a marauding army on its way south, refugees wandering the provinces, and he had no friends anywhere but here. Not that he had many friends here, either.

Well … any friends for that matter.

Even if he’d had friends, how would they have hidden him from the long arm of the Guild? He could have gone anywhere in the Free States, visited any of its cities and towns and backwaters, and it still wouldn’t have been far enough.

And so Merrick sat in a dockside alehouse, trying his best to persuade himself that the stink of fish and sweaty sailors wasn’t giving him a headache.

As he tried to drink away the inevitable, the door to the alehouse opened as it had done a dozen times already, and he stiffened as he had done on each of those dozen occasions. It was just another seaman, though, skin tanned, arms painted in faded tattoos. It wasn’t one of the Guild’s assassins come to cut his throat and watch him choke on his own blood.

There was still time to run, time to make his break, but nowhere would be far enough. It was just a matter of time. Why not waste the last moments he had left on foreign spirits … at least for as long as he could afford them.

He fished in his purse and pulled the remaining coins from within, opening his fist and letting them drop onto the table in front of him.

Six coppers. Wouldn’t last long, but then he didn’t have long left. What would that get him, maybe another two bottles? It would be enough to make him pass out, that was for sure. With any luck he’d never wake up again, and then he could avoid the whole messy event of drowning in his own blood.

The door opened again, and he looked up, not even bothering to reach for the sword at his side. It had served him well against Bolo and his men, but it would do him no good now. Sure, he could kill any lone assassin sent to do him mischief, but this was the Guild; there were always more assassins. Eventually they’d send one good enough to do the job right.

A young lad walked in, wooden tray in hand, selling cockles in vinegar.

Merrick let out a long breath. It had all seemed so right in that warehouse, sword in hand, remembering the old days. It had all come back to him so easily: parry, riposte, thrust, guard. Move with your opponent, not against him. Strike first, strike fast, strike hard, strike last.

And then there’d been that speech … what had he said?

‘I am the shepherd,’ he whispered under his breath.

What a load of shit. I am dog meat, more like.

Merrick took another sip from the glass, draining the rest of the peaty- tasting spirit. It made him grimace — cheap crap, lacking the smooth edge of the more expensive liquor he was used to. It was doing the trick, though, sending him blurry round the edges. He almost didn’t care about what was going to happen.

Almost.

‘Cockles, mister?’

The young lad made him jump, appearing out of nowhere with his tray. Merrick could smell fish and wondered if it was the cockles or the boy who stank the most. He looked down at the grim selection, and it did nothing to stir his appetite.

‘No thanks,’ he said, then noticed the little lad eyeing his remaining coins on the table. Well … why not? ‘Want to earn yourself one of those?’

The lad looked at him warily, as if this was some trick, and then nodded.

Merrick slid five of the coppers to one side, leaving one in the centre of the table. ‘If you can grab it before me, you can have it. If you’re too slow I get a pot of cockles for free.’

There was a short pause as the boy considered the offer. He must have been able to tell Merrick was drunk and fancied his chances, because he gave a sharp nod and put his wooden tray on the floor.

‘Right,’ said Merrick, flexing his fingers. ‘On the count of-’

Before he had time to begin his count, the lad’s hand shot out and swiped the coin off the table.

Merrick looked at the empty spot for a brief moment, before he started to laugh.

He couldn’t really argue with that, could he?

‘Is giving money away becoming a habit, Ryder? Perhaps there’s hope for you after all.’

Merrick almost jumped out of his skin. He hadn’t heard her enter the tavern, and she’d managed to walk right up to him without him even noticing.

Kaira nodded at the boy to be on his way, and he quickly picked up his tray of cockles and scampered off before anyone could take his winnings from him. When he’d gone she sat in the seat opposite Merrick, and he looked her over for a second: those broad shoulders, that chiselled look to her attractive face. Despite everything, despite her having condemned him to certain doom, he couldn’t help but admire her.

‘Come to gloat, have you?’ he asked. What other reason could there be?

‘You don’t know me very well at all, do you, Merrick?’

‘I know you well enough.’

But did he? Fact was he hadn’t known her even slightly. Hadn’t known how she could fight. Hadn’t known the goodness in her heart. Merrick had been ready to run with that money and leave those people destitute. Setting them free was enough. Not for her. She simply gave the money away without a second thought for the consequences. Deep down Merrick knew it had been the right thing to do, but the side of him that wanted to stay alive couldn’t help but think he’d made a shit choice.

‘There’s the rest of my fortune,’ he said with a smile, waving at the five coppers left on the table. ‘Feel free to help yourself. I’m sure there’s someone more deserving. I’m going to be pigswill before the day’s out, anyway. May as well take it and be off.’

‘I am in as much danger as you, Merrick.’

That made him laugh out loud, long and disdainful. ‘Don’t talk rot. Just go back to your temple. They’ll take you in, that’s what they do. They’re hardly going to see you out on the street when there are killers on your trail.’

Now it was Kaira’s turn to laugh. ‘I have already returned to my temple. And I have left that place behind me. So you see, Merrick, we are in this mess together now.’

As much as he resented her for giving away his money, the prospect of having her watching his back did appeal.

‘What do you mean, left it behind?’

‘There is nothing there for me now. It is not the place I thought it was.’

‘Really? So now you think we’re kindred souls, cast out amongst the rabble with only each other for protection? Are you mad? People are coming to kill us. Hard bastards, without mercy. People who will take great pleasure in watching us suffer before we die.’

‘Then perhaps we should kill them first.’

There was steel in her voice, and in her eyes. For a moment Merrick liked the idea — the prospect of sticking it to the Guild before they stuck it to him was like sweet wine on his lips. He knew it was stupid. They’d get you eventually. There was no way this would end well for either of them.

‘We’d need an army,’ he said

‘No,’ said Kaira. ‘The Guild does not have an army. We would only need the right warriors to stand by our side. Warriors as feared and determined as the Guild itself.’

‘But there aren’t …’

He’d been about to say there was no one as feared as the Guild. No one as powerful and ruthless. Certainly no one that he knew of.

But actually, there was …

‘Come with me.’ Merrick rose unsteadily to his feet, leaving the five copper pennies on the table and staggering from the tavern as fast as he could with Kaira at his heels.

He made his way through the streets, keeping a wary eye out for someone, anyone, who might come at him from the crowds. It would only take one man with a knife and that would be the end of it.

That couldn’t happen now, not when he was so close.

Only when he reached the Crown District did he allow himself to relax. Only when he saw the palace barracks up ahead, did he begin to breathe that bit more easily.

Garret was sitting at the same table he’d been at last time. Sipping tea in the middle of the drill yard as if he didn’t have a care in the world. One of the Sentinels told the captain he had company, and he turned around to see Merrick and Kaira waiting there breathlessly.

‘Didn’t expect to see you so soon, Ryder,’ he said.

‘I didn’t expect to be back so soon,’ Merrick replied, slipping into the chair opposite him. Kaira stood to one side as though she were a guard on duty. Merrick only hoped Garret would be impressed by that.

The captain took a sip from his porcelain cup with the blue bird painted on the side, then said, ‘Have you reconsidered my offer?’

Right to business. Merrick liked this already. ‘I have. I think it’s about time I took on some responsibility.’

Garret smirked humourlessly. ‘You’ll have that all right. King Cael gone to the Halls of Arlor, assassins trying to murder the princess, Khurtas heading for the city. We’re up against it and no mistake. The Sentinels will be called upon to defend the city walls and everyone in it over the coming weeks. Chances are we’ll lose more than a few. Maybe worse than that. You ready to face your end head on, lad?’

It was better than the alternative. At least in the Sentinels he’d have a fighting chance. Up against the Guild he had no chance at all.

‘I’m ready. If you’ll have me.’

Garret’s humourless smirk turned to a genuine smile. ‘You know I will, lad. I owe your father that. But what about your friend?’

Merrick glanced to Kaira, who still hadn’t moved. ‘Oh, she can handle herself. I can vouch for her.’

Garret thought on that. ‘I’m sure you can, but I’ll need a better demonstration than your word, young Merrick. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d tried to fool me, would it?’

Merrick had to admit, it wouldn’t. ‘Feel free to try her out. I’d wager her sword arm against any of your men. Even give you two to one.’

‘Two to one? I’ll take those odds.’ Garret turned to the two Sentinels standing watch from the archway. ‘Waldin! Statton! Practice swords!’

As his men gathered their wooden weapons, Garret picked up his dainty table and moved it to one side of the drill yard. His men returned quickly bearing their wooden wasters, with a spare for Kaira.

Merrick nodded at her as she took up her sword and was pleased when she offered him a wink back.

‘Begin when you’re ready,’ said Garret, as his men took up a defensive stance. Kaira just stood and waited for their attack. ‘Waldin and Statton are two of my best,’ he whispered to Merrick. ‘This’ll be easy money, lad.’

‘Aye, easy money,’ Merrick replied.

Damn right it would be.