The Black Sword Trilogy: The Poacher (29 page)

“May we eat his flesh?” One of the beasts asked him.

At first Grail felt sickened by the thought, but he also knew that his soldiers were beginning to become even harder to control.

“Yes,” he told them.  “Leave no trace of him behind.”

             
Just before dawn, Krall reached the bridge at Serace.  He had discarded his disguise along the way, intentionally leaving it for the creatures to follow.  He knew that when they found it, the animals would spend, at least a few minutes smelling it and looking for a trail.  It would give him that much longer to get away from them.  Reaching the bridge, he then dismounted the horse turned it around and sent it back towards the Wolfen.  He hated to think of the Wolfen attacking, killing and eating this creature, but if they did, it would slow them down even more.

              He knew that the Wolfen would assume that he would cross the bridge.  He crossed to the middle of the bridge and then dove into the river.  He knew the monsters would pursue his scent to the bridge; but then likely become confused when he apparently disappeared.  He swam to the near side of the bridge, to the rivers bank and hid among the reeds.

              Before long, a pack of six Wolfen did come running to the bridge.  They had arrived sooner than he expected and he thought to his relief that they had left the horse alone.  They crossed to the middle and then looked around confused; just as Krall had predicted.

“He can’t have disappeared.” One of the animals said to the rest of the pack.  “He must have crossed here.”

“Maybe he jumped off.” Another growled.

“That’s stupid,” the pack leader said in his growling voice.  “He and that horse must have crossed the bridge.  They’re probably half way to Beyton by now.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

They then all barked and howled and ran across the bridge. Watching from the water’s edge he could see them running at full speed along the opposite river bank.  He waited for a few a little while longer while the sun rose and then climbed out of the water.  He then crossed the bridge; but instead of following the road next to the river bank, he went into the thick brush along the side of the road.

Feeling far enough away from the river to be safe, but not too far to be lost, he took off his wet clothes and hung them among the brush and short trees.  He had no food or water, but knew that to be the least of his problems at that moment.

He let himself sleep for a while.  Even if the Wolfen came back, he reasoned he might be able to fend them off and escape by climbing a tree.  As he sat in the bushes, he heard noises coming from the road.  They were sounds of people and animals; voices speaking, the wheels of carts on the dirt and horses hooves.  These must be the refugees from Calderon, Krall reasoned. 

Putting his dry clothes back on, he made his way down to the road and saw a line of people stretching as far as he could see in both directions along the road.  There were men wearing soldier’s uniforms walking along with the ordinary people that he guessed were the reserve guard he’d ordered activated.  There were other men on horses and more than a few carts carrying people and material.

“Oi!” A soldier called to him.  “Best get back in with the rest of them.  It’s not good to get too far off the road.”

Krall thought briefly about identifying himself to the soldier; but then reconsidered.  He thought that it might be a good idea at the moment to simply move along with the rest of the refugees.  He joined the rest and moved along with the flow of people moving.

             
Throughout the day, the people moved slowly, but steadily along the river road.  Occasionally, soldiers on horseback would ride down the middle in one direction or the other; but for the most part the only soldiers to be seen were the ones walking along the sides of the road, keeping everyone in line.

              Twice during the day, the refugees stopped to rest and eat.  Donkeys and carts carrying food and barrels of water came down the middle of the road and were portioned out in equal measure to everyone.  All of the people had cups and plates of their own.  When a soldier saw that Krall had neither, he gave him a cup, plate and flatware from off of one of the carts.

“Don’t lose these.” He told Krall.

             
After sundown, the people were made to camp along the sides of the road.  Most, Krall saw had to rest and eventually sleep on the ground.  However, Krall could see some tents pop up on both sides of the road.  Some people made small campfires.  Some had jugs of ale or bottles of wine that they shared among themselves.  Krall himself was satisfied to be by himself; however a small group he thought to be a family invited him to join them.

              “No one should be alone on a trip like this.” Said a man presenting him a bottle of wine.  He filled Krall’s cup and motioned for him to sit down.  He was surrounded by two women; one young and one older and several children.

“This is very kind of you,” Krall said to him.  “I’m afraid I’m not exactly dressed for company.”

The family laughed.

“I’m afraid none of us are.” The older woman replied.

             
Krall sat, drank and spoke with the man and his family for most of the evening.  The man was a merchant who owned a general store originally from Mobrey; but had moved to Calderon in search of a new start for himself and his family.

“There’s probably a hundred general stores on every street in Mobrey.” He told Krall.  “In Calderon, I was the only one on my side of town.”

“Were you doing well before the evacuation?” Krall asked him.

“Very well indeed.  That was before the city was ordered to evacuate.”

The man looked depressed for a moment then took another drink of his wine.”

“I’m sure your store will still be there when you get back.” Krall said trying to cheer him up. 

The man looked up, smiled and said, “even if it’s not, I can build another one.  I can’t do that if I’m dead, can I?”

              The next morning, Krall decided it was time to move on.  He almost ran up the middle of the road trying to get to the front.  The people were still busy breaking camp and hadn’t started moving yet.  At the head of the line, he found several police; whom he identified by the sash across their breast plates, breaking down a tent.

“Where is your chief?” he asked them.  One of the soldier pointed and Krall found the chief of police talking with one of the citizens.  The chief looked over and identified Krall.

“Captain!” he called to him.

“Good morning chief.” Krall responded and then shook his hand.  “You’ve done a fine job here.” He told the Chief.

“The people have been in good spirits for the most part,” The Chief told him.  “Naturally, they’re not thrilled to have evacuated the city; but they mostly understand that it was necessary.  What happened at the fort?”

Krall responded by shaking his head sadly.  The Chief gave him a look that seemed to say that he understood.

             
“What now?” He asked Krall.

“I have vital information that has to get to the King.” Krall answered.

The Chief nodded and then motioned over to a man holding the reins of a horse.

“You can take my horse,” he told Krall.

Krall shook the man’s hand and mounted the horse.

“Have your soldiers keep a sharp eye out,” Krall said before he rode away.  “There’s a pack of six Wolfen somewhere along the road.”
“Not anymore.” The Chief answered him proudly.  “We killed them yesterday morning before breakfast.”

              Krall rode for two days and rested himself and his horse at night.  He was able to go without food and water was easy to get from the river.  On the morning of the third day, he reached Beyton, bought some apples from a vendor, feeding himself and his mount.  He crossed the river to Mobrey and began to look for an inn or tavern to spend one night, have a decent meal and rest before the final ride to Kallesh.  When he stepped off the ferry; however several soldiers approached him.

              “Are you Captain Krall?” They asked him.

“Yes,” He said curiously.

The soldiers then formed a circle around him, one of them taking the horse.  The company’s captain then stepped up to him with his hand on his sword.

“Captain Krall,” He said with authority.  “You are under arrest.”

Chapter Thirty Six

             
The “Iron Gates” loomed large over Kenner as he entered the city of Kallesh.  Grinning from ear to ear, Kenner couldn’t help but laugh at the irony that he was actually happy to be entering the city his father had warned him so much about.  More than that, he also laughed at the irony that he was entering of his own free will.  The last time he had entered these gates, he was a prisoner believing that he would die here.  Suddenly he remembered his cousins and the fate that had befallen them.  As the enormous cat strode into the busy streets, he said a silent prayer of thanks and of memory of the cousins he had lost.

              As he strode into the bustling streets, several soldiers approached him.

“You there!” one called out to him.  “How dare you come into this city
armed!”

The huge cat growled and the soldiers backed away.  Kenner climbed off of Shela and put his hands in the air, almost as if surrendering.

“I am a soldier of Walechia.” He answered them.  “I have information for the king.”

“You too?” One of the soldiers questioned him.

A wonderful thought then occurred to Kenner: at least one of his companions had made it.

              He let the soldiers lead him to the palace at the base of the Great Tower.  Everyone in the street backed away from the cat giving Kenner and the other soldiers plenty of room.

“Your…mount,” one of the soldiers said uncomfortably, “will have to stay outside.”

Shela growled with displeasure, but Kenner rubbed her neck reassuringly.

“Don’t fuss, old girl.” He told her.

             
Kenner was led through the crowded halls of the palace he remembered from, what felt like years before.  Everything was still the same.  The floors were still polished to a high shine.  The statues still stood dramatically beside pillars of white marble and a thousand voices still sounded as if speaking at once.  Suddenly one voice shouted above the rest.

“You bastard!” Kenner heard.

             
Looking about, he soon saw Terri running towards him.

“This time I am going to kiss you.” She said embracing him.  She then kissed him hard on the cheek.

“Careful,” Kenner said laughing.  “You may grow to like it.”

“Not with that shaggy beard.” She said, still holding on to him.

             
Still holding on to his shoulders, Terri pushed him away to have a better look at his face.  She couldn’t believe it was really him; Kenner.  She grabbed his face with both of her hands as if touching it made it more real.

“You bastard.” She said again.  “You wonderful, wonderful bastard.”

             
Looking over him more carefully, she noticed the shiny, black armor he was wearing.

“Where did you get this?” She said, amazed.

“Oh do I have some stories to tell you.” He said, still laughing.

“I’ve got some stories of my own to tell.” She answered him.

“I bet you do.”

She then turned him around and placed her arm around his shoulder.

“What we need is a good stiff drink.” She told him.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

             
Terri led Kenner to a tavern near the palace.  It smelled of stale ale and tobacco and was full of people in different stages of drunkenness.  Upon entering, a large man stood in front of Kenner.

“Your sword,” he said in a deep, powerful voice.  Not thinking, Kenner took the sword off of his back and tried to hand it to the man.  He screamed in pain and dropped the sword on the ground.  The sword then leapt off of the ground and back into Kenner’s hands.  Terri looked at Kenner in shock.

“That’s quite a blade you’ve got there.” She said to him.

“You don’t know the half of it.” He answered, smiling.

“What is it, the Black Sword?” She asked as a joke.