Black Cross Page 5

  Sav put his hands out, palms forward. ‘That’s your business, Errolas, not mine. I’m not asking a ranger to explain his mission to me.’

  Errolas flashed Sav a genuine smile, stood, and turned to open the door. ‘I shall wait outside while you change, then you can show me the city, and I may tell you the real reason I am here.’

  ‘Alright Errolas you’re on. Give me a few moments and I’ll be with you. Prepare to be amazed by the largest, grandest city of the north.’

  After the door closed, Sav dropped back onto his bed, letting out a long breath and wondering why he always seemed to be practically dragged out of it. ‘After all, I only get several days here and there to sleep in a proper bed,’ he said to himself, before climbing to his feet and moving to fill his chamber pot.

  Chapter 6: The first deaths

  Sav and Errolas had spent almost a whole day walking around Wesson. The elf had been shown everywhere from King Barrison’s palace – only the outside, of course – to Tyndurris and the grand Samorlian Cathedral; and finally, after much persuasion from Sav – who insisted it was a famous landmark – the Coach and Cart Inn.

  ‘Right then Errolas, you really want to see Dockside do you? Well I’m warning you, it isn’t the best part of the city, by far, and you really won’t find anything down there of interest, bar drunken sailors and merchant ships.’

  Errolas smiled with his reply. ‘Oh, I’m sure there will be something of interest to me at the harbour. I don’t see many ships in the forest, that’s for sure.’

  Sav shrugged. ‘I’ve already shown you the King’s ships, why you want to see merchant cogs and fishing vessels I have no idea?’

  ‘Just humour me, scout. You told me you would show me the greatest city of the north, and I want to see it all.’

  Sav sighed. ‘Very well,’ he said eventually.

  After passing Kings Square and entering Dock Street, Sav pointed out more ale houses and with a snigger a few whore houses too. Errolas merely smiled at Sav’s crude mirth, and concentrated more on the people filling the streets.

  Groups of sailors walked up and down Dock Street, with the occasional child darting from pocket to pocket. Errolas had heard such tales of the lowest district of Wesson, and cringed to think they called the city the grandest of the north.

  What must other human cities be like?

  Their coach finally pulled up at the side of a large square full of market stalls, crates and barrels. ‘I take it this district is as dangerous as they say after dark?’ Errolas looked around at some of the market traders packing up their wares and heading back up Dock Street, away from the harbour.

  ‘Yeah, it can be,' Sav said. 'I used to work for the City Guard in this district. A lot of fun, I can tell you.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ Errolas said with a smile. ‘So, this is Market Square?’

  ‘Yup, it’s where a lot of trade is done, hence the name. Stalls also set up along Harbour Way, but this is where the finer goods are sold.’

  Errolas set off across the road, towards the centre of the square with Sav close behind him, talking about times he had to break up fights in the square when a guardsman. As Sav rambled on, more to himself in a reminiscent tone than to his companion, Errolas walked around the stalls and crates as they were being packed up and moved to the centre of the great square. He looked intently at the floor, smiling and nodding at merchants as they moved out of his way. At one spot, he knelt and held his hand just a few inches from the stone floor, his eyes closed in contemplation, a deep frown creeping across his face.

  ‘Everything alright Errolas?’ Sav finally realised he wasn’t being listened to, and noticed the elf crouching close to the ground.

  Errolas stood suddenly, Sav staring at him. He shook away the frown and smiled. ‘Yes, sorry, must have been the effects of the wine. I might not have drunk a lot, but I don’t think I’m used to human alcohol.’ Errolas finished by rubbing his stomach.

  ‘Ah,’ Sav said with a wry smile. ‘You’re a lightweight, that’s for sure! You’d need a lot more practice to come drinking with me properly. A good friend of mine would be glad to meet you; he’d look like a real drinker besides you.’ Sav put his arm around Errolas’s shoulder and walked him towards the great merchant ships swaying by the wooden jetties. He never noticed the elf’s keen eyes darting from shadow to shadow as the sun sank towards the harbour’s outer wall.

  Eventually, the duo caught another coach back up to the Dutton Arms where Sav rented his room. Errolas thanked Sav for his excellent tour of the city and bade farewell, apologising for his swift departure, but explaining he needed to finish some important business before leaving Wesson. He gave Sav two shillings and told him to have a few drinks on him. Sav thankfully accepted, hugged Errolas – much to the elf’s surprise – and said he hoped to see him when next on patrol around their borders. Once Sav entered the Dutton Arms to spend the coins he’d been given, Errolas slipped off into the shadows of the fast darkening city.

  ***

  Morri stood by a closed door with loud coughing coming from the room beyond.

  The three men's symptoms, Midrel told him, were worse. She’d not been happy when Morri had informed her of Master Orix’s orders, and after Midrel had stopped treating the men’s fevers, they’d become quite aggressive towards her, especially the one called Llard, who demanded to know why Midrel had stopped treating them. Midrel had rushed to fetch the two guards who should have been on duty at the room’s door, and asked them to watch over the now locked room. They had, as usual, been in the kitchen drinking hot nettle tea Midrel had prepared for them.

  After being secured, Midrel checked upon the patients an hour later whilst being accompanied by the two guards. She managed to calm the three men down, enough to tell them a cure was being searched for by the highest ranking cleric in Wesson, and they would need to rest if they wanted to receive the cure once found. Morri wondered who the third man was, but his elderly assistant told him the man wouldn’t answer any questions in front of the guards, and she didn't want to enter the room alone to question him. It was clear, however, that he didn’t know Bein or Llard, nor, Midrel had said, did the more vocal brothers know him.

  Morri didn’t bother to chastise her for dragging the guards away from their post. He preferred them to be close to her rather than guarding men too sick to attempt anything serious.

  ‘Fair enough, Midrel, I don’t want you in there alone anyway. The fact the third patient won’t answer any questions about himself in front of the guards makes me think he’s a criminal like the other two anyway, so you’re better off staying out of there as much as possible.’

  Another stream of hacking coughs came from the far side of the door.

  ‘They do sound worse, don’t they Morri?’ Midrel sighed. ‘Is there nothing we can do while Master Orix looks for a cure?’

  I wish there were. ‘No, I’m afraid there isn’t. He was quite clear all he wanted us to do was record their symptoms and send the results via messenger to him each night.’

  Midrel sighed again, slowly shaking her head, looking helplessly at the young man.

  Morri smiled at her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘You have a heart of gold, Midrel. All three men became aggressive towards you, at least two of them are known criminals, and still you wish to help them?’

  She shrugged. ‘It’s just how I am, Morri, always have been. Whether a bird caught by a cat, or lads caught up in a tavern brawl, I always wanted to try and help fix them up… well someone has to eh?’

  ‘Yes they do,’ the young cleric agreed. ‘Anyone who comes to this infirmary is very lucky indeed to have your excellent care and service. I couldn’t ask for a better assistant.’

  Midrel blushed.

  ‘More the reason for you to leave them three alone as much as possible,’ Morri continued, ‘until Master Orix finds a cure. I don’t want you coming to harm, whether it’s by their hands or through catching the sickness.’

  The guards ei
ther side of the door seemed to tense up and edge slightly away from it as Morri mentioned a risk of catching whatever the men inside the room had contracted.

  Midrel chuckled. ‘Don’t worry lads,’ the old woman said, ‘I’m sure ye won’t catch it through a solid door!’ She reached up and pinched the closest guard, Orrel’s cheek as she said it.

  Both guards flushed slightly, yet they seemed to visibly relax.

  No sooner had they relaxed, a crash of what sounded like breaking glass erupted from the patients’ room and a painful cry had them both stiffening up again and spinning to look at each other, then the door.

  Morri and Midrel were pushed and ordered away from the door and back down the corridor by Orrel, who pulled free a wooden cudgel from his belt. The guard on the right of the door fumbled for a key just as another cry – sounding like the younger brother, Bein – reached their ears. The guard with the key quickly placed it into the lock on the door and turned it until it clicked audibly. He looked at Orrel before gingerly reaching for and turning the handle. Just as he did so, a third, short gurgling cry rang out and he forcefully swung the door inwards.

  Inside the room everything lay still. All three patients lay motionless, the two brothers in their beds and the unknown man on the floor by the broken window. Both guards crept cautiously into the room. After a moment taking the scene in, Orrel went straight to the body on the floor by the window and crouched down to check for signs of life, whilst the other guard moved from one bed to the other, doing the same with the two brothers.

  As Morri and Midrel tried to enter the room, the closest guard held up his hand and gestured for them to stay outside. ‘Back down the corridor, until we call you,’ he commanded, whilst Orrel rose from the body at the window, shaking his head before peering out through the broken glass.

  ‘All’s clear out there, as far as I can see,’ he said, without taking his eyes away from the opening. ‘This one’s dead for sure, his throat’s been slit. How about those two?’ he asked, finally turning and nodding his head towards the brothers lying still in their beds.

  ‘Yeah, dead too,’ the guard said by the beds. ‘They’ve both got small throwing knives in their throats!’

  Orrel shook his head and returned his cudgel to his belt as his companion shouted through the open door. ‘You can come in now.’

  Morri and Midrel both cautiously entered the room, a look of shock on both their faces.

  ‘What happened?’ Morri asked, his face pale as he looked upon the three dead men.

  Orrel shrugged as he answered. ‘Ganger hit by the looks of it, someone bloody good mind; to hit all three in such a short space of time.’ He turned back to look out of the window again.

  ‘Sounds about right to me,’ the closest guard agreed.

  Midrel rushed to the nearest bed where Bein’s punctured throat leaked blood down to soak into the bed’s sheets.

  Morri crossed the room to the body on the floor.

  ‘His throat’s been sliced! How’d anyone manage to get in, do all of this and then escape before you two entered the room?’ Morri stared up at Orrel standing over him.

  ‘Through the window, I imagine,’ Orrel said honestly. ‘Looks like this one walked to the window, maybe he saw something outside? Then someone smashed the glass and slit his throat, all at the same time, I’d say. The other two must’ve sat up when they heard or saw the commotion, and were hit in the throat by throwing knives.’

  ‘Very professional,’ the other guard said, turning to the others. ‘I’ll go to the front door and check around the building with the guards there, if that’s alright, master cleric?’

  After a short pause and shake of the head in disbelief, Morri replied. ‘Yes… yes of course, thank you, and have the morning duty guard call for someone to fix this window.’

  ‘Of course, master cleric. I’ll check back with you when all is clear,’ he said as he left the room.

  ‘I’ll stay here, Master Morri, I don’t like to leave you both in this room alone after what’s happened,’ Orrel said, whilst looking around at the three bodies.

  ‘Thank you dear,’ Midrel said, from across the room. ‘Oh Morri, this is awful! This is a place for people to come and be treated, not executed.’ Midrel walked over to Morri as he rose to his feet.

  ‘You’re right. I know we treat gangers who’ve been in fights, but to have them carry out a vicious murder like this on our doorstep is quite alarming, to say the least. Come now, we must leave everything how it is and send messengers to both Master Orix and your captain.’ Morri directed the latter to Orrel.

  ‘Of course, Master Morri,’ the guard said, nodding once. ‘I’ll have one of the guards send word when the perimeter is checked, so someone can come and look at the scene, see if we can gather any information from it.’

  ‘Thanks again Orrel, we’ll be in my chambers if you need us. Come on Midrel, I think we need a drink and I have some spiced rum in my room.’

  Midrel smiled weakly as Morri led her out of the room, whilst Orrel shuddered at the three bodies before following, shutting the door firmly behind him before having a good scratch under his arm.

  ***

  A cloaked figure sat upon a roof not far from the infirmary. Everything to have taken place had happened within clear view from the vantage point, and the figure who sat there had been watching since before the attack. Two infirmary guards were now rushing around the building checking alleys, doorways and calling to a patrol nearby, the guardsmen of which were now running from street to street, raising the hue and cry with shouts and horn alike. This would make movement from the rooftop awkward at best for the rest of the night.

  The event had confused the onlooker, who’d been watching the quiet infirmary for some time. Just moments ago, however, he heard stones tapping against one of the ground floor windows. Several moments later a very ill looking man with angry looking lumps marring his face and neck had appeared inside the window, clearly searching for whoever threw the stones.

  Before the onlooker could spot where he’d come from, a rough looking man in dark clothes rushed up to the window, smashed it and sliced the throat of the sick man with a rapier, all in one swift motion. The attacker then sheathed his weapon, which he swiftly replaced with two small knives, both of which he threw through the broken window with obvious skill. The knives ended two more lives the onlooker reasoned, for why else would he have thrown them?

  Almost as quickly as the attacker had appeared, he'd gone, and very soon after, a burly guard appeared at the window, first crouching to the victim there, and then peering out through the empty frame. It hadn’t been long after, that the hue and cry had started.

  It’s going to be a long night indeed, the onlooker thought, whilst watching the activity in the streets below. A long night on a cold, slate rooftop; a far cry from the trees of Broadleaf Forest.

  Chapter 7: The one that got away

  Without warning, the door to Severun’s chamber swung open and a loud voice called from within.

  ‘Master Orix, come on in. How long have you been out there?’

  Gods…

  Orix jumped as the door opened. He hopped off the chair and hurried inside, closing the door behind him. When he turned, he saw the tall wizard stood by his bed, stretching and yawning.

  ‘I knocked several times, Lord Severun,’ Orix said, questioningly.

  ‘I do apologise,’ Severun said. ‘I had a very late night last night and didn’t get back to my room until the early hours. A deep sleep took me. I mustn't have heard you knocking. Do forgive me.’ Severun walked over to his desk and sat behind it, beckoning Orix over to the seat opposite, which slid out of its own accord. ‘Now, how can I help you?’ the wizard asked wearily.

  Orix pulled himself up onto the chair and started explaining frantically what Morri had told him in his latest report. Severun tried to interrupt a couple of times to ask questions, but the old gnome ranted on as if he had to get it all out in one go, otherwise he’d burst.


  Finally, Orix finished. He slumped back in his chair and stared at the wizard, awaiting a response. Severun didn’t return the gnome’s stare. Instead, he looked passed Orix and stared at nothing at all, clearly deep in thought.

  ‘Well?’ Orix asked impatiently. ‘What do you think this means?’

  Severun looked back at the gnome as if seeing him there for the first time. ‘I don’t know, Master Orix, I really don’t. Perhaps a ganger attack like the guards at the infirmary suggested. I can’t see why at all it would be connected to us, or our work?’ Severun slowly shook his head whilst talking, his eyes drifting off past Orix once again.

  ‘But it was such a professional job by the sounds of it. Surely one, if not all of the three men must have been important in the criminal underworld to warrant such a professional assassination?’

  Severun sighed. ‘I don’t know, Orix. All the subjects who are now, or who will become infected, will be criminals. It is highly likely at least a couple of those could be high status thieves or gang masters. Perhaps the third, unknown subject was one such character, and the other two merely got in the way, or were silenced so as not to give away the attacker’s identity? Makes sense to me.’

  Orix huffed. ‘I’m not convinced. They were all seriously ill, anyone could have seen that. They had been in there for a couple of days at least. If someone wanted the man, or any of them, dead, then why not strike before last night?’

  ‘Orix, I don’t know. All we are doing, or can do, is speculate. I think we are worrying about nothing. It's a shame we haven’t had the chance to record the effects through to completion on the first, and up to now only, subjects we’ve had, but there will be more and we will just have to make sure any we discover now are better protected, so we can follow the symptoms through to conclusion and stop any more ganger attacks, assassinations, or whatever, happening to our subjects once we have them.’