Last Knight (The Champion Chronicles Book 2) (12 page)

              “What about that one, the survivor.”

              “He is an outlaw.  A bandit.  We’ll deal with him like all the others.  But make it quick.  We need to get back to the garrison as soon as we can.”

              Farrus watched as Tom and the bodies were dealt with.  He was glad that he had risen in rank so that he didn’t have to get his hands bloodied anymore.  But it was just as gruesome of a task to watch as it was to participate in.  Fortunately, it would be over soon and they could get on their way.  But his desire to leave had nothing to do with leaving the scene.  It had to do with the messenger who had arrived late in the night from Tara City.  His commanders had sent a dispatch to be on the lookout for a soldier or warrior from Karmon.  He was to be detained and brought to Iseron as quickly as possible.  Information would be useful, but if he could somehow catch this Karmon Knight, it would be invaluable for his career.  Maybe he could even settle down and become the farmer he had always dreamed of becoming.

              He called the centurions together once all the bodies had been tossed onto the fire.  “We will split into two groups,” Farrus announced.  “Myself, Jara, and David will try and track the Karmon who did this.  The rest will continue on the patrol and upon return to Iseron will report this to the garrison commander.  The Karmon needs to be taken alive.  Under no circumstance are we to kill him.  Orders from Tara City were clear on this.  Understood?”

              After a unanimous affirmative, the centurion patrol continued down the road.  Farrus and his two centurion companions, Jara and David, waited until the patrol was gone.  Then they began the tedious task of trying to pick up the trail of this Karmon Knight named Sir Conner.

Chapter Ten

His real name wasn’t Berrien.  Even his old friend Hibold didn’t know that he was born under a different name in a small country far to the southwest of Taran.  The country was called Othgard, and it was more a collection of roaming tribes than an established nation with a ruling central government.  It was a harsh life where skirmishes with other tribes were common.  Death came quickly and often, especially for skinny and sickly boys such as a young Berrien.  Barely able to even lift a sword, his prospects at surviving into adulthood were small. 

              Once a year, a caravan was put together to travel to the distant Taran Empire to trade goods in their capital city.  Berrien snuck into the back of one of the wagons, hoping to escape a life that would likely only last a few more years.  The men of the caravan were none too pleased to find him hiding among their piles of bear pelts several days into the ride.  But there was no going back and they were not quite so barbaric as to let the young boy die on the rolling steppes of the far reaches of the empire.  He made himself useful, quickly learning how to cook and tend to the animals.  It didn’t make the men actually like him, but at least they let him live.

              At first sight of the city, the young Berrien fell in love.  He knew that this was where he should be.  Almost as quickly as they arrived, young Berrien left his people to live on the streets and make his own way.  Using guile and wits that were far beyond his years, he not only survived, he thrived.  He became an expert thief and a sinister spy with a reputation that caught the eye of the Taran city guard.  After an arrest for being involved in an organized criminal gang, he was given a choice of life imprisonment in the dungeons, or serving the empire with his skills.

              He would not have survived a month in the dungeons, so his choice was clear.  His rise to power on the streets did not go without making enemies.  And many of those enemies were in those dungeons.  He could easily protect his back on the streets, surrounding himself with gangs of his own.  But in the dungeons, his life would be in the hands of the jailers, who did not care whether their prisoners lived or died.

              Without a real choice, he chose to serve the empire and that was when he met Hibold.  Hibold brought him out from the streets and into the palace where he was taught the political side of the world.  In the end, Berrien had come to realize that the wild streets were truly no different than the political realms.  Except on the streets, your enemies stabbed you in the face.  In the political realm, your enemies stabbed you in the back.

With a new lease on life, he changed course and used his skills not for criminal gains, but for political gains.  Not much in his life really changed.  But instead of living in the underworld of the city, he lived on top of it, enjoying the perks of a privileged life without the threat of imprisonment.  It really was the perfect life he lived.  The only real downfall was the travel.  Especially to far-off barbaric places.

The sight of the docks along the riverbed made him smile with relief.  A late summer storm had cropped over of the Gulf of Taran, making much of the voyage to Karmon rough and wild.  Many times he was sure the boat would capsize, sending him to a quick death.  But the captain of the small cargo ship kept her afloat and arrived safe at their destination.

But it was not the docks that really caught his attention.  About a hundred yards downriver, a small army of men were busy at work.  Large casks of various sizes were stacked along the banks and men were filling them with river water and then manhandling them up and onto the backs of wagons.  A team of oxen was just leaving with a full load, heading directly towards the city.

Berrien waited impatiently on deck while the ship sailed past the dock, and then turned around up river.  It then used the flowing current to slide along the dock.  Dock workers were already there, ready to grab lines to tie the boat down.  It was all done quickly and expertly.  But he barely noticed, as he was still focused on the activity down river.

As soon as the boat came to a stop, he hopped down from the deck, a small bag of personal possessions hung over his back.  The wooden dock stuck out along the river bank, allowing two or three smaller boats to be tied up at the same time.  At the moment, only the small Taran cargo boat was tied up.  Dock workers, whose job it was to help unload incoming boats, raced past him to start the unloading process.

He walked through the rush of men and onto the hard ground, which gave him a sense of relief that he was back on land and alive.  Hopefully he would not be rushed on his return journey and would take the long, but safe, way back.  There were a few buildings that had sprung up along the river, almost like a small village.  He could smell the hint of fresh cooking, which made his stomach gurgle.  He was hungry, but anything he ate would likely not stay down.  It would take some time for his stomach to settle.  The man he was looking for was standing inconspicuously off to the side, arms crossed, leaning against a tall tree.

Berrien walked right up to him and greeted him.  “Peter.”

Peter nodded back with an unsmiling face.  “Berrien.”

Peter was tall with wide shoulders and a barrel chest.  His stomach had grown over the years and now hung over his trousers.

“You’ve been eating well, I see,” Berrien asked.

“And you’re still a scrawny lass,” Peter replied with a slight smirk.  “It’s a short walk to the city.”

“What’s with them over there,” Berrien asked, nodding towards the men who were loading the casks with water.

Peter had already turned to walk towards the city, so he had to turn around to first see what Berrien was talking about, and then to answer the question.  “I’m not really sure.  I have overheard many people complaining about the lack of water.  Something about the wells being poisoned.  Must be related to that.”

“Poisoned?  Isn’t that interesting?”  A shadow of a smile spread across his lips.  “And you know nothing about that?”

Peter shrugged his shoulders.  “Hibold told us to lay low and keep tabs on the queen and any lords that came from outside the city.  Stay out of trouble and don’t do anything stupid.  His exact words.”

“So, you know nothing about how the water got poisoned?”

“Of course not,” Peter answered.

Berrien was skeptical, but he didn’t push the issue any farther.  He left Peter and walked down the bank towards the men who were loading the casks with water.  A man stood away from the rest of the other others and seemed to be overseeing the operation.  Berrien walked up to him.

“Hello,” Berrien said.

“Greetings,” the man said.  “You just arrive from Taran?”

              “Observant of you,” Berrien replied with a smile.  “Yes, I did.  A few small casks of spices and some rugs from the far west.”

              The man held out a hand, which Berrien shook.  “Havid.  I am head of the merchant’s guild.”

              “Berrien.  I guess it is you who I must see first before I can sell in your city.”

              “First time in Karmon, then?”

              “Yes, it is.”

              “Once you go into the city, a guild member will assist you in setting up a place in the market where you can sell your spices and rugs.  You don’t have to find them, they’ll find you.”

              Berrien let out a chuckle.  “Of course, nothing gets past the merchant’s guild.”

              “Of course not,” Havid replied.

              Berrien motioned at the men who were loading casks.  “Seems like an inefficient way to transport water to the city.”

              “Oh, this is just temporary,” Havid replied.  “Some wells ran dry and we’re just making sure that the flow of water to the inns and taverns doesn’t stop until the new ones can be dug.”

              “The city is pretty close to the river and ocean for the wells to run dry,” Berrien said.

              Havid shrugged innocently.  “It happens.  It’s a big city with many thirsty people.  It should only be a couple weeks of this before the wells are ready.  And we certainly can’t let visitors to our fine city go thirsty.”

              “Of course not!” Berrien replied.  “Well, it was good to meet you, Havid, head of the merchant’s guild.”

              Havid nodded his head.  “And you as well, Berrien.”

              Berrien took his leave and started walking towards the city.  Peter, who had been watching from a distance, joined him.

              “That was not the most inconspicuous thing you’ve ever done,” Peter said.

              Berrien glanced over at the former centurion.  Peter had served in many campaigns, most of them in the north against the barbarian tribes.  He was one of the few that had come out of service unscathed.  He had his injuries, but none of them severe or obvious.  But as useful as he was, Peter was still a soldier at heart.  Which meant he was better with his muscles than his brains.

              “Everything I do is intentional,” Berrien said.

              “My orders were to come here and stay low and out of sight,” Peter said again.  “And not do anything stupid.”

              Berrien shook his head and let out few Taran curse words.  “Hibold’s not in charge any more.  I am.  I need to become known so that my presence does not cause questions to be asked.  We will be here for some time gathering information before it is time for us to act.  In that time, we will be seen and known.  The best place to hide is in plain sight.  And if you are a familiar face, you will be less noticed.”

              “But Hibold’s orders?”

              “Hibold is not here,” Berrien replied sharply.  “You work for me, now.  You will do as I say without question.  Do you understand?”  Berrien quickly glanced around, just to be sure there was no one in earshot.  “If any one of these Karmons got wind of who we are and why we are here, we will not be treated as honored guests.  We will be treated as spies and executed.  Is that clear?”

              “Of course,” Peter said.

              “Good.  Now, about this water problem,” Berrien said.  “The head of the merchant’s guild said it was caused by dried up wells.”

              “That’s not what I heard,” Peter said.

              “Of course not.  He lied to me.”

              “Why would he do that?”

              Berrien glanced up at the much larger man.  “You were a great soldier, weren’t you?”

              Peter stopped and looked at him, a confused expression on his face.

              “Never mind,” Berrien said.  “If something is wrong with the water, telling foreigners would be the last thing that you would do.”

              “Okay,” Peter said with a shrug, agreeing with Berrien, but not knowing why.

              “When did you get here?”

              “Hibold found me and Iffus last winter in Barshgarn.  He sent Iffus right here, but I spent the spring and summer up north in Thell leading two companies of crossbowmen and getting them ready for combat.  After I was done in Thell, Hibold sent me here to blend in and wait with Iffus.  He said further instructions would come.  When I saw you come off the ship, I figured you were here to give me my instructions.”

              “How did you know I was coming?” Berrien asked.

              “Taran ships don’t come that often.  When they do, I keep my eyes open.  You do have instructions for me, right?”

              Without a hint of a hesitation, Berrien replied, “Of course.  You and Iffus are to help me.”

              “With what?”

              “You have a quiet room?”

              “Yes,” Peter replied.  “A small room in a small inn.”

              “Take me there and then we’ll talk.”