Morgarten (Book 2 of the Forest Knights) (13 page)

“Shall we?”

***

Hunched over in the darkness, less than fifty paces
from the main gate, Noll regretted asking Matthias to bring him the
jitteriest mule he could find. The animal had trotted up to the
gate well enough, but when the guards approached with their
torches, he spooked and would not allow anyone to get near. The
soldiers called out others, and they came brandishing more torches,
which only made things worse. Soon a dozen men chased the mule back
and forth in front of the gate, and the animal became so frantic he
began snapping at hands as they reached for him.

There was movement at the gate again as soldiers
stepped out of the way. They lined up, forming ranks, and Noll was
surprised to see Duke Leopold himself stroll forward. He stood with
his hands on his hips and watched as the wide-eyed mule charged
between the soldiers, evading all attempts at capture.

Leopold shouted something to a huge, gray-bearded
man at his side, who snatched a spear from the hands of a surprised
guard and stepped forward. When the panicked animal next came
toward him, he thrust twelve inches of tempered steel behind his
foreleg, puncturing his lung but missing his heart. The mule let
out a sound that began as a horse’s high-pitched whinny but died
off in a breathless donkey’s bray. He bounded away from his
attacker and walked stubbornly for twenty seconds with the spear’s
butt-end dragging on the ground, and Sir Berenger Von Landenberg
still tied to his back. Then the mule stumbled and his front legs
began to give out.

Noll closed his eyes as the animal let out a last
strangled cry and crumpled to the ground.

“Arnold Melchthal!”

Noll’s heart pounded in his ears. He looked up to
see Leopold striding directly at him. It took every last bit of
self-control Noll possessed to resist the temptation to flee. He
knew an animal flushed from cover was as good as dead.

“Or is it Thomas Schwyzer? Perhaps both of you hide
within earshot?”

Leopold stopped walking and his head slowly turned
as he scanned the dark woods.

Noll reminded himself to breathe. Silently.

When Leopold next spoke he looked into a section of
forest fifty yards up the road from Noll’s actual location, which
was now less than ten paces from the Duke.

“No, I doubt very much the Hospitaller is here,”
Leopold said, shaking his head.

If only I had a crossbow.

“It is just you,
Noll
. That is what your
friends call you, is it not?”

Noll fixed his eyes on the dead mule, for he did not
want to look directly at Leopold. It was a hunter’s trick that
every old-timer swore by: you can only get close to your prey if
you avoid looking at it directly. Prey knows when it is being
watched.

But who, in this instance, was the prey?

At that moment, staring at the dead mule, Noll did
not feel like a hunter. He shook his head in disgust. His idea of a
joke had cost the animal its life.

More soldiers flowed out of the gates. Their yellow
tunics bearing the black eagle seemed to light up the road. These
were the hardened fighting men of the Empire; professional killers
that knew no other trade. They were not part-time farmers or
millers patched together to form a militia.

“I know why you hide,” Leopold said. “I do not fault
you for it. It took a brave man to come here tonight.”

Leopold turned away from Noll and began walking to
the gate as soldiers hurried to his side. Before they reached him,
he turned back one last time.

“I will see you soon. Enjoy the night, Arnold.”

Leopold disappeared amongst a sea of torches.
Seconds later he was back inside the walls.

Noll sat shivering in the dark for a long time
before he dared to move. He did not feel like a brave man.

Seraina watched Noll pace circles around the only
tree within the walls of the Altdorf fortress. The last of the
day’s sun had fled, leaving the two of them shivering in the
pre-darkness of night.

“You were right,” Noll said. “I admit it. The
Venetians have no interests but their own at heart.”

Seraina did not answer. What could she say that
would not agitate Noll further? He had been stewing and miserable
ever since he returned from delivering Landenberg to Habsburg
Castle.

She put the hood of her cloak up and tested the air
with her breath. It was cool, but no mist formed.

“Perhaps we should go in,” she said.

Noll stopped pacing and leaned against the tree.

“I would rather not. I spend too much of my time
inside as it is,” he said. “The place feels like a crypt.”

Seraina knew exactly what he meant. She too could
not shake the ill feelings she held for the Altdorf fortress. And
it was not just because of her vision. The massive stone structure,
with its high walls meant to hold out the world, was a constant
reminder of how her people had been subjugated by outsiders for
centuries. It began with invading Germanic tribes from the north,
then the Romans from the south. And now, the Habsburgs, on behalf
of the Holy Roman Empire.

“The men like the Venetians well enough,” she said.
“I watched several training sessions while you were gone, and they
seem to be learning.”

“I am sure they work hard enough. I have no qualms
about that. But most of them have yet to touch a real sword.
Pomponio has them tapping at each other with sticks all day long.
At some point I have to see them properly armed.”

“Was there nothing in the armory?”

“A few blades. Some spears. But no more than a
hundred in all,” Noll said. He leaned his head back against the
tree and looked up into its almost leafless branches.

A sadness tore at Seraina as she looked at Noll. He
did not know it, but he had much of the Old Blood in his veins, and
the way he naturally sought comfort by pressing himself against the
tree proved it. Seraina had done the very same thing herself many
times as a little girl. Gildas would often find her sitting in the
shadow of one giant oak in particular, picking at clover. Somehow,
he always knew where to find her, and what to say to ease her
troubles.

Seraina stepped in and took Noll’s hand. At her
touch, Noll looked up and, for the briefest instant, the creases on
his forehead and around his eyes smoothed over. Seraina saw the
same handsome, self-confident, young man who had startled her six
years ago by swaggering out of the woods into her camp; his
presence unannounced by neither the wind nor the rustles of the
trees. He was a child of the Weave, and Seraina had recognized him
immediately.

She made it her purpose to protect him, then, and to
guide him along the complicated paths the Great Weave had in store.
And that was why, as she watched his face harden once again, and
dark worries cloud his eyes, she could not help feeling responsible
for his pain.

He had been the cocky son of a well-to-do farmer, a
freeman, when she had first met him. For the first time, she
wondered where Noll would be now if she had not come along. Would
he have struck Landenberg’s collector when he tried to take the
family’s ox? She thought back and tried to remember what she may
have said that would have prodded him into action on that fateful
day. She could think of nothing. And everything.

“Seraina…” Noll said.

She looked up and realized Noll had moved closer.
Very close. He took her hand off his arm, eased her toward him, and
before she knew it, he was kissing her.

It was a strong kiss. Not forceful in any way, but
it was the action of a man who knew what he wanted and was not
afraid to let anyone know. Seraina felt her lips, and her body,
respond.

She opened her eyes.
When had she shut them?
She let go of his strong hands and forced her arms between their
bodies.

“Noll, no… I cannot,” she said, leaning away.

He wore a half-grin. The old Noll had returned. “You
just did,” he said.

He made no move to back away and his blue eyes were
as warm as Seraina had ever seen them. She stepped back, creating
some space to breathe.

Seraina shook her head. When she spoke her voice was
firm. “I have told you before that we can never be together. Not
like this.”

The moment was gone, if there had ever truly been
one, and Noll sensed it. He threw up his hands.

“Why not?” he asked. “And do not tell me it is
because I am this
Catalyst
you are so fond of preaching
about. I am not sure I even know what the word means! There is no
mystical hand guiding my actions. I do what I think is
right—nothing more.”

“That is precisely what makes you special,” Seraina
said. “For very few people have the courage to do what they know is
right. It is not important for you to understand what being a
Catalyst means. It is enough that you are.”

“I am a man.
That
should be enough.” He slid
down the tree and sat on its roots. “What exactly is it that you
want from me? If anything.” He looked up at her. “You drive me mad.
Do you know that? I look into your eyes and I have no idea what you
are thinking. It is like gazing into the green waters of a
bottomless lake.”

His words stirred a memory in Seraina. The recent
conversation she and Gildas had had when he left her and
Thomas.

“…
and so was I. Happier than at any other moment
in my long years. And when I look at you now, it gladdens me to see
that green lake reflected so clearly in your eyes. Somehow, you
have preserved the same wonder and innocence as back then, but like
those waters, I see the strength of steel as well.”

Her breath stopped.

Noll sensed something, for his eyes narrowed. “What
is it?” he asked.

“I see the strength of steel as well!” she said.

Noll cocked his head. “What are you talking about?
When you say things like that I—”

Seraina cut him off. “Noll! Stop talking and listen
to me. I think I know where we can get swords for the men! I cannot
believe I did not see it until now.”

Noll crossed his arms. “You do know how to change a
topic. I will give you that,” he said.

***

Thomas had leaned a few cut saplings against the
warm outside wall of the forge to construct a simple roof over his
head. The open-ended shelter was not high enough for him to stand
in, but it provided more than enough space to spread his bedroll.
As long as someone kept the forge burning, it would serve Thomas
all winter. If it became colder, all he needed to do was close off
the ends with skins to retain more of the forge’s heat.

Thomas lay under his blankets and looked up at the
patchwork roof. It was dark, but flickering torches nearby allowed
him to see enough to make him cringe at the shoddy workmanship. A
child could have built a similar structure. Perhaps he should have
tried to make it more elaborate.

Of course, why would I bother?

It could have been a good permanent home… for
someone. But as far as Thomas was concerned, it need only last
until the Austrians came. After that, he did not care who took over
the space.

“You have made quite the cocoon for yourself,
ferryman.”

Thomas jumped at the sound of Noll’s voice. Every
muscle in his body seemed to contract and lift him a hand’s width
off the ground.

Damn him. The man treads on cat paws.

“Sorry. Did not mean to startle you.”

“Was just falling asleep, is all,” Thomas said, his
pulse beating out of control.

He sat up and looked over his shoulder to see Noll
crouched outside the lean-to. Torchlight glowed behind him, basking
Noll’s face in shadow. He picked at a stone on the ground and
tossed it away, then plopped down to sit cross-legged. Thomas could
not tell where he was looking, but he had a feeling it was the
ground.

Trapped, Thomas thought. He prayed the man had not
come to ask forgiveness again for what happened to Pirmin. He
turned around and pulled himself out of his warm blankets to sit
facing Noll. The cool autumn air soon had him reconsider. He pulled
a blanket over his shoulders.

“Something on your mind?” Thomas did not want to
ask, but the sooner Noll said his piece, the sooner he could go
back to his bedroll.

“Seraina,” Noll said.

That was not the answer Thomas had expected.

“What about her?”

“She has to go on a journey. It will take a couple
days and I would ask you to go with her. To look after her.”

“She has done well enough until now, without me
looking after her. Or anyone, I suspect.”

“Just the same,” Noll said, scratching at the dirt
with one hand. “Will you do it?”

Of course he would, Thomas thought. But he hesitated
with his response. It was not like Noll to ask a favor of someone
like this.

“Why not go with her yourself?”

“Because she wants you,” Noll said.

“I spoke with her today and she mentioned nothing
of—”

“Damn it, Thomas. You do not make this easy. Will
you do it or not?”

Thomas nodded. There was nothing he would not do for
her. Even if she had not saved his life. Thomas realized that Noll
probably could not see him nod in the darkness.

“You know I will,” he said. “Anything else?”

“I want you to take command of the Army of Free
Men.”

If Thomas was surprised at Noll’s first request, he
was doubly so at this last one. He did not answer for a long time,
and the two men sat in the darkness with silence hanging between
them. A few scattered bits of conversation from nearby cooking
fires drifted up to them, but the words were gibberish whispers by
the time they reached Thomas and Noll.

“I cannot,” Thomas finally said. He found his hand
holding a pebble he could not remember plucking off the ground.

“You mean you will not,” Noll said. There was a
bitterness to his voice but Thomas did not feel that it was meant
for him.