Shadows Linger (37 page)

Silent interjected, in sign, “Asa is with the Limper.”

“Fine. He did what I wanted. Okay. The Limper figures that's us making a run for
it with the papers. 'Specially if we let a few pieces go fluttering around.”

“I get it,” One-Eye said. “Only we don't have enough men to work it. Only
Bullock and the landlord that Asa don't know about.”

Goblin said, “I think you better stop talking and start doing. They're getting
closer.”

I called the fat man. “Your friends from the South have to do us a favor. Tell
them it's their only chance of getting out of this alive.”

THE INN: AMBUSH
The four southerners were shaking and sweating. They did not know what was going
on, did not like what they saw. But they had become convinced that cooperation
was their only hope. “Goblin!” I shouted upstairs. “Can you see them yet?”

“Almost time. Count to fifty, then turn it loose.”

I counted. Slowly, forcing myself to keep the pace down. I was as scared as the
southerners.

“Now!”

Goblin came boiling downstairs. We all roared out to the barn, where the animals
and wagon were waiting, whooped out of there, stormed into the road, and went
howling off south like eight men very nearly taken by surprise. Behind us the
Limper's party halted momentarily, talked it over, then came after us. I noted
that the Limper was setting the pace. Good. His men were not eager to tangle
with their old buddies.

I brought up the rear, behind Goblin and One-Eye and the wagon. One-Eye was
driving. Goblin kept his mount right beside the wagon.

We roared into a rising curve where the road began climbing a wooded hill south
of the inn. The innkeeper said the forest went on for miles. He had gone ahead
with Silent and Bullock and the men the southerners were pretending to be.

“Yo!” someone shouted back. A scrap of red cloth whipped past. One-Eye stood up
on the wagon, clinging to the traces as he edged over. Goblin swung in close.

One-Eye jumped.

For a moment I did not think he would make it. Goblin almost missed. One-Eye's
feet trailed in the dust. Then he scrambled up, lay on his stomach behind his
friend. He glared back at me, daring me to grin.

I grinned anyway.

The wagon hit the timber prepared, flung up, twisted. Horses screamed, fought,

could not hold it. Wagon and team went thrashing off the road, crashed against
trees, the animals screaming in pain and terror while the vehicle disintegrated.

The men who had upset the wagon vanished immediately.

I spurred my mount forward, past Goblin and One-Eye and Pawnbroker, yelled at
the southerners, gave them the sign to go on, keep riding, get the hell away.

A quarter mile father on I swung onto the track the fat man had told me about,

got down into the woods far enough not to be seen, halted long enough for
One-Eye to get himself seated. Then we moved on hurriedly, headed for the inn.

Above us, Limper and his bunch came pounding up to where the wrecked wagon lay,

the animals still crying their distress.

It started.

Cries. Shrieks. Men dying. Hiss and howl of spells. I didn't think Silent stood
a chance, but he had volunteered. The wagon was supposed to distract the limper
long enough for the massed attack to reach him.

The clangor was still going on, muted by distance, when we reached open country.

“Can't be going all wrong,” I shouted. “Been going on a while.”

I did not feel as optimistic as I pretended. I did not want it to go on. I'd
wanted them to hit quick, hurt the Limper, and fade away, doing enough damage to
make him retreat to the inn to lick his wounds.

We hustled the animals into the barn and headed for our hiding places. I
muttered, “You know, we wouldn't be in
this spot if Raven had killed him when he had a chance.” Way back, when I had
helped capture Whisper, when she was trying to bring Limper over to her side,

Raven had had a fantastic opportunity to finish him off. He had not been able,

though he had had grievances against the Taken. His mercy had come back to haunt
us all.

Pawnbroker went into the pig shed, where we had installed a crude, light
ballista built as part of our earlier plan. Goblin cast a weak spell that made
him seem like just another hog. I wanted him to stay out of it if possible. I
doubted the ballista would get used.

Goblin and I raced upstairs to watch the road and the ridgeline to the east.

Once he broke off, which he had not done when he was supposed to, Silent would
fake in the direction taken by the southerners, retreat through the wood to that
ridge, watch what happened at the inn. It was my hope that some of the Limper's
men would keep after the southerners. I hadn't told those guys that. I hoped
they had sense enough to keep running.

“Ho!” Goblin said. “There's Silent. He made it.”

The men appeared briefly. I could not tell who was who. “Only three of them,” I
muttered. That meant four had not made it. “Damn!”

“It had to work,” Goblin said. “Else they wouldn't be up there.”

I did not feel reassured. I hadn't had many shots at field command. I hadn't
learned to deal with the feelings that come when you know men have been killed
trying to carry out your orders.

“Here they come.”

Riders left the woods, coming up the Shaker Road amidst lengthening shadows. “I
make it six men,“ I said. ”No. Seven. They must not have gone after those guys.”

“Looks like they're all hurt.”

“Element of surprise. The Limper with them? Can you tell?”

“No. That one. . . . That's Asa. Hell, that's old Shed on the third horse, and
the innkeeper next to last.”

A slight positive, then. They were half as strong as they had been. I'd lost
only two of seven committed.

“What do we do if the Limper ain't with them?” Goblin asked.

“Take what comes to us.” Silent had vanished off the far ridge.

“There he is, Croaker. In front of the innkeeper. Looks like he's unconscious.”

That was too much to hope. Yet it did indeed look like the Taken was out. “Let's
get downstairs.”

I watched through a cracked shutter as they turned into the yard. The only
member of the group uninjured was Asa. His hands were bound to his saddle, his
feet to his stirrups. One of the injured men dismounted, released Asa, held a
knife on him while he helped the others. A variety of injuries were evident.

Shed looked like he shouldn't be alive at all. The innkeeper was in better
shape. Just seemed to have been knocked around a lot.

They made Asa and the fat man get the Limper off his animal. I nearly gave
myself away then. The Taken was missing most of his right arm. He had several
additional wounds. But, of course, he would recover if he remained protected by
his allies. The Taken are tough.

Asa and the fat man started toward the door. Limper sagged like a wet rope. The
man who had covered Asa pushed the door open.

The Limper wakened. “No!” he squeaked. “Trap!”

Asa and the innkeeper dropped him. Asa began heeling and toeing it, eyes closed.

The innkeeper whistled shrilly. His dogs came raging out of the barn.

Goblin and One-Eye cut loose. I jumped out and went for the Limper as he tried
to gain his feet.

My blade bit into the Limper's shoulder above the stump of his right arm. His
remaining fist came up and brushed me across the belly.

The air exploded out of me. I nearly passed out. I settled to the ground,

heaving my guts out, only vaguely aware of my surroundings.

The dogs boiled over the Limper's men, mauling them
savagely. Several hit the Taken. He hammered them with his fist, each blow
leaving an animal dead.

Goblin and One-Eye charged out, hit nim with everything they had. He shed their
spells like rainwater, punched One-Eye, turned on Goblin.

Goblin ran. The Limper trundled after him, weaving, the surviving mastiffs
snapping at his back.

Goblin raced toward the pig shed. He went sprawling before he reached it,

twitched feebly in the mire. Limper rolled up behind him, fist raised for the
kill.

Pawnbroker's shaft split his breastbone, stood three feet out of his back. He
stood there swaying, a ragged little man in brown picking at the shaft. His
whole will seemed to focus upon that. Goblin wriggled away. Inside the shed Pawn
cranked the ballista back and dropped another javelin into its trough.

Whomp! This one ripped all the way through the Limper. It knocked him off his
feet. The dogs went for his throat.

I regained my breath. I looked for my sword. Vaguely, I was aware of screeching
from a patch of blackberries along a ditch two hundred feet north. A lone dog
trotted back and forth, snarling. Asa. He had ducked into the only cover
available.

I got my feet under me. The fat man helped One-Eye get up, then snagged a fallen
weapon. We three closed in on the Limper. He lay in the mire, twisted slightly
sideways, his mask slipped so we could see the ruined face it had concealed. He
could not believe what was happening. Feebly, he waved at the dogs.

“All for nothing,” I told him. “The papers haven't been here for months.”

And the fat man: “This is for my brother.” He swung his weapon. He was so badly
bruised, and getting so stiff, that he did not get much into it.

The Limper tried to strike back. He did not have anything left. He realized that
he was going to die. After all those centuries. After having survived the White
Roses, and the anger of the Lady after he had betrayed her in the battle at
Roses and in the Forest of Cloud.

His eyes rolled up and he went away, and I knew he was yelling for Mama's help.

“Kill him quick,” I said. “He's calling the Lady.”

We hacked and slashed and chopped. The dogs snarled and bit. He would not die.

Even when we ran out of energy, a spark of life remained.

“Let's drag him around front.”

We did. And I saw Shed, lying on the ground with men who used to be brothers in
the Black Company. I looked up at the waning light, saw Silent approaching,

followed by Hagop and Otto. I felt a numb pleasure because those two had
survived. They had been best friends for as long as I could recall. I could not
picture one surviving without the other.

“Bullock's gone, eh?”

The fat man said, “Yeah. Him and this Shed. You should have seen them. They
jumped into the road and pulled the sorcerer off his horse. Bullock chopped his
arm off. Between them they killed four men.”

“Bullock?”

"Somebody split his head open. Like hitting a melon with a cleaver.''

“Kingpin?”

“Got trampled to death. But he got his licks in.”

I levered myself down beside Shed. One-Eye did the same. “How'd they catch you?”

I asked the innkeeper.

“Too fat to run fast.” He managed a feeble smile. “Never was meant to be a
soldier.”

I smiled. “What do you think, One-Eye?” A glance told me there was nothing I
could do for Shed.

One-Eye shook his head.

Goblin said, “Two of these guys are still alive, Croaker. What you want we
should do?”

“Take them inside. I'll patch them up.” They were brothers. That the Taken had
twisted them and made them enemies did not make them less deserving of my help.

Silent came up, looming tall in the twilight. He signed, “A maneuver worthy of
the Captain, Croaker.”

“Right.” I stared at Shed, moved more than I thought I should be.

A man lay before me. He had sunk as low as any I'd ever known. Then he had
fought his way back, and back, and had become worthy. A man far better than I,

for he had located his moral polestar and set his course by it, though it had
cost his life. Maybe, just a little, he had repaid his debt.

He did another thing by getting himself killed in a fight I did not consider
his. He became a sort of patron saint of mine, an example for days to come. He
set a high standard in his last few days.

He opened his eyes before the end. He smiled. “Did we do it?” he asked.

“We did it, Shed. Thanks to you and Bullock.”

“Good.” Still smiling, he closed his eyes.

Hagop hollered, “Hey, Croaker. What you want to do about this Asa creep?”

Asa was still in the blackberries, yelling for help. The dogs had the patch
surrounded.

“Put a couple javelins in him,” One-Eye muttered.

“No,” Shed said in a tiny whisper. “Let him be. He was my friend. He tried to
get back, but they caught him. Let him go.”

“AH right, Shed. Hagop! Dig him out and turn him loose.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” I looked back at Shed. “Okay, Shed?”

He didn't say anything. He couldn't. But he was smiling.

I got up and said, “At least somebody died the way he wanted. Otto. Get a damned
shovel.”

“Aw, Croaker. . . .”

“Get a goddamned shovel and get to work. Silent, One-Eye, Goblin, inside. We got
plans to make.”

The light was nearly gone. By the Lieutenant's estimate it would be but hours
before the Lady reached Meadenvil.

ON THE MOVE
“We need rest,” One-Eye protested.

“There won't be any rest till we're dead,” I countered. “We're on the other side
now, One-Eye. We did what the Rebel couldn't. We've done in the Limper, the last
of the original Taken. She'll be after us hard as soon as she's cleaned up these
black castle leavings. She has to. If she doesn't get us fast, every Rebel in
five thousand miles will get worked up to try something. There are only two
Taken left, and only Whisper worth much.”

“Yeah. I know. Wishful thinking. Can't stop a man wishing, Croaker.”

I stared at the necklace Shed had worn. I had to leave it for the Lady, yet the
silver in it might become a lifesaver down the long road we had to travel. I
screwed up my courage and began digging out the eyes.