Chapter 17
Alaric
I pull the strap on Tharrok’s saddlebag to tighten it, and he snorts in annoyance. He’s a wily one. I know he tricks the stable hand by holding his breath as the saddle goes on so it ends up going on loose. He won’t fool me.
The sky is overcast, gray clouds sitting heavily on the horizon.
The mood in Thornvale is somber in the wake of the king’s funeral.
The queen has decreed that the customary mourning period of a week be shortened to three days to allow the farmers to go back to work.
That three days should have ended yesterday, but as I ride into town, many people are still dressed in black.
The clatter of hooves on the cobblestones draws my attention to two castle guards in their bright red uniforms. “Your attention, by order of the queen!”
The second guard blows on a horn, making a terrible racket until people gather around.
“Her Majesty orders you to return to work.”
There’s a muttering from the crowd, but people are turning away from the men toward their work when a young girl steps forward. A woman tries to catch her arm but misses, chasing her through the crowd of people, until the girl slips between two sour-faced men.
She stands directly in front of the guards on horseback and plants her hands on her hips. “No! We are sad because the king is dead! We should not have to go back to work.”
The frightened woman finally reaches her and claps a hand across the girl’s mouth, but it’s too late. The guard with the horn dismounts and strides across the square. “How old is this child?”
“She didn’t mean it,” pleads the woman.
“How old?”
“Ten, sir.”
The guard grabs a handful of the girl’s hair and drags her away from her mother, screaming.
“Please, sir. She didn’t mean no harm.”
The guard pulls the girl onto his horse. Up until now, I have been watching from the edge of the crowd. Now I turn Tharrok and spur him back to intercept the guards. “Stay!”
“Sir Alaric!” The first guard starts. “We have orders from the queen.”
“To arrest children?”
“She defied the royal decree.”
I almost let loose the sigh that has built in my chest. “She’s a child. Let her be. I will answer to the queen.”
He looks dubious. The second guard is still wrestling with the struggling child. Her mother wrings her hands and others gather around. This could turn ugly.
“Set the child down.”
The first guard’s red brows draw down across his eyes. “She is old enough to know better.”
“And what will you do with her if you take her into the keep? She will only be an inconvenience. Think logically.”
This gives him pause. He turns to the child’s mother. “Will you return to work if the child goes free?”
“Yes, sir. Right away. We’re not trying to cause trouble, I promise you. It’s just that the old king was so well loved.”
And the queen is doing herself no favors by treating the people like this. They are loyal enough. “There,” I tell the guards. “You have done your duty. The queen will be satisfied.”
The first man shakes his head, but the second seems eager enough to put the squirming girl down. She runs straight into her mother’s arms.
The guards issue one more stern warning to the people and hurry away, casting glances back at me. The woman gets to her knees. “Bless you, Sir Alaric. May the gods look well on you. I don’t care what anyone says about you; you are a good man.”
I scoff. “I would not speak so soon if I were you.” Putting my heel into Tharrok’s side, I leave without a backward look. Let this woman say whatever she pleases, the truth is worse than all the rumors.
My mood is sour as I meet the small group of hunters I handpicked for today’s excursion. Today we must be swift and return quickly. The queen demands blood.
Last time I was in the woods, I spotted traces of a dornschwein, and once we’re out of the gates, I lead the men in that direction.
My men are well trained. They move in silence through the woods, eyes roving, on the lookout for danger. Their weapons are near to hand, and they are ready for combat.
The giant boars burrow with their long front fangs and hooves, and once rooted in they are very hard to dislodge. They’re even more dangerous once you have them out in the open, though. The trick is not to let one charge.
As we near the place I saw the overturned earth, I signal to the men to split up. Silently, they divide and slide between ghostly birch trees until there is only the soft tread of horses’ hooves and the occasional snort of hot air as our steeds grow nervous.
I run a hand along Tharrok’s neck, though he’s calmer than most of the others. The horses are seasoned, but the Gloamwald has that effect.
Suddenly an angry squeal tears through the quiet, making Tharrok start. He keeps his head, and I turn him through the trees, hurrying him into a trot as I lean forward, trying to make out where the beast is through the fog.
A swirl of mist breaks and turns into the thick snout and sharp tusks of a fully grown dornschwein. Tufts of black bristles sprout from its head, and puffs of hot fetid breath escape its nostrils. Its beady red eyes narrow on me.
It lowers its head and charges, and I’m grateful Tharrok is nimble and well trained. He darts to one side, not needing me to direct him. We whirl to see the boar struggling to correct its course.
There’s a shout from my right, and Tomas bursts through the trees on foot. He turns and spots the monster, and the boar tosses its great head and lets out a huge snort of hot air.
“Get out of the way,” I yell at him.
He runs, but I can already tell he won’t be fast enough. The creature charges and is closing on him. Instead of swerving, Tomas runs in a straight line, thinking he can outpace it—or not thinking at all perhaps.
With a grunt, I spur Tharrok forward. I bend and grab Tomas by the neck of his tunic and drag him out of the way just in time.
More shouts and the remaining three men burst through the trees, swords drawn.
The boar wheels again, pawing the ground with its hoof. I force Tharrok into its path, kicking his sides, spurring him on. The creature lets out a long squeal, then it charges.
The men dart in as I trained them to do, jabbing at the neck, the belly, the vulnerable places, and darting back before the creature can turn.
It bellows as the tip of a sword pierces its flank. But it’s quicker than Robert expects. It tosses its huge head around and catches him with an enormous tusk.
Robert’s eyes bulge. He lets out an awful groan. Then the boar shakes him free and rounds on him where he’s fallen to the ground.
Wheeling Tharrok around, I race back toward the monster. I shout as I near the creature, drawing its attention and stopping it from completely goring the fallen hunter. Then as Tharrok nears, I pull him to the side, bending to stab my sword into the back of the creature’s neck.
It lets out a hideous scream, making what few birds hide quietly in the branches of the trees shriek and fly from their perches. Then it collapses to the ground, dead.
I slide from Tharrok’s back, but it’s too late for Robert. The others have staunched the wound, but there is already blood frothing at his mouth.
“Stand back,” I command coldly.
“But Sir Alaric—”
“Stand back, I said.” I raise my sword.
Robert’s eyes widen as he realizes what I’m about to do. He feebly tries to lift one hand. Then my sword comes down, and his hand drops limply to the dirt. He lets out one final choking cough and is silent.
The silence echoes from the men around me as I straighten and clean my blade. “Pick up the body and return him to the keep. He will have an honorable burial.”
I hurry to the body of the monster without waiting to listen to the murmurs of “yes, sir.”
I like this as little as they do, but letting the poor man suffer would be crueler than simply ending his pain. A suffering man in the Gloamwald brings danger down on all around him.
“Hurry,” I shout back to them when I turn to see them still staring at the body of their companion. “If you want to make it back behind the walls alive, we need to move that fresh corpse or abandon it to the woods.”
At this they move, hastily throwing a cloth over the body and lifting him onto his horse to drape across the saddle. The horse is quickly tethered to the next mount, and I’m able to draw the blood I need from the boar and return to Tharrok.
I wonder if the lady with the child will hear of the way I killed my own man without a second thought today. The way I never looked back.
I wonder if she will still think I am a good man if she does.