Jeff Salyards - Veil of the Deserters

I couldn’t argue that point.

However, my question about our destination was soon answered. Braylar led us down a cross street, Bulwark, and it was narrower than Broadbeef. Several houses down, a figure stepped out from an alleyway, and I immediately tensed up and almost reached for my crossbow, but no one else seemed remotely alarmed. Once we got closer, it was obvious it was another Syldoon, and two more emerged behind him.

Braylar dismounted and handed the soldier his reins, and Mulldoos and Hewspear climbed down as well, pulling their crossbows and quivers from their horses. I followed their lead right after Vendurro did, and the three soldiers took turns leading the horses into the alley. I hadn’t even noticed the entrance at first, as a wagon blocked it from view from the north, and a large number of crates accomplished the same feat on just the other side of Bulwark in front of the opposite alley, preventing anyone from immediately seeing that either in the gloom.

All the Syldoon spanned their crossbows, and half of them walked into the alley as well, disappearing into the shadows, while most of the remainder moved off into the opposite alley. Clearly, we were intending an ambush of some kind. Assuming he was correct and there was someone to ambush.

Braylar summoned Vendurro over, and having nowhere else to go and following the advice to stick close to the sergeant, I jogged after, careful to keep the crossbow pointed toward the ground, but not directly at my feet. I’d nearly discharged the weapon accidentally more times than I could count, so if it ever happened, hitting my own foot was preferable to shooting a Syldoon or Memoridon, which would result in a great deal more pain for me.

The captain was having a low conversation with his two lieutenants and remaining sergeant, the mail drape still obscuring most of his face, which was no less disconcerting out here in the open as it had been in the confines of the stable. I overheard Hewspear ask, “Do you expect them to come down Broadbeef Lane, Captain?”

Braylar nodded, his mail tinkling ever so slightly. “I do, though I can’t be entirely certain they won’t approach down Furl Street. In the very crooked and maddening layout of Alespell, it also leads to the Grieving Dog, though at an angle to Broadbeef, intersecting just east of the inn. But all… indications are they come down Broadbeef.” He turned toward Vendurro and pointed toward the alley where the horses had been led. “You made sure that actually leads somewhere, yes?” Vendurro nodded. “Good. I hope not to have use of them, but should we need to retreat, it proves awfully difficult in a dead end.”

He led us to the other alley, opposite the mounts. While I had no wish to fight at all, as I was clearly only marginally better than inept, and would only be more of a danger to our company if I attempted to do so from horseback, I had misgivings about leaving my horse, even in another alley. It tolerated me, and it was far faster than I would be running if it came time to flee.

Braylar stopped just inside the entrance to the alley. Mulldoos was a little further in, and when a rat darted out from behind a barrel, he stepped on its back, breaking it with a crunch, ending its life with nary a squeak. If it had brethren, they were smart enough to stay put. I moved next to Braylar, but not so close that I crowded him. “I don’t presume to know much about combat-”

“Truly? You carry yourself like a puissant champion of a thousand battles.”

“But why have you chosen to dismount and fight on foot? If we have to fight, that is.”

His hand drifted to his left side, fingers idly tapping the haft of Blood-sounder. Even with his face and scowl hidden by the aventail, there was no disguising the irritation in his voice. “We will have to fight. Make no mistake. It is more… absolute now. And as to the how of it, perhaps you failed to notice, but the chief virtue of a horse is speed and mobility. Neither of which you can put to any use in these narrow and crowded avenues, especially once the denizens start milling about. We would only get in each other’s way here, unless we headed to the thoroughfare, by the central plaza. But then, hiding twenty horses is awfully challenging, yes? Which makes setting an ambush decidedly difficult. Now be silent. Idle chatter also proves an impediment to surprise. Beyond which, it is incredibly annoying.”

We waited, and much like waiting for Henlester’s underpriest to show himself at the temple, it was about the least calm anticipation I could imagine. I tried to distract myself from the fact that our lives were very likely hanging in the balance or could be snuffed out in mere moments by focusing on the small details around me, but given my state of mind, all I dwelt on were things unpleasant, uncomfortable, and nearly unbearable. The heavy stench of urine in the alley from animals, drunks, or thieves, that was like a damp blanket wrapped around my head. The dead rat’s siblings, nibbling away at decay and rot in the deep shadows and the droppings and most rotten leavings even unfit for them. The pocked and crumbling wall at my back that had surely been pissed on, as it felt like barely congealed powder and paste. The fact that the last time I sat waiting like this, I at least had Lloi there to keep me company, but now there were only the deadly Syldoon and even more mysterious or perplexing Memoridons.

It was almost better to think of the impending battle and bloodshed.

Braylar turned to me. “Ready your weapon, Arki. When we move out, stay near Vendurro until that proves impossible, then remain in the rear. But do not loose the bolter unless you absolutely have to and you are in mortal peril. And maybe not even then. I’m still not sure I trust you not to shoot someone I like in the face.”

Or maybe urine and decay were preferable.

Suddenly Braylar raised a hand. I wondered if he sensed the approach through Bloodsounder, but then I realized why-the very faint but detectable sound of many feet on the cobblestones of Broadbeef Lane. They weren’t marching or tromping, and any other time of day, the sound would have been lost amid the clamor of other noises. As it was even with all senses alert, it was still very difficult to hear the approach of the men. I looked between some crates, saw them heading west on Broadbeef toward the Grieving Dog, passing the intersection with Bulwark. They were armed men, to be certain, and many in mail hauberks as far as I could tell. Just as the captain had predicted. Foreseen. All of them were moving as quietly as men could while in armor in a city before it truly wakes up.

I was counting them as they passed and disappeared from view when I noticed something else that threw me off. They were all wearing baldrics. As most of them were right-handed and had their swords and daggers on their left, I did catch one of them turning to look down Bulwark and glimpsed the horn handing on the end of the baldric on his other hip.

So it was Hornmen and not Brunesmen approaching stealthily with intent to capture or kill us-there were at least thirty soldiers. Possibly more. It seemed the Hornmen thought their jurisdiction included Alespell inns after all, or at least they were willing to risk Brune’s wrath in taking the Syldoon.

I was certain Braylar must have noted the baldrics as well, but just in case he hadn’t, I heard Vendurro whisper from right behind my shoulder, “Not Brune’s boys at all, Cap. You sure do know how to piss off them Hornmen, though. Real glad we ain’t still in bed.”

Braylar turned toward me as he responded. “It would indeed be a bad day to still be abed.” While the dawn light was working its way down the buildings, it didn’t penetrate the alley at all, and even if it had, with his face obscured by mail and his eyes lost in shadow, I couldn’t make out the slightest expression, but I could feel the malevolence in the stare. The fact that I only heard it somehow made it even worse.