Free Gallow by Nathan Hawke Page A

you. How far away were they, Fenaric? Closer than Fedderhun?’ Fenaric shook his head. ‘Then you have two days, perhaps three. Arda, for once in your bloody-minded life, listen and do what I say: Fenaric will take you south in his wagon. You’ll take the children with you. You’ll go to Varyxhun. There are two horses tethered beside the workshop. They’re Lhosir horses. Take them.’ He ground his teeth, staring at Arda. ‘Take everything you can from the forge. Take Nadric and his tools. You and Nadric can ride the horses. Fenaric will take the children and whatever from the forge that can’t be replaced in his cart. The Widowmaker thanks you for your hospitality.’ He threw a purse at her feet and shook his head. ‘Why, woman? Why couldn’t you simply do as you were told for once?’
    Arda stared up at Gallow with burning eyes. ‘He’s half-dead. How do you think he’ll stop anyone from leaving the barn?’
    ‘He won’t need to. They won’t dare to try. You told them who he was and that’ll be enough. You’ll wait for me in Varyxhun. Keep my sons safe. I’ll deal with you when I return.’ His glare fell on Fenaric and his sword touched the skin of the carter’s throat. Fenaric scrabbled away but the sword point simply followed until he gave up and wept. ‘I’ll not kill now you, carter, because Arda has need of you, but let it be clear in your mind – that’s all that saves you. I’ve seen the way you look at her. You’ll take her to Varyxhun. You’ll do whatever you must to look after her and her children, all of them. When I return, and I will, I’ll judge you by how well you’ve done this. And if you run from me, Fenaric, or if you touch her, I’ll hunt you. I’ll find you and I will sever your ribs from your spine and pull out your lungs like wings and sprinkle salt on you as you die.’
    Fenaric gagged. The way the forkbeards had hung King Tane’s huscarls along the roads to Sithhun after Tane was driven to the mountains.
    ‘Do you understand, Fenaric?’
    He nodded, weeping with fear. Arda spat at Gallow’s feet. ‘
Now
you care about your family? Now, when it’s too late?’
    ‘Stay here if you’d see what
your
caring has done!’
    She turned from him. ‘Go! Take your Widowmaker. Don’t bother coming back!’
    Gallow fixed her with icy eyes. ‘My sons will need a mother a few years longer. Be thankful for that.’
    ‘You never changed, did you? Cut your beard and pretended to be meek, but the forkbeard was always there.’
    He nodded. ‘Yes, Arda. As well you know. And neither of us would have had it any other way.’ For a long moment Gallow stared at her. The look on his face was a strange one, impossible to read. His hand strayed to his chest as if touching his heart. Then he turned back to the barn. ‘When the Screambreaker and I are gone, go and be with our children. They’ll wonder what’s happening. They’ll be afraid. And if you must tell them anything at all, be sure it’s the truth. All of it.’
    He left. Fenaric watched him go. ‘I’m sorry . . .’
    She hissed at him and glared. ‘So was it Nadric who told you, was it?’
    He nodded hopelessly. ‘He said . . . I thought . . . Why did you say it was you?’
    She rolled her eyes at him and shook her head. ‘Pull yourself together and be a man, Fenaric. Go and get your cart ready.’
    He lay still, too weak to move. When he finally found his strength again, he lifted his head in time to see the shadow-shapes of two horsemen vanishing into the night. Arda got up and left him there, and the look on her face was every bit as sharp as Gallow’s sword.

 
     
     
     
11
     
THE CRACKMARSH
     
     
     
     
    Y ears of living among the Marroc put the words on Gallow’s tongue:
You did well in the barn
. He bit them back. Sitting on a horse while Gallow put the fear of the Maker-Devourer into Arda and that idiot of a carter? Nothing for a Lhosir to feel proud about, no matter how hurt he was.
    ‘Since you’re