Free Forged in Battle by Justin Hunter - (ebook by Undead) Page A

boat, bobbing on the water.
    Baltzer hid the coins in his boot. He could guess why the
Reiklander was here. The burgomeister liked to get his way in everything. It was
a shame, but after Sigmund was dead, then Osric would buy the captaincy.
     
    * * *
     
    From the edge of the barracks gate, Theodor could see three
rows of five tents at the far end of the central courtyard. The barracks were
quiet, and there appeared to be no one guarding the gate. Theodor crept inside,
keeping close to the shadows of the walls, being careful not to catch his foot
on one of the guy ropes.
    From the sounds of snoring men inside, the room he’d just
gone past must be the sleeping quarters. Theodor slipped silently along it,
paused to check the door was not ajar, then hurried on.
    Imperial barracks were usually built to a common design. If
this was the, sleeping quarters then the other side must be the kitchen and the
armoury. At the top should be the room he was looking for.
    There were three doors. It was customary for officers to have
one or two rooms to themselves; he guessed one must lead to the sick room.
    Theodor stopped at each and listened carefully. When he was
sure he’d found the right room, he took out a flask and dropped two drops of oil
onto the heavy iron hinges then waited a few moments. The last thing he wanted
was for a squeaky hinge to betray his presence. There was too much at stake.
    When the oil had had time to work, Theodor lifted the latch
as slowly as possible, and opened the door just enough for him to squeeze
inside. It took a few seconds for his eyes to grow accustomed to the dark.
    He made out a sleeping figure lying on one of the beds. That
must be the man. Theodor drew something from under his cloak and crept forward.
The floor of the room was packed dirt and his feet only made the slightest
scrape as he crossed the room and bent over the prostrate form.
    Theodor opened the pouch a little. Just a little, he thought,
was all that was needed. He thought of their reaction in the morning made him
smile.
     
    Eugen took out the paper that he had been given that
afternoon, unhooded his lantern and read the instructions.
    The horse was where it had been agreed it would be. It was
nervous and a little skittish as he approached. He wondered where it had come
from—stolen, he guessed—and how it had survived thus far.
    He soothed the animal as he took its reins from the branch of
the tree around which they’d been wound. There was some crude knot that Eugen
did not recognise holding them. He tried to tug at either end—but it looked
like a child had tangled the whole lot over and over and around and through. It
would take him half an hour to unpick it all.
    He took out his knife and cut through the leather. He could
not afford to be late.
    Eugen mounted quickly and kicked the horse into a trot. White
stones marked the trail, as the instructions had said, but in the darkness it
was difficult to make them out at times, especially from horseback.
    He had to double back a couple of times and at one point he
thought he’d missed the trail completely—but Mannslieb rose above the trees
and cast enough light to make the stones glow ghostly white.
    After an hour, Eugen saw the split oak that had been
described to him, silhouetted on the top of a hill. He couldn’t see anything
there, but kicked his horse. Surely he wasn’t too late, he thought.
    Eugen reached the split oak and paused. No one. He turned the
horse around and cursed.
    He would have to retrace his steps, he thought and turned the
horse when a horned figure stepped suddenly out of the shadows. The horse reared
up in terror.
    Eugen struggled not to be thrown, and wrenched on the reins
to force the horse back down.
    The figure had a white hood pulled down over its face, and a
rattle in its hand—a skull-headed rattle—that it shook in Eugen’s face.
    It spoke in broken Dark Tongue, the syllables distorted by
the inhuman lips.