Chapter Fourteen:
Homecomings
“If you'd asked me a week ago whether I'd be glad to see the Chernsburg slums again, I'd have laughed in your face.”
​
William shook his head wryly as he and Edward approached the west gate into the city. Twilight had settled over the land, but the gates remained open for the festival which was just hitting its stride inside. “But a brush with death does amazing things for one's appreciation of the familiar.”
Edward grunted noncommittally. His earlier good mood had evaporated some miles back, and the shacks could burn for all he cared. Burning... His mind wandered back to the tavern that used to stand not far from here. The sound of the bolt striking that fat slob of an innkeep... the crackle of the flames...
“ED! Snap out of it, man!”
Peregrinous came out of his reverie with a start, realizing the sound of the inferno wasn't just in his mind – orange and yellow tongues were dancing along the rooftops on the other side of the wall! Good Ao, Ralen wasn't wasting a minute, was he? He quashed a sudden fit of laughter, and began to run toward the gates. “Move it, Belleme! We've got to get to the Count! He needs to know about Bardorbis!”
“You go, Ed! I'm still pulling up lame from two days ago, I'd just slow you down! I'm going to check on my family and I'll meet you at the manor!”
The Baron snarled and briefly considered ending William's life right there – what was one more body to lay at Bardorbis' feet? But no... the bastard still could be more use alive as a witness than dead. Giving Belleme a curt nod, Ed turned and ran off toward the center of town.
William did not care for the look in Ed's eyes, not one bit. Injured or not, he made haste toward his family's home in the southern quarter. Something here wasn't right, and he'd be damned if his family paid the price again.
​
​
​
Huddled down into the hollow between two chimneys, Jared looked out across Chernsburg and allowed himself a small smirk of satisfaction. Flames were reaching hungrily into the night from several spots in the city, both in the Richfort and Ralen delegations' parts of town. Panicking nobles and merchants thronged the streets, squawking like chickens and shouting orders at the City Watchmen. The Watchmen weren't doing anything useful either – with their Captain out of town and the gentry's spittle-flecked jowls flapping a mile a minute, they were largely milling about trying to respond to everything and accomplishing nothing. Perfect.
​
Jared unlimbered his bow and selected an arrow from his quiver – the fletchings were blue and red. And sure enough, there was his target, perfectly silhouetted in a second story window. The Count appeared to be gesturing at the distant fires angrily, while two stockier shadows stood to his side – likely the Dukes themselves. With a smooth practiced motion, Jared raised his bow, drew the nocked arrrow back to his cheek, aimed and loosed. By the time the sound of the window shattering reached the rooftop, Jared was already nowhere to be seen.
​
​
​
“...and the canes were everywhere, mom, it was – “
A pounding at the outer door interrupted Trug in the middle of his tale. Emily shot Trug a warning glance as she rose to head out into the entryway. She hefted a stout ash walking stick from a stand by the door, and stood well clear as she called out, “Who is pounding on my door at this hour? State your business or be gone!”
Trug had crept across to his room where his swordbelt lay tangled in a heap of clothes at the foot of his bed. He couldn't hear the caller's response.
“You son of a BITCH!”
Trug half-drew his sword as he ran out through the den toward his mother's voice, and heard the walking stick clatter to the ground. He rounded the corner as Emily threw open the door and all but dragged in the disheveled, beaten form of... his father?
Trug barely heard the clatter of his sword and scabbard hitting the hardwood floor. He stood watching, slack-jawed, as his mother seemed to be having trouble deciding whether to hug, strangle or kiss her husband of the last 12 years. William had no such trouble. He pulled Emily into his arms, and held on as though he would never let go again.
“Em... I am so, so sorry...”
“Sorry?” Emily let out half a sob, half laugh. “What are you sorry about, you damned fool? Not being in a cane's belly somewhere in that bloody wilderness you love so much? I'm just glad you're home, Bill...”
Trug wiped his sleeve across his eyes roughly – the candle smoke must have been his vision. He ran up and threw his arms around both of his parents.
“Dad... father! You're alive!”
William smiled and tousled Trug's hair. “Glad to see you made it too, son.” With a pained wince, he disengaged from the family embrace. “Sadly, I need to cut our reunion short.”
“What the devil are you talking about, Bill? You just got home!”
William shook his head. “There's a lot to tell and not much time. Captain!”
Captain Dumorne stepped in and nodded to Emily and Trug. “Your father's right, Chernsburg isn't safe for you anymore. We've got to get you both out of town, tonight.”
Emily pressed her lips together tightly, and her brows knitted. Trug knew that face well, and it never boded anything but ill for whomever she directed it at. “Now I'm not dragging our boy out on the road in the middle of the night without so much as an explanation! Do you hear me, Bill?”
William nodded tiredly, but didn't budge from his spot by the door. “You'll get an explanation, I promise. But on the road. I have to stay here and see the Count, but the Captain here has a team ready to take you and Trug up to Chrysopolis. I'm lucky I ran into him on the way here, truth be told. You don't have time to pack, you just need to go. I'll follow as soon as I can, I promise you.”
Emily saw darkness lurking in William's eyes, and her rage began to drain out of her. She wished it hadn't – fear began to creep in to fill the void. She picked up the walking stick with an unsteady hand, and nodded. “Very well. But I won't lose you again, William de Belleme. I'll drag you back from death myself if I have to.”
Bill smiled and pulled Emily close, one last time. “I don't envy the denizens of the astral plane if you come in there looking, Em.”
Trug grimaced and looked away as the couple leaned in for what was sure to be a lingering, soulfelt kiss. Disgusting.
Captain Dumorne pointed down at Trug's fallen sword belt. “Put that on, lad. We've got weeks on the road ahead, and you might need it. If nothing else, I'll see to it that you learn how to use it without cutting off your own arm.”
Trug buckled on the belt and followed his the trio of adults out into the street, where a carriage was waiting. He felt oddly detached, but emotions were sloshing madly around in his gut. His father was alive! ...but he had to leave him behind, again. William opened the carriage door and helped Emily inside, then Trug. He leaned in the door and gave them each one more long, hard look – as though he wanted to etch the memory in his mind forever.
“I'll see you both in Chernsburg, hopefully in a month's time. And whatever happens, do not trust anyone other than the Captain and each other. Understood?”
“Yes, but Bill, what is – “
“No time, love, Dumorne will tell you what I know. Ao bless both of you, I'll see you soon, I promise!”
The carriage door swung shut, the team pulled, and the Belleme family were pulled apart once again.
​
​
​
William made haste to the Count's manor, arriving as the beleaguered Watch was just beginning to get the fires under control in the rest of the city. He was able to pass through the outer cordon of guards easily enough – the local lads all knew him and let him in. But when he got past the outer walls, he was brought up short by a man wearing the livery of Duke Ralen. The fellow looked vaguely familiar, but it was likely just the uniform.
“Sergeant, I need to get inside right away and see the Count.”
“No one in the Manor tonight, peasant. Count's orders. Shouldn't you be putting out the fires in your hovel or something?”
William felt a flush rising to his cheeks, but managed to choke down his temper. An Loch soldiers loved to get a rise out of Kairosi, and he'd be damned if he was going to give this git the satisfaction.
“Just tell the Count that William de Belleme is here to see him,” William said through clenched teeth. “It's urgent.”
The man let out a low whistle. “Belleme, is it? Sorry sir, didn't recognize you in those... clothes.” The bastard had a glint in his eye as he ran his gaze over the tattered remnants of William's garb. “Wait here.”
A few minutes later, the sergeant returned and gestured for William to come inside the Manor. When they reached the landing outside of the Count's study, the man grabbed William by the arm and leaned in close.
“Now, be very careful talking to the Count, bumpkin. His lordship is understandably distraught.” He pushed the door open and walked William in, hand still grasping his arm above the elbow.
“Distraught? What is he...”
“My father lies dead in his own house, murdered,” a cold voice declaimed. “And my advisor tells me you know why.”
William's face drained of all color as he saw the tableau in front of him. Count Gram lay on the floor in a pool of blood, the shaft of an arrow standing out from the ruin of his eye. His son, Alayn, knelt next to him, his hands similarly spattered with gore. Dukes Ralen and Richfort stood off to the side, conversing in low tones.
And behind Alayn stood Baron Peregrinous, contriving to look somber, but with that same light of mad glee flashing in his eyes that had so disturbed William earlier.
William knew then that his life was about to get far more complicated. And likely far shorter.
