Miranda also jumped down, landing heavily next to Macros. ‘I speak a dozen tongues. I’ve never heard that one before. What is it?’
Tomas regarded her with confusion clearly marking his half-alien features. ‘It is the language of the Valheru. It’s the ritual phrase of submission. Our servant races spoke it as a greeting.’
Miranda looked from Tomas to the cowering demon and let out a long, slow breath, while wishing her heart would cease pounding its way out of her chest. ‘Isn’t that something.’
ELEVEN - Alarm
Erik ran.
Drums rolled as he dashed through the halls of the old castle at Tannerus. He reached the open doorway at the top of the stairs heading down into the courtyard. In one quick glimpse he saw it all, the assembled soldiers bearing witness to the execution, the four men standing upon wooden supports, the ropes already around their necks. Erik shouted, ‘No!’ as he leaped over the railing to the second landing below, but the sounds of the drums drowned him out. Erik half-flew down the remaining stairs into the courtyard as the drums halted and the supports were kicked out from under the condemned. He ran the twenty yards to where the men stood at attention, and saw that three of the men had died instantly of broken necks, and the fourth had ceased his brief twitching.
Erik stopped. ‘Damn!’ he swore.
The order to dismiss the formation was given, and the troops of the Tannerus garrison broke ranks and hurried back to their duties. No man wanted to linger while another soldier twisted in the wind.
Erik stood nearly breathless as he watched his men swinging below the makeshift gallows. The captain had wasted little time in putting the condemned to death. Had he ordered a half-decent gallows be erected, Erik would have gotten here in time. Erik searched the faces of the dead. He knew them by sight, but not yet by name. Still, they were his men.
Captain Simon de Beswick turned his horse and saw Erik standing there. ‘Is something amiss. Sergeant Major?’
Erik studied the foppish officer, just rotated in from the East. Erik and another company of the Prince’s soldiers had been ordered into the field, and he discovered that de Beswick would ride with them to Tannerus. De Beswick was seconded to the Prince’s court, and assigned garrison duty in the north. The two men had taken an instant dislike to each other. The only person to whom de Beswick was civil was Owen Greylock, because of his rank, senior to de Beswick’s. He refused any conversation with any enlisted man save in the line of duty, and was uniformly rude and abusive to the men. It had been with relief that Erik had taken half the men into the field for a week’s field training, while the other half had remained to be trained in garrison defense. Erik had just returned to be informed at the gate that four of his men were being hanged. Erik balled his right hand into a fist, and said, ‘Why were those men executed?’
‘They pilfered stores,’ said de Beswick, raising his eyebrows as if asking a question.
‘Those were my men,’ Erik said with menace in his voice, almost a growl.
‘Then tend to them better, Sergeant Major, and address me as “sir,” in future.’
The captain made to ride past, and Erik seized the reins of his horse. ‘You had no right to hang my men. We’re not even in your command!’
De Beswick said, ‘I had every right, as commander of the garrison here at Tannerus, and I certainly do not need to explain my actions to you, Sergeant Major.’ Slowly drawing his sword, he said, ‘Now, please be good enough to release my horse, or I shall be forced to kill you for assaulting an officer.’
Owen Greylock caught up with Erik, and said, ‘Put up that sword, de Beswick!’
‘Knight-Captain?’ said the garrison commander.
‘That’s an order,’ said Greylock calmly.
Reluctantly de Beswick put the sword away. Owen put his hand on Erik’s shoulder and said, ‘Sergeant Major, see to your men. I’ll take care of this.’
Owen waited until Erik had left, then turned and grabbed de Beswick by the boot, lifting suddenly. As Owen expected, de Beswick came flying out of his saddle, and as his horse galloped away, the captain from Bas-Tyra landed hard upon the dirt of the courtyard.
Owen grabbed the young man by the collar and hauled him to his feet. Looking into his eyes with an expression that could only be called murderous, he said, ‘We have a war coming and you’re killing our soldiers?’
‘They were thieves!’ said the now-fearful de Beswick.