Blackest Knights by Phipps C. T

Author:Phipps, C. T. [Lehmann, C. T. Phipps, David Niall Wilson, Matthew Davenport, Michael Suttkus, Ulff]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fantasy, anthology
Publisher: Crossroad Press
Published: 2018-10-11T16:00:00+00:00

The Mist Beyond the Circle

By Martin Owton

The smoke was the first sign we had; the smell of woodsmoke on the evening breeze. We left the carts of turf then and ran. The settlement was two miles away, hidden in a fold of the hills. Evening was deepening into night as we reached the drystone wall of the home field. Beyond it, the embers still glowed where the big barn had been fired. Two of the cottages were smoking rubble heaps, two others still stood roofless, the thatch of the remaining one was scorched where the fire had failed to take hold. The stockade which had held the livestock was empty, and the body of Anya’s mother Mairead lay before the gate, her blood staining the trampled earth.

We ran through the settlement calling for our loved ones, numbly, blindly, unable to accept the evidence before us. No voices answered though we cried out as loud as we could before we fell to weeping, the ten of us together, except for Aron. He stood apart taking in the scene then strode to the one intact cottage, which he had shared with Tomas and Tomas’s wife Nieve. He returned with two lanterns which he lit with the flint from the pouch he always carried and handed one of them to Tomas.

“Everyone into the cottage, there’s nothing to be done out here,” Aron said softly, but with an authority it did not occur to me to question. Nodding to Nieve, he said. “Get some food, we’re going to need it.” Taking the other lantern, he walked off into the dusk in the direction of the ruined barn.

We silently trooped into the cottage and packed into the main room, sitting where we could. Nieve roused the hearth fire which still smouldered in the grate and swung the cauldron over the heat. No-one spoke except Niall; he continued to bawl pitifully even though the rest of us were past tears. I felt they were all looking to me for leadership. After all, I had brought this collection of younger sons with no hope of inheriting land back here, to the fields and woods of our childhood. I had begged the tenancy of the farm, derelict for years since the civil war, from the Earl, and supervised the rebuilding. But I felt paralysed by the loss of Anya, unable to think of anything but my pain.

Aron returned with a large oilcloth bag in his arms; there was a powerful smell of the midden as he placed the bag beside the door. “More than a few of them, mounted. They drove the stock off north-west.”

“Into the wildlands,” I said. “But why? Who are they?”

“I would guess they’re headed for one of the passes through the mountains. That means they’re making for Keshan on the coast; there’s a market there for slaves as well as stock. Keshan’s been a pirates’ nest for generations, too tough a nut for anything less than the High King’s army. It’s the natural home for all the bandits and cut-throats in the west.

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