Runefang by C L Werner

Author:C L Werner
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9781844165483
Publisher: BL Publishing
Published: 2008-06-17T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Fritzstadt was a miserable, timber-walled settlement on the banks of the River Sol, plaster facades covering walls of mud brick and raw stone. It was large enough to call itself a town and important enough to local tradesman to maintain a small dock, but it was still a far cry from the immense battlement-enclosed cities further north along the river. Yet to the tired, battle-weary men who emerged from the wilderness, it looked as safe and sturdy as the towers of Altdorf.

Kessler led the sorry remains of his company through the log gates of Fritzstadt, noting the thickness of the walls with some relief. Goblin or brigand, a foe would find getting past such a barrier a difficult prospect. He was less comfortable with the sullen, hostile regard of the two men positioned in the tower above the gate. There was something naggingly familiar about them, something Kessler could not quite place. He did not waste undue time pondering the problem, however. He’d lost count of how many times a face in the crowd had reminded him of some foe he’d faced in personal combat. Still, there was no denying that the two militiamen had seemed to recognise him.

The swordsman shook his head. He had more pressing concerns right now. There were wounded to be tended, stores to be requisitioned, horses to be commandeered. He patted the pocket that held the letter of marque from the count. The little slip of parchment gave him the authority to take whatever he needed from Fritzstadt. He just hoped that the place had what he needed.

Eugen appeared at his shoulder, almost as though the knight had read Kessler’s thoughts. He directed Kessler’s gaze to the cheap plaster walls, the dirt streets and thatch roofs. Whatever else Fritzstadt might be, prosperous was not among its claims. “I don’t think these people will be able to help us much,” the knight told him.

Kessler watched some of the coarsely dressed, dishevelled inhabitants of the town hurry along the street. Their eyes narrowed with suspicion as they passed, the faintest snatches of subdued whispers reaching Kessler’s ears. Some went so far as to make the sign of Taal as they scurried past the group of strangers, before vanishing behind locked doors.

“It’s certainly not Nuln,” Kessler agreed, “but we’ll manage. We have to.”

Eugen caught at his arm, arresting Kessler in his steps. “Look at this place,” he said. “You think there’s more than two or three capable swordsmen in the entire town? We need fighters, not fishermen playing part-time soldier.”

Kessler pried the knight’s hand from his arm. He matched Eugen’s demanding stare. “You want to turn back?”

“We could,” Eugen stated, “just take a boat back up river, tell Count Eberfeld what happened, and get him to give us more men.” He saw the way Kessler’s face darkened at the suggestion. “It’s more important that the runefang is recovered. Dying in the attempt won’t do anyone any good.”

It was the umpteenth time Kessler had heard the knight make the statement.

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