Soldiers of Winter Page 5

  “Hey, I meant what I said,” he assured her, taking Millie's hand and trying to comfort her. “We did good tonight, real good. Don't ever doubt that.” She finally looked him in the eye and nodded, then slipped out of his grasp and ran out the door. He didn't pursue her, knowing that the events she'd witnessed would likely haunt her for the rest of her days. It was a lot to ask of someone who wasn't used to this sort of life, but Pacian was nevertheless pleased with how she'd handled it.

  Within a minute, the sound of her yelling “fire!” could be heard, and shortly thereafter dozens of people emerged from their houses, carrying buckets. Under the direction of the mayor, a red-haired woman known for her sharp mind and strong leadership, they formed a line from the town's well and started dumping water on the inferno growing inside the barn. The roof was on fire by now, and as more of barn's interior was exposed to the elements, the quicker the fire was finally brought under control.

  Pacian ran out to join with the locals once they'd moved into the barn, appearing to be concerned for the town but in reality more concerned that the bodies had been burned sufficiently to cover any evidence of foul play. Once quick glimpse was all he needed to confirm this fact, although the smell of burnt flesh probably would have been more than enough. The merchant, Mister Holbrook, was on hand to assist and was able to identify the bodies.

  “Yeah, it's those two caravan guards who made a scene earlier in the day,” he muttered. “It seems the lantern fell off the table while they were sleeping and it cost them their lives. That's an unpleasant way to go.”

  The last flickering flames were gradually being doused by some of the townsfolk, and Pacian noticed Aiden and his parents were here too, carrying buckets of water from the well. Pacian slipped a hand into his belt pouch and retrieved the glass pendant he'd taken from Creese, and held it tightly as he pretended to pick through the burnt wreckage of the barn. When Aiden spotted him and approached, Pacian cleverly made it appear as though he'd just discovered the pendant from the ground.

  “I think this is yours,” he said, offering it to Aiden, who accepted it gratefully. After a moment of examination however, his expression became troubled.

  “Why wasn't this around Creese's neck?” he wondered. “Why isn't it at least a little bit blackened from the fire?”

  “I guess he took it off and the flames didn't reach it,” Pacian answered with a shrug, trying to lead Aiden away from a dangerous line of questioning. Sometimes, Aiden was a little too smart for his own good.

  “Maybe,” Aiden replied doubtfully. He was distracted when his parents came over to see what the two boys were up to, and Pacian was quietly pleased when Aiden handed the pendant over to his mother, who recognized it instantly. She covered her mouth with one hand as she stared at the simple glass pendant, one of the few things remaining of her lost sons. Pacian silently wished Beddoe had taken the one from the other Wainwright sibling, Kieran, but it was most likely lost forever. Still, it was a little victory in more ways than one, and Pacian had no regrets.

  She began sobbing and gave Aiden a crushing hug, while his father patted him on the back in his own stoic way of offering thanks. Seeing the close-knit family treating each other with respect was hard for Pacian to watch, knowing he'd never again experience that feeling, but glad he was able to bring a bit of light back into their lives.

  Battered from his fight and unwilling to push his luck, Pacian decided to quit the scene and head home for the night to rest and dry out, leaving Aiden and the locals to sort out the mess he'd created.

  * * *

  Pacian awoke to a gray dawn under leaden skies, feeling the full impact of last night's fight throughout his body. It didn't bother him too much, because he remembered the reason for it and felt a sense of purpose and calm that rarely pervaded his life. He'd made a difference, and some bad people were no longer around to do bad things. It didn't get any better than this.

  Ordinarily out of bed by that time, Pacian was so sore it took him a good half an hour to muster the strength to pull off the covers and get dressed. By the time he hobbled down to the kitchen, his father was already there, furiously kneading dough on the bench top. By the smell in the air, he'd been drinking again.

  “You were supposed to be here at dawn,” his father snapped, barely looking at Pacian.

  “Good morning to you, too,” he growled, feeling his triumphant mood evaporating in the light of reality.

  “Don't talk back to me,” Bryce snapped, turning to face Pacian directly. “I keep this roof over your head, and all I ask is you help me in the kitchens of a morning. And you can't even do that properly! Look at you, hobbling around like an old man. What were you up to last night?”

  “Did you hear about the barn catching on fire?” Pacian shot back, tired of starting his mornings with an argument. “I was out there helping to put it out. Two people died, or were you too drunk off your ass to notice?”

  “Bah, you probably started it in the first place you scoundrel,” Bryce snarled. “And you will speak to me with respect, or I'll toss you out on your backside! You're nothing but a disappointment, boy. If your mother, god rest her soul, was still here she'd feel the same way.”

  Pacian didn't respond with words, because there was nothing that could be said that would encapsulate how he felt at that moment. The sheer nerve of his father trying to use the memory of his mother against him like that could only be answered in one way. Without even thinking about it, Pacian's fist lashed out, connecting with Bryce's cheek and laying him out on the floor of the kitchen.

  “Don't you dare tarnish her memory by bringing her into this,” Pacian shouted. “You are a miserable waste of air, and I'm utterly sick to death of putting up with your abuse. You want me gone? I'm happy to oblige.” He turned to leave but before he took two steps, Bryce stood up and lunged for him.

  He caught Pacian around the waist, sending both of them tumbling to the floor where they scuffled in a fight without finesse or style, only raw hatred. Fists flailed about, each man pummeling the other in an effort to exorcise their demons upon the flesh of the other. Pacian still hadn't recovered from last night's activities and he was having trouble putting this fight to rest, until he quite literally used his head.

  He smashed his forehead into Bryce's, leaving his old man reeling from the blow. This gave Pacian the opportunity to extricate himself from his father's grip and get back on his feet. Both men were breathing heavily after the brief but intense struggle, but neither of them wanted to go on with it. An awkward silence descended upon them, broken when Pacian came to an important decision.

  “That's the last time you blame me for your own bloody problems,” Pacian said calmly, no longer willing to waste the energy on his father. “I'll find someplace else to live, and with luck, you'll never see me again.” He smoothed down his tunic and ran his fingers through his blond hair, trying to neaten himself up a little. Pacian checked to make sure the coin pouch he stole from Creese was still on his belt, then headed out the door for what he hoped was the last time.

  The trees growing throughout the town had lost most of their leaves by now, leaving them as little more than skeletal claws reaching to the sky as their leaves blew through the streets. The air was bitterly cold that morning, which Pacian keenly felt after having left his cloak behind the previous night since it bore the scars of his fight with Beddoe and he didn't want to risk being seen with it. So, flush with money for the first time in months, Pacian headed for the center of town to buy something for breakfast and do a little clothes shopping.

  He bought a bowl of reheated stew left over from the previous night and a piece of buttered toast from the inn, and halfway through his meal he started feeling better. Though he didn't want to admit it to himself, the brief fight with his father had hurt him deeply, as though the thin tether that bonded them as a family had finally been severed, and now Pacian felt hollow inside.

  The young lady serving him had asked about the bruises on his face, which Pacian ca
sually laughed off as being a bit careless when he was helping put out the fires in the barn last night. He inquired if there were any further developments as to the reasons for the fire, or the fate of those who died within, but it had apparently been written off as an accident. Through a combination of skill, timing and luck, Pacian seemed to have gotten away with it, which also helped buoy his mood.

  As he left a shop after buying a warm new coat, Pacian saw the merchant wagons outside the inn, fully laden, with Mister Holbrook and his guards ready to go. Seated on the wagon at the rear, in the absence of Creese and Beddoe was Millie, her younger sister and her two parents. Behind them were bags and boxes where the family had packed up their whole life in anticipation of heading for greener pastures.

  Millie, clothed in a cream dress and winter cloak, was speaking with her sister when she noticed Pacian looking at her from across the street. The two of them exchanged a long, silent look, broken only when the wagons started rumbling down the road. She raised her hand briefly and he gave her a forlorn smile as another part of his life vanished forever.

  Feeling alone in a hostile world, Pacian headed towards the only other place he felt welcome. As he approached the Wainwright household though, Aiden stormed through the door with a backpack in one hand and his longcoat in the other. Behind him, the sound of Mister Wainwright calling after him could be heard quite clearly in the crisp morning air.

  “You're embarking on a fool's errand, boy,” came the shouted words. “Don't throw your life away on this nonsense!” Aiden didn't respond, heading up the road at a brisk walk when he noticed Pacian standing on the other side of the street, watching the scene unfold.

  “Where are you going?” Pacian asked.

  “I'm heading west,” came the short reply as Aiden moved closer. Pacian could see his friend was severely rattled, and didn't appear to have slept very well.

  “Bracksford?” Pacian wondered, referring to the next town over.

  “Yeah, when one of the wagon drivers came back for his cart, he mentioned that there was an old sage who retired there, says the place is full of books and other 'weird stuff'. I figure he might have something I'm looking for, or at least knows someone who does.”

  “I can tell your parents aren't happy about that,” Pacian remarked dryly.

  “No sir, they are not,” Aiden affirmed. “But I have to find the answers or it'll drive me crazy.”

  “Well, you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do,” Pacian answered. “Hey, want some company? My dad and I just parted ways and I'm interested in getting the hell out of this place.”

  “If there's room on the wagons for one more, sure,” Aiden answered with a shrug.

  “Oh uh, the merchants have left already,” Pacian pointed out, drawing a look of exasperation from Aiden. “Don't worry, if we start out now we can reach Bracksford by nightfall.”

  “I hadn't planned on walking all the way,” Aiden remarked dourly, “but I'm not going back in there,” he added, nodding towards his house just down the street.

  “You'll have no argument from me, mate,” Pacian answered. Having suddenly made a decision to upend their lives, the two young men fell into step, heading downhill towards the open road leading away from Coldstream, and the only home either of them could remember. “Have you eaten?” Pacian asked.

  “I had a bowl of stew but I'm not sure it'll cover me for the whole day,” Aiden replied as he nestled into his longcoat and settled his pack over his shoulders.

  “Here, have an apple,” Pacian offered, handing his friend the last of his batch from the previous day, with the possibilities of the future beckoning them onward.

  About the Author

  Stephen L. Nowland resides in Frankston, Australia, where he spends his time creating stories, games and art to astound and entertain.

  http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/sln

  Further information on this novel and upcoming titles can be found at his website, and you can follow his progress on Facebook and Twitter.

  https://www.facebook.com/stephenlnowland

  www.stephenlnowland.com.au

  @stephennowland

  The Aielund Saga

  Soldiers of Winter

  Soldiers of Avarice

  Soldiers of the Crown

  Soldiers of Ruin

  Soldiers of Legend

  Soldiers of Tyranny

  Soldiers of the Heavens

  Other titles by the same author

  The Ballard Trilogy

  In the Wake of War

  The Fortress of Gold

  Upon the Ashes of Empire