Haggart's Dawn Read online

  “How soon?” asked the Captain.

  “We've enough bread for a week but we're short of everything else. Coffee, ham, cheese. Even the fruit is gone.”

  “What about Hammergall?” said the Captain to Haggart who winced at the name.

  “Are we that desperate?” He looked at Talbert who nodded.

  “What's wrong with Hammergall?” asked John.

  “What's right about it? I can't believe that the Council haven't burned the place down yet. Men pretending to be women, women who look like men. Whoring. Slavery. Debauchery. They would make most Sailor's pubs look tame,” said Haggart.

  “He's only saying that because once a young 'woman',” said the Captain with emphasis, “propositioned him.”

  “I was about nineteen - how was I to know it was a man in a woman's garb?” pleaded Haggart. The others started laughing. “You left me with it - took off with the rest of the Captain's crew and left me to be eaten alive by the thing.”

  “At least you found out before it was too late. Any ways, after that you went and got yourself married and...” The Captain trailed off and didn't speak again for a moment or two but it was enough to arrest Lorrie's attention.

  “You never speak about her,” she said softly. The group seemed to have stopped what they were doing and none of them looked up. The tension had come from nowhere and settled around them in a heartbeat. They all knew the story, even Talbert, yet it'd never been spoken of to Lorrie before.

  “No,” said the Captain who shattered the atmosphere with a curt response. “And we never should if we have any respect for our friends.” Lorrie looked stunned and John put his arm around her.

  “It's okay,” said Haggart. “Let's just leave it.”

  “Aye, that we should. For now. I'm sorry, girl, I didn't mean to upset you,” said the Captain. “I was the only other person who loved that woman as much as he did and she is sorely missed.”

  “Who was she?” she whispered.

  “She was his sister,” said Haggart. “And now she's dead.”

  6.

  “We are all slaves. Slaves to our hopes, our fears, our loves. Only the heartless, cruel man knows freedom and only he can speak of his miseries.”

  - Alfolon Quebic

  They travelled eastwards across the marshlands, circling the great dead river that was spoken of in the legends of the early days and it was at this point that Haggart expected the Captain to take the southern road directly into town. Instead he stopped short and motioned for Talbert to ride alongside him.

  “When we enter, take the main street and ride until you see a sign - an upturned pig with an arrow through its belly. That's the only legitimate butcher in the whole place. Go in, ask for Alan and tell him that the Captain will come and see him shortly. Once you've done that, tell him what we need and wait until he's given it to you.”

  “What about payment?”

  “Pay him nothing - he'll expect you to wait until you've packed the horse. By then, myself and Haggart will have arrived.”

  “Where will you two be?”

  “Getting us a decent bed for the night - a task in itself. I don't want him to think I sully my hands with this kind of work. Alan is of the old school - a hater of foreigners and the under classes. He'll expect me to send a boy to do my bidding.”

  “So I have to do this, pretending I'm your lackey?” The Captain slapped him across the back and grinned.

  “Who's pretending?”

  Talbert rode onwards and the others followed the Captain east around the town to enter through another way. The town was encompassed by a high stone wall - not of a grand enough design to make it secure from attack, but enough of a deterrent to make sure any one coming or going would have to pass through any of the four guarded gates. In this manner taxes could be taken and not avoided and anyone caught leaving over the wall could be sentenced to death in the gibbet cage, several of which swung in the breeze above the southern gate, empty at least.

  “It really is a den of thieves,” said John as they neared the guards posted on either side.

  “Despite the reputation, it's a place of trade - especially in illegal potions and equipment,” said Haggart. “I'd expect them to protect their interests.”

  The Captain approached the nearest guard and stated their business in Hammergall. The guard walked up and down the group, surveying each one as if inspecting counterfeit coins. Then he gave a signal for the gates to be opened and they rode in.

  “What was that about?” asked Lorrie.

  “Probably seeing if we had enough coin,” said John.

  They stabled their horses outside the only Inn that didn't look like it'd suffered a fire recently. It looked run down enough to blend in with the others though - sagging sills, dirt covered pavement and windows almost invisible behind a thick layer of coal dust. Dogs fought over scraps in the street and Haggart felt dirty already.

  “Wait with the horses,” the Captain told him. “I'll sort out rooms for tonight. I don't want to have to stay here any longer than I need to.”

  “You may as well go with him,” said Haggart to John and Lorrie. “Some things need to be seen to be believed.”

  “I'm not sure I want to believe them,” said John but who followed the Captain through the door of the Inn regardless.

  In the stable, Haggart fed the horses himself - not liking the look of the stable boy. He had an oddly shaped head which held a couple of yellow teeth and he limped terribly on his left leg. He didn't speak at all - only nodding to Haggart's requests and he was sweeping out the stalls when he noticed that the boy had a brand on his back and it showed whenever his dirty shirt began to slide off his shoulders. The brand looked old and was in the shape of an 'X' like a man might brand cattle.

  “Are you a slave, boy?” he asked, pointing to the mark. The boy nodded without turning to look at him. “Do they brand all slaves like that here?”

  He nodded again. Haggart finished brushing down his mount and made to leave. At the entrance to the stable a huge fat man had appeared and his form nearly filled the doorway.

  “Can I help you?” the man said, though it was clear by his tone that Haggart's welfare was the last thing on his mind.

  “And you are?” said Haggart.

  “I'm that boy's Father. I heard you askin' questions. Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why does it matter to you if this one's a slave?”

  “It's been a long time since I saw a slave - especially a child.”

  “Mind your own business what goes on in Hammergall and especially what goes on in my pub. You may have noticed that people can be found in the gibbet cage pretty easily if the authorities take a dislike to them.”

  “Really?” said Haggart.

  “Aye. It always helps to be friendly to authority, I believe. You never know when you might need a problem fixing.”

  “I see.”

  “I hope you do.”

  Haggart laughed, shook his head, and left.

  He found the Captain and the rest of them in the Inn, already emptying ale glasses and chewing on roasted chicken legs. There was a plate of them in the middle of the table and there was a mug of ale at an empty chair for him.

  “Get that drunk - I'm going to go rescue Talbert,” said the Captain, throwing the bone to the mangy looking dog under the table. The place was busy despite the stench of stale beer and sweat that permeated the thick cloud of pipe smoke that hung at eye level. You could just make out other people in the poor light coming from a few small candles on the wall as there was none coming through the dirty windows.

  “Nice place,” said John, rolling his eyes.

  “It's changed a lot since me and the Captain were last here,” said Haggart, tasting the ale. It had the consistency of treacle.

  “Really? For the worse, I hope.”

  “I think you're right there,” he replied, watching a sad looking bar maid move around, groped by any of the men who came near - and even a few
butch looking women. It'd been a long time since Haggart had seen such a hopeless expression on any one and that face belonged to someone who'd surrendered to despair long ago. She came near and Haggart caught her attention.

  “Another round please, love,” he said, straining to see her shoulders. The bar maid nodded and smiled weakly, but as she turned he saw the white scar tissue of the same 'X' he'd seen on the stable boy. Another slave.

  “What's up, Dad?”

  “I don't quite know yet,” he replied.

  A few moments later the bar maid returned with a tray of drinks, setting them on the table along with a bowl of pickled eggs. Haggart caught her before she sped away and whispered to her:

  “How did you become a slave?”

  Her face, already pale, turned a shade paler than even Haggart thought possible.

  “Please, don't speak of it,” she managed to stammer out. “If he hears...”

  “Who hears?”

  “My owner, please just forget it. I'm happy here.”

  “Clearly. You just need to let your face know that you are.”

  “Please,” she said, wrenching herself from his grip. Then she was gone. Haggart looked to the bar and saw him watching - the same man from the stable, wiping out a glass with a rag, staring hard at him. The maid walked past him and he stopped her, asked her something, then let her go once he had the answer. All the while he never took his dark squinting eyes off him.

  When Talbert and the Captain returned, Haggart explained what he'd seen. When he'd finished, the Captain looked ready to kill.

  “We must wait,” warned Haggart. “Tonight, when the Inn closes, I'll find out the truth of it.”

  “If I find he's been slaving I'll open him up myself. Scum,” hissed the Captain. “We fought Gorm for years because of this vile practice, I'll not have our own people doing the same. The Council should have burned this place years ago.”

  “Too much money to be made in taxes,” said John.

  “It's disgusting,” said Lorrie. “That poor girl. And the stable boy.” Haggart thought about it for a moment and scratched his beard.

  “Talbert, come with me,” he said, getting up.

  “Where are we going?” he asked.

  “I want to confirm a suspicion. There's a blacksmith up the road - let's see about some equipment.”

  Talbert followed him out of the Inn and up the street; the night was creeping in and torches were being lit up and down the way. They found the Smithy still working his forge and several young apprentices were hammering away behind him in the glow from coals.

  “Mind if we take a look?” Haggart asked the man who gestured to the racks of blades hanging along the wall. They were yet to be fitted with hilts and some were just axe heads with no shaft. Above them, hanging on ropes, were pieces of armour recently forged and yet to be hammered smooth. Haggart led Talbert along the racks until he was closer to the apprentices. Most of them worked bare-chested and so he had no trouble noticing that all had a large 'X' burned onto the flesh of their shoulders.

  “Is that what you meant?” said Talbert, pointing to a nasty looking war hammer. Haggart understood what he was getting at.

  “That's exactly what I meant. It's not just the Inn - it's the whole bloody town.”

  The Captain had chosen a room with five beds - it was safer if they were all together. With the fire roaring in the hearth and the windows closed, they discussed what to do next.

  “Do we just leave them?” asked Lorrie.

  “We can't - maybe the Council knows nothing about this, but we need to do something. You all saw that maid, she was terrified,” said John.

  “How can we take on the whole town? Maybe they're all in on it. If we act too rashly we could bring them down on our own heads,” added Talbert.

  Haggart sat beside the fire, toying with his beard. He stared into the flames, thinking of a solution but none was coming forth.

  “Captain?” asked John. The Captain was led across his bed, his fingers knitted behind his head.

  “I'm open to suggestions, but I'm afraid I have none. If we make a scene then Talbert is right - they'll kick up such a fuss that we'll end up fighting the entire town. Or maybe just a select few while the others cower in fear.”

  “Could we win?” he asked.

  “Possibly. But maybe they'd be ready for that and we'd be arrested before you knew it, facing a gibbet cage by the end of the week.”

  Despite the crackling of the wood on the fire and the clamour of the crowded bar below, Haggart heard wheels turning outside on the street. He got up and wiped a clean spot into the glass and stared at the cart as it passed.

  “Coincidence?” he said aloud. “Captain?”

  The Captain raised himself quickly from his dozing and joined him at the window.

  “Another?” he gasped. Soon they'd all gathered round and caught a glimpse yet another of the dreaded machines being pulled by two horses. The carriage stopped near the stable and the boy Haggart had seen earlier was forced to lead it into the barn. Then it was out of sight to them and Haggart slid back into his chair.

  “Well?” asked Talbert, breaking the silence. “Captain? Haggart?”

  Haggart stared into the fire, lost in his own thoughts.

  “Hector's brother, thought dead but now alive. He charges Hector to feed and care for one of these things. Then we see more of them heading north. A panicked courier with a package that had to set sail straight away. Master Amos executed as a traitor. A whole town devoted to slavery, harbouring another machine.”

  The Captain sat on the edge of his bed, his brow woven into a picture of concentration.

  “They're being made. Somewhere, somehow, in large quantities. Yes?” he said.

  “I agree,” replied Haggart.

  “Hector's brother - alive. Involved.”

  “Again, we're in agreement.”

  “He, and possibly more, are sending these things out in all directions. They want them all over the country. Yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “What - in the name of LORSE - do they do?”

  They both slid back into silence, thinking deeply, mining their own experiences for an answer. In a strange twist of irony, it was Lorrie who realised the truth.

  “Did you feel it?” she asked. Haggart looked straight at her.

  “Yes. Yes, I did,” he replied.

  “Feel what?” said the Captain.

  “The machines - we can sense them, it's something to do with summoning... Something we've overlooked...”

  “The Hunters weren't looking for anyone in particular - they were sensing the machines. They were trying to track down the source of the energy!” cried Lorrie.

  “Not ours - it's energy! They came for the machine. They came for Hector's machine.”

  “Right,” she said, animated at where the thoughts were leading her. “And another.”

  “Another?” said the Captain.

  “Another. Under the temple. They set fire to the temple. The Hunters. They went there twice, the old priest must have been hiding one, it's the only explanation that fits. They were drawn to it, they thought it was hidden Summoners in the cellar, they wanted them...”

  “Dead,” finished Haggart. “You've got it, Lorrie. Well done.”

  “Now we just need 'who' and 'why',” said the Captain. Then they returned to silence, chewing on the new ideas.

  “It's not the Council - the Hunters work for them,” said John. “But the Council must be aware of it somehow.”

  “The only person we know who's involved is Hector's brother and as far as we know he's back in the direction of home, miles away,” said Haggart. “I'm going down to take a look.”

  “I'll come too,” said the Captain.

  They waited another hour before slipping out of their rooms and down the stairs. The place was empty and closed for the night whilst the owner was fast asleep above them. Haggart hadn't seen any dogs around but he still moved slowly so as to avoid steppin
g on the creaking floor boards.

  They unbolted the front door and made their way outside, the Captain holding one of his smaller axes and Haggart concealing a dirk under his shirt. The street was almost pitch black save for the dirty orange glow coming from a few upper floor windows in the houses down the road. The braziers and torches had been extinguished except where the gate guards patrolled and they could see two of them warming their hands upon a small fire.

  They felt their way along the wall and reached the stable where they could hear the horses straining at their gates, stressed into a frenzy by the presence of the evil machine.

  “They don't like the thing as much as we do,” whispered the Captain. They entered through the side door and saw it - the sickly-green light, the tubes, everything as repulsive as it had been before. The cover had been removed and its body pulsed with unnatural energy and its tubes writhed under their chains.

  “Well? Now what?” asked the Captain.

  There was a loud crash from the rear of the stables and several empty mead barrels went rolling across the floor. The Captain was on it in a flash, his axe already in the air as he disappeared behind a partition. Then he brought out the stable boy by the scruff of his neck as if he weighed no more than a sack of potatoes. He thrashed his legs as he hung there in mid-air.

  “I should have realised they'd make him sleep in here,” said Haggart.

  “What do we do with him?” asked the Captain.

  “Leave him be. We're not doing anything wrong, we're only looking after our distressed horses.”

  The boy grunted as he was dropped and suddenly backed away once he realised that the machine was pulsing with life. Once he'd reached the safety of the corner he lived in he was able to gather himself together again, pointing and mumbling incoherent words in the direction of the machine.

  “You don't like this?” asked Haggart. The boy shook his head. “Why?”

  He pointed to the machine, then his head, then the machine again. When he gestured to his temples, he pounded them, acting out the pain it made him feel with violent blows to his skull.