A Shore Too Far - By Kevin Manus-Pennings Page 0,3

the Guards. We have to be ready should other fleets attempt to land,” I advised.

Eric nodded and looked beyond me to the sea.

“Perhaps we know more than we know. What of the sailors manning the ship that pursued the merchant?” Gonnaban asked. “Surely, they were close enough to see. How many? What manner of dress and so on?”

Eric turned to Gonnaban and then to me.

“He was…less than helpful in that respect,” Eric said slowly.

“Come again, sir?” asked Gonnaban.

“He said the ship was manned by demons.”

“Well,” said Gonnaban, glancing at me, “that mountain’s looking steeper, isn’t it?”

***** ***** *****

The Dolbiri merchant had been given a room in the lower halls of the palace and one that, at his own request, faced away from the sea. He was lean and perhaps a few years older than Eric, so near fifty. Clean shaven and neatly dressed, he answered the door promptly.

Gonnaban and I questioned him thoroughly for more than an hour. Through it all, the man struggled to contain his nerves, and at times his agitation overwhelmed him, particularly when we pressed him to describe the “demons” he had seen. He would only say that they were richly attired, but then he would keep muttering, “Dark…dark…dark…” and descend into a nervous silence. We were able to ascertain that the creatures he saw had both swords and bows, but we could get little else from him.

After the merchant saw us out, I touched Gonnaban’s shoulder and gestured back toward the merchant’s room. “He has little enough sense left to tell night from day.”

“It’s the cold bloods.”

“You think so?” I asked. Gonnaban and I had seen enough cases in our time, but never on someone who had not seen battle.

“He’s seen something that’s put him in a bad place, that’s nine of ten easy,” Gonnaban said. “I don’t know if it were these demons or maybe seeing the others of his ships get taken, but he’s got cold bloods for sure.”

“I can’t fight an enemy that can do that to my men, Gonnaban,” I said, pointing to the merchant’s door.

“Well, he’s a merchant, mind, and not no proper soldier. Our boys are hard enough, I reckon.” Gonnaban stopped by a broad window that looked north over the rolling plain beyond the scrub wood. “You remember that boy Eldrig? An archer wasn’t he? He got the cold bloods after that little scrape in the mountains. Sobbed for a week.”

“And I flogged him for it,” I said softly. “His tears didn’t change from one lash to the next.”

“Yeah, but the rest of us felt better knowing he had something to cry about finally. It’s no good hearing a fella go on like that for nothing.” Gonnaban scratched his cheek.

“It wasn’t for nothing, Gonnaban. He had the cold bloods, just as that merchant does. The difference is you and I can take the demons Eldrig saw.”

Out the window, the scrub wood lay on the northern hills in heaps of bramble and gnarled trees choked with dark green leaves. A road split the foreboding foliage and led to the villages of the plague-haunted north. Suddenly, a mounted figure emerged onto the road, galloping south toward the city. Soon, the galloping figure resolved into that of a young girl, perhaps ten or twelve summers old. Gonnaban glanced at me as Eric’s city guard rode out to intercept the child. The guard drew around her and brought her to a stop. A moment later, one of the city guards turned and galloped toward the city.

Gonnaban watched the guard intently. “I don’t suppose anyone gallops for good news nowadays, do they?”

***** ***** *****

Gonnaban and I marched through the palace and out to the main courtyard in the hopes of finding Eric or the rider. As we entered the courtyard, groups of people whispered excitedly in huddled masses. A guard stood holding a panting horse just beyond the maw of the outer gate.

“Well, we’ll hear soon enough,” Gonnaban said.

I nodded and turned to reenter the palace.

“Princess Kara of Peth and Culling,” a voice called. “High General of All Forces, conqueror and hero to all who see her.”

Gwey stood at the palace’s outer gate, his foot playing at the cobbles of the courtyard as though awaiting permission to enter. He was dressed in a vest and long coat, gems glittering from his hand and neck, his light brown hair swept from his clean-shaven face. He was tall and wide in the shoulders with a face of charm and cunning. A merchant and my occasional