CHAPTER FOUR: MIDDLEBROOK

It was dusk by the time Revan and Bren had reached the limits of Middlebrook, the gates of the wooden palisade were closed. Several lanterns were lit on the approach road to Middlebrook, but the gates were barred, and guests after dark were seldom met with a warm welcome. The heavens had opened on their journey along the west road, and the precipitation was pummelling the travellers mercilessly. It was that thick heavy rain that seemed to bounce up to knee height after it hit the ground.

Revan and Bren approached the gates, with Kai’s corpse still slumped across Bren’s shoulders. Revan pounded on the thick oak portal with his fist. The palisade was little more than a line of oak trunks sharpened into stakes. Still they were some twenty feet high and were enough to keep out intruders and wild animals. The gates were broad and thick, and were surrounded by an oak gatehouse with a covered turret on either flank.

“Oi!” cried a shrill voice from the turret above the companions. “Who goes there?”

Revan glanced up, shielding his eyes from the rain with his arm, “My name is Revan and this is my friend Bren.”

Revan could make out a small helmeted face peering through the arrow slit in the turret, it didn’t look happy to see them!

“Who’s that dead chap?” asked the guard.

“One of my companions who was slain in the marsh this morning…” Revan was cut off.

“Trouble makers eh? We’ll have none of your sort in Middlebrook! We’ve got enough problems as it is without every vagrant in Mercia dragging corpses into the place willy-nilly!” the guard was obviously excitable, and seemed to enjoy exerting his petty authority.

“We are here at the behest of Guard Captain Ivan, we were employed to procure an item for him and are here to deliver.” Said Revan “Will you let us in? Or should I inform him in the morrow of your incompetence and unwillingness to assist in this matter?”

Revan winked at Bren as the face disappeared back through the arrow slit.

“Why didn’t you just tell him you were the Earl’s ward?” said Bren

“Not very believable is it from our appearance?”

Bren nodded in agreement and then readjusted Kai’s weight across his shoulders. They could hear murmuring from behind the gate and eventually the bars were lifted; the gates creaked open slowly.

The guard was short and stout, with an ill fitting uniform. He bore a torch and a blackjack, which he was brandishing with some menace.

“Come on then!” he said impatiently “We can’t keep that Captain waiting all night then can we? And I don’t want to get any wetter so get inside!”

Revan and Bren made their way through the gates and the impertinent little guard closed and barred the gates behind them.

“You’ll find him in the inn!” shouted the guard. He then climbed back up to the shelter of his turret.

The two men walked through to the main square of the town, which had a large fountain in the centre. The pair stopped at this landmark.

“I will take Kai to the temple of The Three Fathers; they will take care of him there until morning.” said Bren, “I will meet you in the inn for a drink later. I could do with a couple to be honest after the day we’ve had!”

“As could I.” said Revan “I’ll see you soon my friend. Although you may have some catching up to do, I’ll no doubt down a few flagons in good haste!”

Laughing, the friends went their separate ways. Revan made his way to the southern edge of the square to The Blue Acorn Inn. The warm glow of the lanterns flickered through the torrent of rain, and the sounds of laughter, music and shouting emanated from the inn.

Revan opened the door and walked into the inn; he threw back his hood and detached his cloak. A fair haired boy, no older than twelve, eagerly skipped over to him and offered to take his cloak. Revan obliged him with a few coppers and found himself an empty table.

He sat down and scanned his surroundings; the inn was busy tonight. The two serving wenches glided through the rowdy crowds of drinkers with trays full of foaming tankards. There seemed to be two main groups of fellows enjoying the night life of Middlebrook this evening; the off duty guardsmen, brash and raucous as ever, clashing their drinking vessels and drinking to each other’s health (regularly!). The other group were some townsfolk who appeared to be celebrating the birth of a child, with plenty of backslapping and cheering. A few stragglers were also scattered around the main tavern hall.

Revan’s attention was caught by an older man sat alone in the corner of the inn, he was reclined in his chair smoking a pipe, his face obscured by shadow and smoke. The man’s presence stirred Revan’s curiosity, and he had a gut feeling that he knew this lonely patron.

Revan shook the thought from his mind briefly and turned to the off duty guardsmen. Ivan must be among them he thought, and as if on cue the Guard Captain showed his face. Ivan rose from his seat and walked over to greet Revan, he was a tall man with a shaven head and brown platted beard. He was grinning, and foam dotted his facial hair.

“A flagon for my man over here wench!” Ivan bellowed as he forcefully embraced Revan. The Guard Captain had obviously had his fair share of ale himself tonight!

“You smell like shit Revan!” exclaimed Ivan as he sat down

“It’s the marshes Ivan, not exactly the best place to bathe I’m afraid.”

“Well then. Did you catch the bugger?”

“Aye. Well… I’ll come to that later. You’ll be wanting this.”

Revan produced the ring from his coin purse and handed it to Ivan.

“Very good Mr Harrow.” Said Ivan “Here’s a down payment on your fee; fifty gold sovereigns.”

Ivan, still grinning, placed a purse on the table. Revan grabbed the pure and secured it to his belt.

“And the rest?”

“In the morrow! I’ll fetch it from the treasury, alas you have all but cleaned me out tonight!”

Ivan let our a hearty laugh before stopping short, as if a thought had just clicked into place in his mind.

“Where are your Brythons?” said Ivan, with a more sombre tone.

Revan paused for a moment. One of the serving girls walked by and slammed a tankard on the table, spilling a good third of the ale on the process! Revan glanced at her before taking a long quaff.

“Kai fell in marsh. Bren is making sure he is looked after in The Temple of The Three Fathers.”

“Bog lurkers was it?” Ivan shuddered at the thought of the sinewy predators of the marsh.

“Hundur.” said Revan.

“Bugger.” said Ivan as he wiped some of the foam from his beard. “That’s three sightings then.”

“Three?”

“Aye. They raided the Holmes Farmstead last night, killed everyone but their youngest, Tom. He was out playing in the fields at the time and ran all the way here. Poor child nearly keeled over he ran that hard. The day before that a couple of merchants got butchered on the west road, they managed to skewer one of the curs though. I’ve requested some help from the Earl. Some of his troops should be here at dawn. How’d you fare Revan?” Ivan took another swig of ale.

“We were ambushed in Mirkwater. They charged from the mist, they killed Kai and Alain. Bren and I managed to hew most of them. We butchered a dozen of the beasts at least. What are they doing this close Ivan? Something grave must be happening for hundur to risk open attacks on humans.”

Revan’s eye was caught by the old man in the corner again, who had stirred and began to walk towards the two drinking partners.

“These are worrying times.” Said Ivan. “We’ve got war to the north, unrest at home and Gaia knows what occurring in the south to drive those dog bastards to our doorstep.”

The old man walked closer, he was built like a warrior, with shaggy mop of straggly grey hair hanging about his face. He was dressed in modest clothing but wore a gold pendent that suggested he had wealth. He smiled at Revan.

“Mind if I join you gentlemen?” the stranger asked with a gravelly voice.

“By all means.” Said Revan.

“Aye, pull up a pew old man!” Enthused Ivan

The old man plonked his ale down next to Ivan and grabbed a stool from a nearby table and dragged it to where Revan and Ivan were sitting, the stone floor howling in agony as the stool’s wooden legs scraped across it. He sat himself down and quaffed a large gulp of ale, spilling some down his front as he drank. Ivan raised an eyebrow in Revan’s direction, the mercenary shrugged and turned to his new drinking partner.

“You look vaguely familiar.” Said Revan “I have seen you before?”

“Several times I imagine, but not since you were a boy I don’t expect.” He licked some foam from his lips with a slurp. “I knew your father Brayden Harrow.”

* * *

The night was pitch black now, and the rain was a relentless onslaught of water on cobbles and thatch. Above the main gate of Middlebrook sat Alf the gate guard, in his tiny guard room. Well, it was hardly a room, open to the wind and the cold, but at least he had a roof to keep the rain off.

“Bloody weather.” He muttered to himself.

Alf squatted on small stool by a fire in the centre of the guard room. He looked dishevelled and cold. He rubbed his stubby hands together trying to generate a bit of warmth into them. His thoughts drifted back to the three travellers that had disturbed him earlier, well, the two live ones anyway.

“Who the bloody hell do they think they are?” He asked nobody in particular “Threatening to tell Ivan on me? Bloody trouble makers” He shook his head. “And one of ‘em was foreign!”

Alf leant closer to the fire. He was beginning to dry a bit better now, but he frowned as a strange scent invaded his nostrels.

“Bloody hell! Sniff that!” He said “I hope that wasn’t me…”

Alf took a lung full, and coughed as it became too much for him. That smells like wet dog! Alf quickly turned to face the ladder behind him. He could have sworn he heard something.

The smell was still there… lingering.

Alf reached for his black jack and jumped up from his stool. He took a pace or two towards the ladder and then stared at it, gripping his blackjack tightly. The smell was still there. He continued his keen watch of the ladder but it did not move, nor could he hear any sound other than the rain pounding the roof of his guard room and the occasional howl of wind.

“You’ll scare yourself to death one of these days Alf. There’s nothing there!”

Regardless, he kept focused on the ladder and took another step towards it. No one’s going to get the jump on me! As the words passed through his head Alf could feel his heart beating a little faster. He took the plunge. Alf moved quickly towards the ladder, raised his blackjack and peered over the edge of the wall.

Nothing. The ladder was clear, and all he succeeded in doing was getting his head wet again.

“You silly old sod.” Alf said to himself.

He decided it would be best to see out the rest of his shift next to the fire and turned away from the ladder. Alf was suddenly pulled away from the edge of the wall towards the centre of the guard room and he ended up face down on the floor.

He was dazed, his vision blurred slightly as he simultaneously scrambled for his blackjack and to get to his feet. He succeeded in neither, he felt a sharp blow to his back and then nothing… he felt nothing at all.

He couldn’t move. His brain screamed at his limbs to move but they refused to obey. Get up you fool! His eyes were fixed on the timber floor of the guard room as a shadow was cast over his face. He heard a grisly crunching sound and was turned onto his back like a rag doll. Oh Gaia, help me!

A huge hundur towered above the prone guard, and it was removing its steel boot from his ribcage. It was brandishing a large warhammer and with malice in its canine eyes the creature swung its weapon and brought it down.