‘See it stays that way. One more thing. You will not unsheathe swords in this village. We are a peaceful community.’
‘But it hasn’t always been that way, I take it?’
The leader shook his head, indicating his men move aside to let them through before he replied.
‘A lot of refugees have passed this way from the mage lands, and before them we had them from as far east as Korina and as far south as Arlen.’ He paused. ‘Not all of them would take “no” for an answer. That’s why we’re here now.’
The Raven led their horses into the village, angling for the indicated farm on its eastern edge. The elves followed them, their suspicion plain.
‘What do you make of it?’ asked Hirad.
‘Well, they aren’t faces I recognise,’ said The Unknown. ‘And they clearly don’t know us, which is a blessing. I think we shouldn’t get involved.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Hirad. ‘I don’t like the set-up. Think about it. Mercenary teams are being paid very good money to fight for the colleges or side with baronial defence. This lot? How can they possibly earn enough from a place this size to make it worthwhile?’
‘Ask the farmer, why don’t you?’ said Denser.
‘I will. Let’s get sorted out first though.’
There was precious little space but it served them well enough. Denser and Erienne had the one empty room in the farmhouse. Ferran spread it with straw and blankets. The rest of them were given shelter in the two barns, one for grain storage, the other part stables, part hayloft. It was serviceable though the price was ruinous.
The Raven plus Rebraal gathered around Ferran’s prodigious kitchen table once the horses were unsaddled and Auum and his Tai had taken their leave. Not all of them had seats but there were enough places to rest and enjoy the thick vegetable stew and tough rye bread served by Ferran’s daughter, a girl barely into her teenage years but with eyes that had already seen a long hard life.
Ferran was a humourless middle-aged man. His hands were callused and split from many years working hard cold earth. His chest was a barrel and his eyes were deep set in a weathered face.
‘Long journey, is it?’ he ventured of his guests.
‘Long enough,’ conceded Darrick. The ex-General still managed to look neat despite their time on the road, his young face already clean of grime and his brown curls shaken free of dust.
Ferran nodded, apparently gleaning everything he needed from the General’s brace of words. ‘Well, it’ll be a comfortable night. No trouble.’ His eyes glinted. ‘We’re protected.’
‘So we see,’ said Hirad. He leaned forwards, arms resting on the table, hands clasped together in front of his bowl. ‘Treat you well do they?’
‘I’m begging your pardon?’
‘You’ve bought their services,’ Hirad explained. ‘Are you getting what you expect?’
Ferran thought on the question, aware all eyes were upon him.
‘They keep us alive,’ he said. ‘We’d been raided. Three times. They offered us protection for a consideration.’
‘Which is?’ asked The Unknown.
‘Well now that’s a deal between—’
‘Which is?’
Recognise him or not, no one refused The Unknown Warrior.
‘They keep us alive,’ he repeated. ‘And safe. We carry on, they take the rest. It’s right.’
‘They take all your profit?’ Denser blew out his cheeks. ‘There’s your answer, barbarian.’
Ferran nodded.
‘And no doubt food and lodging is part of the deal,’ said Hirad. ‘This is some easy deal.’
‘It goes without saying.’
‘But the war is as good as over,’ said Hirad. ‘When were you last threatened or attacked?’
‘They say there is still danger,’ said Ferran. ‘They keep us alive.’ That sparkle was in his eyes again. ‘And you don’t question the best.’
‘And that’s what they are, is it?’ Hirad couldn’t help but smile.
‘Well yes,’ said Ferran. He looked at them all, imploring them to understand. ‘Don’t you recognise them?’
‘Should we?’
‘Of course.’ He stood tall. ‘They are The Raven.’
‘Oh,’ said Hirad, feeling his skin crawl. ‘Are they indeed?’
Chapter 5
‘Hirad, sit down,’ barked The Unknown Warrior. ‘Let’s decide how to deal with this.’
‘I’ll tell you how we deal with it,’ said Hirad. ‘We go outside, call them out and take them down.’
‘Calm down, Hirad,’ said Darrick. ‘We can’t just run out, swords waving. It’s an unnecessary risk.’
‘It might not mean much to you, General, but these bastards are trading on our name to bleed this village dry. I will not see our reputation ruined by bandits.’
Hirad’s head was thumping, his body tense with the frustration boiling within him. Outside, people who believed in The Raven were being taken for everything they had when, more than ever, they needed every scrap of fortune they could lay their hands on. Perhaps their fortune was about to change. But what really made Hirad seethe was the bad taste that would be left in the mouths of these people whenever The Raven was mentioned again.
‘We can’t just walk out there and kill them,’ said Denser.
‘Why not?’ Hirad jabbed a finger at Ferran. The farmer and his daughter had frozen at the exchange, their mouths slack and eyes widening. Their disbelief at what they were witnessing grew with every heartbeat. ‘These people have been made to think that it’s right that The Raven should take from them anything they want because of who they are. That’s never been our way. It’s a betrayal of all that we stand for. Someone needs to be taught a lesson.’
‘We were mercenaries too,’ said Denser.
‘Yeah, and we were paid a fair price to fight. A good price because we were the best. People who hired us understood the rules. But this . . . this is robbery and I’m not having it.’
He moved towards the door.
‘Hirad, where do you think you’re going?’
‘I’m going to demonstrate who The Raven really are. Back me up, why don’t you?’
‘I know the hurt you feel,’ said The Unknown. ‘I feel it too. We all do. But we do things a certain way. That, as you are so fond of telling us, is why we’re still alive. And now it’s your turn to play by the rules. Sit down and listen. Whatever we do, we do as The Raven.’
The Unknown didn’t have to raise his voice to command complete authority. Hirad paused, nodded and returned to his seat.
They did not emerge until dusk. The last vestiges of the day’s light clung to the tops of the valley but the village was cast largely in shadow. The Raven had talked while the afternoon waned, not letting Ferran light lanterns or a fire in his kitchen. They had seen the impostors patrolling the streets, still on horseback. And from the rear windows of the house had watched them trot past regularly. While not exactly prisoners, it was clear The Raven were not to be given licence to roam Cuff at will.
The leader had visited them once, to check they were settled in and to ask after the whereabouts of the elves. The Unknown had simply shrugged and intimated they had continued on southwards. Without evidence to the contrary, the man had withdrawn.
Ferran had confirmed that there were indeed seven of them, the number popularly associated with The Raven. Hirad wasn’t sure they had convinced him that they were the genuine article. What he did know was that the moment they left the house, Ferran was running for his neighbours to set the rumour spreading, his daughter heading in the opposite direction. They were fulfilling expectations perfectly.
The Unknown led them, Hirad to his right, Darrick and Thraun left. Erienne and Denser were behind them. The track through the village was quiet but the four men who had been paying particular attention to the farmhouse now rode in from front and back, intercepting them as they reached the street. Thraun dropped back to cover any threat from the rear.