The Burden of Ash and Blood - 6. Chapter 6

The western afternoon sun kept them warm despite the cool wind at their backs. They’d left the forest behind an hour earlier, alleviating the apprehension Sam endured while keeping vigil over their surroundings. The remaining highwaymen appeared to have abandoned their two comrades to their fate. Farmland marked the final approach toward Blakenhall, and sure enough, in the distance lay a broad expanse of dwellings and structures. They nestled upon a broad slope, curiously unprotected by any form of wall. Blakenhall Keep—a stone fortress in its own right—stood perched on a northern rise, overlooking the town’s clustered architecture.

The carriage rider, still leading the convoy, turned right and rode through the keep’s arched portcullis into a private courtyard. Guardsmen approached with a hustle, mostly ignoring the carriage and instead converging upon Graeme, Sam, and their two captives.

“Halt! Who goes there?” demanded a guard carrying a halberd.

Duncan emerged from the carriage, waving his arms to calm the agitated men. “It’s fine, they’re with us. These two”—he pointed at Sam and Graeme—“protected us from these ruffians. They tried to rob us.”

The guard offered a crisp salute. “We’ll deal with them, Master Ambresh.” He then barked orders at other guardsmen to marshal the two highwaymen into custody.

Meanwhile, Lyllia disembarked the carriage and stood beside her husband, who held her close.

“At last,” Duncan said, “with all that behind us, we can finally introduce ourselves properly. I’m Duncan Ambresh, cousin to Baron Egerton.”

Sam greeted them with a deferential nod. “My lord. My lady. I’m Sam, and this is Ser Graeme.”

Duncan and Lyllia chuckled politely. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Duncan said, “but there’s no need to be overly formal with us. I’m only his cousin. Do you know what that makes us in the hierarchy?”

Sam looked to Graeme for a reply, but he remained silent, so Sam shook his head timidly.

“We’re nobody special,” Duncan replied, then rolled his eyes as he continued. “Well, I suppose we get special treatment here at the keep, more so than any commoner, but please don’t feel the need to bow and scrape. Certainly don’t call us lord and lady.”

“We ought to be bowing to you,” Lyllia said, handing Sam a plain leather purse, ringing with the familiar jingle of coin. “Thank you both for coming to our rescue.”

“It was our pleasure,” Graeme replied.

Lyllia’s gaze travelled the length of Graeme’s armoured form. “I must apologise, Ser Graeme. Your crest is unfamiliar to me.” She spoke of the soaring red hawk emblazoned upon his tabard.

“I am a knight-errant, hailing from the east. The land of Rathium.”

“And you, his trusty squire?” Duncan asked Sam.

A faint smile touched Sam’s lips, and he traded a private glance with Graeme, wondering whether he would ever shed the likeness of a squire. When neither offered a reply, Duncan awkwardly continued.

“And where were you headed?”

“The city of Langscott,” Graeme replied.

“Ah, you’re nearly there. Just a little over three days’ travel.”

“Very good—”

“But please, you must stay tonight as our guests.”

“Oh yes, please stay,” Lyllia said, clasping her hands together hopefully.

Graeme’s frame tightened, his back straighter still. “We thank you for the invitation, but I’m sure the town will extend fine accommodations.”

“And I should add,” Sam interjected, “that I don’t want to mislead you. I’m not his squire. I’m merely a blacksmith and his travelling companion.”

Duncan smiled in an attempt to dispel their discomfort. “Sam, as I said, my wife and I, strictly speaking, are commoners as well. The baron is a gracious man, and I have no doubt he would readily welcome you both in thanks for your service today.”

Graeme’s stance continued to exude trepidation. He likely wished to avoid the trouble of explaining the refusal to remove his helmet, although to Duncan and Lyllia’s credit, they appeared untroubled by Graeme’s inaction so far. While Sam was disappointed at the prospect of turning them down—lodging in a baron’s stone keep was, in itself, a rare privilege—he couldn’t imagine how Graeme would manage to eat supper without causing offence.

“We must decline,” Sam said, “but thank you.”

Graeme sidled up and laid a gauntleted hand on Sam’s shoulder, silently conveying his thanks with a squeeze. “We ought to take our leave.”

Duncan scoffed in confusion, but then met their eyes with reluctant acceptance. “As you wish. Fare well and safe travels.”

“May the road be kind to you,” Lyllia said.

After extending their thanks, Sam and Graeme mounted up and headed toward the portcullis. But as they passed the threshold, Duncan’s call caught their attention. They turned in their saddles to find the man approaching with a raised hand.

“I will confess, there was another purpose in asking you to stay this night.” He bit his lip in hesitation. “A request.”

“Very well,” Graeme replied. “State your petition, Master Ambresh.”

“I wish to hire you, if you are available.”

“That would depend on the service required.”

Duncan wrung his hands. “Well, you see, my wife and I are here at the request of the baron. He tasked me to rid Blakenhall of a . . . blight, I suppose you could call it.”

“We are not healers,” Graeme said.

“Well, no, it’s not a disease.”

Graeme dismounted. “Please, speak plainly.”

“There is a substance, illicit and dangerous, plaguing the town. They call it gryphon ash.”

“What does it do?” Sam asked while following Graeme’s lead, lowering himself to stand face‑to‑face with the man.

“It fills the partaker with a kind of euphoria.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Sam said with a chuckle.

While they spoke, Lyllia drew near. “What my husband fails to explain is how it is dangerous. Whoever takes it loses all sense of fear. People have died from this . . . lack of fear.”

“I don’t understand,” Sam said.

“A fletcher shot his friend in the eye while they were both under the influence of this substance. The friend put an apple on his head, telling the fletcher to shoot it.”

“There’ve been other incidents,” Duncan said. “People putting themselves in harm’s way without a care.”

“And what would you have us do?” Graeme asked.

“I need to know the source, where this gryphon ash is coming from. The trouble is, everyone knows me.”

“What about the town Watch?” Sam asked.

“Everything shuts down at the sniff of the Watch. I need someone inconspicuous.” He looked at Sam. “Someone like you.”

Sam took an involuntary step back. “Oh.”

“Watching you deal with that highwayman proved you can handle yourself.”

Whether or not Duncan was right, Sam remained woefully uncertain of his fighting prowess, and especially his ability to track a trader of harmful substances. He peered at Graeme, assuming he would turn down the job offer on his behalf, but the knight only stared back, waiting for an answer.

“To be clear,” Duncan continued, “I don’t expect you to bring in the persons responsible. What I seek is tangible proof of where they operate. Once discovered, report to me, and your task will be fulfilled.”

“Can you give us a moment?” Sam asked Duncan and Lyllia.

“Of course.”

Once they were out of earshot, Sam whispered to Graeme, “What do you think?”

“The decision is yours to make, but rest assured I will remain at your side. Are you comfortable with such an assignment?”

Sam scoffed. “No. Where would I even start?”

Graeme’s helmet tilted as he considered. “We would enquire where this substance is procured. Then we acquire it ourselves and, with due subtlety, follow the one who supplies it.”

“You make it sound easy.”

Graeme gestured toward the dwellings in the distance. “Blakenhall is a modest town. From this high vantage, we can see its borders. There are only so many places these merchants can hide.”

“There’s something else to consider. We don’t know how long this could take. You wanted to reach Langscott before the snow comes.”

“It is merely a three-day ride,” Graeme said, then regarded the clear sky. “We have plenty of time yet.”

Sam fell to a whisper again. “I’m a little confused. I expected you’d say no to this immediately.”

“Why?”

Sam shrugged. “It seems dangerous.”

Graeme rested both hands on Sam’s shoulders to relax them. “I am not your parent. I am your friend. This choice is yours to make, and I will support whatever you decide.”

“But you really think I can do this?”

The blackened eye-slit held Sam’s gaze. “Yes. And if it helps in your decision, I can speak from experience this job would pay you handsomely.”

Sam frowned. “But you’d be helping me. We’d split the money.”

“If you wish.”

“Of course. We talked about this. Sharing our resources. We’re in this together, aren’t we?”

“You may guide our course in this task, yet my counsel and aid are yours without question.”

Those words brought a smile to Sam’s lips, and Graeme nodded to let his own smile be known.

“Master Ambresh?” Sam called out.

Duncan, who’d kept a respectful distance with Lyllia at his side, glanced over with a hopeful twinkle in his eye. “Do you agree to take on my request?”

Sam inclined his head once in agreement.

“Delightful. I will have a contract written up promptly. Come back after first light and we can finalise the details.” Duncan shifted to the other foot, likely on the verge of suggesting they stay the night again, but after a cursory glimpse at Graeme, decided against it. “I bid you both a good evening.”

Sam and Graeme mounted their horses once more, surveying the town while descending the keep’s hill. Late-afternoon sun etched the streets with lengthening shade. Without any looming mountains, the view struck Sam as incomplete. He had grown used to those Rothgoraian peaks. Instead, farmers’ fields flanked the edges of the town. While he absorbed the scene before him, unease gathered in his chest at the job he’d just agreed to. Duncan saw something in him, as did Graeme. Sam wanted to trust their intuition, yet that belief did not come easily. Even so, he had to continue forward because hesitation was no longer an option.