Blood of Quartz

Chapter 5

Berrigan Keep

Dark, sooty stains coated the outside of the Keep in various areas where people had burned fires too close to the stone. Erik touched the wall briefly as they wove their way through the crush of people, the dull grey an imposing site. It was ominous, but also a symbol of relief, food and a place to rest out of the chill of the forest.

His back ached, the heaviness of the sword off his hip making him adjust his gait. His hip was sore from the contact as well. He'd be used to it eventually, but two days in, he took it off every chance he got.

"I hate comin' here," someone muttered. "Smells like piss and death."

Grumbles around him echoed the sentiment. He couldn't fault them for it, it was so far removed from their village, ringed with sunny fields and shady trees, the breeze free to flow through both. The mud and stench of people here was overwhelming.

"Aye but we'll be past it soon," another voice echoed. "Not long before they have us marching, I suspect."

Erik looked up at the top of Berrigan Keep. He'd only been here a few times with his father and brother when they were delivering hogs. They never got further into the mess of the place than the butcher, but Erik remembered staring up at the keep just the same way, while his father and brother haggled price, the hogs squealing and grunting as they were herded into a wicket behind the small building serving as the slaughterhouse. He could hear the pennants at the top of each corner snapping in the breeze that day, and once again, there they were, waving in the wind, heedless of the scrum below.

He was hailed by an armoured man as they finally arrived at the inner gate, and they stopped as one.

"You. State yer business."

It was a curt demand, and Niall bristled behind him.

"Easy. Just a routine greeting, you'd be the same," Erik whispered and Niall grunted but relaxed slightly.

"We're here to declare for Lord Berrigan. We were sent a summons," he then said, speaking for the group.

The soldier looked him over critically, then around him to the men gathered behind. "Where are you from?" he barked, with less harshness than before.

"River Bend," Erik answered back, perfunctory.

"In there, look for the grey tent with the wolf standard." the soldier nodded, took a head count, and waved them through the gate.

Once through, the smell of the streets behind them faded. In their place, sharp sounds of men, horses, and steel on a whetstone echoed. They rounded a corner and Erik noted the stacks of weapons, soldiers standing and lounging along the walls, their armour and packings piled high beside them. Cooking fires snapped in between them, and they were eyed as they passed through the inter-connected courtyards that ringed the main tower.

"Tight quarters," murmured Cerrin. "Looks like we're in for a long fortnight here, if we stay that long."

The tent sat in the middle of a larger courtyard leading towards some gardens. Chestnut trees ringed the edge, branches snaking out over the tops of the walls, the cobblestones uneven and pushed up from years of frost heave and wandering roots. The birds were flitting in and out of holes in the far wall, and despite the noise of the people everywhere, Erik rather liked it. The confines were a refuge, peaceful amidst the chaos of the gathering.

"I'll go in, you lot stay here."

"I'll come with you," Niall said.

Erik and his friend eyed one another. Together they had faced every trial in their short lives, and he knew that this was Niall's way of fighting off the fear, as much as it was about them doing it together. More than ever, he appreciated his oldest friend.