If only my childhood had allowed me to grow up so trusting and innocent, he lamented. But then, I wouldn’t be on the verge of unlimited power and wealth, either.
Glancing up, Nizar judged the time near sunset. The thick gray cloud cover still obscured the sun. It seemed a good omen. He had feared they wouldn’t make it, and have to spend another miserable night camped in the forest.
The encampment was roughly halfway between the village and Treversax – two days hard ride. More than enough time had passed for Tane and his friends to reach the area, even if they had to hide from and evade pursuit. So Nizar believed them to be in the area, somewhere. He and Jessy had ridden hard both days and a good piece of the night to get here in time, though in truth she didn’t understand that. She was following where he led, almost without question.
Soon enough he reached the High Priest’s pavilion. All camps had one, for when the High Priest visited. When the High Priest was not in residence, the pavilion belonged to the commander of the host. Nizar knew that Mogens was in Treversax, attending Dakar. When their God decided a certain army or front needed the High Priest’s personal supervision, then Mogens was usually transported there instantaneously by Dakar. After two days and a night in the saddle, Nizar envied Mogens that luxury.
A pair of towering men guarded the entrance. Both stood at least a head taller than Nizar, with fierce faces and long red beards. They looked like Tyrians, but their accents proclaimed them to be Thanirs like Mogens.
“Who is in charge of this army?” Nizar said as he dismounted.
“Sister Arlene, Your Grace,” one guard said. “She is inside planning tomorrow’s march with her officers.”
Sister Arlene was someone Nizar knew. They had become priests on the same day, for the same reason. In fact, both were “converted” thieves.
Entering the pavilion, Nizar paused to bow to the small altar before moving toward the group standing around a map table. Sister Arlene was talking, her rich soprano filling the air with confidence. Nizar envied her natural leadership abilities, her ability to inspire those around her to put in that little extra effort. Unlike Mogens, she did it without threats of punishment.
Seeing him approach, she stared in astonishment for a heartbeat. He found the look on her naked face amusing.
“I thought Mogens would’ve cut out your black heart long before now,” she said, though grinned wide afterwards. “Welcome, Nizar al-Sayyid, Brother of Dakar. Are you the new second-in-command I requested?”
The stony silence that met that question, along with the nervous demeanor of the other priests, said something unpleasant had taken her last deputy. Nizar suppressed a desire to glance at the altar, looking for fresh blood stains.
“Since I haven’t any idea what you are talking about, I guess not,” Nizar said. “I am on a mission of utmost importance. Dakar Himself sent me on it.”
At the mention of Dakar’s name, the priests all made the sign of their God.
“I see you’re rising up in the world,” she said, alone unfazed. “Meanwhile, I’m bound in servitude to this lumbering beast of an army.”
“Ha! I can see you are broken hearted and depressed beyond all hope,” he said. “I can’t imagine the terrible burden of absolute command! And such a command!”
“We must all make sacrifices for our Divine Master,” she said, chuckling with him. “But seriously, O Prince of the Desert, what brings you to my humble tent? Is there anything we can do to assist your cause?”
“As a matter of fact, there is, O Queen of the Forest,” he said.
Nizar told of Tane, and the threat. He then told of Tane’s escape, and possible route. And finally, he discussed his plans for Jessy. The other priests were full of ideas, with many of them being from the surrounding lands.
“We will be extra vigilant, Nizar,” Arlene said. “If you want, we can send out patrols in all directions.”
“Yes, that would be appreciated,” he said, though with more reluctance now. Arlene was ambitious. Maybe as ambitious as himself. But he was committed now, and he didn’t see any way for her to take sole credit for the capture of Tane’s little troupe. “I’m thinking that since so many of your priests know the land, perhaps they can lead some of the patrols along possible routes around your army.”
A calculating looked crept into Sister Arlene’s beautiful eyes. Nizar was well-pleased with himself. His suggestion, if it worked, meant that he could take most of the credit, even though her offer of patrols should’ve been enough to secure the capture of Tane.
“Excellent idea,” she said, a grudging respect in her eyes. “If they find your quarry, then we will be alerted immediately by the priest.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Nizar said. With a brief prayer, the priest could alert the entire encampment if he chose. Priests and zombies in the thousands could pounce upon Tane and company. “But I must maintain my disguise with the swordsmith’s cousin, just in case we fail to find them tonight. So, if you’d be so kind as to provide a tent nearby...”
“My pleasure,” Arlene said, signaling for an acolyte to make such arrangements. “I’ll have your tent pitched nearby, in case we get lucky tonight.”
Nizar grinned. “Oh, I feel very lucky. It’ll take a miracle for them to get past me now.”
Chapter 67
With nightfall, everyone quietly saddled their mounts. Tane’s body argued for abandoning the horses and continuing on afoot, especially that region between his waist and knees. But reality won out, condemning him to another grueling trek. Thankfully, the first part of their trip tonight would be either leading the horses or riding slow and careful through the dark forest.
“Everyone ready?” Tane asked. “Good. No point or rear guard tonight. Quinn will lead, followed by Joelle, myself, Armin and Raven. Any questions?”
“You’re not going to scout ahead?” Armin said.
“No. We need to stay together in case we’re ambushed.”
“Or in case we stumble across someone worth waylaying,” Raven said, and sounding as if she really looked forward to doing just that.
“I have a spell prepared,” Joelle said. “If we find an appropriate victim, then my spell will incapacitate him without the need for a loud fight.”
“Witches and wizards take all the fun out of life,” Raven grumbled.
“Remember our rally points,” Tane continued. “Quinn will be pointing them out as we go. But once we reach the camp and start around, our rally point is the first hilltop outside the camp along the road to Treversax. If we’re separated, head that way the best you can. Those that remain will continue on from there.”
With that sobering thought, they followed Quinn through the forest. Soon they turned onto a game trail that only Quinn could see with any reliability. But it was heading in the right direction, and it was doubtful a zombie would notice it in broad daylight, much less at night.
The wind was still whipping up the forest canopy, covering any noise of their passage. Tane was grateful, for it seemed to his ears that he was making as much noise as the horses. His four companions all seemed able to glide through the dark forest as quietly as ghosts. All the twigs they managed to avoid, he stepped on with loud cracks.
The enemy camp laid spread out before them when they topped a low hill. It was a vast expanse of open country, with only a scattering of trees and copses to be seen. Tane had never seen so many campfires in one place, not even during the siege of Kestsax. The camp stretched almost from horizon to horizon. From his position it appeared to stop at the tree line atop the next row of hilltops.
My luck seems to be holding, he thought with a grimace.
The camp was wider than it was deep, so naturally they had to go around it. If they had the black and gray uniforms of Dakar’s mercenaries, then they might consider bluffing their way straight through. Though the thought scared him witless to even consider, it would’ve made Raven happy.
Quinn turned east, toward the nearest corner. The others follow
ed his lead.
The sound of men moving at the base of the hill brought them to a halt. Tane strained to hear, even as he hugged his horse’s head and stroked him reassuringly. From the noise being made, he figured it to be either zombies or a mounted patrol. Then a horse neighed below, answered by Tane’s own mount.
“Who is up there!?” a voice called. “Declare yourself!”
The sound of cursing men, arms and armor creaking and clanking, started up the hill. Four sets of eyes turned to Tane for his command. Run or fight? It was his decision, and his first real command decision. The lives of his friends turned on him making the right decision. Then something Corporal Pendar had once said, during a discussion concerning the chain of command and the possibility one of them might gain command through attrition, came to Tane. Just make a decision, and stand by it. Your first thought is most likely to be the correct one.
Tane decided.
He signaled and they all tied their horses and pulled swords. As one they melted into the forest, heading down to meet the enemy. They moved abreast, five to ten paces apart as if on a skirmish line.
They met the others halfway down the hill.
Joelle’s left hand thrust out, the shining bow of energy appearing in her grasp. As her fingers touched the bowstring, a shining arrow appeared already nocked. She quickly drew and sent the arrow into the thick of the mercenaries. One man dropped with a gasp.
Armin struck next, throwing a dagger that found its mark in a rider’s throat. A heartbeat later Joelle cast a spell that crackled through the forest, sending all their fine hairs to dancing.
The riders let out a startled yell, and charged up the hill.
“They have wards protecting them,” Joelle hissed as she called up the magical bow again. “Maybe even a priest.”
Suddenly, a horseman loomed over Tane, his sword raised high for a deadly stroke. Tane thrust for the man’s belly, but a sudden side-step by the horse made him miss. Instead, he struck the saddlebow, which deflected the point into the horse’s neck. The horse screamed shrilly, rearing up as it did and causing the rider to miss in his stroke. Tane felt the blade pass a bare finger’s breadth from his face.
“Shining Gods!” Raven cried. “There must be a thousand of them!”
Unlikely, but Tane saw that the line of horsemen stretched away in the dark distance. However many there were, it was one big patrol. Too big.
“Scatter!” Tane cried.
~**~**~
Quinn bellowed as loudly as he could after Tane’s order for everyone to scatter. He had to give them all a chance to escape. Darting down the column of horsemen, Quinn lashed out at men and horses alike. Mostly he just tried to wound, knowing the screams and thrashing about of the wounded men and horses would be more distracting than dead bodies. He had a dozen horses bucking wildly in no time.
Looking around quickly, he found all his friends still engaged with the enemy. He could see them all clearly with his superior night vision, especially with the snow reflecting what little light there was and providing a white backdrop. Tane fought determinedly, probably trying to do the same thing he was doing – be a distraction and give everyone else a chance to get away. Joelle and Armin were side-by-side, wielding their swords with startling efficiency, working their way toward the safety of thick underbrush. They worked well as a team, far better than they functioned as part of a squad. Raven was the first to leave, stealing a horse to make good her escape.
Joelle and Armin vanished, and then Tane made for safety when the horsemen pulled back to rally. Seeing his friends gone, Quinn raced through the forest. At least ten horsemen followed him. Shouted orders and counter-orders reverberated through the night forest, telling a tale of confusion. No victory cries spoke volumes.
“Sweet Mother protect!” he cried, turning on the first horseman to catch up with him.
Kicking the horse in the mouth, he sidestepped it and thrust his sword into the surprised mercenary’s lower belly, below his cuirass. Jerking the blade free, he turned and dashed across the path of another horseman. The horse turned aside in surprise, forcing the rider to turn all his attention to staying in the saddle. The distraction was his last, as Quinn leapt up on the beast’s hindquarters and drew his sword across the rider’s throat, slicing all the way to the spine.
Opening up a long, shallow wound across the withers of the dying man’s horse, Quinn darted for the darkest part of the forest as the beast screamed like a spited whore and began bucking and kicking. The other riders became cautious, allowing him to outdistance them easily. Soon he came to the outskirts of the encampment.
The mercenary sentry that hailed him didn’t live long enough to regret his lack of vigilance. His uniform fit well enough.
Chapter 68
Raven ducked under a horse, and sank her dagger into the rider’s upper thigh before slicing open his leg from hip to knee. Then pulling his foot out of the stirrup, she stepped into it and surged up. Her fist took the stunned man in the neck, toppling him out of the saddle. With a wild scream, she kicked the horse into a dead run straight into the dark forest.
Men and women cursed and yelled behind her. The sound of pursuit quickly followed. She prayed her friends escaped as well. Then prayed she made good her escape when she spotted shadowy movement to her front left.
Glancing up at the cloud-sheathed heavens, she wondered if the Gods could even hear her prayers. She doubted it possible so deep within Dakar’s domain. The Old One’s were territorial, preferring absolute power over a region to sharing power throughout the world, so had ways to dampening the power of other Gods in Their domain.
Thus distracted, she was surprised by a low limb that swept her from the saddle. She hit the ground hard, losing the rest of her wind. The sounds of galloping horses were quickly approaching from three directions.
Scrambling the best she could on all fours, teary-eyed and gasping for breath, she just made it to cover as a dozen horsemen rumbled past. She couldn’t hear anything else over her own labored gasps. But her wind returned about the time two other groups of mercenaries joined the first, and rode off in the direction her stolen horse had gone.
“I’ll have to leave that little accident out of my tale,” she muttered, glaring at the low limb while gently probing the spot just below her breasts where the limb hit her. Nothing felt broken. “Now what?”
She looked around. It was all dark, snowy forest. To the south and downhill, she could see thousands of campfires peeking through the forest. She wasn’t sure how far she’d gotten before losing her mount, but figured herself to be near the road to Treversax.
“Guess I’ll just walk through the camp like I own it,” she said, grinning at the thought of Quinn’s face when she told him what she did.
A quick inventory showed her down to her last weapon, a throwing dagger in her left boot. For a bare instant intense bitterness threatened over the loss of Tasheba. There would be a reckoning for that slight. So, taking the dagger in hand, she started down the hill and straight for the camp. Sooner than she expected, Raven was faced with a dozen sentries calling for her to declare herself.
She briefly toyed with the idea of telling the truth, just to see their faces. Bad idea. Not conducive to living out the night. She rejected it, though such bravado was near and dear to her heart.
“I am a messenger,” she said in her best imitation of a zombie’s monotone. “I have a message for the commander.”
“You do?” one of them said. He sounded entirely too happy to her mind. That didn’t bode well. “Is it about those three men and two women Sister Arlene wants found?”
Raven’s heart hammered. They know about us! Shining Gods, they’re waiting for us!
“Yes,” she said, though her head spun dizzily.
Tane was in grave danger. As were Quinn and the Vikon couple. She had to do something to save them. But what could she do? She didn’t even know where they were, if any of them escaped alive or were captives.
“Have t
hey been captured?” he asked.
He stepped out of the darkness, a dark shape to her right front. How many more were surrounding her? Her throat tightened and she fought a tremble in her hands. There was no way of knowing if he was being honestly inquisitive, or was trying to lure her into a trap. Then more soldiers moved into view, all staring intently at her in the night shadows.
Ashtar! Give me strength, she silently prayed.
“I do not know,” she said. “I must go. I must deliver my message.”
“Oh, yes. Of course,” he said, waving her through.
Raven tried her best to move as woodenly as the zombies. She walked within two steps of the soldier that questioned her. The hardest part was just breathing, expecting a sword thrust in the back at any second. The men seemed satisfied, if they even noticed her passing. Most of them were busy speculating, even wagering, on what had happened.
Idiots! she thought, slanting a scornful glance at their backs. The riders didn’t have any zombies with them. And if they did, they were riding.
Of course, the incident would show her superior intelligence in her tale. How people would laugh at those buffoons! And admire her daring!
Once she was safely inside the camp, Raven headed toward a dark squad tent to await returning soldiers. The best she could figure, any troops returning with prisoners would pass near her position. In such a quiet camp, almost devoid of mounted soldiers at the moment, she should be able to spot the spectacle of any patrol returning with prisoners. If no prisoners passed her way, she would assume everyone escaped and were heading for their rally point. But if someone had been taken, then she would see to their rescue.
Slipping inside the tent, she paused to allow her eyes to adjust. That’s when a lantern flared up.
Raven found herself staring at a man and woman. Neither looked to be zombies. Then she noticed the two piles of gray robes. They all stared open-mouthed at each other for a long moment.
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