A Quick Sun Rises

by Thomas Rath

  The two lines collided reducing their battle cries to rasps of steel and grunts of effort mixed with the screams of the wounded and dying. Soon the sweet smell of new grass and horse hide was mixed with the iron scent of blood and sweat giving the air a tang that stuck in the throat and nostrils. Though out numbered, these men were not fresh recruits having been vetted in war many times before, enjoying the kill almost as much as the enemy. Sharp teeth bit into horse flesh but was answered by razor hooves that lashed out while man fought goblin for the advantage. Bloodlust swept over the men driving them to greater strength as they pushed back against their foes, piling up their kills with such speed as to intimidate the enemy and force them back again toward the massive numbers of the approaching army. Though the men were in a battle rage and wanted to follow, they were still disciplined enough to hold back and retreat on Jack’s word. The rest of the army was getting too close, and he was not willing to sacrifice such men to the slaughter that sheer numbers would visit upon them.

  Kicking his mount, Jack led them away, leaving the field littered with the enemy, though not without some casualties of their own. Ranse galloped up next to him, his shirt covered in blood, his sleeve torn revealing a seeping wound on his arm. Jace was next to him, a slight smile pulling at his normally stone face. This was his element and he relished in it. A few of the wolgs and their riders gave chase for a brief moment but quickly slowed when they became aware that their numbers had been cut in half. Their courage was counted numerically not by a strong will or heart. Once they realized that the men outnumbered them, the fight almost immediately drained from them. They were natural cowards that preyed solely on the weak.

  “They’re stopping,” Ranse yelled, pulling up next to Jack. “Is it enough?” he asked as they motioned to the men and pulled their horses back, turning to watch as the army halted, it’s massive line turning back to the road that would take them to Bedler’s Keep.

  “I don’t know,” Jack answered, “but we had better make sure. There is still yet another long stretch of wood before they reach the keep and the city that sits at its feet. We best make for it quickly and see if we can’t pull them up again. We’ll know better then how the others fair in getting the people in.”

  * * *

  Jne took a long drink from the water skin, scanning the terrain as she did so. The water soothed the dryness as it ran like silk down her throat. The day was hot and the terrain rough and dusty drying her mouth while wetting her clothes with sweat. They had taken refuge in the shade under one of the sparse trees that dotted the area along the road northwest of Bedler’s Keep. Though anxious to overtake the remaining miles to the keep Soyak had convinced her that a slower pace would be best, thus allowing their Tjal kin time to come to their senses and catch up before they reached the castle. She’d argued, not wanting to miss any of the fighting, but more so because she missed Thane. In the end, Soyak’s persistent logic and constant nagging had won out.

  Passing the water skin to Soyak, Jne turned her attention to the road from which they’d come. “Do you think they follow?” she asked without need for explanation.

  Soyak shrugged while drinking freely from the skin. “I cannot say, child, but I have faith that they will eventually come to the right decision. We are not so lost as to ignore the itch of a fight for too long. Whether they catch us or not, I think they will come.”

  Jne sighed, trying, without success, to suppress the thought that if the Tjal would come sooner or late, why then were she and Soyak traveling so slow? Let them catch up as they may.

  Soyak smiled at her knowingly. “I too was impatient when I was young like you,” the old woman said, a fire igniting in her eyes as she remembered. “What grand days they were throwing myself into battle without thought for any save the glory that would be mine. And I will have that glory again,” she said, her voice strong, belying the age that had ravished her body. “But…” she let the word hang in the air, snuffing the blaze in her eyes and heart. “I have learned that sometimes it is better to wait for the betterment of all.”

  Jne glared at the piece of grass she’d pulled from the ground and was now shredding. “May age never take me,” she cursed under her breath, though Soyak’s ears picked up the near insult.

  Instead of taking offense though, she laughed. “You may very well get your wish,” she said. “And then where would your man be? Though I seek a glorious death as much as any, glory is not shared like a bed or a life with the one you love. It is a grand and selfish endeavor.”

  Jne suddenly regretted what she’d said. She didn’t want to hear what Soyak was saying. She didn’t fear death, and the thought of giving her life in glorious battle was almost greater than anything else she could ever wish for. But then Thane’s face came to her mind and she felt the hole that had been left in her soul since she’d left him. It was all too confusing. Wasn’t death in battle the ultimate that all Tjal sought after? But what of the man she would marry? Was not a life well lived with him just as glorious? She needed to change the subject. The thoughts and feelings that were suddenly bombarding her were giving her a headache. “And what of you,” she finally asked, turning the conversation back on Soyak. “Was there one for whom you gave up the glory of battle or are you just too good to lose?”

  Soyak stared at her for a long moment, her eyes suddenly sad. “His name was Karle.”

  Jne was surprised by his name. Certainly not a Tjal name.

  “No,” she confirmed, her eyes taking on a glossy look, “he was not Tjal. He was a blacksmith’s son from Tigford, but he didn’t fit there. He was a man born of human parents but with the heart of the Tjal. He hated the sea, and the forge even more, though I can tell you it certainly favored him.” Soyak smiled at the red that suddenly flushed Jne’s face. “It was so long ago,” she continued, the mist returning to her eyes, “but I can still see him and the unruly locks of light hair that touched his large shoulders. I knew that moment I saw him that he would be mine.”

  Jne just barely controlled the gasp that tried to escape her lips. Thane had been the same for her, though she had originally thought him Tjal. When she’d found him unconscious on the dead plains north of the Mogolth she’d felt the certainty and rightness of it as much as the feeling of her sword in her hand.

  “How did you meet?” Jne asked in an almost whisper.

  “It was in the square at the market in Kabu where you regained your honor. He had come with his father to sell and buy. I wasn’t even supposed to be there that day; one of the other girls was with fever so I had to fill in for her. And I have cursed and blessed her for it ever since.”

  “What happened?” Jne pressed, suddenly very interested in the old woman’s story.

  “We met and fell in love. One moment I was haggling prices with his father and the next I rested my eyes on him and they refused to look anywhere else.” Soyak paused as if reliving the day, her face taking on a faraway look with the slightest smile curving her lips.

  “And did you marry?” Jne prodded, the frustration evident in her voice at the constant pauses.

  Soyak’s face went slack. “No. I killed him.”

  Jne felt tears coming to her eyes to match those that suddenly rolled down Soyak’s wrinkled face. “He left his father’s care and employ that very night,” she explained. “He seemed to find the same thing in me as I had found in him. The time we had together seemed so short,” she whispered, remembering. “But the day came when he either needed to become one of us or return to his father. And, by fate’s cruelest demand, the lot fell to me to test him at steel.”

  Jne could not keep back the tears now. She had been the one who tested Thane but it had been by her own choice. Once she’d found out he was not Tjal, she knew that there was no chance for them. And though she felt he was hers from the beginning, she felt it best that she be the one to test him. She tried those long days to hate him, to belittle him and see weakness in him; certain he could not possibly pass the first tests. And when he did m
ake it to steel she had hoped that he would beat her and kill her so she would not be forced to live such a lonely life without him. She never thought he would spare her and shame her as he had. It had almost broken her, but she could never bring herself to despise him for it as she’d worried she might. And now they would have their whole lives to be together.

  “I cut him down with the first swing,” Soyak said, breaking through Jne’s personal reminiscence. “I’ll never forget the smile on his face as he bled out in front of me.” Soyak suddenly wipe at the tears that washed down her face making Jne aware of her own. “After that, I threw myself into any fight I could find but the glory of battle had suddenly lost its glamour. It couldn’t replace the void I felt inside.” She stopped and looked at Jne who tried to look away and hide the emotion that had bubbled out of her unbidden. Soyak smiled. “And that is why I am an old woman all alone. And that is also why I embraced the chance for this last fight. I will give battle one final chance to bring glory to my name, one final chance to take me back to the young man that slew my heart.”

  Jne looked at her calloused hands where her swords fit so perfectly. Everything in her life had been about glory and honor until she met Thane. Was it right for her to give up her life, her people, her culture, for love? Was the warrior’s path so cruel and exacting in demanding the ultimate sacrifice for a life to be of worth? More importantly, would she give it all up for Thane’s love? She couldn’t deny who she was, but could she be more than that? Could she wed the two and be happy in her own skin?

  Soyak’s voice interrupted the debate raging in her mind and she realized that, for now, she didn’t need to decide fore the choice was not given her as of yet. War was forced upon them and it would find her in its midst delivering death to the enemy.

  “You see,” Soyak smiled, pointing back along the road they had recently traveled. “They’ve come.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Wess cursed at the casual pace taken by the Calandrian refugees as they swaggered their way toward the keep. No amount of threatening or force could get them to move any swifter as the line had come to an almost complete standstill. The fact that Bedler’s Keep was created for defense and not for ease of entrance made the situation even worse. The only way in was toward the back of the peak that held the lofty castle above the stretching plain. One long, narrow stairway circled the mountain on its steep climb to the top. Wedged between great rocks that seemed to have broken away from the rest of the keep’s base was the entrance that was only wide enough to admit a single wagon’s width. The large oak doors that held fast the entry had been thrown open to admit the refugees but most were either too tired, too ignorant, or just plain too daft to rush through to the only place that offered any amount of safety. Few, if any, had seen for themselves the army that nipped at their heels and would soon be howling for their blood, creating a malaise in the refugees at having been forced from Calandra in the first place.

  Wess checked the sun’s position. It had been four hours since the first person entered the keep and the line hadn’t seemed to get any shorter. The whole process had been further disrupted by the townsfolk adding to the confusion while jostling for position, but at least they had responded quickly and with fervor. Wess spat from atop his horse and glared at the people as they shuffled pass. At this rate it would be well past nightfall before they got them all safely in, if they even had such a luxury of time. He glanced at the distant tree line that marked the last sheltered area before the keep and felt instinctively that those woods would soon heave a froth of trolls, orcs and goblins; then he would see these people move, though he feared that by then it would be too late to save them.

  Moving his gaze northward, he felt a sudden jolt of trepidation as the distinct form of a dust cloud began to appear and grow. From this distance, he couldn’t make out the shapes that were creating it, but his nerves prickled with the promise of a coming fight. And whether they were friend or foe, he needed to raise the alarm that might, in fact, be the answer to get Calandra’s lazy people moving. Turning his mount toward the keep he kicked his heals sending his horse into a quick gallop. Lowering his head, he pressed it harder to reach the front of the line where he hoped to place the proper amount of fear in them. To have done so at the back of the line would have only invited greater mayhem and the likely trampling death of far too many innocents.

  Passing the soldiers spaced along the line to keep order, Wess finally reached the front where four men were stationed to try to keep the line moving up the narrow entrance. A merchant was stopped with his wagon, screaming at one of the guards who had confiscated some of the man’s goods which had previously been ordered left behind. Wess, wanted to lop the man’s head off knowing all too well that this was the type of thing that had kept the entry into the keep at a snail’s crawl. The large heap of tables and chairs and other unnecessary items that littered the area testified that this certainly wasn’t the first person to place his possessions over his own life or that of his family and the hundreds of people he held up in their escape.

  “Get moving into the keep, now!” Wess shouted as he quickly dismounted and pushed the man forward. “The enemy is at our doors and you haggle over a rug?”

  The man, who had stumbled forward and tripped on the first few steps, lifted his bulbous body from the ground with great effort and then, turned on Wess and his men. “How dare you touch my person!” he raged, his round face turning darker shades of red with every breath.

  “I dare,” said Wess, his voice dangerously low and venomous, “because the enemy is upon us this moment, and you are blocking the way with your rotund body.”

  The man was beside himself. “There is no enemy,” he insisted. “Other than some false king trying to steal from his own subjects while herding them like cattle to a place he can better control them.”

  “No enemy, eh?” Wess countered, his hand gripping his sword’s hilt so tight that his fingers turned white. “Then look to the north and behold the false enemy that chases,” he said pointing to the dust cloud that was growing steadily larger and more ominous.

  All eyes followed his gaze and a sudden howl went up as people started to cry out their doom. Wess barely got himself back into his saddle before the line of people that had been within earshot lurched forward in a sudden press to reach the entrance and safety. Looking back to where the merchant had been arguing only moments before, Wess just caught the flash of his back end as it turned passed the first corner up the steps, his wife and children crying after him as they tried to catch up. Turning to the guards, who suddenly found themselves almost overrun by the panic, he barked out his orders. “You best get atop your mounts so you don’t get caught in the rush, but keep this line moving forward at a quick pace. If any slow to argue, direct their attention to the north, and if that doesn’t work, pull them from the line and make them wait until the last. And if they try to cut back in, kill them.” He didn’t wait for the guards to respond before he was galloping back down the line calling for the rest of the shoulders to mount up and follow.

  The refugees in the back suddenly became restless as the soldiers that had been spread out along the long column suddenly appeared at a hard gallop and started forming up behind them. Voices began to rise in confused discussion and fear when someone suddenly screamed above the din, “They come, they come! Look to the north! We are doomed!” All went silent as hundreds of eyes turned to take in the materializing figures that were fast approaching the line. Then, as deafening as thunder following lightning, all seemed to cry out at once and began to push forward. In moments it was bedlam as a crashing wave of bodies pounded against those in front swelling the column on either side as fear rippled through the line sending everyone forward in a rush.

  Wess did not allow himself, or his men to sit and watch the horror as people trampled over one another as the fear of death finally gripped them. Barking out orders, he called the men to form up as others still galloped in and then turned to lead them forw
ard to meet the enemy. His only concern was for the four men left behind who were now forced to fit a title wave into a bucket. At least they’re moving.

  Setting the pace to a quick gallop, he tried to put some distance between the refugees and the coming attackers to give them space enough to retreat as it was needed. Wess knew what they faced and held no fantasies that his small detachment of men could hold back the enemy, but loathsome as they were, he had to give the people as much time as possible to get safely into the keep. He was on the verge of calling for his men to draw arms when the dark shapes that approached suddenly began to materialize into men and horses. He held up his hand to slow the charge before finally calling for a halt allowing the others to close the gap that separated them. Soon he was able to pick out Jack and Ranse among the mass and raised a signal to hail them.

  “Well met,” Jack said, pulling up his horse next to Wess. Looking past him, he squinted. “I see the people are still not free and clear of the field.”

  “Not yet,” Wess replied, “but your approach lit fire to their britches and they now fight one another to make the keep.”

  “Good,” Ranse offered. “They will need to squeeze in quickly if they hope to survive.”

  “Zadok’s army is soon upon us,” Jack finished, answering the questioning look on Wess’ face.

  Wess’ visage turned dark. “You know as well as I, Jack, that they will attack as soon as they break from the wood and see the exposed ground and the sheep’s pen open,” he said, referring to the remaining refugees still outside the keep.

  Jack nodded. “We’ll just have to slow them down then,” he answered, the look on his face belying what all knew; this would certainly end with their deaths. They were close to a thousand strong, but Zadok commanded at least ten times that number and should the skies grow dark with his flying beasts, all would be lost in mere moments.