“Here you go,” he said placing one down before his sibling, before taking up a chair just across from her.
“Now, what is so important that you felt the need to wander the palace corridors?”
Loretta smiled as she picked up her glass and sipped just a little of the sherry within, before speaking.
Lord Elthan leaned back in his seat and listened carefully, even affording a grin as she revealed the spell she had mustered.
“I shall haunt the prince’s dreams. Your enemies may be able to keep him protected from physical harm, for now at least, but they can not stop me hounding his dreams,” Loretta said with a little chuckle.
While Lord Elthan did not understand how magic worked, he did not doubt that his sister could do as she claimed. Moreover, if she could influence the boy in his sleep, the idea that he could perhaps be coerced into doing something in the waking world seemed even better.
“So you think you can have him wander off, away from his guards, and making him an easier target?”
“I am sure of it dear brother,” Loretta said before drinking the remainder of her sherry back in one go.
“Then we should discuss where it is you should have him go, so we can have our people take care of him,” Lord Elthan suggested.
Chapter 14. Hunting the enemy.
Lord Oakley sat upon his horse, fully dressed and ready for a fight. Beside him, Lord Dalby was similarly attired, and behind the two noblemen were thirty soldiers, made up from both of their respective forces. Having decided to be proactive and hunt down any would-be attackers before they once more attempted to attack Prince Luca, both men had pooled their resources and the information they had managed to gather. Now having intelligence that a group of cultists were hiding out just an hours ride from Garley, Lord Oakley wanted to eliminate that threat immediately.
With the sun only just rising into what looked like a clear blue sky, Lord Oakley gave the signal for the group to move out. As the clattering of horses hooves filled the air, Samuel waved his father farewell. In the absence of both lords, Samuel had been the young man tasked with overseeing any matters of urgency in their absence. While it was anticipated that they would all be back later that same day, Lord Oakley always thought it wise to make arrangements should the worse happen. They were, after all, heading towards an enemy, who if intelligence served them right numbered about a dozen. Although superior in numbers and skills, that did not mean the risk to their own lives was any less.
Riding in a column, two abreast, the soldiers wound their way along the narrow streets of Garley before passing out of the main gates, over the drawbridge, and into the open countryside beyond. Within just a few minutes, the open land to the north of the town was replaced by the dense forests that covered this area of the kingdom. Knowing the route well, Lord Oakley waved his left hand up and over to indicate for his group to follow the left track as it forked just ahead of them. Having cultist’s operating on his lands did not sit well with Lord Oakley, and although he always tried to stamp them out when he could, it appeared that no sooner was one cult eliminated before another sprung up somewhere else. While only ever consisting of just a handful of people, the increasing regularity of them appearing was becoming a problem. Thankfully, Scarwood, deemed by some as an insignificant place, being so small meant that the cultists were not yet as bigger problem as they were in some other parts of the kingdom. Strangely, whether because it was detached from the mainland, The Casillian Isle of Lord Dalby, the problem was all but not existent. What little had sprung up there had been swiftly stopped, and as yet, not resurfaced again.
Keeping their horses at a steady trot, Lord Oakley focussed his mind on the task ahead. Their destination was a small farming village northeast of Garley, a place he had been to several times before. Consisting of just a few homes, all built up around one large farm, it was not the first time that cultists had been dealt with at this particular location. Whether it was due to the fact that this village, called Tarpley, was nearer to Brenthellin, the king’s lands, suggesting this was some overspill from there or just coincidence, he had not thought about before. However, now he was sure that Lord Elthan of Endallen held some sway over these southern minor nobles, and the fact he was somehow linked with the cultists, it had now become a matter for consideration.
Passing through several other small villages and settlements, crossing over the many streams and brooks that dissected his lands like a web, the group soon approached their destination. Not wanting to alert the enemy of their approach, Lord Oakley and Lord Dalby pulled up some half a mile short of where they suspected the cultists to be. Leaving their horses on the track, the two nobles and four men ventured forward on foot up a small wooded incline that would enable them to overlook the area they were about to attack.
Peering through the treeline, Lord Oakley pointed out the village of Tarpley below them. Consisting of several buildings, the main one being the central farmhouse and the only one built from stone, they looked for any signs of life. Surprisingly things may have looked all calm and peaceful, and to anybody not paying close attention, this would appear to be any normal farming community.
“See, there are no animals in the pasture over there, and that field would ordinarily have people working in it this time of year,” Lord Oakley said indicating with his right hand. Just small things they may have been, but to an educated eye, an indication as to something not being quite right.
“I wonder what has happened to the people who used to live there. Surely they can’t all be cultists?” Lord Dalby replied, thinking on a little further.
Lord Oakley scratched at his chin, deep in thought, “Yes, that is slightly worrying,” he admitted, fearing the worst.
After returning down the slight slope and back onto the track, the two nobles discussed their plan of action. Lord Oakley would continue on the main road into the village and approach from there. Meanwhile, Lord Dalby would take half of the men and circle around the settlement and approach from the other direction. While neither man wanted to be involved in any fighting, both understood that it was probably going to happen regardless, and that the chances of the cultists merely handing themselves over were indeed quite slender. At least moving in from both sides, the risk that any of the cultists might escape was minimalised, although the need to move and act quickly would also be important.
Lord Oakley halted his own group as he watched Lord Dalby and his party gallop off across a field to encircle the village. He waited somewhat impatiently, his hand twitching with the reins of his horse, waiting to move forward and attack. Only when he was happy that his fellow nobleman had been given enough time to move around the settlement did Lord Oakley draw his sword, hold it aloft and give the call for his men to ride. Picking up the pace, the sound of the horse's hooves, thumped and pounded on the dry dirt, causing a rumble like thunder off in the distance. As soon as possible his men spread out from their column forming a wide line that swung around the outskirts of the village.
Lord Oakley had reached the first house before the first of the cultists wandered somewhat unprepared out of the doorway. Dressed in the customary black robes that they all appeared to adorn, the man, probably only in his late teens froze to the spot as one of Lord Oakley's soldiers, held out his sword and placed it right up to the man’s neck.
“Keep him there,” Lord Oakley ordered, as he slipped down from his own horse. Calling over to three more of his men, he signalled them to check inside the house, before he waved his blade and headed for the next property. Meanwhile, Lord Dalby was already mirroring his actions by searching the homes on the other side of the small village.
As they had suspected, aside from the one man that Lord Oakley currently had under guard, the other cultists appeared much less amiable in being arrested. As a result, the sound of fighting soon erupted as Lord Dalby was forced to fend off a knife-wielding man. The fight was over very quickly, as Lord Dalby showed his far superior training and expertise, deflecting the man’s
blade aside before counter-attacking. The cultist in question froze for a few moments as his body went rigid with the shock of Lord Dalby’s blade piercing right through it. The man staggered sidewards a little, dropping his daggers before collapsing in a heap on the ground.
It seemed the majority of the cultists were in the main farmhouse, but all five inhabitants were quickly and brutely put to the sword by the soldiers. After just five minutes, the forces of Lord Oakley and Lord Dalby had full control of the village. Of all the cultists only one remained, that being the young man they had captured right at the very start. Ten others had decided to attempt to make a fight of it, even though they were vastly outnumbered by men who were far better trained. As a result, ten bodies now lay on the ground between the smaller homes and the main farmhouse. While some were dressed in their black robes, a couple wore nothing more than their underclothes, a sign that they had been caught by surprise.
Lord Oakley, glad it was all over, and with only two of his men having suffered what could only be described as minor injuries, turned his attention to the prisoner. Barely a year or two older than his own son, he thought it strange why a young man would associate himself with such a group as the cultists. Deciding he wanted answers to questions, Lord Oakley had the prisoner brought out to where he and Lord Dalby were standing. Two of his soldiers dragged the prisoner and held his arms, even though his hands were already bound behind his back. Quite visibly scared and frightened, Lord Oakley thought it best to try a somewhat softer approach that he had initially intended on using.
“What’s your name?” he asked, in a firm but non-threatening tone.
“Anis, Sir,” the young man replied, the fear further evident in his voice. “Please don’t kill me!” he added.
Lord Oakley stared at the man, actually confused and beginning to think that perhaps he wasn’t a cultist after all. He had put up no fight, nor even attempted to escape or help his fellow gang members.
“Anis, Where are the villagers?”
Anis’ fear remained visible as he explained in some detail as to what happened.
Apparently, the cultists had arrived about ten days ago, timing that seemed to coincide with all the other terrible events of late. While a couple of the villagers, had attempted to protect their homes, the cultists had easily overpowered and killed them.
“One of those men had been my father, Sir,” Anis added, as tears started welling his in eyes.
“So you are from here?”
“I am, Sir,” Anis replied. With his hands bound he was unable to wipe his eyes, and so the tears rolled freely down his cheeks before dripping off the bottom of his chin.
“Where are the others?” Lord Dalby asked.
Anis explained that he had been forced to join the cult under threat of the other villagers being killed.
“They were taken somewhere north, Sir.”
Fifteen other villagers had been taken away, women and children among them. Two of the elderly residents had merely been killed, as they were deemed too old and frail to travel. As to why they had been moved, Aris had no idea, but it was evident from his demeanour that he feared for their safety.
Lord Oakley thanked the prisoner for his cooperation before turning to Lord Dalby. The two spoke quietly for a while glancing towards Anis every now and then as if he were the topic of their conversation. While this was true for part of their talk, their main discussion was whether to try and hunt the missing villagers down. Anis watched on anxiously as the two men were no doubt discussing his future, and being dressed as a cultist that probably meant life or death. He didn’t want to be part of the cult, but had been given very little option when given the choices at the time. Join, or stand by and watch his fellow villagers get slaughtered, his little sister among them. That being said, Anis was also aware that they all might be dead by now anyway, but he had to believe they still lived. Having hope that his sister was well, was about the only thing that had gotten him through the past several, very traumatic days. Being considered a new member, Anis had been little more than a skivvy to his fellow cultists, cooking, cleaning and washing for all of them. Running away was his first thought, but the cultist in charge had forewarned him that doing so would result in every villager’s death. All it would take was for the leader of the group to send word to some place called Bagley Down, and it would happen.
Realising that he had not mentioned the name of the place, Anis quickly spoke again, interrupting the two noblemen, still chatting among themselves.
“Bagley Down!” he said again as both men turned to face him.
One of the soldiers holding him went to give him a slap for speaking out of turn, but as the man raised his hands to do, Lord Oakley stopped him.
“What is so special about Bagley Down?”
“Sorry, Sir. I think it is where they take people. I think the other villagers are there,” Anis said with the faintest glimmer of hope in his young eyes.
“Where is Bagley Down?” Lord Dalby asked, clearly unfamiliar with the name of the place being discussed.
“Just across the border of my lands in Brenthellin,” Lord Oakley replied, clearly already thinking of the consequences of making a trip there.
“You are aware that attacking a village on king’s lands will get you in trouble?” Lord Dalby said, although he could already tell his friend was going to do it anyway.
“Not necessarily. I could say I was acting on behalf of the king.”
Lord Dalby smiled as he understood what his fellow nobleman was referring to.
Another half an hour passed by as the two lords discussed their plan of action. Lord Dalby was to return with just four men, including the injured, back to Garley and let them know what was going on. Meanwhile, Lord Oakley was to take all the others, Anis among them, and head over the border into Brenthellin to get his people back. While knowing he was technically breaking one of the king’s laws by attacking the lands owned by the monarch, he was certain that Luca would give him permission to do so anyway. Of course, he was well aware that Luca was not actually the sitting monarch at that particular moment in time, and could be leaving himself open for serious repercussions should he not manage to get the lad made king. While understanding it was likely already war between the various nobles, as of yet, neither side had actually attacked the other, although that was about to change.
Anis, had thankfully rid himself of his dark robes and adorned his old clothes. Already feeling free from the cult he had been forced to become part of, he was further surprised when his captors had willingly freed him from his bindings. Given a horse, albeit one owned by one of the dead cultists, Anis now found himself riding among a group of soldiers towards the place known as Bagley Down. Feeling somewhat nervous, the self-doubt had started creeping in that he had perhaps misheard the name and gotten it wrong. Lord Oakley had been more than fair with him, giving him another chance and seemingly understanding why he had joined the cultists. However, even if he had the place name correct, surely the man would not be best pleased if they travelled all the way to this Bagley Down only to find the villagers were not there.
Lord Oakley knew the whereabouts of the village, being as it was positioned right on the border of his own lands. Despite having a large number of soldiers with him, he was concerned about what awaited him when he got there. If the cultists were indeed transporting people to this place, although he had no idea why, then surely there would be a large number of cultists, and possibly soldiers as well. As the sun passed its zenith, he allowed the group to rest for a short while and take on water, knowing that within another hour they would be approaching their destination. The men he had with him needed to be able to fight once they got there, and by allowing this small respite, he hoped that might help keep them fresh and alert.
Crossing the stream that marked the border between Scarwood lands and those known as Brenthellin, owned by the monarch, Lord Oakley knew he was now at a point of no return. The area here was only thinly wooded, and mostly pastur
es and meadows for grazing animals. Bagley Down lay just ahead over the next incline, and wanting to know what he was facing, Lord Oakley called a halt. Slipping down from his saddle he indicated for two men to accompany him, before turning to Anis, “You come too. Keep your head down and look to see if you can see any of your fellow villagers.”
Anis nodded, feeling his stomach turning over such were his nerves. As Anis dropped down from his saddle, he felt his legs almost giving way beneath him, as if not wanting him to go any further in case he had been wrong. Somewhat reluctantly he followed the two soldiers up to the brow of the hill looking down the track and towards the village in question.
Bagley Down was a much smaller place than Anis had thought, although much larger than his own village. At its centre stood a large stone building, that rose up above all the others surrounding it. With a fortified look to the place, it was easy to assume this would be the place being used as their base of command. There were several people walking about, in what appeared to be everyday clothing, and Anis was beginning to think he had led Lord Oakley on a wild goose chase.
“There!” one of the soldiers said pointing to an area on the east side of the village.
All of them looked in that direction at what looked like a large animal pen, only it was not cattle or horses being held within it.
Anis looked from left to right trying to see if he could recognise any of the people within it. Being as most were sat down and crouched over, it was difficult to see any faces, and admitted to Lord Oakley that he couldn’t be sure if any of them were from Tarpley. It was then that Lord Oakley spotted the first sign that cultists were present in the village as two black robed figures could be seen dragging a young man across the track towards the pen. Stripped of his clothes the man had only his underclothes on to afford him some decency. Lifted up and tossed into the pen a few of those within hurried to the man’s aid, and it was then that Anis was convinced he could see his sister.
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