The Staff of the Winds (The Wizard of South Corner Book 1)

by Meighan, William

  The march continued, and the murmuring died away as the villagers once again took up their struggle to maintain the pace that the soldiers demanded. The line had stretched out even more, so that in the hilly terrain Aaron was often unable to see either end of it as it wound its way up into the west. He noticed that most of the gorn seemed to have drifted back to the rear of the line, and he pitied the villagers back there, struggling and failing to keep up. The gorn took great delight in wielding their clubs, and did so at every opportunity. There was no doubt that the slowest of the villagers would be badly beaten before this day was over.

  At noon, the soldiers called a halt near a small stream. The villagers were once again separated into their small groups as they staggered in and collapsed on the ground. When the last of the stragglers limped in, the soldiers took all but one of the water bags from each of the women bearers and ordered them to water the rest of the prisoners. The soldiers then took dried meat and biscuits from their packs and settled watchfully down around the villagers for their midday meal.

  Suddenly, Aaron heard a loud shout: “We’ve got a woman missing,” and the captain of the guard rushed by him toward the voice.

  “Who is it?” Captain Saglam demanded.

  “The blond woman. The one whose child we left behind.”

  A whisper rose among the villagers. Virna Morgan was not among her group. The child had been two-year-old Sally Morgan. She had been torn from her mother’s arms and brutally murdered the night that the soldiers and gorn had taken the village. Since then, Virna had been in a state of shock, barely stumbling along despite the prods and blows of her captors. She must have been near the end of the line today, Aaron thought.

  “Sardang!” the Captain bellowed. “Your file was watching the end of the line, where is the blond woman?”

  “Tarditch says fell,” a gorn responded in a deep gravelly voice. “Hit head on rock. Left body for wolves.”

  “Fell did she? You’d better make sure that none of the other prisoners ‘fall’ this side of the pass, or I’ll nail you to a tree and pull the hide off you in strips. And you’d better pray to your gods that that woman wasn’t the one that the Lord Kadeen wanted. He won’t be nearly so gentle.”

  “Clumsy woman,” the gorn responded in a deep whine. “Not my fault. Wasn’t the one. Would have felt it when died.”

  “You heard my promise. No more accidents!”

  There was grumbling from the gorn at this exchange. They had not been happy to leave the village without being allowed to loot it further, and the soldier’s insistence that they not torture and kill the prisoners was almost more than they were willing to accept, but none of them challenged the Captain’s words. The gorn knew that Saglam was personally protected by the dangerous and powerful sorcerer Kadeen. Nonetheless, his words could be taken as nothing but an insult and a challenge.

  Some of the women were weeping over this news about poor Mrs. Morgan. Aaron wasn’t so sure that she hadn’t been the lucky one. Who knew what fate awaited the survivors of this trek. A quick and accidental death might be preferable to what lay ahead for them, especially for the women. Just then Sarah appeared in front of him with the water bag. They did not speak, having already learned that lesson the hard way, but they held each other’s gaze while Sarah tipped up the bag for Aaron to drink. She had obviously been crying, but he could read plainly in her eyes that she held the same fierce determination as he to escape from this captivity, and to take what revenge they could in the process.

  After all the villagers were watered, and the bags refilled from the stream, their march was resumed. Aaron gratefully noticed that the pace was slowed a little to keep the group more tightly formed, and the soldiers and gorn were spaced more evenly along the line. The soldiers clearly wanted no more stragglers to be left solely in the care of their gorn comrades. It was also clear that there were definite cracks in this alliance. Aaron wondered if that mistrust between the soldiers and the gorn might be used to his advantage. He also feared the outcome of an open split. The gorn outnumbered the soldiers, and they obviously held nothing but vicious intent for the captive villagers. A few might be able to slip away in the confusion of an open revolt, but the majority would almost certainly be slaughtered, their hands still tied behind their backs.

  Owen, Marian and Jack had resumed their pursuit as soon as it was light enough to ride safely. There’d been some further discussion about Marian riding back on her own, or in company of her brother, but it had been brief. As upset as their folks would be at her heading out without permission, the thought of how everyone would feel if she were captured or hurt riding back on her own was far worse, and just one person trailing the enemy without help to identify potential ambush seemed dangerous in the extreme. Owen didn’t like the danger that Marian had put herself in by coming after them, but could see no good solution at this point.

  It may be that Owen’s fatigue this morning also worked in her favor. Sleep had not restored him the way that it normally did, and he wasn’t up to a prolonged argument with his stubborn sister. Normally, Owen was a morning person; a fact that drove his brother Evan to distraction, but for some reason, perhaps the stress of the previous day, he had to force himself to get started this day.

  The discussion was finally decided when Marian announced that she would not be left behind. “Those are my friends that they dragged off, and I am going to do whatever I can to get them back. If you try to send me back big brother, I won’t go. If you tie me to my horse and take me home, as soon as you let me free I’ll just get back on a horse, either this one or I’ll steal another, and get back on their trail. I am not going to sit quietly back at home like some dainty little girl while Aaron and the rest of our friends from town are marched off to who knows what fate. No, Owen, I’m coming, and that’s the end of it.”

  Owen looked to Jack for support in the face of this obstinacy, but Jack just turned and began to saddle his horse.

  As on the previous day, they managed their mounts so as to make the best pace over the long run, trotting for a period, then walking, and finally dismounting and leading before repeating the cycle. The land became more broken and irregular as they advanced into this southern reach of the Grey Hills, so they were slowed somewhat by their need to avoid riding into a gorn ambush, but with three working together to scout and flank potential hiding places their progress was more efficient than it had been the day before.

  Owen had not told his sister or his friend about the dream of flight that he had had the night before. When Jack had come to rouse him for his watch, he was a little groggy but still awake, softly rubbing the bruise on his right thigh and thinking about his dream. It had seemed so real, and after the initial disorientation upon waking, it had not faded from memory as most dreams do.

  Owen had taken a watch position a little higher and to the north of the spot that Jack had used. After an initial examination of their surroundings, he mapped in his mind the possible approaches and any available cover that might be used to sneak up on their camp. Then he settled in for the long slow hours of the watch, remaining motionless so that he would not catch the attention of any possible observer. The air was cold and crisp, with a bright ceiling of stars overhead. There was no sign of movement other than the occasional swish of a tail by one of the horses resting in their hollow.

  Owen had not really examined their campsite closely when they had settled in, other than to see that the overhang provided them some minimal concealment and protection from the night breezes. Now, partly to fight off his fatigue, he examined everything in view in careful detail. He was almost hoping to find some obvious differences between what he could see now by close inspection versus what he clearly remembered seeing as part of his dream. Although he could not remember the position of every bush and boulder, nothing seemed obviously out of place. The old oak from which he had gazed down at Jack standing his watch was precisely where it should have been; the branch upon which he must have perched was right where it
needed to be, and as near as he could tell from the ground the folds of the land around the hill that they were on was just as he had seen them from the air. The perspective was different, but every detail that he could remember was now laid out in reality before his waking eyes.

  If he closed his eyes, he could still almost feel the rush of wind against his chest and the lift along his wings. He had pulled the headpiece from the Old Wizards staff out of his pocket and stared at it for long minutes, but the glow that he had thought he had seen in its ruby eyes upon waking had not come back. Only the starlight glinted off of the polished brass surface; the stones that were its eyes lay dark and cold under their hooded brows.

  As they worked their way ever westward, and the sun continued its rise toward noon, Owen found himself becoming more and more apprehensive about the possibility of discovery and ambush. He couldn’t quite determine why, but he felt strongly that they were approaching some specific peril. As they were walking their horse up a small rise, much like many others that they had climbed already, Owen called a halt.

  “I don’t know why,” Owen whispered, “but I have a strong feeling that there is something waiting for us on the other side of this hill. Marian, why don’t you hold the horses here, while Jack and I take a look. We’ll waive you up if there is nothing there.”

  Jack gave Owen a quizzical look, but dismounted with his friend and climbed the hill carefully on foot. They crouched down as they approached the crest. Jack pointed to a small outcropping of rock that broke up the contour of the hilltop, and the boys crawled in behind it to scout the land beyond.

  Owen and Jack lay on their stomachs and carefully inched forward to gaps in the rock from which they could see the terrain beyond. All was quiet. They could see the trail continue ahead of them, rising and falling until it bent around the south side of a hill in the distance. There was no other sign of either the group that they were trailing, or any evidence of an ambush. For long minutes their eyes searched the country ahead, but neither of them could see any sign of the enemy that Owen felt certain was staring back at them.

  Finally, Jack began to rise, and said, “I’ll have Marian bring up the horses.”

  At that moment, Owen suddenly knew what he was looking for. He frantically grabbed Jack and pulled him back down. “See that hill in the distance, the one that stands alone where the trail we’re following winds around the base?”

  “Yes, I see it. What about it?”

  “Look carefully at the top.”

  “You mean that rock formation next to the old oak?”

  “That’s it, but it’s not just a rock formation. Look again.”

  “I don’t see what you… Damn! It’s a tower isn’t it?” he declared, an icy finger seeming to run up his spine. “It’s some kind of old watchtower. What is it doing way out here?” he asked in a whisper.

  “I think that I just figured it out. Do you remember those stories that the Old Wizard used to tell us when we were kids? The ones about Carraghlaoch? Well, we’ve been working our way for the past two days more or less towards the Wizards Moat and McDonald’s Break. If those stories were true, we’ve got to be getting close to where Carraghlaoch must have been. That has to be one of the old watchtowers that they used to give them advance warning in case of an attack against the city.”

  “I know that Aaron was really into that stuff,” Jack answered, “but I never much believed those old tales myself. But what else could that be? Do you think that there is anybody in it now?”

  “I’m sure of it,” Owen said flatly. “From that tower, the enemy could watch their back trail and any other direction of approach for leagues around. That’s why there has been no ambush before this. If they could make it this far, they didn’t need to worry about anybody catching them by surprise. It probably also explains why they were pushing so hard; they wanted to get past this tower before anyone could catch them. Now no one can surprise them between here and the pass.

  “Marian is probably getting impatient, let’s get back to the horses and decide what we’re going to do next.”

  Carefully the boys backed away from the summit, staying low so that they would not be spotted against the skyline by any lookout in the tower. It was possible that a watcher might have already spotted Jack when he began to rise before they first saw the tower, but it seemed unlikely. He had not risen far, and was only up for an instant. Such a sighting from that distance would have taken extraordinary eyesight and the lookout would have had to be staring at that exact spot at that exact instant. That combination would require the most amazing bad luck. On the other hand, who knew what a gorn could see. They could be coming out to get them right now.

  When they got back down the hill, Owen briefly described what they had seen to his younger sister and told her their conclusions.

  “So how do we take the tower?” Marian asked.

  “Take the tower,” Jack exclaimed. “You’ve got to be crazy. We can’t take that tower. Our job was to find out where the raiders were going, and then report back. If there are gorn up there, it’ll take a lot more than two men and a girl to take that tower. We should turn around now and report back.”

  Marian bristled at being called a mere girl, but Owen put his hand on her arm to stop her from responding, then turned to Jack. “Marian’s got a point. We can’t get by that tower without being seen. It will take us more than a day to work our way around it, and if we do, we’ll have the enemy at our backs. And there is still too much that we don’t know. We’ve got to find out how large a force the gorn have on this side of the West Wall, where they are taking our friends, and what they plan to do with them once they get there. And, if there is any chance at all, we’ve got to do what we can to rescue our people.”

  “Owen, I know how you feel, I’ve got friends up there too, but we were just told to scout the situation out so that our dad’s could rescue the villagers. The sooner we get back to them, the sooner they can take action. Besides, we’ll need every man we can get to storm that tower.”

  “No, I think that’s where you’re wrong,” Owen said. “If we tried to storm it, a few gorn could probably hold off all the farmers in the parish, at least for a while, and by then they could probably get reinforcements. But a small force, like you and me, might have a chance to sneak up on them. If we can get close enough without being seen, we can at least find out how many they left behind there, and if there aren’t too many in the tower, we might even be able to catch them by surprise. I hate to just turn back now and abandon our people to their fate. We still don’t know where they are being taken or how many men are holding them. I don’t think our job will be done until we at least know that much.”

  “You might be right, but how can we get closer? There is nothing but open country between us and that tower, and there must be someone watching in this direction.”

  “I saw a copse of trees across the valley from the tower to the north. I think that we can get into it from the other side without being seen. From there, we should be able to at least tell if there is any chance of getting closer.”

  “Alright,” Jack said, “let’s go take a look; but if we can’t get any closer then I’m for going back for help.”

  “Agreed,” Owen answered.

  Marian wisely stayed out of that discussion, but she was proud of her brother for at least wanting to try to continue against the odds. Now she just had to make sure that they didn’t try to leave her behind to keep her “safe”.

  It took most of the rest of that day, but shortly before the sun had set behind the mountain peaks of the Wall, the trio had crawled up into the bushes at the edge of the little wood looking across the valley at the old watchtower. From their vantage, they could see three figures relaxing in the shade of the tower. It was difficult to make them out at that distance. They were clearly man-like, but somehow their heads seemed to be hunched more into their shoulders than a man’s should be. Whatever clothing they were wearing was a mottled gray and brown that made the
m even harder to distinguish clearly against the stone of the old tower. They seemed to be cooking something on a spit over a small fire, and did not appear to be concerned about the thin line of smoke that was rising high into the evening sky.

  Movement caught Marian’s eye, and she tapped her brother on the shoulder and indicated the tower’s old battlement. For a few moments, they could clearly see another figure at the top of the tower looking out over the lands to the east. Then it stepped away from the crenellation and was gone.

  The trio continued their observation for some time. A fourth figure joined the other three near the fire, and whatever was cooking on the spit was divided among them. After eating, the four passed around a large jug. The watchers in the woods could occasionally just make out loud guttural laughing, or possibly cursing, when the rising evening breezes drifted the sound in their direction. Finally, Owen signaled his friends and they slowly and carefully edged their way further back into the woods.

  Over a meager meal of venison jerky and dried biscuits, they discussed their prospects. “I’m pretty sure that there are just four of them,” Owen said. “They didn’t seem to be too concerned about possible attack, and it didn’t look like any of them was especially willing to miss dinner in order to maintain the watch.”

  “Four is more than we’ve got,” Jack responded.