Soldier Sword (The Teralin Sword Book 2)

by D. K. Holmberg

  “I’m worried about the numbers here. This is more than what we’ve heard of the Ravers.”

  “Then you can observe and let me know if you think that’s what they are.”

  She shook her head. “They’re probably Ravers. That’s why I need to come. We know so little about them.”

  Endric laughed. “There's probably quite a bit you don't know. Listain probably hasn’t shared with you. The damn spymaster has lots of secrets.”

  “We all have our secrets, Endric. It's how dark they are.”

  He wondered what that meant, but now wasn't the time to question.

  As they rode through the knee-high grasses toward the soldiers in the distance, they seemed to recognize that Endric and the Denraen were approaching.

  The soldiers turned and began riding hard toward the east.

  “Damn,” he said.

  “What is it?” Pendin asked.

  “I think we need to follow them.”

  “We should return to Listain,” Senda said. “He didn't expect you to ride after them. If they’re Ravers, the rumors—”

  “Well, I haven’t been privy to the rumors. Besides, Listain expects me to lead the regiment. He's come along only because my father assigned him, as his way of getting him out of the city. Listain wants nothing to do with this sortie.”

  Senda shook her head. “If you think that's the case, then you don't know Listain.”

  “I don't know Listain,” Endric said. “I might have helped save him from Urik, but I don't know anything about your uncle. He keeps to himself almost as much as my father does.”

  Endric motioned to the others with him, and they spurred their horses after the other soldiers.

  The Denraen had fast horses, trained by some of the best horsemasters. When at a gallop, the horses flew across the ground, trailing after the departing men.

  “What do you intend to do when we reach them?” Senda asked.

  “I’m going to see what I can learn about the Ravers. If they’re attacking all over the north, we need to understand who leads them and what they’re planning.”

  They covered ground quickly as it sloped here, rising gently before drifting back downward. Saeline had a rolling hillside, all covered with the saeline grasses, the namesake of the plains.

  The grass grew increasingly thicker and taller, and they were forced to slow, going even slower as they reached a copse of trees. They were forced to rein in the horses, slowing even more as the land became increasingly forested.

  The sheer number of trees made movement together more difficult and would create a tactical disadvantage. Were the soldiers aware of that, or had they simply ridden this way by chance? Having the foresight to recognize the tactical advantage meant they might be facing a more dangerous military threat than he realized. He didn't want to risk his men in an area where they could be ambushed.

  Endric called for a halt, and the dozen Denraen remained a few paces behind him as he surveyed the landscape.

  Senda rode up to him. “What is it?”

  “Here. All of this. Something makes me nervous.”

  Senda offered a hint of a smile. “I didn't think the great Endric Verilan knew how to be nervous.”

  “I am when it means those under my command are placed in unnecessary danger. I am when I'm not exactly certain what we might be facing. Maybe the Ravers are better equipped than what we realize.”

  “We don’t know that these are Ravers,” Senda said.

  “We don’t know they aren’t.”

  “What makes you think they’re better equipped?” Senda asked.

  Endric motioned to the trees. “Look around you. What better place to ambush us?”

  Pendin frowned. “Endric, the men we saw were barely able to hold formation while they marched. Those aren't the kind of men who would pose any real threat to Denraen soldiers.”

  Endric wasn't so certain. He didn't like the idea of retreating, but he didn't like the idea of putting the dozen men with him into danger unnecessarily.

  Endric shook his head. What was the smart move?

  They needed to return and get word to the Denraen. Larger patrols would be necessary. Listain and Endric had another mission, one that couldn’t be sidetracked by soldiers.

  But if they did, how would they keep the peace? Wasn’t that the role of the Denraen?

  Neither answer felt right.

  “We should head back. Return to Listain. We can search for these men with the larger contingent. We don't have the numbers if we keep pursuing and are attacked.”

  Pendin motioned to the other men, and they turned their horses, heading back out of the copse of trees. Senda looked at him with a hint of a smile on her face.

  “What is it? Why are you grinning at me like that?” Endric asked.

  Senda shrugged. “Only that you wouldn't have made that decision even a few months ago. You’re maturing.”

  Endric barked a quick laugh. “You didn't seem to mind my immaturity.”

  She gave a sly smile. “I never said I minded, but I can't deny the appeal of watching you mature. I've always cared about you, you big dummy. I’ve never enjoyed watching you make the same mistake after mistake.”

  “Now I'm making entirely different mistakes,” Endric said.

  “What kind of mistakes are those?” Senda asked him.

  Endric looked away.

  Senda reached for the reins of his horse, pulling him toward her. She frowned at him as she did, her disappointment clear. “Endric?”

  Endric sighed. “I suppose you’ll learn anyway.”

  “Learn what?”

  They turned their horses, guiding them away from the copse of trees. Endric hazarded a glance back and thought he saw movement deeper in the trees. He wasn't certain if he really did or if it was his imagination.

  “When Pendin and I got word of Urik,” he started, “or more accurately, when I got word of Urik, my first thought was to search for more information. I tried finding you—”

  “And you discovered Listain had sent me from the city on assignment.”

  Endric nodded. “We searched some of your typical locations.”

  “Typical locations?” She watched him, understanding slowly donning on her face. “Don’t tell me you thought to try to find my informants.”

  “Like I said, when I couldn't find you, we went looking for you. I searched different places throughout the first terrace. And I finally managed to find someone who knew of you—”

  Senda cut him off as she barked out a harsh laugh. “Let me guess. You found Kayla at the Climbing Trellis.”

  Endric shot her a questioning look. “How did you know?”

  “Well, watching you dance around the issue might be fun, but there aren't too many reasons that you wouldn't be interested in telling me where you had been. I suspect you discovered my contact there.”

  “Why her?” Endric asked. “Why did you use Kayla?”

  “My role with Listain is to gather information however I can. Sometimes that involves curating assets who can provide specific information.”

  It was the same term Listain used. He had never noticed how alike Senda and Listain were. “Assets? That's what they are to you?”

  Senda fixed him with a hot glare. “Yes, Endric, assets. That is what they are. They provide me with information so that I might be able to use that to help the Denraen. We use that information to guide decisions you and your father make. Not all of it is actionable, but someone has to collect it. That is part of my responsibility.”

  “Even in Vasha?”

  Senda nodded. “Even in Vasha. We gather what we can in the city. Often there are people moving through the city who are more than happy to offer gossip. That gossip provides information. From there, we begin to create strategy that determines additional moves.”

  “You use gossip to craft the Denraen strategy?”

  Senda shook her head. “You've been a part of the inner council now for a while. I think you as much as anyo
ne would recognize how this process works.”

  “I haven't seen it from this that side. I've seen others bring information. But…”

  She released the reins of his horse. “This is important work,” she said. “Finding those who would endanger the Denraen, those who would potentially attack Vasha—especially after what we've recently experienced—is important work. It’s like these attackers.”

  “The Ravers.”

  “The Ravers. If that’s what they were. We need to know all that we can to prepare. The Denraen can’t maintain peace if we don’t know what we’re facing.”

  They emerged from the trees back into the grassy plain, and Senda turned a bit in the saddle. “There was something else—”

  Movement at the periphery of his vision caught his attention.

  Endric jerked in the saddle, looking around. Soldiers approached, flanking them on either side. Endric took a quick survey, counting nearly two hundred, far more than their dozen could manage. Far more than they had seen before.

  “Pendin!” Endric shouted. “Lead the men back to Listain.”

  Pendin turned sharply and looked in the direction that Endric stared. “You can't do this by yourself!”

  He shook his head. “I don't intend to do anything by myself. I intend to draw them away. Go!” When he hesitated, Endric shouted, “That's a command!”

  Pendin jerked the reins of his horse and spurred forward, streaking away, leading the dozen soldiers with them. Endric turned to Senda. “You need to go with them.”

  Senda watched Pendin go before turning to see the line of soldiers riding toward them. “I don't think that I can go back with Pendin now.”

  “I don't know what's going to happen,” Endric whispered.

  Senda nodded. “We are Denraen. We serve for peace.”

  Endric met her eyes. Then he spurred his horse, racing toward the soldiers.

  It was the only way that he would buy time for the others to reach Listain.

  19

  The soldiers rode down on Endric and Senda.

  Their hooves thundered, filling the sky with the sounds of their approach. The gray sky seemed to mirror that sound, giving the threat of rain to the day. Endric raised his hands, guiding his horse with his knees, and scanned the soldiers, searching for signs of the markings that he associated with the Deshmahne, but he saw none.

  What troops were these? Ravers? That didn’t seem possible, not in these numbers.

  Could they be local militia? In these lands, it could be that they were poorly trained soldiers of Gom Aaldia. Not in Saeline, though. The regional king had spent time training with the Denraen and would not have suffered such incompetence.

  There were no markings, nothing that would tell him what they faced.

  As the soldiers approached, he sought some sort of sign from Senda but had to turn his attention back before he could learn anything from her. The horses were pulled to a stop.

  “I am of the Denraen,” he said to the nearest of the soldiers. “We have—”

  “I don't care what agreements you think you have,” the man said. He had a low-pitched voice, one that had a certain menace to it. He glanced from Endric to Senda, dismissing her quickly.

  Endric almost smiled. It was a mistake to dismiss Senda so openly. She had access to her staff, and she was as much or more of a threat than he was. With the staff, she could confront and take down multiple men, likely all before they had a chance to react. Endric and his sword had a more limited reach.

  “The Denraen have several regiments of men stationed nearby,” Endric said.

  The man shot him a curious look. “Several? My scouts tell me that there are probably no more than fifty with you. We have more than enough men to withstand fifty.”

  If they knew their numbers and still attacked, it made it less likely they were unprepared. Could the Ravers have such organization? “Attacking the Denraen will only draw more attention.”

  “Will it? I think we’re mobile enough that we can move without drawing any more notice.”

  “Others of my men already have sent word.”

  “Have they?” He raised a hand and horses streaked away with the silent command.

  No, not poorly organized at all. Different, but that didn’t mean bad. “Release my steward. You don’t need her.”

  The man chuckled. “I think she is more than your steward. In fact, she’s the reason we’re here.”

  Somebody came up behind Endric, someone he hadn't even sensed was there, and he felt pain in his head before he slumped forward.

  Endric rolled over, pain surging through him. Some of it came from the back of his head, which throbbed where he'd been struck. Other pain came from his wrists and ankles, bound as he was. He couldn't move.

  He licked dry lips and tasted blood caked on them. As he did, he had a flashback to when he had faced his father and been left to die on the plains outside the mountains. Of course, his father hadn't really left him to die. Endric had been broken, his skin split by his father's massive sword Trill, and had feared the howling laca were coming for him. There had never been an intent leave him alone, no intent for him to die on the plains.

  No, his father had left him to be reborn. When Endric had joined with the Antrilii, when he had begun to see how little he understood, how little he knew, he finally had allowed himself to let go of the conceit that he was as skilled as he thought he had been.

  This was different.

  He thought he could hear men moving nearby, but wasn't certain. His ears rang, leaving him with a head that throbbed even more. His vision was blurry, but he could tell that it was dark and late enough that he doubted Listain would come for him.

  Listain.

  Had Pendin made it to him? Did he manage to escape long enough to reach the man and go for help? Endric should fear for himself, should fear for his life, but having nearly died one time before, he no longer feared it the way he once had. Now there was only fire burning within him, one that drove him to see if he could get himself free, to determine whether he could get help.

  Endric tried to roll, but his hands prevented it. He tested his ankles and found the bindings there equally stout. Bending at the knee, he brought his heels toward his hands and checked his boots. His fingers were numb, likely from the tightness of the bindings, but he could search along the inside of his boot and find the slender blade that he kept hidden there.

  Andril had always advised keeping extra blades on him, warning him that were he disarmed, it was useful to have secondary weapons. Andril had always carried more than one, though Endric didn't know exactly how many, or where he kept them. Endric preferred his boots. Now that he was en’raen, he was able to request the leathersmith to create pouches within his boots, and they stored his blades well, concealing them. He wondered if his other blade was still there. He might need both to escape.

  With the knife free, he sawed at the bindings around his ankles, and they fell away.

  Endric turned it, using it to cut away at the ropes around his wrists as well. Like with his ankles, they also fell free. He brought his hands back around in front of him, working feeling back into them while clutching the hilt of the knife. He checked for injuries, running his hands across his legs, his arms, his chest, his back, before touching the back of his head. There was a knot there, and it was exquisitely tender, but it didn't appear to be open. If nothing else, that was a blessing.

  He got to his knees, pulling the other knife from his other boot. Now armed with knives, Endric thought himself better prepared to face whatever he might need to encounter.

  He crept toward nearby trees, keeping his head down as he surveyed the area around him. Grasses had been trampled here, and he noted various boot marks in the soil. Somewhere up ahead, a fire crackled softly. Endric made his way carefully toward them, wanting to find Senda before he planned an escape.

  Six men sat around a campfire. Horses were tied to a tree nearby. Endric saw no other signs of soldiers.

&n
bsp; Where was the army he’d seen? Where were the men who’d captured him?

  With no sign of them, he wondered if they had attacked the Denraen. Could he have been too late?

  Endric needed a sword. Armed with only his knives. He would be at a disadvantage. These men would be able to overwhelm him unless he managed to catch them one at a time.

  Endric crept back into the woods near the trees. As he did, he heard a soft crack, and he spun.

  A dark-haired man stood across from him. He stared at Endric, his eyes wide.

  Endric understood. He had not been left alone. They left a guard. Only, the man had made the mistake of giving Endric time.

  He launched himself at the man, catching him in the temple with his close fist, knife clutched in his hand, using the close combat style he’d learned from Listain. He needed answers, which meant that he would not kill, not yet. It wasn't that Endric was opposed to it. He'd been a Denraen long enough to know that battle and warfare were sometimes required, but right now, he needed to understand.

  With the guard now unconscious, he dragged him deeper into the trees and leaned him up against a narrow trunk. Using his knife, he cut strips of cloth from the man's cloak and used that to bind his hands, tying them behind him and around the base of the tree. Another strip was used to tie his ankles, essentially binding the man the same way Endric had been bound, only in this man's case, Endric had done so more securely.

  He took another strip and wrapped it around his mouth, not wanting him to wake and scream and alert the others.

  And Endric crouched, watching. Waiting.

  When he finally came around, the man's gaze darted to Endric, and he tried to talk through the strip in his mouth.

  Endric shook his head and pointed with a knife. He brought a finger to his lips. “We're going to have a quiet conversation,” he said. The man's wide eyes blinked as he nodded. “Who are you with?”

  He brought the knife closer to the man's face, holding it beneath his chin, pulling back the strip of cloth over his mouth long enough for him to answer.

  “We were only to capture the girl. That was the job.” The man's voice started to get higher, panic seeping in.