“The gods will reveal their will for his life in their own time,” rasped Tooles.
“That’s nonsense. There is only One God, and unless men turn to him they will always seek to serve themselves,” Kain said.
“Like your father, you believe in only one God, but I tell you, beware. There are powers in this world, call them what you will, that are not merciful like your One God. I have seen them,” said the elderly Tooles.
Kain felt a shudder, like a cold hand caressing his spine, and was at a loss for words when Gorton saved him the trouble.
“How did you do that back there?”
“Do what?”
“Cut through that knight’s helmet, skull and all?”
Kain shrugged, “I don’t know.”
Chapter 14
Kain and his companions ate their breakfast with a satisfaction that exceeded all their previous moods. When he had finished eating, Kain stood to his feet and stretched. He was anxious to get underway.
“The prisoners would like to see you,” Fairan said, striding back to the camp fire at last.
“What about?” Kain asked.
“I have told them who you are. They will pledge themselves to you, if I am not mistaken.”
Kain was surprised. These were men he was planning to kill a few hours ago, mortal enemies. He felt uneasy about the situation. They couldn’t travel with Kain and his companions, they would slow them down. And he could not send them back to Westfold, Derrick would probably kill them. But he didn’t want them showing up at Royal City, with their allegiance so unpredictable.
“What should we do?” the Third Prince asked.
“Go to them,” rasped Tooles.
“But what do I do with them?”
“Set them free, let them make up their own mind about what they will do,” said Gorton. “They were surely pressed into service against their will. They certainly knew nothing of soldiering besides marching.”
Kain nodded, it was the best thing to do. If some wanted to go home and risk Derrick’s wrath, that should be their choice. Kain walked with Fairan toward where the men from Westfold were waiting.
“I did not mean to upset you in the battle,” Kain said. “I just acted-”
“Like your father,” Fairan said. “He was just like you in war, careful and calculating about his men, about their plan of action, and absolutely reckless in battle himself.”
“I didn’t mean to be reckless, but I couldn’t just sit there and let those knights attack Devlyn. I was planning on cutting across their path and giving Devlyn time to escape.”
“Well…” the general said, unable to find the words he wanted. Finally he just said, “Here we are.” Then he addressed the remaining troop of men from Westfold. Most were wounded, some severely. “This is Elkain, son of Belhain, Third Prince of Belanda. This is why Derrick sent you to stop us, to keep Elkain from taking the throne.”
“Is it true,” asked one of the prisoners in a husky voice, “that you are Belhain’s son?”
“Yes,” Kain said. “I did not know it until recently. My father sent me to the Monastery at Aquista when I was a baby.”
“And will you take your father’s place as King of Belanda?” asked another of the men.
“Yes, although I expect that Derrick will stir up the nobles and the people against me. But I am the son of the King, and it is my right to rule.”
“Then we will follow you, my Lord,” said one of the men.
Another shouted, “Long live Prince Elkain, son of Belhain.”
And the men took up the chant as they got on their knees before him, some pledging their lives to his service.
“Quiet down,” Kain told them, trying not to laugh at their display of support. “Listen, my companions and I are traveling to Royal City. We expect more resistance, and we cannot linger here.”
“I’ll fight with you,” shouted one man.
“Yeah, we’ll all fight!” cried another.
“No, you have fought and suffered enough. We cannot wait for you. Some of you will need to nurse your wounds, to take time as you travel. I ask only two things of you: first, that you make your own decision about what you will do from here, you may go home, or seek your fortunes elsewhere. And second, that you do not force yourself on the people of this land. Seek their assistance as you need it, but do not steal, do not harm anyone. If you do, I will hear of it, and make no mistake, I will hunt you down, and return my vengeance on your heads tenfold.”
“Yes, my Lord,” they said, bowing their heads meekly.
“Good luck then. And may the One True God show you mercy.”
Kain and Fairan turned and walked away.
“Do you think they’ll do as you say?” Fairan asked.
“Don’t know, but it was worth a shot.”
When they had returned to the camp, everything was ready for their departure. Kain noticed that his horse now had chainmail armor; it was similar to his own but the links were larger. The dull metal contrasted with his mount’s dark hide and gave him a sinister appearance. They all mounted their horses and set off.
They rode for half a day before the trouble they feared became plain. There were scouts on the hills, no longer trying to keep themselves hidden. They would occasionally see these men on their light horses, racing away toward Royal City. There was no doubt that Derrick knew of their escape, their numbers, and their plain to reach the city.
By late in the afternoon, Royal City was still several hours away by horseback, and the heat was miserable. Kain, having lived in the foothills of the mountains all his life, had never felt the scorching sun of an early summer afternoon like this. He felt weak; his body ached with the dull pain from lack of sleep. The grim reality that their enemies were plotting their demise kept the group from talking, each man pondering what lay ahead. And Kain found the silence, the heat, the monotony of the journey, and even the rocking motion of his horse as irresistible as a lullaby. He nodded off in a dream filled doze. In his mind, he would see the men riding down Devlyn, then an unexpected motion would jar him back to consciousness. His neck was hurting from letting his head droop down, his chin on his chest, but he was too tired to hold his head up. He slipped back into the dream world, this time it was Fairan, pulled off his horse by the troop from Westfold. And he awoke again, a mosquito buzzing in his ear. He thought briefly of trying to shake off his fatigue, of staying alert, but the others were alert, he reasoned. He alone had stayed up all night. He closed his mind again, the welcome relief of sleep flooding over him like sliding gently into a cool pool of water, the liquid totally surrounding you. Only this time the dream was not hazy, not distant from his rational mind. This time he could see everything clearly, could feel the horse beneath him. He looked to his companions; they were headless, just like the knight he had killed. Terror filled him. He tried to cry out, but he had no voice, could make no sound. And then, unbelievably, the dark man was there. He was sitting on the head of Kain’s horse, as if he weighed nothing at all. And even in the bright, summer sunlight, the man’s face was shrouded with shadow, the long dark hair glinting with an oily reflection. The man raised the sword, its curved blade dripping blood, the blood of his friends. Kain knew what was coming, knew the sword would change into a horrible serpent, knew the snake would strike at him, knew that this time he would die.
He screamed again, but there was still no sound; the man drew the sword back, his arm up, ready to run Kain through. Then the snake appeared, its hissing was the only sound. No, Kain thought, I do not want to die. He reached for his sword, expecting it to be unusable as well. But the Sword of Onnasus pulled easily from its scabbard. Kain hesitated only for a second, in surprise, but then as the snake began to shoot forward, he slashed at it.
“Elkain!” shouted Devlyn, grabbing his wrist.
Fairan had taken hold of his other arm; they pulled him backwards off the horse. At first Kain struggled, convinced that two headless men were attacking him. But then, as if a switch had be
en thrown, the incredibly vivid details of the dream were replaced by the equally vivid reality.
“What happened?” asked Gorton, who came scurrying up from scouting ahead.
“Another dream?” said Tooles.
“Yes,” said Kain, “But this time I was able to fight back. This time I stopped the snake from biting me.”
“Excellent!” said Gorton.
“Are you okay, my Lord?” Devlyn asked.
“I will be if you’ll let me go. And stop calling me that. I’ve been called Kain all my life.”
“Well,” said Fairan, “same old Elkain.”
“I’m afraid we have bigger problems than dreams,” said Gorton.
Everyone looked up. Kain scrambled to his feet.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I can feel it, too,” said Fairan.
“Feel what? What do you feel?”
“Horses, riding hard,” said Devlyn.
“Do you think they are coming this way?” Kain asked.
“There can be no doubt of that,” said Tooles in his gravelly voice.
“There is a valley ahead,” said Devlyn. “If we can beat them to the top of the rise, we will hold the high ground.”
“Let’s go then,” ordered Kain.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Fairan asked.
Kain ignored him and climbed back onto his horse. Not waiting for the others, he kicked his horse into a gallop. His pain and fatigue were forgotten, and the now familiar feeling of mortal danger was hardening in his stomach. He wondered how he had so quickly gone from being a humble monk, to facing death on a nearly daily basis.
The others caught up quickly, only Tooles lagged behind. They rode quickly toward what appeared to be a slight rise in the plain before them. Devlyn was in the lead now, and as he approached the crest of the rise, he reined his horse in. The others halted, too. Below them was a basin in the landscape, it was shallow, but deeper than the normal rolling hills of the plains. On the other side of the valley, waiting on the crest opposite Kain and his companions, were ten men, mounted and armed. They wore different types of armor and carried a variety of weapons, but unlike the poor soldiers they had encountered earlier, these men had the look of ruthless ability. Their armor was mismatched, but each piece had been carefully selected and carried the look of numerous battles.
“What now?” asked Kain. He looked to his companions. Fairan was squinting in the afternoon sunlight, silently taking in their foes. Gorton’s face held a grimace; there was no trace of the good humor it usually held. There was no sign of joy at the expectation for the fight ahead. Devlyn was studying the land, looking for an advantage that might even the odds a little.
Kain wanted to say, there are only ten, we just fought off fifty, this should be simple. But he knew that these men were not farmers and fishermen, pressed into service by a noble’s command. These men were trained killers, hired soldiers whose only allegiance was to the highest bidder. These men were a force to be reckoned with, and the only way to Royal City was through them.
“Let’s rest the horses,” Gorton suggested.
They dismounted, Gorton taking their horses to the stream to drink. Kain, Fairan, and Devlyn stood together looking across the valley.
“Will they attack us?” Kain asked.
“I don’t think so,” Fairan replied. “They hold the high ground between us and Royal City, all they have to do is wait us out.”
“But we can’t wait,” Kain said.
“We have two more days before the Council,” Devlyn said, “we could wait and see what they are planning.”
Kain ground his teeth in frustration.
***
“We need to be cautious here, my Lord,” Tooles said as they sat on camp chairs around a fire. The sun was slowly setting, but in the light of dusk they could see the mercenaries clearly. The men across the valley still sat on their horses, apparently content to wait.
“But didn’t we hear horses galloping toward us?” Kain asked. “Doesn’t that mean they intend to attack us? How can we just sit here waiting for that to happen?”
“We have no choice. We do not have the strength to attack them,” Fairan said, stirring some vegetables he was cooking in a pan on the fire. “Unless you have another brilliant plan to even the odds.”
Kain didn’t, in fact he was so tired that his mind felt sluggish. He had trouble just forming the words to communicate what he was thinking. He didn’t want supper, he just wanted to rest. To rest in Royal City, he thought to himself.
“I’m going to sleep,” Kain announced.
The others nodded but said nothing. He walked a little distance away to a rather comfortable looking patch of grass, where he curled up and fell asleep.
There was a sudden rumbling boom, and Kain’s eyes popped open. It was dark, not even the light from stars or moon. The rumbling continued in the distance. Thunder, Kain thought. He rolled over, the fire was down to mere embers now, and he could see the forms of his friends huddled near it. All but one was clearly sleeping; the hulking outline of Gorton sat upright, with his back to the red glowing embers. Kain moved over to him, and then he saw, across the valley, in the flash of light from lightening crackling in the sky, the outline of five mercenaries, still mounted, watching them from their side of the valley.
“What has happened to the other five?” Kain whispered.
“They are sleeping,” Gorton said. “They dismounted just after dark and moved behind their fellows.”
“What are we going to do about this storm?”
“Get really wet, unless you can change the weather.”
“No,” said Kain, not looking forward to the prospect of sitting out in a storm.
When the rain came, it began with fat drops that seemed to soak every inch of Kain. He remembered playing in the rain once as a boy, and how sick he got afterward. The Monks would not let him do it again after that. The rain was cold; it woke the others, who moved nearer to Kain and Gorton, huddling together for warmth. Then the storm poured rain down in thick sheets, the wind billowed, and above them the sky rippled with veiny, blue lightening. The thunder roared down at them, and Tooles sat muttering with his hood pulled over his head. It was a miserable hour, then the storm moved away, and they were left soaked and cold, with a light rain which fell gently until dawn.
The sunrise brought its welcome warmth, and the sight of their adversaries still watching them from the opposite hill. They were ten strong once more, and seemingly unfazed by the night’s storm or their drenched condition. Tooles managed to kindle a fire and began mixing a warm pot of porridge for their breakfast. Kain ate hungrily and then dozed the morning away. When he awoke around noon, the mercenaries were still watching them from their side of the valley.
Kain moved to Fairan’s side, who was sitting on a camp chair, staring back the way they had come.
“Still content to sit and wait?” Kain asked.
“Yes, for now.”
The others were busying themselves according to their own interests. Gorton was rubbing down the horses and checking their hooves. Devlyn was working a slender piece of wood he had cut the day before, to make a long bow for Kain. With a strange tool, he was shaving the wood, leaving it smooth and thick in the middle, and thin on either end where he had formed a round sort of knob. Tooles was walking not far from the camp, stooped over, searching the ground for plants and herbs.
“I do not have your patience,” Kain grumbled.
“I will share with you my plan, if that will help calm you down,” Fairan said.
“Yes, please.”
“Well, as you noticed before the storm last night, they do sleep. And I don’t believe their waiting in the saddle all day long is to their advantage. So we will attack them tomorrow evening, just after sundown.”
“But that means we’ll have to travel to Royal City the same night to be there for the Council.”
“Yes,” Fairan said.
“But what if it does
n’t work?” Kain cried. “What if they repel us, we will have no time to form another plan.”
“If we fail tomorrow night, we won’t have to form a plan. We’ll be dead.”
Kain didn’t like that thought at all. Still, he knew instinctively that they would only have one shot at overcoming these men. He stood and said quietly, “I’m going for a walk.”
“Don’t wander too far,” Fairan warned.
Kain nodded and walked back to the stream. He wandered along its bank, thinking of the prospects before him. It was hard to imagine; he would be King or he would be dead. In some ways dying seemed much less frightening. He believed that he would be carried away by the spirit servants of the One God to a perfect kingdom, where there would be no sickness or death. Still, even within the teaching of the One God, the experience of death was not clearly spelled out, nor did it detail exactly what the next life would be like. And this unknown was frightening. So was the prospect of failing an entire nation. How could he be king, he thought, just because he had a mark on his chest.”
“Elkain!” the scream echoed across the plain.
Kain spun around and saw the form of a man with sword raised stepping toward him. He fell backward just as the killing stroke was cast, the tip of the sword grazed his stomach, but the mail shirt protected him from harm. When he hit the ground, his mind was numb with fear, but another part of him was already reacting. He rolled into the water and let the current carry him. His attacker scrambled along the rocks of the bank, when suddenly an arrow slammed into his neck. The man dropped his sword and held his throat as blood pumped out around the ends of the arrow, which had punched through the other side of the man’s neck, and up the shaft of the arrow to the feathers.
Kain found his feet and staggered from the water. He turned back to the others, all of who were looking at him. Then Kain noticed something, it was something new on the horizon. The riders were gone.
Chapter 15
“Look!” Kain said, pointing to the opposite hill.
“See to your arms!” shouted Fairan as he drew his sword. “Protect the Prince.”
Third Prince (Third Prince Series) Page 13