A Charge of Valor (Book #6 in the Sorcerer's Ring)

by Morgan Rice

  Please God, he prayed. Let this work.

  This was the ultimate test of his acting skills, the ultimate role he had ever played.

  After what felt like forever, to Godfrey’s immense relief, finally, he heard the sound of the cart taking off behind him. The officers resumed their laughter, and the wheels began to disappear.

  And the two soldiers before him did not even look back.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” one soldier said. “I had no idea.”

  Godfrey smiled inwardly to himself, doubling his pace, and then shoving them even more roughly.

  “Of course you didn’t,” he said. “That is why you are a soldier—and I am an officer.”

  *

  Godfrey marched with the two Empire soldiers and their captive back through the gates of Silesia, past thousands of Empire soldiers, some of whom looked their way but most of whom were preoccupied. The city was mostly rubble, and as Godfrey re-entered it, getting a good glimpse of it for the first time, his heart sank. All around him, for the first time, he saw the devastation, the oppression of his people. The extent of their defeat hit home. Everywhere were smoldering flames, the city in ruin, slaves bound together and being whipped as they sorted through the rubble.

  Godfrey saw the crosses, high up, and he was aghast to spot Kendrick, up there on a cross, beside Atme, Brom, Kolk, Srog and several others. It made him sick. He wanted to run to them, to free them all at once. But now was not the time.

  Most pressing on Godfrey’s mind was getting rid of these two soldiers he was accompanying, especially before they figured out that something was not right. He had to finish playing his role, and as he went, a plan came to him.

  “Where to now, sir?” one of the soldiers asked.

  “Don’t ask questions!” Godfrey snapped. “You answer your superior only when talked to!”

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

  “Just follow me and shut your mouth,” Godfrey added. “We are going to deliver this slave exactly where he belongs.”

  As they passed, Silesian slaves looked over at Godfrey in fear, and Godfrey realized that he was playing the role too well, especially as Empire soldiers all around them continued to stiffen in salute. He found himself standing taller, walking straighter, really immersing himself in the role. He blinked and for a moment he almost forgot that he was not an Empire officer.

  Godfrey realize that this was all he’d needed his entire life: a good suit of armor and an officer’s role. Maybe if his father had given it to him, he would have avoided the taverns altogether.

  Which, ironically, was where he was going right now. Godfrey weaved in and out of the back alleys of Silesia, which he had memorized in but a few days’ time, and led the group towards the tavern he had frequented with Akorth and Fulton. If he knew those two—and he knew them like brothers—they had found a way to avoid the conflict, and to survive. They had probably snuck around corners, hidden in trash cans, done whatever they had to do to make it, and if he knew them, they would have somehow found their way right back here, to the pub, drowning themselves in ale and shrugging it all off as if war had never happened. In Godfrey’s experience, even in completely sacked cities, pubs were left untouched by soldiers. After all, conquering soldiers wanted a drink, too. It was usually the first thing they wanted, and it only hurt their cause to destroy the taverns.

  Playing his role well, Godfrey stepped forward, before the soldiers, and kicked the door open to the pub hastily, his face plate down, and feeling a rush of authority. He was getting lost in the role, and he really felt as if he were an Empire officer, storming down an illegal pub in the conquered city.

  Godfrey stepped inside, and just as he suspected, he found the place jam-packed with Silesian survivors, slackers who had found a way to survive. The slovenly fringe sat hunched over the bar, which, as Godfrey suspected, had been left untouched by the conquerors. This place was a bit less crowded than it had been before the war—but not much. Godfrey’s storming out of there and joining the army clearly had not been an example for any of them. These people who where they were. Godfrey did not blame them: he felt his knees grow weak at the smell of the strong ale and wanted a pint more than he’d ever had in his life.

  As Godfrey and his group stormed into the room, it grew dead silent, everyone turning and looking at him in fear, cowering. They hurried out of his way as Godfrey marched forward with the others, right to the bar. Godfrey’s heart soared with relief as he spotted who he was looking for. He saw from here the figures of Akorth, way too fat, and Fulton, tall and skinny, both hunched over the bar with their backs to them.

  At the commotion they turned, and their eyes opened wide with fright as Godfrey approached.

  Godfrey smiled to himself. Clearly they had no idea it was their old friend.

  “Stop here!” Godfrey commanded the Empire soldiers, as loud and authoritative as he could be, and they both stopped and stiffened at attention, holding the slave.

  “These two men are wardens to the slave,” Godfrey said to the Empire soldiers, gesturing at Akorth and Fulton.

  Akorth and Fulton stared back, confused.

  “Wardens?” Akorth asked. “Us?”

  “Sir?” one of the soldiers asked. “I don’t understand.”

  “It is not for you to understand!” Godfrey screamed back at the soldier. “Unshackle the slave, and you will understand.”

  The two Empire soldiers exchanged a confused look, and they hesitated. Godfrey’s heart pounded as he hoped they did not realize that something was awry.

  But finally they each followed orders; they reached into their pockets, extracted their keys, and began to unshackle the slave.

  As they did, Godfrey suddenly turned to Akorth and Fulton, who stared back at him in wonder, and he quickly lifted his visor. As he did, their eyes opened wide in shock.

  Godfrey silently motioned with his eyes, telling them what to do. Thankfully, they were quick to understand.

  Akorth and Fulton each immediately reached over, grabbed their mugs from the bar, and stepped forward and smashed them over the heads of the Empire soldiers. The soldiers collapsed to the ground, and as they did, all the other Silesian patrons joined in, kicking them until they finally stopped squirming.

  Godfrey removed his helmet, and all the other patrons recognized who he was. They let out a cheer.

  “Son of a bitch!” Akorth said.

  “You are even craftier than I thought,” Fulton added.

  “There are many ways to win a war,” Godfrey smiled.

  “But I don’t understand,” Akorth said, looking down at the soldiers. “Why did you bring them here?”

  “I figured these two were about your size,” Godfrey said.

  They looked back at him, baffled.

  “Don their armor,” Godfrey said. “I need your help. And you two are coming with me.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Thor rode the camel-like animals, Krohn in his lap and Reece, O’Connor, Conven, Elden and Indra riding beside him, the group of them charging through the vast expanse of salt fields, stirring up clouds of white dust, as they had been for hours. Driven by adrenaline, by fear of those monsters, none of them had even thought about slowing as they galloped for hours, zigzagging in and out of danger, narrowly avoiding hole after hole as one monster after the next had emerged to snap at them. Luckily, the animals they rode were well-trained and just fast enough to save their lives. Thor looked at Indra with appreciation once again; they would have not survived if she had not shown up when she did.

  It had been hours since they’d passed the final hole in the desert floor, and yet still none of them had slowed, driven by fear. But now the second sun was beginning to set, there had been no sign of danger for hours, and finally, up ahead, they saw the first structure on the horizon, the first shape in this empty landscape to break up the monotony of nothingness.

  They all stopped together and sat there on their animals, breathing hard, staring out at it together.r />
  “What is it?” O’Connor asked.

  “A town,” Indra answered.

  “But who would live out here?” Elden asked.

  Indra smiled.

  “Me,” she said.

  They all turned and looked at her, shocked.

  “Not anymore, of course,” she said. “But it’s where I grew up.”

  Thor looked at it with wonder, this small town on the horizon in the midst of nothing.

  “I would extend you all a formal invitation,” she said, “but I don’t have a quill and parchment.”

  Indra screamed and kicked her animal, and she charged forward. They all kicked, too, and raced to catch up with her.

  As they closed the distance, Indra’s town came into view. Thor was excited to encounter an actual town in this desolate landscape, and his mind raced imagining what the town could be like, who lived there, what her people were like. He also wondered how they could survive out here, in the middle of nowhere.

  That question was answered as they all approached the town wall, and Thor saw for himself: the town was abandoned. A small town, it was comprised of but a few dozen small cottages, all built of a white, hard substance that looked like dried salt, most of them dilapidated and crumbling. The town did not have a soul in it.

  A lonely wind whipped through, sending large thorn bushes tumbling end over end, and they all slowed to a walk as they followed Indra through, Thor looking for any sign of life.

  “There’s no one here,” Elden finally said.

  “There was once,” Indra said. “The Empire came and took us all away, as slaves. I vowed to never return. This place was bad enough, even when we were free. It was terribly boring, another suffocating small town on the edge of the Empire. It was the most dull and monotonous life you could imagine. In some ways, the Empire did us a favor to clear us all out of here. Not that being a slave was fun. It sucked. But living here was worse.”

  Thor was taken aback by Indra’s candor, and by her strength. She called things for how she saw them, and she never minced words.

  “The only saving grace of this place,” Indra said, as they all continued to walk through on their animals, “is that these walls keep the insects out at night and they slow the wind. At night, the wind can get really bad. And the dwellings provided shade overhead. Otherwise, there’s nothing to redeem this place.”

  “But I don’t understand,” Elden said, as they continued to walk through, doors hanging crookedly off their hinges, items left in the streets, clearly showing a people who had left in haste. “Why was this town ever here to begin with? I mean, we’re in the middle of nowhere. What justification could there be to live out here?”

  “Right over there,” she said, gesturing with her chin.

  They all turned and looked and there, beside the town, were several dozen small caves. Large crops of rock rose from the ground, into which were carved huge holes, disappearing somewhere inside. The overhangs were all white, and it looked as if they had been covered in years of salt.

  “The salt mines,” Indra explained, dismounting from her animal and leading it by the reigns.

  They all followed and dismounted, too. Thor let Krohn down gently, then he stretched his aching legs. After so many hours, it felt good to be on his feet again.

  “People moved here for the same reason they move everywhere,” Indra added, as they all walked on foot. “Money. There was a salt boom, back when I was young. People came here and mined until their fingernails fell off. They used pickaxes, shovels, chisels, anything they could get their hands on. This was where the finest salts were. They made more money than you can imagine.”

  She shook her head.

  “When the mines dried up and salt became cheap, life became harder and harder. Most people moved away. Not my family. My father,” she said, shaking her head, “was stubborn to the end. He kept insisting that good times would come back here, that things would be like they once were. He refused to see the reality before him. He refused to leave. I was about to run away. Until the Empire came along.”

  Indra walked forward and kicked an empty bowl, sending it across the landscape.

  “Ironic that I should find myself back here. It is also the only town between here and the Land of the Dragons. I told myself I’d never step foot in it again. But for you knuckleheads, here I am.”

  They followed her lead as she tied her animal to a post, each of them securing theirs. Thor came over to her.

  “You saved our lives back there,” Thor said, as the others gathered around. “We owe you a great debt.”

  “And it is not the first time,” Reece added.

  “We shall find some way,” O’Connor said.

  Indra shook her head.

  “You don’t owe me anything,” she said. “After all, you saved me from boredom. What would I be doing back there? Figuring out somewhere else to go, something else to do. I’ve been a slave so long I don’t even remember how to live life. At least you guys are interesting. You’re all just reckless enough to be fun. Even with that stupid quest of yours.”

  Elden stepped forward and lowered his head, bashful. Thor could see him blush.

  “I, for one,” he said to her softly, “am very happy you returned.”

  He looked up at her and smiled, and for the first time Thor could see the little boy inside him. It was jarring, juxtaposed with his huge muscular frame.

  Indra smiled, then turned away.

  “You are not so bad yourself,” she said.

  Indra suddenly strutted across the small courtyard in the center of town, looking flustered, and quickly changed the topic.

  “The sun will set soon,” she said. “It will be blacker than black out here. Help me gather wood, and milk. The sun sets fast out here, so follow me.”

  They followed her out the other side of the town and back into the desert, which, on this side of the town wall, was dotted with strange, cactus-like plans, each about ten feet tall, in all different colors.

  “What are these?” O’Connor asked.

  “Qurum,” she said. “The wood inside the qurum is dry, perfect for burning.” She approached one as they followed. “If you can get past the thorns. Can I borrow your axe?” she asked Elden.

  Elden stepped forward without hesitating and, too proud to let her do it and wanting to show off, he raised his axe and chopped off one side of the qurum, cutting all the thorns off at once and making one side flush and flat. It exposed the dark brown wood inside—but it also began leaking a white liquid all over the floor.

  Indra shook her head.

  “You are too impatient,” she said. “Now you’ve ruined it.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked. “I cut off its thorns, like you said.”

  She shook her head.

  “You cut too deep into it. See that liquid? That’s qurum milk. We want to collect that. Now it’s wasted. When you cut the thorns, cut just enough.”

  The qurum slowly stopped leaking, then before their eyes it wilted, collapsing down to the floor.

  She walked to another, a few feet away, and this time she snatched the axe from Elden’s hand, raised it high, and sliced one side of a qurum herself. She did it with perfect aim, slicing only the thorns, and this time the qurum did not wilt.

  Indra then went expertly around the qurum, chopping off the thorns on all four sides, then chopped off its base, separating it from the earth. She handed Elden back his axe, then reached down and hoisted it. It looked like a large log.

  “Your dagger,” she said, holding out a hand.

  Thor stepped forward and placed a dagger in her hand, and she reached up and poked a small hole in it; as she did, white milk began to bubble up.

  “Your helmet, quick,” she said.

  She grabbed O’Connor’s helmet and turned it upside down, and collected all the milk as it flowed. Soon she had a large bowl full of milk.

  “Can you drink it?” Thor asked, examining it.

  She nodded.

&nbs
p; “It’s sweet,” she answered. “And filling. It’s a complete meal in just a few sips. It also has qualities. It relaxes you. It puts you in a bit of an altered state, if you have too much. Kind of like drinking wine. You’ll feel good,” she said, smiling. “We call it truth serum. Because usually when people drink it, they say what’s on their mind. Whether they mean to or not.”

  She turned and handed Elden the qurum.

  “It’s heavy,” she said. “You can carry it back.”

  “This isn’t heavy,” he said. “I can carry more of these.”

  She smiled.

  “Good, then get to work. We will need about ten of them to make it through the night.”

  The boys fanned out, each going to another qurum and using their swords and daggers to strip the thorns and bring the logs back.

  As Thor worked on his, he looked over at Conven standing beside him, and saw how red his eyes were; he could tell how distraught he was. Conven had barely spoken a word since his brother had died, and his actions seemed desperate and reckless, and Thor feared for his state of mind.

  Thor came up beside him, ostensibly to assist him on his qurum, but really to see if he could help him.

  Thor stood there for a while, scraping the thorns on the other side of Conven’s qurum; Conven barely seemed to notice, or to care. After some time passed, Thor asked: “Are you okay?”

  Conven nodded, not meeting Thor’s eyes as he continued to cut away at the qurum.

  Thor cleared his throat. He wondered what to say to make him feel better.

  “I loved Conval, too, like a brother,” Thor said.

  Conven kept cutting, with no reaction.

  Thor tried again.

  “I’m sorry he’s gone,” Thor said. “I can’t imagine the suffering you’re going through. I just want you to know that I am here. We are all here for you.”

  Conven continued to look down, refusing to meet Thor’s eyes. He kept cutting away, and for a while Thor thought he would not respond. Then, finally, he said, in a quiet, raspy voice:

  “He liked you.”