Next to them stood Bradán’s own men. There were fifteen of them now in three rows of five. The front left was the only one who wore a dark green tunic while the remainder bore olive green colours. Each man carried a spear and circular shield and bore a black cloak. He stared at them angrily. It was not his orders that placed them there. Something was happening that he was not privy to.
“I object to these proceedings and your orders, my Lord Senator,” aggrieved the War Band Commander, having finally found his voice.
Bradán turned at the sound of Rainier’s deep voice. Pretty brave, thought Bradán, considering the class of soldiers waiting outside. The Men-of-the-Legion were not only known for their skill and courage but also for being viciously loyal to their commanders.
Something in Rainer caught Bradán’s eye and he took a closer look at Rabi’a’s War Band Commander. On his bicep, Bradán noticed a faded tattoo of an upright Kel’akh bow. Between the drawing of the bowstring and the stave was the single letter f. Beneath the bow, pointing in the same direction as the stave, was the image of a black gladius. Each tattoo showed which Roz’eli regiments Rainier had served in.
Not only was he at one time a Federate Mercenary and a Free Archer, but he had also belonged to the Roz’eli Elite Guard. Only through sheer bravery and a demonstration of great skill could he have joined that fighting force especially when not being a native of Roz’eli, although such a thing was not unheard of. As a member of the Elite Guard he would have been responsible for the safety of senators, foreign dignitaries and even relatives of the Emperor that were outside his immediate circle. Only the Personal Guard could protect the Roz’eli Emperor and members of his immediate family, for which only true-born people of Ee’en could possibly strive.
The fact that Rainier had served in all three units and had survived should have been enough to offer him some respect and to have proven how dangerous the Rabi’a man before them could possibly be.
As if knowing that he was being scrutinised he turned and faced Bradán. The Druid Captain held his gaze comfortably as the two warriors gauged each other, but not so much that it turned into a competition. Bradán offered a slight, an almost imperceptible nod. Rainier marked the gesture and returned one of his own before regarding the Roz’eli men once again. Just as the Kel’akh warrior was about to turn away once again, something else caught his eye.
It was a tattoo on Theirn’s bicep also, the bottom of which could only be seen from beneath his short-sleeved tunic. Only half seen, there was no denying the picture; an upright bow with an ‘f’ in its centre. Bradán’s battle senses began to take over.
There were two Free Archers in the one village? To have members of the Federate Mercenaries in a large town was one thing. After all most men would seek the excitement of battle some time in their lives or be enlisted for any Roz’eli military campaigns, but to have two Free Archers together even in a large village… Such a thing was quite uncommon. Bradán’s mind began to work overtime. Just how many men in Rabi’a have been Federate Mercenaries? How many of the men and women have been Free Archers? He looked out of the window.
No longer was he watching the people of the town going about their business. Now he was waiting to see if a possible trap was about to be sprung. He was not too sure if it was his imagination but there seemed to be a lot of able-bodied men and women of fighting age lingering about. None of them were running to fat. He considered that even if no one else in Rabi’a had military service the War Band were sure to have been trained by two accomplished soldiers at the very least.
Behind him, Bradán could hear the senator say, “Not these people. Our orders come direct from the Emperor and are quite clear. The Jay’keb criminals must be apprehended at the earliest opportunity. Their intention is an uprising in that province to overthrow our rule there. We have already spoken to the town of Kay’den. Everyone in Rabi’a must be questioned immediately.” Tacitus slowly shook his head. He smiled amiably and spread out his hands as if offering his profound apologies. “A sad business to be sure but orders are orders.”
“I am curious, Senator,” said Rainier. “Are you working as the voice of the Emperor or are you acting as commander of the General Agents?” Bradán was stunned to find that someone from Nah’cho could know such a thing. If Tacitus was also surprised he hid it well. Rainier smiled. “That is correct. I do know you. We met some years ago in Roz’eli. You introduced me to the Emperor himself just before I was recruited into the State Guards.”
“Ah yes,” smiled the senator, after thinking for a moment. “I recall you now. You had saved the Emperor’s son. You were a Free Archer at the time. In return you were allowed your freedom and Roz’eli citizenship. I apologise for not remembering. All you barbarians look alike to me.” A lizard-like grin touched his lips. “The Emperor is in danger, Rainier. Do your duty, soldier, and protect him!” The War Band Commander stared at the senator, refusing to say anything. “Are there any more Free Archers here in Rabi’a?” Rainier shook his head this time, again saying nothing. Bradán knew that he did not trust the words that might have come out of his mouth if he had spoken. “A pity that there are none of that particular unit here. They at least do not question or disobey orders. Any order.”
Bradán looked at the Roz’eli men. Tacitus and Urbanus were now looking at Rainier with mild amusement and seemed to be totally at ease though their eyes spoke of violence. Quirinus sat behind the desk very unhappy with the proceedings.
The Administrator stood and asked, “And what of the Emperor’s own law? I grew up believing Roz’eli laws and practices. Everyone is entitled to a defence! Even if these people are from Jay’keb, Roz’eli laws state that the accused home country must decide their fate.”
“We are talking about the execution of a child here,” put in Theirn, his voice strong. “Abram is only twelve years old or so I am told.” He rose as he spoke and Bradán could feel the tension in the room increasing.
Tacitus stepped in and leaned forward on the table until he was almost nose-to-nose with the Chieftain of Rabi’a. “This is no ordinary child,” he snapped. “He is a threat to both the Emperor and the Empire. Do not concern yourself, Theirn.” The senator drew in a deep breath that seemed to calm him down. He stood up straight. “We will deal with these traitors ourselves if you do not have the fortitude. Where are you holding them?”
Theirn stood up straight and puffed himself out. Rainier stepped closer to him. “They are not here,” he stated.
Tacitus smiled gleefully. “Really?” he asked before shouting, “Decurion Valens, come in please.” In strode a Roz’eli officer, similarly dressed to Urbanus. There were two gold circles over his heart marking his rank. “Where are they?”
Valens looked at Rainier and Theirn. “We have them in one of the upper rooms in the Travelers’ Inn as you specified. There are guards at their door. There is only one entrance and a drop from the window is too high to attempt. But just to be sure we had two guards posted there also.”
Tacitus’s smile was huge. “Very good, Decurion. Send three of your men to fetch them and line them up against the wall of the Travelers’ Inn. Make sure that they understand that none of them may talk to the prisoners. Have the boy Abram stand in the centre.”
Valens turned and left passing a large ornate mirror of Kel’akh design. It faced directly opposite the Chieftain’s study and it was obviously of excellent quality. Gazing upon it made Bradán miss his homeland even more. He glanced at the senator whose eyes seemed to be lingering over it, his greedy eyes alight. He had been away for some time but even he recognised the magickal symbols placed there by the Kel’akh Men of Art at each corner of the mirror. After a few moments of barking orders to the men outside, the Decurion returned.
“It is done, my Lord,” he reported.
Tacitus turned to Rainier. “Have your War Band keep the inevitable crowds back. I am sure that you would not want to lose any of your people or see Rabi’a razed if an incident were to occur.”
He turned and strode from the room, allowing the threat to hang in the air. Quirinus and Urbanus followed. Bradán watched them go but he himself hung back. A part of him was craving to stay in the company of Kel’akh people, no matter how they saw him, and away from the Roz’eli citizens that he was slowly but surely coming to learn to despise.
Theirn sat back in his chair and let out a deep sigh. “What is it that you want here, hand-over?” He was unable to even look at the Kel’akh warrior.
Bradán flinched at the word. “I am not with them. I have no love for Roz’eli but this senator has aligned himself with my Lord. My orders are to go with him and assist him in all ways.”
“Even if that means the murder of a child?” asked Rainier. Bradán nodded saying nothing. “You disgust me!”
“Do not judge me, Rainier,” snapped Bradán, angry now but keeping it in check. “You have no right. I saw your tattoos. What orders did the two of you ever turn down when fighting as Federate Mercenaries? What atrocities did you commit as a Free Archer?”
Rainer slammed his hand down on the Chieftain’s table. “It was all for the greater good and for Nah’cho!” He stopped, suddenly afraid that something was about to slip out. “I never went against my own people!”
“You keep telling yourself that,” sneered the Druid Legion Captain. “I am sure that such sentiments aid the families of the lives you helped destroy and eases your sleep at night when those voices of the dead whisper in your dreams.” He needed to defuse the situation before it became more volatile. This was not what he wanted. Bradán’s voice softened. “Nor have I ever gone against my own, Rainier. I would hope to have the strength to refuse if that order ever came. The child and the others are from the far side of the Empire though. Please forgive me.” He looked at Theirn. “I have no right to speak in such a fashion when in your home. Roz’eli arrogance is as astonishing as their cruelty. I have spent too long in the shadow of these people.”
The Chieftain nodded. “I understand. We all live in dangerous times, surrounded by even more dangerous enemies. We all must do whatever we must to survive even if those orders mean that we spend the rest of eternity in the Pits of the Otherworld. Our people; our ways. That is what is important.”
The Chieftain stood and made a step to leave the room when Rainier grabbed his friend’s arm and held him tight. “This isn’t right, Theirn. He is only a boy! Quirinus was correct in what he said. Did you notice that they did not produce any proof concerning the orders? I doubt that the Emperor even knows about this no matter what seal he carries.”
“I know that,” spat Theirn angrily, staring at Bradán. He turned to his friend. “What is it that you want me to do? Are you the one who is going to stop him? Personally I do not want to see any of my family or any from this village flayed alive in front of me! Now that they know we have been hiding the boy and his family we will be lucky if it is only the two of us who get punished.”
Bradán looked at the two men suddenly feeling sympathy for both of them. He knew that Theirn was no coward. His tattoos proved that without even knowing the man. But the threat to his family and to every family within Rabi’a was very real. The Druid Captain watched how Rainier slowly lowered his head in defeat as he followed his Chieftain out into the bright summer day.
Silently Bradán followed behind.
XXXII
“Are you sure that you want to hear about this, my Lord?” asked the man. “You say that you knew these people.”
Meuric nodded even as the sickness in the pit of his stomach grew. He sat in the Travelers’ Inn in a town of the Ah’dah people that bordered the Daw’ra tribal region. The shadow in the corner of where he sat complemented the darkening mood that he was in. The man that he was speaking to was a merchant of wool and tin and so had travelled a great deal. He even spoke of how he traded within the Roz’eli Empire.
Meuric had just completed his training as a Knight Protector after three years away. He had arrived in central Kel’akh and set himself up as a man of means. He wore good quality clothes, bought a large home with some land along with three servants and a horse he called Paden for the first time as a joke against the elderly Oak Seer. Once settled and his new identity was implanted with the locals he had sent one of his servants to Gla’es with messages for Colton, Paden and his beloved Dervla.
He returned only with tales of its destruction.
Meuric wailed with the thought of losing Dervla and his boys. He packed his horse and immediately set off. Two days later he found himself sitting in this Travelers’ Inn opposite a merchant.
“Tell me,” growled Meuric.
“I did not see them myself you understand,” began the merchant hesitantly. He could almost sense how dangerous the man before him was and certainly did not want to get on his wrong side. “Stories spoke of a huge raiding party, warriors of the type not seen before or since. They attacked Gla’es early in the morning, shortly before dawn. Somehow they had managed to cross the water that surrounded the isle without being seen. Rumours were that they were Roz’eli Men-of-the-Legion but that has since been disproved.
“It is also said that although they were taken by surprise, the people of Gla’es had fought back with a tenacity that the Bards must sing of. A nearby Daw’ra hamlet witnessed the incident from distance. Runners were sent to neighbouring villages and towns but by the time they roused the War Band it was all over.
“They say that many of the enemy were killed but Gla’es had been attacked on all sides all at once with no help or hope. In the end it was magick that was the deciding factor. The menfolk, those who had not died protecting all that they had known, were taken prisoner, rounded into a pen and shot down with arrows. The women, children and the elderly were placed into the Great Hall and burned alive. There were no survivors.”
Meuric opened and closed his fist. Anger and grief threatened to overwhelm him but he managed to quell it.
Through gritted teeth he managed to ask, “There was no sign of rape or pillage?”
The merchant shook his head. “Nothing was taken. Neither goods nor slaves. It was a mission of execution.”
“Do the people still lie there?”
The merchant nodded. “So I have been told. Since magick was discovered at the scene people have been too afraid to return.”
Within Kel’akh, superstition dictated that in a place such as that the spirits of the dead now dwelled waiting for the chance to possess a new body. Such a belief would have kept potential human scavengers away.
He left early the next morning ensuring that he avoided any settlements now that he was in Daw’ra land once again. The new Knight Protector almost fell from his horse as he dismounted when he first glimpsed his old home from a nearby hilltop. He fell to his knees and wept. With a heavy heart and heavier footsteps, Meuric led the horse Paden as he made his way down to the water’s edge. He could feel the presence of magick alright. It was powerful and raw as if its wielder was not used to such strength. Here he used his Gifts of Feather Light and flew to the isle landing gently on his feet.
Bodies of everyone he had ever known littered the ground. By now they were decomposing badly, having been equally feasted upon by animals, maggots and carrion birds. Many of the dead lay where they fell, weapons still in their hands.
Buildings lay in either ruins or in ash. The whole site had been torched. He had found the nail scratches of those who had attempted to claw their way out of the Great Hall on the inside of a scorched doorway frame. He had found Colton and his wife, Farrah, both dead at the foot of his throne in the Chieftain’s Chamber. Too much dried blood layered the floor around the two of them to be from the rulers alone. Their three youngest children, a girl of maybe six months and two boys aged five and seven respectively, lay on the floor next to them, their throats slit in the ritual style of Kel’akh. Meuric removed a glove and touched the blood.
In his mind’s eye he could see the children drugged, their eyes glazed by the use of well-kno
wn local herbs, as Colton put a ceremonial blade to their throats. Behind him lay Farrah, already dead from an overdose of the same drug. The newly made Knight Protector could only guess at what it had cost the Chieftain to kill his children before the horde of faceless warriors did. Would the gods ever forgive him such a crime? Meuric had no way of knowing but he hoped they understood.
He had later found Paden’s decapitated body lying outside the Oak Seer’s Hall, a sword still gripped in his dead hand. The Knight Protector was unable to ever find his head. Even to this day he could not recall the sight of seeing the body of his beloved wife or his son. Some things he was still grateful for. He would learn later that his second son survived. He was the only one.
It took Meuric a week of working tirelessly to gather up and burn all the corpses in a large pyre. On that last day he turned his back on the Knight Protectors, the Conclave and its Council, blaming them all for what had happened. The Link that united all Knight Protectors with the Council had been blocked. For reasons of their own they had allowed him to keep his Gifts. For years after, the former Knight had searched for the raiders, tracking down all possible leads. As hard as he tried he never did find out those who had carried out the killings and so much time had now passed he knew that he never would.
He woke.
Meuric sat up. His body was shivering from sweat. His breathing was ragged. Taking his flask of water he drank deeply before stripping off all his clothes and replacing them with fresh ones, including undergarments. He did not remember falling asleep.
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