First Comes The One Who Wanders

by Lynette S. Jones

  It was a big city, with many people seeking shelter within its walls. It was conceivable, thought Joshuas, that he could have just missed the Captain. But the thought didn’t give him any comfort. He wanted to be wrong about Gerran. It would be a relief to know Adrian was correct about his second in command. With very little time left before they were to go and face the enemy, he climbed the steps to the watchtower and looked out to see if he could find the Captain among the sea of enemies.

  CHAPTER 25

  Joshuas held his position in formation before the gates, his crafters in pairs behind him. Adrian was mounted, ready to lead his men into battle. Gerran sat beside him. Adrian wore the colors of the house of Cheran. Gerran wore the blue and gray of the Ferras clan. Joshuas wore the blue and white of the Sky crafters underneath his cloak, which was pinned at the throat with his identifying insignia.

  Brenth had started moving people into the tunnel at dawn and resolutely waited for the signal from the crafters to begin the ascent into the grove and across the road to the path that led into the Drakmoth Mountains. They wouldn’t stop until they reached the first fortification in the Drakmoth Mountains, Drakmoth Gate. The crafters led by Kyle had taken their position in the grove, after the tunnel had been completed. They also stood waiting for the signal to begin.

  Joshuas had stayed in the watchtower until the sun had begun to lighten the sky. He’d even risked a few mind probes to see if any of the enemy knew of their plan. He hadn’t found Gerran and everything seemed to be as it should be among the enemy. So why couldn’t he shake the feeling they were going to be betrayed? He glanced at Adrian and Gerran again. Adrian was pale and resolute, knowing in all likelihood he rode to his death. Gerran was also resolute, but less worried than his leader. Joshuas swallowed hard. Quickly he probed Gerran’s thoughts, risking the magic.

  “Be prepared for the alternate plan,” he told his men, staring at Gerran. They all looked in the Captain’s direction. Joshuas felt their thoughts touch Gerran’s and watched their faces pale. Jerome’s hand went to his sword.

  “We must stop this before it’s too late,” said Marcus.

  “It’s already too late,” replied Jerome. “But that traitor will pay. That I promise.”

  Joshuas nudged his horse closer to Adrian and spoke in his ear. Adrian cast a glance in Gerran’s direction and looked as though he would protest what Joshuas was telling him. But looking at the crafters behind Joshuas, he could disbelieve no longer. Joshuas quickly told him the alternate plan the crafters had concocted. Adrian nodded tight-lipped and looked straight ahead to the gate. Joshuas could feel his anger and his sorrow. So it begins again, he told himself, hardening his heart against all the tragedy that was poised, ready to come.

  “Guard,” Adrian yelled to the gatekeeper. “Open the gate.”

  The wheel and chain rattled noisily as did the sheaths of the soldiers readying their weapons. When there was enough room to pass under, Adrian gave the signal to attack.

  They took the first few encampments they encountered by surprise and made quick work of dispatching them. But once they were in the middle of the enemy, a cry went out among the Dredracians and they began to run into organized resistance. Very quickly, the small diversion force was in the thick of a one-sided battle. Gerran Ferras took his men and broke to the right, cutting down men as they circumvented the greater part of the charging enemy. It was clear to Joshuas, he was doing his best to keep his men and himself safe, sacrificing the others in the process. Joshuas gave the signal and his crafters broke off and headed in the direction of the grove. The crafters there had already begun obscuring the road with fog. There didn’t appear to be any dark crafters in the enemy’s outer ranks and Joshuas gave a small prayer of thanks as he hacked his way through the dark creatures toward the grove. It appeared the dark leaders didn’t feel they needed to waste any crafters on this small group of resistance fighters. When they were within a hundred yards of the grove, they turned abruptly. One by one the crafters peeled off and stopped in position, each about a half-mile distant from the next. Joshuas was the last to reach his position, the farthest from the grove. He was covered in dark blood from the goblins, orcs, and trolls he’d hacked attempting to reach his designated spot. He came to a stop and began to chant. At first, it seemed he was chanting alone. But after a few moments, he felt the power as the others joined in his song.

  The words to this spell were old, as old as the Crafter Wars and even older. As far as Joshuas knew, this spell hadn’t been spoken since the Crafter Wars. As they chanted, the earth began to shake. He could only hope Adrian had obeyed his hurried warning to retreat when he saw them break away. If not, his men would suffer the consequences, too.

  The twelve crafters continued to chant. Joshuas could feel darts of power trying to get through to them, but they were protected by the spell. The Dredracians began to scatter in fear as the shaking grew worse. As they chanted, a rift began to form in the plain. Dark soldiers screamed as they fell into the crevasse, unable to scrabble up the steep sides to escape. Soon another rift appeared and then another. Still, the crafters chanted.

  Marcus was the first to fall, but still they chanted. More and more soldiers disappeared from the plain. Cadric soon followed Marcus. Joshuas worried they wouldn’t finish before they all fell from exhaustion. They fell one by one, until only he and Jerome remained. Only then did Joshuas change the spell. As the last of his energy failed him, he heard the satisfying snap of the rifts closing over their enemy.

  Adrian signaled his men to stay behind Gerran. His captain seemed unaware or uncaring that he was forging ahead alone. When Joshuas and his crafters broke off toward the grove, Adrian gave his men the silent signal to retreat. He could see the surprise on their faces as he turned and headed back toward the city, but they were well trained and obeyed his command, all but Gerran and his loyal followers. Adrian didn’t try to call them back. He watched them ride on, anger in his heart and then he turned his head toward their new goal. The gatekeeper was surprised at their quick return, but managed to raise the gates in time to receive them. A few of the enemy began to follow, but they hacked them down as they rode. The earth was already beginning to shake as they made the gates of the city.

  “Leave it open,” Adrian yelled at the keeper. Once inside, he quickly reassembled the men into formation. Standing in his stirrups he yelled over the din. The men soon quieted so he could be heard. “As soon as the crafters have finished,” he yelled. “We ride again. This time when we go, we don’t come back until the enemy is gone or we’re dead.” The men cheered, the horses stomped impatiently, and the earth opened up before their eyes. Joshuas and his men were wreaking havoc on the plain before them. Never before had Adrian seen such magic. Never before had he seen such destruction. When the earth stopped rumbling and ripping itself apart, then snapped together over the screaming enemy, he sat dumbstruck at the devastation. His aide touched his shoulder. “Sire? What would you have us do?”

  Adrian could see the Dredracians running in all directions, with no one left to lead them. There were still more than they could overcome, but that wasn’t going to be a concern today. “Go help protect the people as they move into the mountains,” he told his soldiers. He led the men out onto the ruined plain between the grove and the Dredracians and together they began to fight off any who moved toward the people leaving Kyris.

  ~~~

  Brenth led the first of the people through the tunnel opening at the crafters’ signal. He rose into an eerie fog to be greeted by a crafter who pointed the way. He led the people across the road and onto the path they should follow, then went back to supervise the exodus of the rest of the people. He stopped momentarily when the earth began to shake. The fog began to dissipate as the crafters stopped speaking the spell, their faces blanching when they realized what was occurring. Then collecting themselves, they reestablished the mist and urged the people through.

  “What’s that?” Brenth asked one of the crafters who was
helping to direct the people.

  “That’s a great crafter making a supreme sacrifice,” replied the crafter with tears in his eyes.

  “What do you mean, supreme sacrifice?” asked Brenth, his concern raising the tenor of his voice.

  “Joshuas and his men will drain all their energy with this spell. It’s ancient and powerful and takes a great deal of strength. Even if they don’t die while speaking the spell, they’ll have no way to defend themselves when they’ve depleted their energy. The enemy will find them and finish them.”

  We must find them first then,” said Brenth, as the earth continued to shake. He could hear the concern in the peoples’ whispers as they climbed through the hole and ran toward the mountain.

  “We must help the people to safety.” Gregory stepped up behind Brenth. “That’s what Joshuas would want us to do. That’s why he sacrificed himself. Not for you or I to play hero.”

  Brenth closed his eyes to hold back the tears. He knew Gregory was correct. But Joshuas was his friend and protector. How could he just abandon him? Gregory leaned closer to Brenth and whispered loudly. “A king must learn to sacrifice.”

  Brenth looked up in surprise at Gregory’s words. Gregory cocked an eyebrow at him. “Not only Menas have the ability to see the future,” he said, and smiled. “Now let’s get these people to safety, while we’ve been afforded the opportunity.”

  The shaking stopped and there were loud snapping sounds. A quiet descended, but only for a few minutes, then the screams began to drift in their direction. Brenth urged people to continue moving. He traveled the route, ensuring that the people were moving in the proper direction, listening to their complaints and requests. The fog kept the scene of the destruction on the battlefield from their eyes.

  Duke Cheran arrived at dusk and told the crafters they didn’t need the fog anymore. By midnight, the last of the people climbed out of the tunnel.

  Brenth stopped Adrian as they were crossing the road, bringing up the rear. “What of Joshuas?”

  “We couldn’t find him or any of the crafters with him. We looked as long as we were able.” Brenth nodded his head in silence. The fact that they weren’t found dead, didn’t exclude hope that they might still be alive, somehow.

  The large ragtag group of survivors from Kyris kept moving until noon the next day. By then, the last of the group had reached the first mountain fortification. Those who’d been chosen to stay in this location broke off from the group. After eating and resting, the others began the trek to the next location.

  Brenth and Adrian kept the group moving as quickly as they could. The heart of their plan was to disperse the people as soon as possible. The survivors would make their homes in these abandoned mountain fortifications. From there, they could launch raids and skirmishes against the enemy.

  It was in effect accepting defeat with resistance. They would teach the children to follow the light, fight and they would pray the Chidra succeeded and that when she did, the tide would turn back in their favor.

  When they reached the last fortification, they were greeted by a group of armed men. Brenth looked at Adrian in surprise. The last he’d heard from the Menas, this fortification had been abandoned.

  “What business?” growled one of the armed men.

  Brenth signaled to the soldiers in their group not to react. This didn’t have to be a bloody confrontation. Brenth motioned to the people in his group. “These people are looking for a place to stay. We’d heard this fortification was abandoned.

  “You heard wrong,” said the spokesman. “There’ve been people here for hundreds of years.”

  “I can see that my information was faulty,” replied Brenth. “Do you think we could rest here until we decide what we should do now? These people are tired, hungry and thirsty.”

  The man looked over the group, eyeing the swords suspiciously. Brenth saw several shake their heads in the negative. A young girl with raven-black hair, milk-white skin and blue eyes walked up to the spokesman. “Is this any way to greet visitors father, especially men of nobility such as these? You must excuse my father, my lord,” she spoke to Adrian in a voice that would melt the hardest of hearts. “Since the Dredracians have begun to creep through the mountains, the men are suspicious of everyone.”

  “I can’t blame them, my lady,” replied Adrian, “especially if I had a daughter as beautiful as you to protect.” Brenth found himself thinking much the same. She was indeed the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  “You’re too kind, my Lord Cheran. Please come into our city and let your people rest. Are there any wounded among you?”

  “A few minor injuries, nothing serious,” replied Brenth.

  “I’ll look to them, after you’re settled,” she spoke to Brenth, and he felt himself go red.

  “As you wish,” he said gruffly.

  Vanya glanced at her father defiantly, daring him to take back what she’d offered. He scowled, but lowered his weapon and turned away.

  “Why do I think you’ll pay for your kindness later?” asked Adrian, as she led them to the center of the fortification.

  “Because I will,” she replied simply.

  “Then it’s indeed a great kindness you’ve done for us,’ said Brenth. “Someday I hope we can return your favor.”

  Vanya cocked her head to the side as if listening to an unheard noise. “Perhaps someday you can, Brenth Leyson.” Then she smiled. “Please make yourselves comfortable. When you’re rested, I can show you the fortification the Menas said was abandoned. It’s nearby.”

  “Vanya,” her father called her name harshly. “You come here, now.”

  The girl looked at Brenth and Adrian. “I must go. I’ll be back when I am able.” She turned away in her father’s direction. Brenth was half-inclined to follow her and protect her from her father.

  “Not a good idea,” said Adrian, reading his expression.

  “It’s a good idea,” corrected Brenth, with a sheepish grin, “just not prudent.”

  Adrian laughed. The first laugh Brenth had heard from him since the retreat from Kyris. “Okay. I’ll give you that. She certainly is a beauty.”

  “But too young for you.”

  “Just right for you, though, I suppose.”

  “Perfect for me,” said Brenth, seriously. Adrian raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

  It took some doing to settle the people down and explain the situation to them. Although they weren’t happy, they didn’t complain much and consoled themselves with warm fires and warm food.

  Brenth shared his fire with Adrian as they waited for Vanya to return. He’d about given up on her when she sat down next to Adrian. Brenth wished she’d chosen him instead. “My father has graciously agreed to let you stay until morning,” she said, in a more sarcastic voice than she’d used before. “He’s also graciously agreed to let me show you the abandoned fortification.”

  “You must thank him for us,” said Adrian.

  Brenth had to wonder how graciously her father would accept their thanks.

  “If you would be so kind, Duke Cheran,” Vanya asked tentatively. “May I have a moment of your time, privately?”

  Brenth tried not to register his surprise and disappointment at his dismissal. He’d been enjoying her company. Instead, he stood, bowed stiffly and walked away.

  “I’m afraid I’ve offended him,” said Vanya, watching him walk away.

  “He’s not so easily offended,” replied Adrian. “What do you want to talk to me about?”

  “My brother, Jakob,” she turned back to Adrian. “He’s a messenger in your employ.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know every messenger who works for me,” said Adrian. Her expression turned to disappointment. “But perhaps I can find out what you want to know.”

  Her expression lightened. “He was on his way to Madras, the last we heard from him. I thought he would be back by now. Yet, I haven’t heard from him.”

  Adrian rubbed his neck. “Let me see what
I can find out and we’ll talk again in the morning.”

  Vanya bowed gracefully. “I’m most grateful, my lord.”

  “As are we,” replied Adrian, returning her bow. Brenth watched the exchange from a distance, wondering what it was about. He didn’t have to wonder long.

  “Do you have any idea who a messenger named Jakob might be?” asked Adrian, as he walked to where Brenth was standing.

  “You sent him to Madras with Killian a while back,” replied Brenth. “Killian sent him to follow Mandrak. He reported the situation to you personally.”

  “So he did.” Adrian looked after the retreating figure of Vanya. “Have we heard from Jakob since?”

  “No, my lord. We fear he’s been captured.”

  “Not by Mandrak?” asked Adrian with dread.

  “I can’t say, my Lord,” replied Brenth.

  Adrian rubbed his eyes wearily. “Not good news to give our hostess.”

  “Is Jakob her husband?” asked Brenth, his countenance falling.

  Adrian smiled at his poorly veiled interest. “Brother,” he patted Brenth on the shoulder. “You should go try and get some rest. Once we get these people settled, we have a lot of planning and traveling to do.”

  “Do you think Preterlandis will ever be the same as it was?” asked Brenth.

  Adrian looked off into the distance. “No, it won’t be the same. But while we’re alive there is always hope that we can return it to some semblance of what it was.”

  “And hope makes us what we are,” said Brenth. “Good night, Adrian.” Brenth walked to the far side of the camp where his men were sitting by the fire. He’d left five Menas with each group of people. There were only six of them left. When he left here he would be alone. The last of his men would stay here to help these people. He would travel between the towns, not calling any one place home.

  Closing his eyes and pulling his blanket around him, Brenth tried to push his cares and worries out of his mind, but he didn’t succeed. Leilas’ revelations haunted him. He was the champion everyone was expecting to save them. He’d done a good job of that, he jeered. The people were hiding in holes and the whole of Solea was in the hands of the Dredracians. The first enemy they’d encountered, he’d chosen to avoid. Leilas had to be wrong. There was no way he was the Chosen One. Then there was the rest of what she’d said. He shook his head. He was the last son of Leyhan, who was the descendant of King Ley, the last good king of Preterlandis. That much was true. The fact that he’d be the next king of Preterlandis that was the part he was having trouble believing.