The pace took a toll though, and after a few miles he was scratched from the rank thorns and grazed from tumbles where fallen leaves concealed slippery rocks. It was a reckless pace, but he had to win back the time or it would be for nothing.
He was ragged when he eventually topped a crest and looked out. This was one of the few places he had found where he could sweep his gaze over the canopy and see the slow folds of the great forest rooftop. Before him was a long and steep valley. Beyond it, thickly wooded hills emerged through the mist – a hazy first breath of the damp forest awakened by a swelling sun. The river tumbling down below was as noisy as the birds. It almost drowned out the stream that gurgled past the clearing.
Aedan did no more than glance to find his bearings. He crept towards a short drop of crumbling soil and tried to work his way down. The ground began to slide from under his shoes. A quick look ahead revealed a monkey vine just out of reach. More earth started to crumble around him. It was closer to a reaction than a decision – he leapt out into the air and snatched the vine with both hands, just ahead of the rumble and hiss of falling rock and debris. The vine, fortunately, reached all the way to the ground. Aedan clambered down and dropped into the thicket at the edge of the clearing.
He took a few steps forward and then stopped, calling himself a fool. His boots were leaving clear tracks. He took them off and tried walking barefoot, but this wasn’t good enough either. An experienced tracker would see. After a moment of uncertainty, he came up with a way to puzzle any tracker. He tied his jacket to one foot and his shirt to the other and arranged them until he was walking on cushions that left no recognisable print on the bare ground.
The clearing was generous, but the massive branches hung thick and full over the space, leaving only a central gap where sunlight poured through. Here, standing proudly in the light, a tall, dried-out oak retained its old ground. Dead roots still reached into the earth and held up the massive trunk, a statue that honoured the once-majestic life. A creeper that had once thrived in its branches clung stiff and stark. It looked like an impossibly big spiderweb that had become knotted and tangled during a gale. Some of the threads hung down not too far from a fireplace ringed with stones. It gave Aedan an idea, but as he peered up at the smooth branches, he realised how dangerous the climb would be. And the first part of the climb did not even appear humanly possible. He looked around, but all the other plans he could assemble were pitiful in comparison or would require a large team of labourers to set up.
He walked to the base of the tree and noted the prints of many boots, the ashy powder not yet dislodged from the exposed surfaces around the fireplace, and the edges of blackened cinders that were still sharp. This was definitely their camp, no more than a day or two old.
His eyes drifted back to the oak tree. Could it be climbed? It would have taken half-a-dozen men to ring the trunk with their arms, so hugging and edging upwards would not work here. He spotted a series of finger-sized pockets that had been left by some wood-boring creature. A little above that was a woodpecker’s hole, and above that, a horribly thick and smooth branch that he might just be able to scramble onto. From there he could see a way up, but it would be slippery, and high. He looked to where the creeper hung and his stomach twisted. Experience told him that looking down would double the distance. The bark-stripped, smooth surfaces would double that again.
He almost walked away, but then he thought of Kalry and of Quin, and the knife that had torn through her hair.
He kicked off his cloth shoes, plugged his fingers in the holes in the aged trunk, and hauled himself off the ground. For once, his lightness was to his advantage. Nevertheless, tendons screamed and arms shook as his bare feet searched in vain for some purchase on the slippery wood. Groaning and shaking with the effort, he lifted himself as high as he could and raised one foot until he could work his large toe into a small pocket in the wood. It was an uncomfortable position but he held it only long enough to catch his breath. Then, with his chin and chest sliding against the surface, he pushed off the already-aching toe and hauled on his numb fingers until he could snatch up with his left hand and jab two fingers into the next pocket. He tottered for an instant, his weight almost carrying him over backwards, but there was just enough grip to keep his fingers from slipping out. Finding a second toe-hold, he managed to work his way up to larger pockets that admitted three fingers. It was becoming easier, but this was still the most difficult and treacherous tree he had ever attempted.
Getting onto the first branch was terrifying. After he finally wrestled himself around it, he began to move up with chameleon hesitation. He hadn’t thought dead branches could sway, but he felt movement as he edged out, higher and higher. Beads of sweat that slid down and dropped from his nose seemed to take half a day to reach the ground. At least if he fell he would have time to think matters over.
He reached the ropey arm of the creeper and began to edge it along the branch with him as he moved further out. It was completely rigid, retaining the curve of the oak branch where it had rested at its death. Pushing it along by giddy inches, Aedan finally reached what he hoped was a position directly above the fireplace. He tested it by breaking off a withered chunk of the creeper’s bark and dropping it. It fell a yard short. He advanced a yard, tried again and was rewarded with a dead-centre hit.
The creeper dangled a good fifteen feet above the ground, too high for anyone to reach or, he hoped, notice. He secured it over a knot in the branch and edged his way back down again. Reversing the climb was a little less terrifying though far more awkward. By the time he reached the ground, Aedan was grazed from chin to toes as thoroughly as if he’d been caught under a wagon and dragged.
He strapped his makeshift shoes back on. Supplies needed to fuel seventy people on a sustained march would have been hidden somewhere. The cave was the obvious place. It was more of an overhang than a cave, but deep enough that the interior was dim. Aedan had thumped his head on the roof here before, so he walked carefully, hand outstretched, as his eyes acquainted themselves with the darkness.
A pile of flat rocks caught his attention. He lifted them and found the sacks of food. At first he worried he would not find what he was looking for, but eventually he came across a metal container that looked about right. He pried the lid off, tasted the contents, and smiled. The vial from his pocket was promptly emptied into the container and the powder mixed in. Then he packed everything back as before.
Not far off, a branch cracked. An instant later, men entered the clearing – the advance scouts. They looked around for a moment, then dropped their light rucksacks and began collecting firewood.
Aedan crouched in the shadow. He would never be able to slip out the cave now, so he crept into a dark hollow behind a large boulder. He was only just in time. One of the men entered the cave and made for the food store. A projection on the roof caught him just above the eye, unleashing a string of poisonous-sounding words. He sat on Aedan’s bolder to nurse his wound, and remained there until Aedan, unable to move, was so cramped he wanted to scream. The Lekran was close enough to smell, and smell he did, carrying the unmistakeable odour of one who had not washed for weeks.
While the afternoon slipped into darkness, Aedan worried and hoped that nobody would discover his shoes. He had left them behind a bush, intending to recover them after making his preparations, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Then he realised he had not cleared his tracks from those first few steps either. He gritted his teeth and inwardly named himself a royal idiot.
He began to think about Lanor and the men following the trail through the forest. There were no trackers among them; they were village folk and would probably be lost by now. He silently lashed himself again, wishing he had thought more carefully. He should have waited and led them here. His plan had tried to accomplish too much, and it had made no allowance for the people involved. Hadn’t he just read the words of one of the great generals – Osric or Vellian – saying that a battle plan unable
to bend would shatter? He had made just such a plan. A slight deviation would bring failure.
Yet, there was one frail chance.
Crunching footfall preceded the arrival of the rest of the party. The injured man made his way out into the open, still holding his forehead.
Aedan let his breath out and stretched his aching limbs. Unwrapping his shirt and jacket from his feet, he pulled them over his cold skin and edged forward to see where the captives were dumped on the far side of the clearing. Two men stood guard. The rest settled themselves around the fire that had just begun to crackle. Aedan slipped back as four of the Lekrans collected pots and food bags. Though the men were clearly relaxed, there was little in the way of joviality – they were stern to the point of sourness.
The guards began shouting at one of the prisoners. Quin approached and stooped down. Aedan could not determine what he was doing, but caught his breath as he saw him stand up again, dragging Kalry past the fire to the cave. Aedan crawled back into his hiding. Quin shouted and a man brought a burning branch that cast a light into the cave. They dropped Kalry against the wall and tied her ankles. She was only feet away from Aedan. If the light had been better, they would have seen him. He shut his eyes to hide reflections.
“You want to talk? Fine,” Quin snarled. “Here you can talk all you want. Next time I’ll cut out your tongue.” They disappeared with the light, bar a few glowing flakes that had dropped on the ground and were turning black with a soft crinkling sound. Kalry was whimpering in a voice that shook with fear.
“Kalry,” Aedan whispered.
She gasped. “Aedan?”
He crawled over and untied her shaking hands. As soon as the ropes came loose she flung her arms around him and buried her head in his neck, sobbing. Aedan wasn’t too sure what to do; this was not his area of experience. He put his arms clumsily around her shoulders and held her until she was breathing easily. She let go and sat back against the rock.
“They killed Dorothy.” Her voice quivered as if her own words had cut her. “She couldn’t keep up so they slit her throat and left her like an animal.”
Aedan almost choked. He heard the agony as she continued.
“The way William screamed … I never knew a man could scream like that. I don’t think I’ll ever get those sounds from my head. He screamed and screamed until they clubbed him down, and then they kept on clubbing him until he was as still as her.” She gave way again to deep, silent sobbing.
Aedan was shaking. He couldn’t speak for a long time. It was the sheer impossibility of what he had just been told that stunned him. He had heard of cruel deaths when cities were sacked or when murderous gangs did their work, but such things only happened in grim histories and tales gone wrong. They happened in other times, other places, to other people; they were not … real.
But finally it took hold, and he tasted the bitter ache. It hardly seemed possible, but Dorothy, gentle, playful Dorothy, and her straight and true William were gone.
When her sobs had settled, Kalry spoke again in a voice that was heavy and tired. “These Lekrans are cruel in a way we cannot understand, Aedan. They didn’t feel anything. They didn’t even look angry. They murder like they’re pulling out weeds.”
Aedan shook his head to clear it and took a deep breath. “They might get what they deserve tonight,” he said.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I got Emroy to set the hay shed alight so the sheriff and his men would come back. I marked the trail for them. They should be nearby in the forest now, if they haven’t got lost.” He decided not to tell her that he had left them to find the second part of the trail on their own.
“It will be a bloodbath.”
“Maybe not.” Aedan explained the rest of his preparations and what he hoped would happen. It sounded good in theory.
“You know, Aedan,” she said, looking at him. “Sometimes I think you must be the cleverest person in the Mistyvales.”
He smiled, embarrassed, slightly guilty, and she continued.
“You were right all along. I heard about what my father said to you. I’m so sorry. I know what he did was wrong, but I don’t want you to hate him. Can you forgive him?”
Aedan nodded. For her sake he would try.
“You’re not a coward,” she said. “Not to me, not to anyone who knows you.”
In the rush of preparations he had managed to escape that awful thought, but her words brought it back, in spite of her kind intentions. “I know … I know you don’t think I am. But everyone who saw … me … saw what happened … they will.”
“I think they will see you as a hero when they discover what you have been doing.” She took his arm in hers and they looked out into the fire-lit clearing.
When the broth was cooked up, the slavers served themselves using wooden bowls. Each captive was given half a potato and a sip from a waterskin passed down the line. The slavers began to sprawl out on the ground as others removed the cooking pots and built up the fire.
Aedan and Kalry watched.
For some time nothing happened, but gradually the thicker logs succumbed to the heat and added to the blaze. The vine dangled idly in the air currents, but Aedan knew from experience how hot it would be up there. The flames did not reach, but the heat did. It happened quickly.
First there was a bright glow that popped into a young flame, and then the flame began to climb. The more it climbed the hotter it grew and the faster it moved. Someone shouted and men stood to their feet, pointing. Suddenly Quin appeared and began bellowing orders. Clubs and stones were thrown, but to no avail. Several men, with much confusion, formed themselves into a hasty tower and hoisted one of their comrades as high as the lower branch where he scrambled, slipped, and fell to the ground, landing on his back with a jarring thud. He remained where he fell.
It was too late. The mass of knotted creepers had begun to burn with a bright yellow glare. Leaping spears of fire lunged upwards and branches caught the blaze. The flames climbed steadily through the boughs until half of the tree was crackling and humming in a fire that pierced the forest roof and lit the ground like daylight.
“That should draw them,” Aedan said with satisfaction. It was working far better than he had expected.
The slavers, in spite of the tragedy, appeared exhausted and flopped to the ground, contemplating the blaze from wherever they lay.
“It looks like the sedative is working too,” said Kalry. “I think Nulty has some dangerously strong potions. Or maybe these Lekrans use a lot of salt.”
“I don’t think the smaller pot was salted though,” said Aedan. “Quin and his two officers don’t seem to be affected.”
One of the branches, as broad as an ox, cracked and fell with a swelling whoosh. Men rolled to their feet and tottered out of the way before the impact. The branch struck the ground with a booming crack and burst with a shower of sparks, throwing several men onto their faces where some remained, apparently asleep. One had been too slow to react and joined the ancient tree in its long awaited cremation.
The captives began screaming. Quin, who appeared to be quite lucid, advanced on them with his knife drawn.
A deep bellow called his attention away. He turned to see Lanor storm into the clearing, followed by his enraged men. Some of the slavers reached for weapons, but they were too slow. One managed to get a crossbow loaded and fired it at Nulty whose clattering arms drew the most attention. The Lekran could not have chosen more poorly though, as this was the one man wearing chain mail. The mail took most of the force. Nulty rushed at his assailant, blocked the desperate swing of the crossbow with his ample shield and heaved a great agricultural stroke at the man’s leg with an axe. Dark blood spurted and the Lekran dropped. Nulty tripped and fell on top of him with a tremendous crash. Only the storekeeper got to his feet again.
The rest of the slavers attempted to fight, but their feeble blows were easily deflected. They were hacked and bashed to the ground with increasing swiftness a
s the sheriff’s men began to sense their superiority.
“Ah,” Kalry gasped, shutting her eyes, “I can’t watch this.”
It was over soon. A few of the Lekrans had slipped into the darkness of the surrounding forest. Those that had been unable to escape lay dead.
“Let’s get out of here,” Aedan said. He led Kalry, who limped slightly, out into the open.
The yellow blaze of the oak was gradually fading to an orange glow while shadows crept back to claim their ground. Around the edges of the flames, women and children wept in each other’s arms. Thomas stared ahead of him with vacant eyes – Aedan could only guess what horrible sight still lingered. Dara was cradled in her mother’s lap, crying, rocking. Dresbourn sat rubbing his wrists while surly grimaces pulled down the corners of his mouth.
Kalry moved towards her father but Aedan held back. She stopped and turned to him, raising her eyebrows.
“I need to get my shoes,” Aedan said. “All those cinders …”
“I feel safer with you next to me.”
Aedan smiled. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”
She smiled, lingering. Gratitude, friendship, loyalty, and love. They poured from her eyes, all the more striking for the harshness of the setting.
It was a moment Aedan would never forget.
Her face was still hovering in his mind as he reached the edge of the forest, now in shadow. He began sweeping with his bare feet.
Nothing. That was strange.
He got down on his hands and knees and advanced along the ground, deeper under the bush.
There was a soft rustle of branches and something struck him on the back of the head, knocking him to the soil. A powerful hand clamped over his mouth and another wrapped around his frame, almost crushing him. The man held him from behind so that they both faced the clearing.
Dawn of Wonder (The Wakening Book 1) Page 8