The other members of the party immediately agreed to this arrangement.
“I'd hoped you would all volunteer,” Lord Jannus admitted. “Although we can spare a few of our more experienced men for this venture, I think it should be as few as possible. We need to do our very best to entrench. That means leaving half our forces here, and leading the other half back to my own fortress. That's going to spread our veteran warriors out a bit. Of course, we do keep getting more volunteers – and even peasants can hold a stronghold if there are enough of them.
“I'll round up a group of willing soldiers for you. If you intend to leave tonight, I'm sure you'll want to get some rest before you go.”
“We certainly will,” Kilren agreed, “as well as wanting to get at least one hot meal before we leave.”
“Certainly,” the aged lord smiled. “I'll make sure that's attended to, as well.”
After several hours of repose, the party gathered in the main hall to enjoy their repast and discuss their plans. Having scoured the countryside for miles around, Lord Jannus managed to acquire enough horses to mount just over fifty men. The newly knighted Sir Willrak decided to join the band; bringing with him a few of the former city guards of Rakklin. These warriors, along with ten of the aged lord's own men, were the only veteran soldiers they would have at their disposal. The remainder of their force was composed of nothing more than peasants who happened to know enough of horsemanship not to fall out of the saddle.
Under normal circumstances, such a motley force would stand no chance against Valrak's battle-hardened warriors. Circumstances, however, were far from normal. The presence of the Telian and his companions would do a great deal to even the odds. This, coupled with the fact that they intended to take their enemies completely by surprise, would give them more than just a fighting chance. The decision was also made to arm their untrained allies with halberds and pole axes. Although their martial skills were extremely limited, these weapons would allow them to use their relatively ample strength – as well as their numbers – to their advantage. All things considered, the party felt relatively confident of success.
With high hopes and high spirits, the ragtag band headed into the wilderness as the last rays of the setting sun dimly lit the sky above.
“So, Sir Willrak,” Kilren said, turning to the young man with a smile, “how have you found being Knight of Solarin as opposed to a humble blacksmith?”
“Well,” the knight replied, “for the last few days, it's been a whole lot like being a humble blacksmith, really.”
“Why is that?” Gregor asked.
“Because,” Willrak replied, “we have more men than we have equipment. I spent most of the siege at my shop, turning scythes into swords and pitchforks into poleaxes.”
“You probably won't end up doing that again for quite a while,” Gregor speculated.
“Probably not,” Willrak chuckled. “Which is honestly a bit of a shame. I'm a great deal more skilled with hammer and tongs than I am with sword and shield.”
“I can understand that,” the lieutenant nodded. “Which makes me wonder why you decided to join us.”
“Most of these men are farmers, not warriors,” Willrak replied, glancing over his shoulder at the column riding behind them. “They're willing to risk their lives to try to end this war. It's my place to lead them to victory or, failing that, to fall beside them on the battlefield. It's what my ancestors have done for theirs for generations.”
“That's a noble thought,” Kilren smiled. “Although, I think we'd better keep the falling on the battlefield to a minimum.”
“We certainly have to do our best,” Gregor replied. “These men are no match for battle-hardened soldiers, however.”
“Not alone, they wouldn't be,” Darian agreed. “But, we're with them.”
“For the moment, we are,” the young lord nodded. “I'm just not sure how they're going to be able to hold out against King Palnar's forces when we're not around.”
“Sheer numbers,” Willrak replied. “Word has already begun to quietly spread about what we've done. Close to two hundred volunteers have joined us in the last three days alone. If things keep going like this, King Palnar will have to pull enough men from the front to fight us. That may help reinforcements break through from Innalas, or he may try to drive us out with a force of conscripts, who we'll be more of a match for. So, all things considered, our chances of success seem better than I thought they would be when we started. The people of Mikral are sick of endless war.”
“I hope you're right,” Gregor said. “If the people really do get behind us, King Palnar might find himself in a somewhat dire situation. I just wish we could find some way to put even more pressure on him.”
“Maybe we will,” Willrak replied. “We just need to keep our eyes open and look for opportunities.”
“You're certainly right about that,” Kilren said distractedly, his gaze turned in the direction of the young ladies who were riding a short distance behind them. “If you gentlemen will excuse me for a moment, I have something I want to attend to.”
Having said this, the lieutenant pulled the reigns of his mount; slowing the creature enough for Erana and Gwendolyn to catch up with him.
“What is it you two seem to find so amusing?” he asked as soon as they reached him.
“You,” Gwendolyn replied, smiling at him.
“And, Darian,” Erana added.
“Specifically, some of the differences between you two,” the young sorceress said.
“Like the fact that I'm a better horseman?” he suggested.
“Not exactly,” Gwendolyn replied, shaking her head.
“That I'm more handsome, perhaps?”
“Absolutely not!” Erana insisted.
“That my beard growing prowess is greater than his?”
At this, both maidens burst into laughter.
“Well, it is,” Kilren asserted.
“If you say so, my love,” the elf replied, rolling her eyes. “But, either way, what we were actually discussing was the fact that you seem to be more observant than Darian.”
“Observant?” he replied.
“Yes, observant,” Gwendolyn repeated. “For instance, when you met Erana, you noticed she was a girl almost immediately.”
“Instantly is the word I would use,” he informed her.
“Just so,” she nodded. “Whereas, although Darian has had a year to draw the same conclusion about me, he hasn't managed it yet.”
“Well, now,” he chuckled, “I wouldn't say that, exactly.”
“You may be right,” she admitted with a sigh. “At least, he never seems to be surprised at my wearing a dress and he never accidentally offers you meaningless flattery. So, I suppose he must realize there's a difference between boys and girls, as well as the fact that I happen to be a girl. I just don't think he knows why there's a difference.”
“He may not yet,” Kilren conceded, rubbing his hand across his very bare chin, “but I think it's slowly beginning to dawn on him.”
“You do?” the young sorceress asked incredulously.
“What would make you think that?” the elvish maiden added.
“I have my reasons,” he replied with a wink.
“Well, I can't imagine what they are,” Gwendolyn said. “He hasn't even tried to be gallant in the last few days.”
“No, he hasn't,” Kilren admitted, “but, he's been busy trying to finish the book, which you asked him to do, right?”
“I did,” she replied. “I don't see that it's doing him much good, though.”
“Oh, it is,” the lieutenant asserted, gazing at her with a wide smile. “You see, Darian can't lie.”
“The book didn't teach him that,” Erana pointed out.
“No, it didn't,” Kilren agreed. “However, the fact that he can't lie means he has to be very careful with his meaningless flattery.”
“We know,” Gwendolyn replied. “He actually explained that to us, remember?”
“I do,” the lieutenant nodded. “Sadly, the book didn't tell him not to explain things in such explicit detail. Well, not yet, anyway. Maybe that's near the back.”
“Either way,” the elvish maiden said, her eyes on her love, “what are your reasons?”
“What?”
“You said you have reasons to believe the book is helping Darian.”
“I do.”
“Well, what are they, then?”
“I'm trying to tell you,” Kilren replied, “but, you two keep interrupting me.”
“We've stopped now,” she asserted, “so, get on with it.”
“Gwendolyn,” the lieutenant said, turning his gaze to the young sorceress. “What would you say if I told you that Darian thinks you're beautiful?”
“I'd ask you, what makes you think that?”
“What if I told you that he told me that?”
“I'd say you were lying.”
“Well, I'm not,” he laughed. “Not only does he think you're beautiful, he thinks your hair looks like gold floating on the breeze, that your lips are the color of wine, and that he could stare at you for hours at a time without getting bored.”
“Darian said all of that?” Gwendolyn asked, a slight blush coloring her cheeks.
“Every word of it.”
“Why didn't he say it to her?” Erana asked.
“He thinks it's like manure,” Kilren explained.
“I don't!” Gwendolyn exclaimed. “I think it's lovely!”
“No, no,” the lieutenant replied, shaking his head. “I mean; he thinks he needs to spread it out, rather than dump it all on you at one time. Apparently, that's what you do with manure when you're a farmer.”
“He may know more about farming than he does about women,” Erana speculated.
“He would have to,” Kilren nodded. “Be that as it may, however, whatever you're doing seems to be working, Gwendolyn. Just keep at it and I'm sure Mother Nature will eventually wake him up.”
“I hope you're right,” she sighed.
“I am,” he assured her. “It may just take a while. He started out more asleep than anyone I ever met. Still, wanting to stare at you for hours at a time has to be a good sign. No matter how you look at it, it's certainly progress.”
“I suppose so,” she agreed. “I just wish I could think of a way to speed up the process.”
“Well, keep at it,” he smiled. “Maybe you'll come up with something.”
Having satiated his curiosity, as well as conveyed the information he intended to, Kilren rejoined Darian, Willrak, and Gregor as they rode along discussing possible methods of forcing King Palnar to recall even more of his forces from Innalas. Unfortunately, none of the many suggestions each of them made stood out as particularly practical, or likely to succeed. Gregor did point out that they could form raiding parties and start burning crops throughout the countryside to get the king's attention. Although this would almost certainly have worked, none of them, including Gregor himself, felt such a course of action would be at all justified.
After roughly an hour, this sadly fruitless discourse was brought to an end. The companions' conversation turned instead to the more immediate future of the caravan's capture and the disposition of the goods it likely contained. At this point, Darian informed his companions that he really didn't like the idea of an ambush, as it seemed somewhat underhanded, but that he hadn't raised any objections before simply because he realized how necessary this attack was to their cause. In order to ease his sense of honor, however, he had firmly decided to approach the caravan alone and demand that Valrak's men surrender it to him as, legally speaking, they would be trespassing on Lord Andor's land.
Although none of his allies saw any particular merit in this plan, neither did they see any great risk in it. And so, the young Telian's intentions encountered very little opposition. In truth, this was, at least in part, due to the fact that Kilren quietly assured both Gregor and Willrak that attempting to dissuade Darian would be utterly useless. The lieutenant also explained to them that Darian's declaration could easily be worked into their current plan.
Having agreed on how they intended to spring their trap, the discussion turned to what they should do with the caravan once it had been captured. One thing was certain; they couldn't simply take it directly to what was now Sir Willrak's castle. The fully loaded wagons would leave far too clear a trail to miss and move far too slowly to hope to escape pursuit. Even if they managed to capture the entire escort, which was highly unlikely under the circumstances, they couldn't hope for more than a few hours’ head start before the caravan was missed.
As their first priority had to be keeping the supplies from falling back into the hands of their enemies, Darian suggested the expedient of burning the entire caravan to ashes. Although this would have been undeniably effective, Kilren objected to it; both because it seemed wasteful and because it lacked finesse. He suggested instead, that they should send each of the wagons in a different direction; all of them eventually making their way to the fortress. It was possible that some of them would be recaptured, but far less likely that all of them would be. And, all things considered, keeping the supplies out of their enemies' hands for just a few days could make a serious tactical difference to their allies.
All of this depended, of course, on successfully capturing the caravan in the first place. That being the case, the entire party spent most of the remainder of the evening talking over how each of them could make the most of their particular talents, as well as where the men should be positioned and how they should press their attack.
This discussion was finally brought to an end by the first rays of the rising sun. The band setup camp in a wooded glade near the Neres River, where they intended to spend the day in rest. Less than an hour before the sun set that evening, they were once again on their way. It was Kilren's hope that they would find a suitable spot for an ambush before they stopped for the night. This hope was not disappointed.
An old trail ran through the woodlands that stood between Andor's Fortress and the fords of the Neres. Even by the pale light of the half-filled twin moons, Erana could clearly make out the deep ruts that the wheels of wagons had dug into the dirt track less than a week before. Although it had been likely that their adversaries had been using this ancient path, it was with a sense of relief that they discovered evidence of its recent use. They had made good time but, if the caravan were to pass through the forest early the following morning, they had very little time to spare.
Following the trail, they found a spot in the road that was bordered on one side by a low rise and on the other by the tight growth of the underbrush. This was where they would await the coming of their quarry.
The men who felt more comfortable fighting on their feet than on horseback were positioned on top of the small hill, under the command of Willrak. The more experienced soldiers, who would serve as a cavalry unit led by Gregor, were stationed on the opposite side of the road, along with Jalek. Darian took up a position at the far end of their ambush, near a sharp bend in the road. Ian and Gwendolyn took up positions of hiding nearby, in case the young Telian found himself in need of their assistance. Kilren and Erana decided to ascend a pair of trees a distance down the path from Darian, where they could bring their bows to bear from above, making certain that none of the wagons could escape their trap. The faithful Rragor lay by the trunk of his mistress's place of concealment, ready to protect her from any possible assault.
For nearly three hours, the band waited in silence. Darian, who sat on horseback in the middle of the trail, his spear in one hand and shield in the other, had let his mind, as well as his mount, wander around for some time before an arrow sinking into the earth directly in front of him brought his thoughts back to the present.
He recognized it. It was one of Erana's. The young knight lifted his gaze to the tree in which she was concealed. She was waving at him for some reason. After several seconds of contemplation, he came to the co
nclusion that she was probably trying to tell him to hide. He did. There was a good chance that she knew something he didn't. At least, such was often the case.
Shortly after he reached his own place of concealment, he thought he could just make out the whine of wagon wheels rolling along under the strain of some heavy load. The volume of this sound quickly increased and, in less than a minute, the first of the caravan's carts came into view. The Telian waited until the entire convoy was well within their trap before making his appearance.
He was very happy to see that the escort consisted of only forty warriors, not including the men driving the wagons, who seemed to be somewhat aged soldiers of Mikral. In addition, only five of their opponents were mounted, three of them riding at the front of the column, and two serving as a rear guard. In truth, it was hardly surprising that most of them were on foot, considering how slowly the wagons moved, but it was a relief nonetheless. The warriors of Solarin would certainly have the advantage.
Darian gently kicked his horse into motion, moving into the very center of the road, a short distance ahead of the first wagon. Here, he stopped. A ray of golden sunlight that had broken through the canopy above glinted off his armor; the ensign of Solarin hung from the tip of his weapon.
“Hold!” the young Telian demanded, his gaze locked on the foremost of his opponents.
The column instantly came to a halt, each of its defenders readying their weapons.
“Who are you?” the enemy captain asked. “And what is it you want?”
“I am Sir Darian Calmar,” the young man replied, “Telian Knight and Knight of Solarin. You and your men are trespassing on the lands of my master, Lord Andor Dronmoss, during time of war. Although this could cost you your lives, if you'll abandon this convoy and depart immediately, you'll be allowed to leave in peace.”
“I've heard of you, Sir Darian,” the captain replied with a smile. “I never thought I'd get to be the man who killed you, however. My lord should be pleased.”
The moment he finished speaking, the mercenary commander kicked his beast into motion, his two mounted companions instantly following his example. A battle-cry rent the air as the servants of Lord Valrak flew toward their only visible enemy. Darian responded in kind, charging toward the foremost of his foes, the strength of the Eilian flowing through his veins.
The Lords of Areon (The Chronicles of Areon Book 3) Page 23