The Chronicles of Nevin Reasoner: The Complete Duology

by Thomas Lombard

  Following another shout of orders, the troops massed and formed into a company at the spot where the trolley rope was tied. After posting a dozen guards, the soldiers broke into smaller units. Only a low murmur of a few voices sounded as they moved about, befitting the loss of so many comrades. The tone was mostly somber except for voices raised in anger and frustration that seemed to come from one particular area. Nevin stared from his hiding place, trying to make out what was happening. It finally hit him that Brune’s lifeless body hung from a tree and many of the soldiers stepped up to it and cursed him for what he had done. From snatches of comments and conversations, Nevin understood that their anger was doubly roused because their comrades were defenseless in their demise. This was a bad way for a soldier to die and these men were boiling for hand-to-hand combat to make up for their comrades’ indignity.

  Even though Nevin had no experience in military matters, he figured it would be a mistake to let such emotionally-charged men go so soon into battle in unfamiliar territory with an unknown enemy. Heated emotions would make them prone to tactical mistakes. If their officers had any knowledge of psychology, they would wait. The action taken against them was a defensive one, so their unseen enemy could be made to wait for retaliation. As a little time passed, it became evident that there would be no practice of psychology this day.

  Nevin continued to watch from cover when the red-shirted Guardsmen mustered into formation again. The soldiers straightened their uniforms and gathered their weapons as they assembled into a close-order squadron, obviously eager to start out. Upon receiving orders barked at them by an officer, they spread out into a long double file that faced the new edge of the Wood beyond the tree stumps. Why they would take this formation was a mystery to Nevin, unless their intent was to secure a swath into the wood and clear the way for the rest of their army to follow. On command, the double line moved forward with pikes, spears, swords and a few bows and crossbows at the ready.

  The advancing line was not headed toward Nevin’s position, but the movement was still frightening to him. There was no way of knowing what would happen next, but it looked ominous. Nevin felt his heart pounding as the red uniformed men shouted and brandished their arms to signal their coming. When the double line of soldiers reached within twenty feet of the tree line, a volley of bowstrings echoed like a hundred violins. A rain of arrows flew from the trees. Archers hidden among branches and ground cover had simultaneously responded to a command only they could hear. Most of the arrows hit their marks and men fell with groans and screams of agony. Within seconds, another flight of arrows hit their marks and more men fell. The ranks were broken as twenty or so soldiers who escaped the arrows retreated to the shore. Many of the fallen continued to moan until stilled by death or unconsciousness. It only took a few scant moments for the whole grisly scene to occur.

  Nevin stared at the carnage, unbelieving that death and mortal injury could come so quickly to so many. He winced from shock from the sight. At that instant, a pike whizzed past his shoulder and lodged in a tree. He nearly panicked at the sight of the quivering spear just inches away, then immediately shook off this threat when he realized Corissa was not with him. Nevin ran, clutching his staff and calling to her. She answered, still lying low at the spot where he left her. He ran toward that spot but just before he reached her, a Gilsum soldier with blazing anger in his eyes charged out of the brush toward him, followed by a second man. Nevin thrust his staff at the first, who had become careless in his rage and was knocked off balance. Nevin drove him to the ground with a blow to the midsection.

  A second soldier grabbed Corissa as she kicked and flailed at him with her dagger. Without breaking his stride, Nevin ran at them. Swinging his staff nearly a full circle, he cracked the soldier squarely on the side of the head, dropping him as if shot.

  To the left, a third soldier appeared from behind a tree with a sword pointed at Nevin’s breast. This man was apparently more experienced and did not foolishly rush headlong into hand-to-hand combat against a man so formidable in size. There was no reckless abandon as he circled about Nevin looking for an opening. Nevin realized he had an advantage from his extra strength and height, so he charged. Using his staff to divert the sword, he grabbed the much shorter man by the collar of his uniform, tossed him to the ground and jumped on him.

  As Nevin wrestled with the third soldier, a fourth appeared with a pike ready to throw as soon as he fixed on a target. Deciding to leave Nevin to his comrade, the fourth man took aim at Corissa who was backed against a nearby tree. Before the solder could release his weapon, he was grabbed from behind by Gren and felled by a single blow.

  Corissa had gathered her senses and saw Nevin rolling on the ground with his attacker. The soldier had used some well-placed kicks to take down Nevin and had recovered a sword. In three strides, she was beside them. Without hesitation, she plunged her dagger into the man’s neck as he made ready to dispatch Nevin.

  Gren stood over the man he had felled and let out a terrible roar as he picked him up with both hands and hurled him against a tree, resulting in a ghastly crunch. Gren glowered over the broken man and shook his fist, unaware that the first soldier had recovered and approached from behind. Gren issued a hushed groan as he fell forward to the ground with a pike sticking in his back.

  The soldier who speared Gren came into view and cursed the fallen droll before turning to Nevin. This last standing soldier was now unarmed, as was Nevin. On the ground between them was a dropped sword. After an eternal pause, Nevin was the first to react and ran toward the weapon. Once again, his height was an advantage as he took two long strides, retrieved the sword and drove it into the breast of his adversary. The force of Nevin’s thrust made the man’s eyes bulge and mouth gape in painful astonishment as he was driven backward against a tree, where the sword impaled and held the man upright.

  Corissa rushed to Nevin’s side and took his arm to turn him away from the sight that had him paralyzed with horror at what he had done. The danger was over for the moment, but the signs of their combat were everywhere. Three Guardsmen were dead and a fourth appeared so, and Gren lay fallen with a spear in his back. Two elves arrived and started tending to Gren. They struggled to remove the pike and feverishly tried to treat the bleeding wound. Nevin felt a glimmer of hope that Gren would be saved, but that was lost in his growing realization that he, himself, had killed a man. Zael and Orris came running up.

  “Well met, Sir Nevin,” said Orris. “This is a day the Gilsum army will not forget.”

  “Nor us, Elf-Lord.”

  Chapter 9

  Prisoner

  Earlier that day, Anson screwed up his courage to go forward with his plan. He was on Gilsum soil for the first time in his life. He knew of no hiding places or havens, so he decided his best recourse was to walk straight into the Gilsum camp and seek an audience with the commanding general. It would not be difficult to find the main camp, for a thousand soldiers made a noticeable mark on the land. Anson walked inland a short distance then took a course parallel to the shore.

  The landscape on the western shore of the Grayflood River was much less forested than the Antrim side. Occasional copses were clustered with small trees but the terrain was predominantly scrubby undergrowth. What cover there was did not do much to disguise Anson’s approach as he neared the outskirts of the camp. The nearness of the camp had become evident well before any soldiers were seen. The noise of workers moving equipment, preparing meals and receiving orders allowed Anson to measure his approach.

  Through the leaves of a low thicket, Anson knelt and spent several minutes surveying the activity about the camp. There were hundreds of small A-frame tents, all red in color, situated in an organized system of avenues. Red-uniformed soldiers milled about in small groups giving the camp an appearance of idleness.

  Anson eventually sighted one tent that was bigger than the rest and located furthest to the rear of the camp. The big tent was large enough to house a meeting of twenty people. F
our guards were stationed around it. That this must be the general’s tent was confirmed when a portly man emerged, and, with little sign of effort, had several men scurrying about to do some bidding. As the general went back inside his tent, Anson was certain this was the man he must talk to.

  Anson came up with a plan to sneak half way around the camp’s perimeter, then approach the guard stationed at the backside of the general’s tent. This way, Anson thought he could attract the general’s attention, plus it would appear that Anson had travelled from an inland direction and not from the Antrim side of the river.

  Walking in this terrain was easy, compared with the arduous travel through the Elvenwood. Anson shortly reached the rear of the camp and faced the back of the general’s tent. The mage took a deep breath and stepped out in the open, hailing the guard. “Halloa! I have news for your General.”

  “Stand fast and identify yourself!” The guard ran up to Anson with a pike pointed at his chest.

  “What is this news you have for General Levant?”

  “I will only speak to Levant. Take me to him.”

  “The General is a busy man. You had better tell me your business or you’ll get a taste of metal to loosen your tongue!”

  It was evident that this sentry was close to making good his threat. Since the general was in his tent, Anson decided to court his attention directly. “Levant! Levant! General Levant! There is news for you but the guard won’t let you hear it!” shouted Anson through cupped hands.

  The guard became flustered at this action and did not know what to do, short of assaulting an unarmed man who claimed to have important news for his commander. Deciding the prudent action would be to march the stranger into the camp at pike point with a show of control over the situation, the guard ordered Anson to cease his shouting and prodded him forward to the front of the tent. General Levant turned back the tent’s entry flap with a flair of annoyance. “Who is this man, guard?”

  “He just walked up to my post, Sir, and requested to see you. He claims to have important news for your ears only.”

  The general walked over to Anson, looked him up and down and said, “All right, man. Out with it.”

  “It is a private matter, General. May we speak in your tent?” asked Anson.

  “I have no time for either privates or private matters. Guard, take this man to your Sergeant to find out his business.”

  “No! General Levant, I must speak with you alone. It concerns a grave danger facing you and your men.”

  Becoming somewhat more interested, the general replied, “What danger is this? Speak! Do not tarry. I am not a patient man.”

  Anson grew more anxious as he leaned forward and nervously whispered, “My news concerns your plan to march through the Elvenwood. There is danger ahead for you, but it is not wise to speak of this so openly and give rise to rumor among those who overhear.”

  General Levant scratched his goateed chin as he weighed Anson’s words while studying this stranger’s demeanor. Finally, Levant spoke as he turned to a small group of men who had gathered. “You two subalterns search this man and then escort him into my tent. I wish to question him further.”

  Levant immediately returned to his tent as the two men sprang forward to follow orders. Once inside the tent, Anson was lead before the seated commander who waited some time scanning a map before cueing Anson to speak. The subalterns stood behind Anson, keeping a watchful eye.

  When finally signaled to speak, Anson explained that the Gilsum soldiers would meet much bloodshed and loss of life if they went forward. It was not the Antrim army that waited for them, he said, but a more potent force that could fight without being seen. When questioned further, Anson said only that the wood was inhabited by elves who would show no mercy and slay the invading Gilsum Guardsmen to the last man if necessary to forestall their march. The subalterns snickered at the allusion to elves as a threat. They ceased upon a quick stare from their general.

  In response to further questioning, Anson would not give his name. He only described himself as a recluse who lived in the forest and did not wish to see the wood defiled with the spilled blood of any man or creature.

  Levant returned to his chair and looked again at the map, waiting several minutes before responding further. His earlier sneer and look of impatience was replaced by a visage of concern. “I am intrigued by your story, “man-of-the-forest.” But I am more troubled by your knowledge of our plans to march through this so-called Elvenwood. We have not travelled this way before and there could be surprises and threats which we do not anticipate, but I cannot abide your story of ‘warrior elves.’ Surely you do not expect me to believe a small cohort of little creatures could cause havoc with such well-armed, experienced men?”

  At that point, an officer came to the tent opening and called the general out. There was a heated discussion before the general returned inside to take his seat.

  Levant studied Anson for several minutes, as if looking for a sign that would betray deception. Anson was visibly trembling. The general finally spoke, as he rose to stand face to face with Anson. “I have lost men to drowning today, possibly from a poorly tied anchor rope. I sent more across the river in boats to investigate, so I do sense some need for caution. Still, I have orders to move forward and I see no reason to countermand them from the little you have said. But as to caution, I will have you bound so that I may question you further after we have moved the rest of my soldiers across this infernal river.”

  With this response, Levant was done with the matter and took his seat again. Anson panicked.

  “But, General Levant! You must heed my warning! The lives of your men—”

  “Take this man from my tent and tie him securely to the nearest tree,” interrupted the general.

  Before Anson could say anything further, he was dragged from the tent and roughly placed with his back against the trunk of the nearest tree. His arms were pulled back and wrists tied tightly together so that any attempt at movement brought a painful strain on his limbs and shoulders. A single sentry was stationed with him.

  Distraught at his failure, Anson was now a captive of the men he had tried to save. Though he pleaded with the guard and anyone who passed near, no one responded. It seemed all had been ordered not to listen to this raving man.

  After a time, a small group of men walked past Anson, paying slight attention to the captive on their way to the general’s tent. By their dressier uniforms, they appeared to be officers and entered the tent as a group. Anson could hear Levant’s voice as he repeated the mage’s warning. When the general finished, there was a brief but loud burst of laughter, followed by an exit of the officers. Later that morning several soldiers came by to jeer at Anson for his portrayal of the elves as warriors. The men feigned fear that they might be done in by the “formidable littlefolk,” and none had linked him to the broken tow rope and overturned rafts that lead to the drowning of many of their comrades.

  Anson did not reply to the taunts. He lowered his head, disconsolate at his failure to stop these men from going to their deaths.

  * * *

  By early afternoon the idle appearance of the camp changed dramatically. Anson could not tell what was going on, but he guessed that preparations were being made to transport more soldiers across the river. A buzz of activity persisted for some time until the drone was punctuated by shrill shouts and flurries of manic excitement. All the men in the camp, including the one assigned to guard Anson, surged toward the shore in a bustle of mass confusion. After a while, the chaos subsided and more orderly sounds of movement and activity were heard, but Anson was too far away and too subdued by pain from his bonds and mounting thirst to figure out what happened.

  By late afternoon, another outburst of shouting and mania occurred, but it was a brief episode followed by angry shouts and curses. Shortly after this frenzy, General Levant came before Anson followed by a small contingent of soldiers who had looks of rage about them. Levant spoke in a quiet, almost whispered
tone, “Man-of-the-Forest, I was almost persuaded by you to delay the march of my troops across the river. But my officers would not hear of any postponement because they thought they held too great an advantage with our strategy. They wanted to cross the river straight away, then proceed with a forced march. There would be nothing to deter them. We would be ultimately victorious, they thought. But this obsession has cost many lives today, just as you had warned.”

  Anson was stunned at the news.

  Levant studied Anson’s response, looking for signs that this man knew more than he said. The general described how their rafts had been cut loose in the swift water and many men drowned when the rafts broke up. More than a hundred additional men eventually did cross the Grayflood River by small rowboats, but he just learned they were cut down by unseen archers at the edge of the trees. The general no longer doubted that these casualties were caused by the elves that inhabited the mysterious wood, a fighting force they had completely failed to account for despite Anson’s warning.

  Levant said, “One of the sprites was caught on this side after he cut loose the tow line and caused the demise of the rafts, but he was impetuously killed without a thought to his value as a hostage or source of information. I will not make that same mistake with you, Man-of-the-Forest.”

  General Levant believed that Anson was nothing more than a common man with no military bearing or affiliation, but the prophetic warning meant he knew something about the unseen enemy that caused so much havoc. He repeatedly asked Anson to reveal all he knew, but the mage dared not say more because he would not betray his companions, nor would he divulge the identity of the Elf-Lord who was reluctantly drawn into the war between Gilsum and Antrim.

  Even though his life was now in grave danger, Anson had to resist the temptation to use spells to protect himself, since he would be put to death immediately upon any signs of magery. When it was clear that Anson was not going to answer any more questions, Levant ordered his hands and legs beaten by the blunt end of a pike. A soldier jumped forward immediately and began striking the prisoner with relish.