After a few rounds of painful blows, Levant asked again, “How did you know we would be attacked? How many of these elves are there? Can they fight by means other than archery? Spare yourself, man! Tell me something so the beatings can stop!” Anson tried to look up, but his head fell wheezing quiet groans from pain and disorientation.
Levant stepped closer to Anson. So that no one else could hear, he whispered in Anson’s ear, “Tell me something, you poor wretch, before these hot-headed fools kill us both from their need for vengeance!”
Anson struggled to raise his head and face Levant. With great effort, he tried to talk but could only get out a fractured whisper that the general could not make out.
“What? What did you say? Speak up, man,” the general implored.
“P...pl...,” Anson mumbled, barely conscious. The strain of keeping his head upright took all the physical effort he could manage. “Pl…please, save…your…self…” With that plea, the mage from Huxley lapsed into unconsciousness.
General Levant bit his lip and slowly shook his head. He turned to go to his tent, but before leaving he said sadly to the nearest guard, “If that man revives, refresh him with water and call for me. If he dies, bury him and leave no sign of the grave.”
Chapter 10
Plans to make
Beneath the last glow of a pink and gray marbled sunset, flickering lights marked the campfires of Gilsum troops on both sides of the Grayflood River. On the Gilsum side, there were far fewer fires than the night before. As these men tried to sleep, they divided their thoughts between lost comrades and their own good fortune after the day’s carnage. They believed their army was too large and well-provisioned to be defeated. Yet today, these men realized their chance of dying with no way to defend themselves was more than possible, it was likely. Many wondered what odds the next day would bring.
On the Antrim shore of the river, barely twenty Gilsum survivors, none of them officers, regrouped to lament their losses and await their orders. Half of these survivors huddled around large campfires and the other half stood watch, nervously peering into the growing darkness for signs of a mysterious enemy which had devastated their ranks.
* * *
The spectacular sunset lingered in the western sky. Nevin wanted to appreciate the beauty of it, but could not. He stared at the emblazoned western horizon wondering what was ahead for him. It was not a family farm in Ohio that lay beyond that beauty, but an unknown land called Gilsum.
So much had happened to him in so short a time. He had been willingly swept along with this adventure—the deliverance, mages, elves, trolls, an unknown agrarian society—like some sort of book fantasy that challenged his scientific precepts. What he saw today was too cruel to be dreamt, too senseless to be fantasized by a healthy mind. He could not have imagined it. Gilsum was a real land. And John Stryker was here, somewhere, a real man with a known history but unknown motives. Gilsum soldiers who died today were real men, hundreds of them; one of these deaths was by his own hand. It did not matter that he fought for his own or Corissa’s defense. He had killed a man. “Professor” Nevin Reasoner had taken a life in the pursuit of saving lives. He winced at the irony. Tears rolled down his face.
* * *
The sun was completely down when Corissa joined him. She was another reason this adventure could not be imaginary. He did not know what to make of his attraction to her; he had such a mixture of feelings and little experience to help him figure things out. Her relationship to King Lucan was a barrier, for sure, and he certainly never dealt with royalty before.
Corissa was also uncertain about any personal feelings for Nevin, but she felt friendship growing with him and with Anson and Orris as well. Her feelings toward Nevin were different though. She had held herself back from intimacy for a long time, but she was attracted by his gentleness and decency. Her husband would have gloated over today’s demise of so many Gilsum Guardsmen with so few losses on his side; he would have reveled in his own glory at having slain men in hand-to-hand combat. Nevin was completely opposite; he was repulsed and shamed at having caused another’s death. Could she reconcile feelings for two such different men? This was a hard question to answer, but she had reached her own conclusion that Nevin’s way of thinking, and Anson’s, was the right way. There was no defending the inhumanity and indignity brought by the war.
Nevin finally spoke, “We’ve barely started out and suffered so much, Corissa. I was beginning to question the worth of this task we had taken on until the death of these men today—so many men—for no more purpose than to say they followed orders. Will you help me stop this insanity? We have to do whatever we can to end it.”
“I will go with you, Nevin. I want to do what I can. It seems ordained that we must proceed. Zael and the elves have played their part. So has poor Gren. But we have played only a portion of our role; our task is only half done. Now, you and I and Orris, must cross the Grayflood to finish it.”
“You’re right, of course, Corissa. But we must find Anson first. We need him. He started this and he must finish it. As you say, it seems ordained that each of us has a stake, but there is more in this for him than just convincing Gilsum’s King to call a truce. I do know how we can succeed without Anson.”
She reached out her hand and he clasped it gently.
A voice interrupted their accord. “You are a perceptive man, Nevin Reasoner.”
Nevin saw a figure walking toward them from the darkness of the trees. As it got closer, Nevin recognized it was Hillister, the one Anson called a High Mage.
“What do you want?” Nevin demanded. “What do you know about this? Do you know where Anson is?”
“I want what you and Corissa want. What Anson wants. As for Anson, he did try to stop the bloodshed as you surmised. He crossed the river and made his way to their general, but as you can guess he did not succeed. He has been taken prisoner and restrained, tied to a tree by the general’s tent. Since Anson will not tell them what they ask, they will kill him soon because of their need to take vengeance. He has already been beaten to unconsciousness. He needs your help to escape and, as you say, your task will not succeed without him.”
“Why can’t you help us?” Nevin said angrily. “If you are a High Mage, you bastard, you can rescue Anson and help us get to Gilsum! Where were you when we needed your help?”
Hillister sighed, looking away for a moment. “I told you before, I am bound not to interfere. But you do not need my help when among your alliance you have resources yet unused. You have already used some powers to get across the land of Antrim, but you will have to be more resourceful when you cross the river. There is greater danger for you and dark deeds are being done in the west by a man from your land. You must stop him as well as convince Meire to live in amity with Lucan. Remember, you have potential powers at your disposal. Use them.”
“What are you talking about?” Nevin sniped. “Aren’t you the one with great powers?”
“While I cannot help your alliance materially, I can offer you information. Downstream there is a boat left by the Guardsmen. You can use it to cross down river where it widens and is less turbulent. Once you reach the other side, you will meet with another of my kind. Her name is Zamora. Like me, she cannot intervene but can share information as I have. If you succeed in rescuing Anson, Zamora will travel with you as an observer.”
“What would she be observing?”
“I should think you would have guessed that by now. I must leave you. Make your plans with haste for time grows short. If you do not go forth with your mission and succeed, neither Antrim nor Gilsum will know peace before their kingdoms are permanently ravaged.” Hillister stepped back, but stopped to look directly at Corissa. “Do not hold back, Lady. You must trust each other.” With a few backward steps, he slipped into the darkness among the trees.
Nevin and Corissa looked at each other. In their eyes was the mutual strength borne of the success of their mission thus far. In their hearts was a mutual resol
ve to cross into Gilsum and see things through to the end. Nevin put his hands gently on her shoulders and asked. “What did he mean, ‘Don’t hold back’?”
“I guess he means I should tell you about the ring.”
“The ring?”
“King Lucan entrusted me with this ring.” She pulled out a large gold ring with a hexagonal face. One large red stone was surrounded by several smaller stones, also red.
“That is quite a piece of jewelry. Are these stones rubies?” When Corissa indicated she did not know, Nevin asked, “Is there some significance to this ring?”
“There must be. The King said it had been in his family since the days of Adel and has some sort of prophecy or augury associated with it.”
“Like what?”
“Lucan said that it was supposed to be used if Adel’s sons ‘fell to enmity.’ It has something to do with ‘enhancing the light of day’ and ‘opening the door of communication between his sons.’ I do not think he knew more than that.”
“Who was this Adel?”
“He was a great ruler, some say more than a king. In his time, Antrim and Gilsum were one land. The land was eventually divided for rule by his two sons, who were the forebears of Lucan and Meire.”
“You mean that these kings today are related?”
“Yes, but nothing is made of it, Corissa answered. “What do you think about the ring, Nevin? Do you think it has magic properties? Can we use it to help us?”
“Well, I hope you’re not disappointed, Corissa, but I don’t think it is much more than a pretty piece of jewelry. The stones are large and they may be rubies, but they are not very bright; they look more like industrial quality stones. I would guess that Lucan gave it to you as a token to verify your role as his emissary. Like a letter of introduction.”
“Perhaps you are right, Nevin. Lucan only said to protect it from loss and use it if it seemed propitious. I don’t think he actually knew how to use it.” Corissa took the ring back and heaved a sigh, “What are we to do now?”
“Like Hillister said, we have plans to make. Let’s find Orris.”
Chapter 11
Rescue
“There’s the boat,” Nevin whispered, “Just where Hillister said it would be.”
Nevin scrambled down the riverbank and examined the rowboat. In the pre-dawn dark, it was difficult to see how worthy it was to cross the river. Orris and Corissa soon joined him and threw their parcels in bow of the boat.
“Do you think we can handle this craft, Sir Nevin?” asked Orris.
“It’s built for two oarsmen and there are three of us, so we should be all right,” answered Nevin. “As long as it doesn’t leak.”
“Do you think we can trust that High Mage not to lead us to a leaky boat?” asked Orris suspiciously.
“Come on, Orris. I don’t know what to make of Hillister, either, but it seems like he is trying to help us the best way he can. What do you think, Corissa?”
“I think we will know more about Hillister’s trustworthiness when we reach the middle of the river.”
The trio discussed their strategy to get the boat quickly away from the shore and let the current take them further downstream. When the current slowed to a manageable pace, they would make for the far side well away from the army encampment. Corissa asked about the danger from rocks, rekindling their memory of how the Gilsum rafts were wrecked the day before.
“You’re right, Corissa, we need to be careful. Orris and I will row and you station yourself in the bow and guide us away from any rocks or hazards. When the current gets slow enough, the two of us should be able to row fairly quickly to the other shore.”
“Sir Nevin, what is next after we reach the other side?”
“I plan to offer both of you my thanks for a job well done. Other than that, I have no plan except to find Anson and get on our way. Shall we go?”
Together they pushed the heavy wooden rowboat half into the water. Corissa seated herself in the bow, followed by Orris who took the first set of oars. Nevin gave the boat one last push, unsuccessfully attempting to keep his feet dry with his final lunge. He tumbled into the boat as the strong current dislodged it from the shore and quickly sent it downstream, swirling and bumping off submerged rocks near the shoreline. Nevin quickly used an oar to pole them out to deeper water, but no one was yet in control of the boat as Nevin took the seat toward the stern. They pitched and spun about in the swift current, bringing water over the sides as the craft turned.
“Orris! You row straight and I’ll use my oars to steer!” shouted Nevin. Once the two men synchronized their oar strokes, they gained control of the boat and kept the bow facing downstream. Corissa could barely see well enough in the dark to guide them around obstacles, not always succeeding, but the current soon slowed and she directed them toward the western shore.
They reached a calm wide area of the river. Landing the boat on the Gilsum shore was not difficult, except by this time it was leaking profusely from the hard knocks it had taken. The extra weight of water in the bottom made it too difficult to pull the boat up on shore, so Nevin held it steady while the other two climbed out with their belongings. Once the boat was unloaded, Nevin pushed it away to drift downstream where it would not betray their arrival in the dawn’s half light.
Inexperienced as they were with boats, the two men were relieved to be standing on dry land again, though all their belongings were wet as well as themselves. Corissa gave no sign of her feelings about returning to her homeland.
Silently taking up their parcels, they headed inland to find a place of cover, look over the landscape and discuss the next step in their plan. The terrain was upland, covered with scrub and patches of small trees, mostly aspen, alders and other birches, and some scraggly hawthorns. The rolling terrain made for a lot of uphill walking, but the breaking light of dawn and the memory of the much more difficult terrain through the Elvenwood stifled any complaints. They selected a place to stop in a coppice of bushy shrubs.
Orris produced some food, a sampler of root vegetables and dried legumes, and one of the two water bags provided by Zael. He reminded them there could be no fire, but no one objected to the lack of warm food or drink. They ate a hasty meal with little conversation until Corissa spoke, “We cannot walk aimlessly. We must have a plan. If neither of you objects, I have some thoughts. But we will have to hurry if Anson’s life is in jeopardy.”
Nevin and Orris looked at each other, but neither had thought this far ahead. Nevin said, “If you have a plan, by all means tell us about it.”
“Yes, My Lady. This is your land and neither of us has been here before,” added Orris.
“I was born in Gilsum, Captain,” Corissa responded sharply. “But I do not claim it as home, nor do I think King Meire looks upon me as a subject. Antrim is my land and Lucan is my sworn King.
“Er...yes, Madam. My apologies.”
Nevin was a little startled at her tone, but he understood that this was a difficult situation for her. He started to say something to smooth over this little confrontation but she stopped him with a wave.
“We must get to business. My plan has three parts. First, we must find Anson and help him as best we can…if it is not already too late. We know that he has gone to the main Gilsum camp, probably to seek the King’s general.”
Nevin frowned a little, as much for her abruptness as the implication of what she said about Anson. She saw his reaction. “You need not give me that look of disapproval, Nevin. I do not believe he went there as a traitor, and I am sorry if you find my tongue sharp. There is a time and place for niceties. Right now, we have no plan of action and we will be killed if we are discovered. Time is fleeting. Shall I continue?”
Nevin softened his look and nodded for her to go on. Orris looked at both of them and smiled, keeping his thoughts private.
“If we can collect Anson, our second step is to make for Taunton, the capitol city. The third part of our plan is to gain an audience with King Meire, but
we should wait before setting those details. The terrain alone will make for a difficult journey, worse than traveling in the elves’ wood I am afraid. And that is aside from peril at the hands of Gilsum folk.
“What sort of problems will we have travelling,” asked Nevin.
“The way is due northwest, over a series of hills until we eventually reach the mountain city of Taunton where their king resides. The journey will seem always uphill and will become rockier and more arid. We have seen the last lush green of forest and meadow. Our water will be precious, perhaps even priceless, and we will need to conserve it.”
“Let’s take the first step and not tarry figuring tomorrow’s plan,” said Orris, with a hint of impatience. “I fear for Anson. If even one Guardsman sees evidence that he is a mage, they will deliver his head for bounty. We should move fast before he is killed.”
“Corissa, why are they so quick to dispose of anyone they think is a mage?”
“Because, Nevin, there is a long standing prophecy that the King of Gilsum will suffer a fiery death at the hands of a man with special powers who is not born of Gilsum,” Corissa answered. “But prophecies compel more by superstition than anything else. Let us move. Orris is right. We need to find Anson as soon as possible if he is in the hands of...”
“Look!” Orris started, drawing his sword.
Several feet away stood the slight figure of a woman, her hands at her side. Nevin motioned for Orris to put away his weapon and walked over to her. She was very slender and wore a long grey robe, sashed at the middle with a white rope belt. Her face was also somewhat familiar, sort of roundish and framed by dark hair cropped short. Like Hillister, it was difficult to estimate her age. Despite the impassivity of her stance, her face conveyed emotion.
“I take it you are Zamora,” Nevin said, remembering their conversation with Hillister. “My name is Nevin. This is Corissa and…”
The Chronicles of Nevin Reasoner: The Complete Duology Page 26