by Susan Faw
Darius carried his and Cayden’s satchels. The other five men were likewise attired, carrying packs on their backs.
“What is the meaning of this?” Ziona snapped at him, frowning with displeasure.
“When I got back, these guys were awake and whispering in the tent. They had also gone to check on Cayden and had received the same response. They were trying to decide where to go searching when I arrived. I couldn’t think of anything else to do but bring them along, seeing as they knew I had been out all night searching for Cayden.”
“Mistress,” piped up James, “Cayden is a good lad. He didn’t deserve how they treated him. Something is wrong with Sergeant Perez. He didn’t report back for roll call last night. It’s like he disappeared right after he arrested Cayden.” He shrugged at his companions. “Well, we figured there was something rotten in the camp and it was time we decided where our loyalties lie. We want to help Cayden escape.” The others nodded their heads in agreement.
“All right, I don’t have time for this. Darius, you are to take your companions and follow Cayden.” She quickly went over the instructions she had given Cayden. “You are to hold at the cave and stay out of sight! Do not leave the cave until I arrive. Is that clear?” Heads bobbed in understanding. “Now go, it will soon be light. Be as silent as a hawk on the wing.” She held back the cut canvas, and Darius led the way out the back of the tent. They were soon swallowed by the forest.
As soon as the last man exited, Ziona stitched up the slice in the canvas. It took about ten minutes to repair the damage, but in the end, it was completely invisible to the eye.
With a last inspection, Ziona picked up her travel bag and slung it on her shoulder. She went to her horse and saddled the mare quickly. Next, she threw a halter on the mule and led both animals away from her tent.
She stopped at the next tent and called out to the occupant. “Mandy, would you watch my tent for a few hours? I need to go back to Tintern to pick up some more supplies.”
“No problem, Ziona. I will take care of things here till you get back.”
“Thanks! I should be back before dark, but I may also stay over in the town. I fancy a hot meal and a bath.”
“Not to worry!” Mandy hollered through the tent wall.
Ziona mounted her horse and with a gentle pat on her neck, urged her into a slow walk, the mule following with a plod.
She took the road leading away from the camp. It disappeared from view as the sun split the horizon. She was unsure if anyone was watching her, so for that reason alone, she decided she must make the journey all the way to Tintern. Her plan was to purchase some supplies, book a room at the inn, and then quietly leave again after dark and travel by night back to Cayden. If her suspicions were correct as to who had attempted to kidnap him, then perhaps she was being watched also. She kept her pace leisurely, as though she didn’t have a care in the world.
She reached the village about noon and dismounted at the inn, a shabby establishment called The King’s Ransom. The cost lived up to its name, she thought, as she laid out the coin for her night’s stay. The innkeeper, a portly man with a balding pate, provided her a main floor room by the rear door as requested so “she would have the quietest room in the inn away from the rowdy late night crowd.” She picked up her key and nodded her thanks.
She gathered her horse and mule and led them around the back to the stables. She handed them off to the stable boy and requested they each get an extra measure of grain each and a good rubdown. She flipped him a coin for his consideration and he grinned back in thanks.
She paused in thought. “Oh and when you are done grooming my mare, please saddle her again? I may decide to go for a gentle ride later this afternoon. Leave her in her stall, saddled.” He nodded and led the animals away.
Ziona carried her travel bag to her room. Opening the door, she found a modest room, outfitted with a simple bed, a lumpy mattress, a wash stand with a chipped bowl and mismatched pitcher. On the wall hung a scratched silver mirror and a ladder back chair placed under the window completed the furnishings.
She closed the door and locked it. She was weary and needed rest. She had not dared to sleep after Cayden had arrived injured so severely. Besides, he had been in her bed. She stretched out on the lumpy mattress, fully clothed, and closed her eyes. It felt like heaven. In less than a minute, she was fast asleep.
Chapter 22
SERGEANT PEREZ CRINGED as the deeply hooded figure paused in front of him. It was a full foot taller and Perez imagined cold slimy hands were hidden by the long full sleeves. Death stalked him and played with him.
“You let him escape,” the voice hissed, not quite human sounding. “You had him tied and locked in a metal cage and he still escaped.”
“No, my lord!” Perez trembled, afraid to gaze too deeply into the hood. “The boy was aided by friends. Our guard was knocked out. We do not know how they found out where he was being held. Please, my lord, I can find him.” Eager to please, he implored the Charun, tenting his fingers in supplication.
“You failed,” hissed the faceless voice, “and I have no use for defective tools.” It reached out with scaly hands and grabbed Perez by the throat. Perez eyes bulged as his air was cut off. The spectral figure squeezed and bones snapped. Perez dropped to the dirt below like a practice dummy with its ties cut.
The figure seemed to float as it rotated. Three other eerie figures, similarly garbed, stood silently waiting. “Eliminate the humans. Leave none alive.”
Heads bowed in acceptance of the order. They ghosted from the room, black phantoms of death descending on an unsuspecting foe.
***
Cayden wearily sank down onto a fallen tree blocking his path. He had been walking for several hours now. Dawn had arrived but the rising sun was not able to penetrate the dense vegetation surrounding him. He had stayed deep in the woods, using the fading darkness as a compass to keep him going west.
He pulled the flask of water from his pocket and took a swig. It was cool and minty tasting. His ribs ached still, but the pain was bearable. He shook his head, amazed. How had Ziona been able to heal him so quickly? His insides warmed as the liquid reached his stomach and he felt strength returning to his muscles. He took a deep breath. The pain in his ribs receded to a whisper. His nose had also returned to a normal shape and size.
A twig snapped. Cayden’s head shot up, examining the forest to the west. He froze, his ears straining to catch any out-of-place sound. The brush quivered and parted, revealing a silver-haired wolf. The wolf sniffed the air then limped toward him. An arrow was jutting from her body. She sat down beside Cayden and looked at him, pain shadowing her eyes. The arrow had entered the right shoulder near the neck. The arrowhead and gone clean through and was sticking out from the underside of the shoulder blade.
Cayden, without giving it any thought to his actions, knelt beside the wolf. Blood stained her silvery coat. The wolf fixed her ice blue eyes on him and whined. Cayden reached for his water bottle and poured a small amount of the water into the lid of the flask. He offered it to the wolf, who slurped it up gratefully. The pain receded from her eyes.
“I can’t take the arrow out here. Can you come with me to a safe place?” The wolf cocked its head, listening. Cayden felt her acceptance. She licked his hand and then grabbed his pant leg and started pulling on it. She walked a little ways away and then came back and pulled on his pant leg again. “You want me to follow you?” She sat down and waited, licking at her wound.
Cayden replaced the flask and stood up. “OK. Lead the way.”
The wolf headed back into the trees in a westerly direction. They had pushed through the brush for a time when they came to a small clearing. A pungent odour assaulted his nose. It wrinkled in response. A wolf pack of about fifteen animals lay bleeding in the field. Flies buzzed and rose from the carcasses as Cayden walked through the slaughter field, examining the scene. The wolves had all been shot by arrows. Hoof prints mixed in with the blood had chur
ned up a reddish mud. The attackers had been on horseback. Why would anyone attack a wolf pack? It made no sense.
The silvery wolf yipped to gain Cayden’s attention. He walked over to her, where she pawed at a jet black wolf lying on its side, three black-shafted, black-tipped arrows piercing its body. This one was male. The one blue eye seemed to plead with Cayden. The wolf was still alive.
Hesitant, Cayden placed a hand gently on his head. A jolt of liquid fire shot up his arm and a conscience pressed hard on his brain. Cayden cried out as the wolf’s essence was transferred to him. Cayden fell on his side, twitching, his limbs jerking uncontrollably. Slowly, the tremors left his body. The wolf took one last breath, trembled, and was still.
From the body of the wolf rose a form of a wolf but larger, three times the size of the wolf dead on the ground. The form solidified and unfolded as though in slow motion to stand on its hind legs. Hairy arms rippled with cords of muscles that flowed across to join an equally muscled chest matted with hair. The face of the dead wolf gazed at Cayden with long wicked teeth curling from its snout. It snorted and Cayden cringed back in fright. “Do not be afraid. You have given me the chance to live again. I have given you my mortal energy and spirit and you have given me my mythical form.”
Cayden gazed back at the creature in shock. “What are you?” he croaked.
“I am a werewolf. We are often thought of as evil, just as the wolf is misunderstood. I and my kind will serve you. You need only to call.” The werewolf glanced around at the killing field and a ferocious light blazed to life in his eyes. “Look closely at this scene for you can learn much about what hunts you. We were slaughtered to keep from bringing you warning.” He gazed at the silvery wolf beside Cayden. “Take care of Sheba for she was my she-alpha.”
With a final glance around, the werewolf bounded off and was soon swallowed in the trees. Cayden sensed his passing but still retained a connection to the werewolf and could sense his presence in his mind.
Cayden collected several of the arrows lying around, wrapping them in leaves and then tucked them in his pocket, careful to not touch the blackened tips. As he headed west again, he noticed a dead wolf with a piece of cloth clamped in its jaws. He pried the cloth loose and placed it in his pocket with the arrows.
He stroked Sheba’s soft head. “Are you ready to go, girl?” She raised her head and then lowered it, nudging the dead black wolf, urging him to rise. When he did not move, she raised her muzzle to the sky and howled a long, sad call. The sound was so mournful Cayden’s chest constricted. There was no answering call. Tears sparked in his eyes. She trotted off toward the west. Cayden followed.
***
Ryder gagged as vomit welled up into his throat, burning with the intensity of his disgust. He swallowed, the acidic lump burning a path back down into his queasy stomach. The tinny, maggoty smells of blood and body fluids clogged his nose and added a sauce to the bile attempting to escape his body.
The carnage was beyond his experience. His gaze took in a decapitated head sitting on top of a tent pole, blood staining the wooden shaft and pooling on the ground below. The tent was whole and untouched; however, the canvas surface was sprayed with pieces of entrails and bits of bone. The part of his brain protecting his mind from shock logically attempted to compute the amount of human residue needed to constitute an entire body. Whether a part or whole body, it was clear it had exploded on the side of the tent.
Gingerly, Ryder stepped around a corpse lying at his feet, careful not to step on the flayed remains.
This scene was repeated throughout the camp with little variation. The attack appeared to have been designed to create the maximum amount of carnage. Ryder could only think of one reason to do so: to elicit stark terror from any who viewed the scene. It’s working! His limbs trembled as he fought them for control. Behind him, he heard noisy retching from his companions.
He forced himself to turn in a complete circle to survey the scene. Cayden could be in here somewhere, still alive. They had to search.
“Break into groups of two and search for survivors.” He did not need to mention which survivor they were to search for.
The group of twenty men split into teams and fanned out through what remained of the legion. Ryder was joined by the baker’s son, Joshua, who had begged to come with him when he had left home. Ryder had initially refused to take him along as he was only fifteen, but in the end Joshua had followed them out of town and continued to follow despite Ryder’s repeated urgings for Joshua to go home.
Everyone with Ryder was a volunteer from the village. Rumours of Ryder’s plan to help Cayden escape the legion had been whispered through town and one by one they had begged to come with him. Ryder now wished he had set out alone. This was not what he had expected to find. It seemed they had walked into the middle of a war…but what war? He had not heard any rumours the entire trip while following the path of the legion.
Joshua, swallowing heavily and wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his jacket, picked up a broken spear and prodded at the bodies they passed to see if any stirred. Flies buzzed around the carcasses, billowing up and resettling on the bodies after they passed. Vultures huddled in groups at one edge of the camp, squawking and fighting over a body. They had had to chase them off at first, but the vultures were overcoming their fear of the boys quickly.
Nothing moved except for the vultures and the flies. Nothing stirred.
The strange thing was Ryder did not see any enemy soldiers amongst the dead. Surely they had killed some of the attacking force. Had the attackers carried off their dead then to hide their identities? If so, why was there no trail away from the camp? They had scouted the perimeter to be sure there was no ambush waiting for them. There was no sign of a retreating army. Not even of fleeing soldiers.
Nothing about the scene before him made sense. He shivered, fear making his heart thunder in his head. He wanted to be away from this place. He wanted to run. But he searched on.
Joshua flipped over a tumbled water cart and jumped back in surprise. Huddled beneath the overturned wagon covered in mud and blood was a lad about Joshua’s age. His eyes were wild in his ashen face. He was not wearing a uniform. The lad raised terrified eyes to Joshua and then cried out in relief, the flood of tears streaking his face.
Hearing the sound, Ryder strode over to the survivor. A witness had been found.
Ryder squatted down and gently gripped the lad’s shoulders. “It’s OK. We are here to help you. My name is Ryder. Who are you?”
The lad gulped and whispered, “Michale, sir.”
“What has happened here, Michale? Who did this?” Joshua knelt beside Ryder, blocking the scene from Michale’s eyes.
Fixing his gaze on Ryder, Michale whispered, “Black phantoms.”
This was incomprehensible to Ryder. What is this black phantom? A kind of ghost? Or an evil spirit?
“Do you know Cayden Tiernan? Did you see him? Is he here in the camp still?”
“He was here, sir, but he left two days ago. Or maybe he was arrested. I saw some men taking him away. He was not here when the camp was attacked.”
Ryder blew out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. They did not need to linger on the dead, only confirm there were no other survivors.
He helped pull Michale to his feet and led him back to their horses on the west side of the camp. Michale kept his face averted from the scene surrounding him and allowed Ryder to blindly lead him out of the camp.
Reaching the horses, Ryder sat Michale on the ground. “Stay with him, Joshua. Get him something to eat from our packs and some water. I will be back shortly.”
Relief flooded over Ryder as he went back into the camp turned graveyard, his steps a little lighter for the news. Cayden was not here when this happened. They would continue to search for him. He would find him.
His men were gathered on the eastern edge of the camp. When Ryder reached them, they confirmed they had found no other survivors.
“Gath
er up as many useful weapons as you can find. We will load them on the spare mule. Whoever did this may still be around and I, personally, would like to be armed if they return. In fact, I would rather not be here at all.” The weapons would not help them repel such a foe, based on what had happened here. Would any weapon be effective?
“Also, gather any of the horses that are still nearby. We may need a change of mount along the way.” Curiously, no horses had been harmed and they grazed in groups at the edge of the camp.
Twenty men had arrived at the camp that morning. Twenty-one left the camp heading along the western road in search of Cayden. The vultures resettled to feast as they rode away.
Chapter 23
CAYDEN REACHED THE CAVE just before dark. It was cleverly hidden. The entrance was a slit in the stone outcropping, the angle left the opening in perpetual shadow. One could walk within ten feet of the opening and not see it unless one knew to look for it.
Entering the cave, he found a large cavern hollowed back into the hillside. The cave was stocked with supplies. A racking system had been installed along one wall that contained thrush sleeping mats, blankets stacked in neat piles, lanterns and lantern fuel, and cooking utensils and pots on the top shelf.
The bottom shelf contained sacks of dried beans, corn and peas, ground flour, bottles of oil, bags of dried berries, fruits, and nuts. Dried meats rounded out the basic supplies. A small spring bubbled at the back of the cave.
Selecting a lantern already half full of oil, Cayden carried it over to the mud brick cooking oven already stacked with kindling. He gathered the flint and steel from the shelf and, kneeling, rained sparks into the fluffy starter. It leapt to life and caught the dried sticks above. Cayden added a couple of smaller pieces of wood from the stacked wood pile at the back to the fire. Soon a cheery blaze was burning in the hearth. He fetched a pot and a kettle and filled both at the spring then set them atop the cooking hearth.