by Jacob Cooper
Many prayers escaped her lips as she drew closer. Doing her best to appear unafraid and confident, she sat up straight, head held high. As she reached the forest’s border, she pulled back gently on the reins and her horse stopped. It snorted once.
“Easy girl,” Kathryn comforted. “Easy Dahlia. There, now.” The sun had started to set, but the massive trees that confronted her already hid the sun’s light. It was dark enough to be night in the forest. A low fog had come in from the east and blanketed the ground below her. She could not see her horse’s hooves when she looked down. Kathryn almost felt as if she were amidst the clouds and standing on thin air. Bringing her right leg up and over the horse, she dismounted. When her feet hit the earth, the wispy fog parted for a second, revealing the ground, and just as quickly filled in around her again. It reached halfway up her calves.
Taking a deep breath, she led Dahlia forward and crossed over the boundary into the forest. There was no sound other than her footsteps and those of her horse. Not even birds sang. They wove between closely grown trees trying to find any semblance of a path but there was none she could see. Dahlia whinnied and Kathryn again comforted her by rubbing her long snout and whispering that all was well. A carrot from her saddlebag helped her horse find some courage.
They continued walking. She looked up and could see small glimmers of sunlight piercing small openings in the thick canopy of branches and leaves over a hundred feet above her. Wind howled and rustled the tops of the trees.
Their progress was slow as she was uncertain of every footstep due to the fog. Not being able to see where she stepped created a bit of a surreal feeling and Kathryn again battled a sense of floating.
“Easy girl,” she said again, but more for her own comfort now than Dahlia’s.
Her next step fell on uneven ground and she stumbled forward. Her hands gripped the reins tight and prevented her from meeting the ground. Dahlia stepped backward and helped Kathryn up.
“Thanks, girl.”
When Kathryn again looked forward to continue, a shape emerged from beneath the fog directly in front of her. Fear found Kathryn but she forced herself not to run. Dahlia cried and rose up on her hind legs, almost tearing free from Kathryn’s grip on her reins. The shape materialized into the form of a man as remnants of the fog drifted off him like water flowing over a rock. She could discern no features in this façade of night. Two others emerged like ghosts from the depths of the Ancient Dark on either side of the first. Suddenly on her left side, a quick burst of air blew against her as a fourth appeared. The apparition stood within arm’s reach of her. Body and face alike were covered in mud the color of bark. Only the whites of his eyes were discernible in the contrast against his unnatural complexion.
The ghost-like Arlethian warrior reached forward and grabbed her shoulder before she could recognize his arm had moved. Kathryn Hoyt screamed.
Under the cloak of night, Master Gernald and three men of the Southern Army whom Lord Marshal Wenthil had selected, prowled through the camp of the Eastern army. A scout had informed Gernald where the enigmatic hooded creatures would likely be, but he was not certain. Lord Hoyt had warned the scout not to get too close, as they would be able to detect him, but he would not explain more than this. Charldis, the scout, was an archer with exceptional eyesight. Gernald knew the information was as reliable as could be expected.
The officers’ feast had ended hours ago and second moon was cresting the horizon. Lord Marshal Garreth had announced that the initial attack would likely begin just before nightfall of the following day. Oaths of valor and boasts of heroism filled the halls, coming mostly from the younger officers of the East who wanted to use this battle for their advancement. The Southern Province’s officers laughed and played along, but there was no mirth in their merriment. Master Gernald watched as the food had been delivered, eyeing conspicuously the servings placed in front of those three shadowed men. They did not even remove their hoods when they ate, but the food was devoured ravenously. Gernald had spared a glance to the kitchens where he spied Hambly barely peering around a corner. It seemed that Hambly had been successful and was standing by to watch his handiwork, though the effects were not supposed to take place until after the feast.
Let it work! Master Gernald prayed as they ducked between tents and avoided the torches of the sentries. He knew they would only have one opportunity to pull off Lord Hoyt’s ambitious ploy.
They found the tent that Charldis had pointed out. Gernald’s heart was in his throat. He did not know what these three were, but he could tell Lord Hoyt feared them greatly. It was as if Hoyt did not believe them human at all.
The group hunched close to the back entry of the tent and Gernald reached out to grab one of the flaps. He looked at the others and nodded. Each drew a short blade. Gernald slowly pulled back the tent flap and entered. The other three followed, stooped over and moving as quickly as they could. Inside, the tent was tall enough to stand at the center but not along the walls where the small company crouched. Gernald retrieved a small glass vial from a pocket, as did each of the men with him. After taking the cork off the end of the tube for a brief moment and allowing the air to touch the liquid, he replaced it and shook the vial. The liquid inside illuminated a dark yellowish light.
I’m going to recommend that healer woman for high commendation! he thought.
As the dim light filled the tent and his eyes adjusted, Gernald cursed at what he saw. His pulse quickened and he tensed. The men with him had a similar reaction but they did not move. Before them, in the weak light, Gernald made out three shapes huddled together on the ground in the center of the tent. The hooded figures sat facing one another, forming a circle, and had their arms up around one another’s shoulders. Their heads were bowed and each seemed to be resting against the next one for support. They did not move.
Gernald looked to the closest man on his right and nodded. Slowly and silently, the company advanced with short blades at the ready. They encircled the hooded men and waited. No action came from those below them. Looking at the others, Gernald nodded again. They each reached down forcefully and grabbed a hood, ripping it off the heads of their targets. Gernald gasped at what they saw.
Ancients take me!
Underneath the hoods were shorn heads with pale flesh. Strange markings were carved into their skin, obviously symbols of some create. There was no scar tissue from the carvings, just the shapes, pale in color as the flesh itself. Gernald realized these tattoos were not carved into their flesh at all, but part of their natural appearance. A deformity of some create. The exact same on each of the three strange men, as far as he could tell. Gernald shuddered again and swallowed his fear. He pulled one of the monsters from the circle and its head fell back. The eyes were open but lifeless. Pupils dilated too large to leave any other color save for the white borders. Purplish veins bulged under the eyes and foam dripped from the mouth. The demon of a man was dead.
It was strange to find them huddled together in a circle of death. Perhaps this is the way they died in preparation to meet whatever foul being had spawned them, Gernald mused. But he did not have time to ponder the mysteries that were before him now.
“Quickly,” he whispered to the others. “Remove their robes and dispose of the bodies.”
As night approached the following day, Lord Hoyt grew increasingly nervous. He had not heard from his daughter and feared for her safety. If something had happened to his precious Kathryn, he knew he would never be able to forgive himself. Lady Briel had slapped and cursed him when she found out what he had allowed their daughter to do and was in her chambers, refusing to answer the door for anyone.
He sat upon his warhorse, though he had never been in battle, nor had any of his men that he knew of; he prayed that would continue at least for today. Master Gernald and a half dozen other hold guards flanked him. The expected protests had come and gone from his master of the hold guard about him being on the front lines with the army, but Hoyt acted as if he had n
ot even heard them. Looking around, he took in the sight of fifty thousand soldiers, cavalry, and siege weapons of all create. Each was arranged into units of various sizes, categorized by swords, axes, spears, and archers. Less than five hundred paces away he spied the three hooded men in their dark robes near the front with Lord Marshal Garreth. Gernald came forward on his horse.
“All is set, Lord Hoyt.”
He nodded to Master Gernald and waited. Calder did not like the course of action he was about to take, but he could not turn the currents now. He saw Lord Marshal Wenthil saunter over to Garreth and knew the time had come. In a flash, the three hooded men turned and tackled Garreth and pinned him to the ground. The man screamed as three short blades pierced his torso. The action was so sudden that it took several moments before anyone else could react.
Wenthil shouted a command and the Southern forces separated themselves from the East’s and surrounded them with haste, easily outnumbering them. The Eastern forces were too surprised to know exactly what was happening. Some officers of the Eastern Army shouted orders to their men, but it was too late. The Southern Army trained arrows, leveled spears and swords, and raised axes in an extremely hostile posture toward Eastern soldiers.
“Throw down your arms!” Lord Hoyt commanded. “Do not make an end of yourselves foolishly! Throw down your arms and you will be spared, I swear it!”
A score of Eastern soldiers attacked the closest Southern men to them but were easily dispatched. Their fellow Eastern soldiers did not follow their lead.
“Hold! Blasted Night, hold!” Hoyt shouted. “Will you choose to die this day? To waste your life in an effort you cannot prevail in? A cause that is not your own?”
After several tense moments, the clang and clatter of steel and wood was heard as twenty thousand swords, spears, shields, axes and bows fell to the earth. The Eastern soldiers were stripped down to their under tunics, their hands and ankles bound.
Wenhthil had argued to execute them once the Eastern forces were subdued, it being a time of war and the logistics of handling so many prisoners an untenable burden, but Lord Hoyt forbade it.
“Master Gernald, is your plan ready to be carried out?” Hoyt asked.
“Yes, my Lord.”
Commands were shouted and the prisoner force of twenty thousand was broken in forty groups of five hundred. Ten Southern soldiers took up positions around each prisoner group.
“We will need the wood-dwellers to agree to march them deep into the Schadar,” Gernald said. “At least a full day’s march. They shouldn’t need more than five per group, at most.”
Hoyt pondered. “Do you think those who accept this assignment will make it back in time to regroup?”
“With their speed,” Gernald said, “I believe they will be able to catch back up with us just before we make it to Calyn.”
“It will have to do.”
Hopefully that was enough to convince them. Hoyt knew the Arlethians had to be watching from across the river. They would never make it in time to assist Therrium but they would still go to Calyn to help where they could—assuming the Arlethians now trusted him. And, assuming they had not harmed his daughter.
If they dared to bring harm to her…
“My Lord, look!” Gernald said. From the wood-dweller forest across the Roniah, a large force emerged from behind the tree line into the waning light of day. Wood-dwellers, swathed in mud. At their head, a rider beamed triumphant, her blonde hair in a shawl of bright orange, red, and gold. Lord Hoyt’s heart swelled.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Prime Lord Banner Therrium
Day 29 of 1st Dimming 412 A.U.
“HOW ARE YOUR WOUNDS, MASTER ALRIKK?” Prime Lord Therrium asked.
Alrikk had been promoted to master of the hold guard after Aiden’s departure by default, but it was not an appointment made reluctantly by Lord Therrium. Alrikk had witnessed the battle and also felt the assault on the forest itself while on overseer duty and connected to the forest. Though mentally affected by this event more than the actual battle, his insights were invaluable.
“The healers believe in a matter of days I should recover full range of motion in my right arm,” he replied. “They say I will always have a slight limp in my walk, but that it shouldn’t hinder me from any of my duties. My Lord is kind to ask.”
They were at the northernmost of the three battlefronts. While small skirmishes had broken out, a major confrontation had not yet developed. All around them, the sounds of fifteen thousand soldiers in preparation were heard.
“And the deeper wounds?” Lord Therrium pressed.
Alrikk struggled to find words to adequately answer his Lord. Therrium knew of his nightmares, how Alrikk would awaken with a cry, drenched in sweat. The healers had kept Therrium well informed.
“I am present, my Lord. I seem to have little residual effects left,” Alrikk lied. Lord Therrium did not force him any farther.
“I am pleased to know it,” Therrium said. “And, I am more pleased you are here and still with us. I would like you to join the group in charge of oversight tonight. It will be your first time in this assignment since the attack. A fortified hold needs only one or two overseers, but here, deep in the forest without fortifications and the enemy at our very door, many are required. I trust your sensitivity, Master Alrikk. Find a bough of a suitable height and I’m certain you will be out of harm’s way.”
“My Lord wishes me out of the way, away from battle?” Alrikk replied with a hint of shame in his voice.
“No, no lad, you misunderstand. You can likely sense what others cannot due to your experience. I need you on overseer duty.”
“As my Lord commands, of course, but I don’t feel any more experienced than the others. I am actually quite young compared to many here.”
Therrium sensed Alrikk felt intimidated or inadequate, perhaps both.
“Any can sense and feel as I can. In fact,” he continued somewhat sheepishly, “I haven’t spoken with the forest since that night.”
Therrium was contemplative, running through scenarios in his mind, only half hearing his master of the hold guard. “Do you think you could discern it with more warning if you felt it again?”
Alrikk went pale. “You believe…that the enemy could use the same Influence again?”
“It is inevitable, Master Alrikk. I would use it if I were in the enemy’s position. This Influence is something we cannot defend against. General Roan and I have discussed it at length, and rumors have spread through the army from those who witnessed it at my hold. But we can do nothing to prepare for it other than to try and sense it with as much warning as possible.”
Alrikk tried to collect himself amid the realization of what they might face, and the toll it would take on him mentally if he again endured a similar assault against the forest while connected to it. He remembered how the trees screamed in terror and agony. The trees screamed in his mind, a sound not audible to the ear but loud enough to fracture a sentient being’s core. It was a horrific, indelible sound. Supernatural and sickening. The scar inside Alrikk was seared by that scream, carving a chasm that filled with nightmares until they overflowed and threatened to drown his sanity.
With great effort he said, “You are my Lord. I will do whatever you require of me without question.”
“You don’t remember Lord Kerr, do you?” Therrium asked, changing the subject.
“I was barely a youth beyond the age of innocence when he and his daughter died. Fourteen, I think. I actually saw him once in Calyn with his son, but that was long ago. I do remember quite well when Lady Moira and her boy were killed, though. Aiden revered Lord Kerr as a father. Actually, I think most of the other guards thought Aiden was his son or nephew, the way he carried on about him.”
“No, neither. Aiden’s father did not deserve the title of father, but let’s leave that to another time. The reason I asked about Lord Kerr is because of something I learned from him. Well, I learned many things from him, as did all who
spent any time around him. You learned more from what he did than what he said, understand?”
Alrikk did not answer, but continued to listen.
“When there was a stomach that growled, he filled it with his own meat and drink. When someone was burdened, he lifted the weight and carried it. When people were full of sadness, he walked with them until their spirits were elevated. When justice needed to be exercised, he delegated that duty to no one. And, when someone needed to be defended, he always placed himself in front. Do you understand now?”
“I—I…” Alrikk stuttered. “I’m not sure, my Lord.”
“I am not Thannuel Kerr. I could never hope to be the man he was, but perhaps today we can both learn from his example. You have great fear in you. You are damaged inside, though your physical wounds will heal. You fear to carry out your duty.”
“My Lord, I only wish to—”
“Be still, lad,” Therrium said calmly. “I do not accuse you of any cowardice or running from your duty. I have asked you to take on an assignment that is grievous to be borne by you, for the benefit of your people, to be sure. But, I understand, at least a little, what I am asking.
“I know what Thannuel Kerr would do if he were you. He would stand against the fear and do his duty. But, more importantly, I know what he would do if he were me. He would climb to the overseer perch with you. And so, Alrikk, let us do today exactly what the greatest leader in both our lifetimes would have done. You, your duty despite the fear. Me, to stand by you and not ask you to face it alone.”
On the way to the overseer perch, Lord Therrium and Alrikk passed General Roan as he disseminated battlefield deployments amongst his officers.
“General,” Therrium said. “Are we ready?”
Roan turned to face Therrium and bowed. “Yes, Prime Lord. The men are almost fully deployed or soon will be.”
“You are efficient as ever, General. Arlethia is lucky to have you.” Before Roan could answer, Therrium came in closer so only the two of them could hear. “What are our chances? Give it to me cold, General.”