The Road To The King (Book 1)

by Steven Styles

  Dunner and Hezekiah accompanied him to the ridge’s top. A lone tree, a gnarled old oak stood alone against the winds and weather up there. Joseph knelt by it, peering down at the camps, then at the ships.

  “They aren’t flying any flags. Do you know of such ships that patrol these waters?” he asked, addressing Dunner.

  As he studied the ships Dunner silently reached under his cloak and brought out a long parcel wrapped in leather and strips of cloth. It was a spyglass, much like Joseph had seen Admiral Jacobs carry on the war frigate. Stepping next to the tree’s trunk, Dunner put the small end up to his eye and gaze a few moments at the ships.

  “They’re ours, alright,” he growled. “No colors are on the mast, and the sailors don’t look like soldiers.” Lowering the glass he handed it to Joseph. “If I had to lay money on it, I’d say they were Island folk.” Joseph looked at the ships, but more so at the encampments on shore. Leaning against the tree, Hezekiah stroked his beard thoughtfully with one hand while observing the scene.

  “I wonder how barbarians got hold of two of our fine vessels?” he mused out loud. Dunner spat on the ground.

  “The King would be angered by such a thing!” he snarled. “Trade is not allowed with the barbarians. They must have captured the ships, the nasty pagans!”

  Silently counting men, Joseph looked over his shoulder and called to the weazon corporal. Telker walked up slowly, stopping when he saw what the monks and his lieutenant were looking at.

  “Ships?” he asked. A nervous tenor threaded this waspish voice.

  “Write this down, Telker,” Joseph ordered, looking through the glass again. “I need you to take one rider with you and deliver a message back to the Fort. Around the fires I count near sixty armed barbarian men. There are a few more on the ships... two ships of Kingdom make that are sailed by barbarian sailors. I ask that re-enforcements be sent. Go back and report.”

  He stopped speaking. Through the glass a very faint word could be seen, painted in red on one of the nearer ships. “The ship nearest has some kind of name painted on it. I can’t make it out.” Dunner squinted up at the sky.

  “You have about two hours of light left,” he commented. “We could get closer and see it most like.” Joseph handed the spyglass back and took out his map.

  “Up there, behind us on the mountain there should be a few small caves.” He said, pointing to the small indentations on the map’s surface. “The ridge hides the openings from the valley. I’ll get the men up there to make camp, but I want a closer look at that ship before the light is gone.” Dunner nodded, leaning against the tree.

  Walking with his men, Joseph led them behind the ridge, climbing up to where a cave opened in the spare rocky mountainside, facing the trail they come on. He saw Telker and one other rider off back the way they had come, the two riding away quickly. Giving orders for fires to be lit within the cave and camp to be made, Joseph set two guards to patrol on foot the ridge, and two more the mountainside and trail, as well as two posted at the cave’s opening. This done, he selected two soldiers to come with him and set off on foot with Dunner and Hezekiah, over the ridge by way of a rocky trail.

  Using the cover of the forest, the five scouts found a fairly easy way down to the ocean; it took them no more than an hour to reach the edge of the bay. Parting some shrubs, Joseph again used the glass to peer at the ships. The word on the ships’ side was now clearer.

  “The language is unfamiliar to me,” Joseph said, lowering the glass, disappointed. He looked over at Dunner.

  “No use looking at me, Joseph,” he said, holding up his hands. “The sea was my only schoolmaster.” Stepping softly beside Joseph, Hezekiah eyed the ships with a riveted interest.

  “Allow me, Lieutenant Asher,” the bearded man said, holding out one hand. Joseph complied, pointing to which ship’s prow was adorned with the writing.

  A few moments later, Hezekiah let the spyglass slowly down from his eye. He turned around and sat down on a nearby rock, letting out a long breath. Sitting down on a rock, the monk let out a long breath.

  “Enough silence,” Dunner said, impatiently. “Did you know it?” Hezekiah nodded, looking narrowly at the distant ships.

  “I do,” he said. “These are no mere island fishermen, out for a season catch. The name on the ship is Anthera. It is the goddess mother, revered by the northernmost barbarians... the tribe of Zo.”

  At his words, Dunner’s eyes grew wide.

  “We have to kill them,” the older sailor breathed out, after a moment, his voice hoarse. “Such evil cannot be allowed here.” Nodding his assent, Hezekiah seemed to be lost in memory.

  “This evil has had help,” he said, finally. Curious, Joseph looked at the bearded monk inquisitively.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, looking back at the ships.

  “The Northern Islands,” began Hezekiah after a pause, “As my esteemed friend Dunner will tell you, are some eighty leagues north of here. Nearly twenty years ago, I was a learned priest in a crimson robe, like so many you see walking around in the towns. The overseers of the great religion, in their infinite wisdom, did indeed go to the King, with petitions to let the northern tribes settle here.” Dunner, staring darkly at the ships out in the bay, grunted.

  “I wonder that he did not lop their heads off right then...” the sailor said, kicking a stone with his boot. Hezekiah smiled a little, and then continued his story.

  “You may yet get your wish, my friend. What is not known is that when the King rejected the head council’s petition a few priests--unbeknownst to the rest of us--began trading with the northern tribes.”

  “Trade?” Joseph inquired. “Trade what?”

  “The islands are volcanic, lieutenant,” Hezekiah returned. “Rich in gems and gold and silver ore. The priests were so captivated by treasure they risked the King’s wrath in disobeying his orders. I have heard of them bringing back converts to live here, but that was a long time ago. They can be clothed like villagers and civilized to a point, but they never forget their beliefs.”

  At last Joseph stood, a pensive look on his features.

  “It’s nearly dark,” he said moving away from the shore. “We have 21 men, they have more than 60, I figure. If we wait to attack until daylight, they will defeat us by sheer numbers. But, if we attack in the dark, they might be confused enough to be overthrown.”

  “Those are Kingdom ships, lad,” Dunner said, scowling. “I want to take them back to a friendly port.” Joseph nodded.

  “It would be faster to Fort Rabak by ship,” he agreed. “They have to be warned of any further invasions. Who knows how many of our ships the barbarians have.” Beckoning to the two soldiers nearby, Joseph gave orders. “Have the men gather here, on the beach, before the moon rises. Leave the horses with two one man in the caves and smother the fires.”

  The two soldiers saluted and began to stride away. “Bring a pot of ashes from the fire down with you,” Joseph called after them. “Cold ashes.”

  “I once was in a battle at night.” Hezekiah said, standing up. “I was puzzled when I heard my senior officer telling us to cover our faces and hands in wet ashes, but then when the moon came out, we saw the wisdom of such a thing, being such a fair-skinned people that we are.” Joseph unsheathed his sword and gave it a quick inspection in the fading light.

  “Captain Dunner,” he said. “How many men do you think are aboard the ships?” Squinting, Dunner fingered his pipe and put it away.

  “Well, on a normal ship I would say ten men, captain and all.” he replied, judiciously. “But, these are smaller ships, easier to navigate. But with barbarians being in charge, I’d say half that many. A crew of pagans would get too antsy to stay on ship... they want to dance about, drink animal blood and roll in the mud.”

  Hezekiah chuckled at his friend’s words.

  “Perhaps one day you will grace us with poetry on more pleasant subjects, my friend,” he said, clapping Dunner on the shoulder.

 
The moon had just begun to rise when the other soldiers approached. Beckoning the men closer, Joseph squatted down on the beach and drew a map in the sand.

  “There is barbarian forces encamped over a league from here, on the beach,” he explained, quietly. “They number about fifty and maybe five more on each ship. In attacking at night we will have the advantage of surprise; they are not alerted to our presence, so silence is vital. We will proceed up the beach near to the encampment; there is a set of large rocks there that will conceal us until the time is right. On my order, you six will take two of the skiffs while we are engaging the enemy; row out to the ships quietly, secure the ships by any means.

  The rest of us have a different task. The twelve archers are to be split in two teams; six to the west side of the encampment, the other six to the east. With your other arrows, take one pitched arrow and your flint; light your arrows on my signal or if we are discovered, pick a tent and fire into it. When your arrows run out, go to the fallen and use any intact arrows you find.”

  “Sir, where will you be?” asked one young soldier, trying to mask a shaking voice.

  “Nearby,” Joseph said, looking at him. “Warming myself by that giant fire they have going in the middle of the camp.”

  “That is suicide... sir,” the soldier said, his face incredulous.

  “Only if he stabs himself with his sword...” Hezekiah put in. The soldier looked as if he did not find this comforting.

  “Sir,” the youth continued, sounding a little bolder, “Corporal Telker left merely two hours ago for the fort; it may be days before the reinforcements get here. Why not wait for them, and attack then with greater numbers?”

  At this Dunner spoke up, stepping closer to the group of men.

  Because, upstart, you are the winter patrol, he said, harshly. “The last until spring thaw. I doubt that the fine general of Fort Saref will send out any men at all, if he even receives the message. You and your fellows here are all that stands between this mob of pagans and the peaceful folk of the Kingdom.” The young soldier was taken aback but rallied himself to reply.

  “Monk, your prayers would be more appreciated than your advice,” the young man said, looking annoyed.

  Hezekiah appeared by Dunner’s side, placing a constrictive hand on his friend’s shoulder. He flipped back his cloak, revealing an infantry general’s uniform.

  “Young man,” he said, sternly, “If you do not recognize a servant of God, then maybe you will recognize an officer of the King. I am Marshall Hezekiah Walters of the southwest division at Fort Angelo. This is Admiral Dunner, of the southeast naval battalion, captain of the frigate Caladyn. By the seal and authority of the King, know we are of the Shamar.”

  Both he and Dunner showed their rings, the silver seal of the king glittering in the moonlight. The soldiers were stunned, and then appropriately bowed a knee.

  “Stand,” Hezekiah said, quietly. “Your officer, Lieutenant Asher is more than qualified to lead you. My companion and I will stand and fight with him even unto death, while you perform your duty as you have been trained. Under God’s hand we will be victorious.”

  Unable to find words to add to Hezekiah’s, Joseph took the pot of ashes to the water and dipped a little water into it, stirring it into a porridge-like paste. Bringing it back, he placed it in the middle of his men. Dipping his hands into the black mess, he rubbed it on his face and his hands, and rubbed a little on the shiny blade of his sword, dulling its gleam. Without a word, the men did the same.

  Like Joseph told them, almost a league down the beach, nearly a quarter mile from the encampment, they came upon a large rock grouping. Here, Joseph bade his men to try and get some sleep. The men found dry places at the base of the rocks to lie in, but none expected slumber to find them. Climbing the largest rock Joseph, Hezekiah and Dunner lay on top of it and used the spyglass to scout out the encampment again.

  The scattered, skin tents formed a haphazard circle around a clearing, in which a huge bonfire raged. All around the fire about forty men were dancing and leaping to a rhythmic song.

  “I expected this,” Dunner whispered bitterly. As he spoke Joseph made a startled sound. The men around the fire in their furs and odd helmets were joined by forty more men, walking up from between the tents, and dressed in fairly fashionable clothes, like the folks in the towns would wear.

  “Did you expect this?” Joseph asked, handing Dunner the spyglass. Peering through it, Dunner’s brow furrowed.

  “What on the green earth are townspeople doing there?” he murmured, incredulously. Hezekiah looked through the glass as well.

  “Those may well be the civilized converts I told you about or some of them,” he stated. “They look just like citizens of the Kingdom, don’t they?”

  Taking turns at the spyglass, the three soldiers watched the ritual, waiting for the moment when all would be quiet and asleep. In the midst of the fire festivities, a man in a decorous helmet stood up on a small platform, with three posts on it; as he stood, the music stopped. It was obviously the leader and he started speaking. The water carried the sounds well, and Hezekiah was able to catch most of it.

  “He is saying ‘bring the prisoners’,” Hezekiah said, interpreting for the others. Joseph watched three men be pushed forward through the crowd to the platform, and then tied to the posts. The posts were then pushed over carefully, so they stuck out from the platform, hovering about a foot over the heads of the men in the crowd.

  Dunner did not want to look through the glass when Joseph handed it to him.

  “Seen it already, lad,” the sailor said, heavily. “Not a thing to look at twice.”Across the bay, the pagan leader began speaking again. Hezekiah translated for them.

  “We have been told, that a small unit of enemies that will be attacking us tomorrow. They are camped up in the mountains, hidden in a cave. They will die tomorrow before the wagon comes. So, tonight we eat, tomorrow we fight.”

  With these words the leader lifted his hands up and the men roared out a barbaric cheer of sorts. The crowd was converted to a frenzy, and it took Joseph a moment to realize what they were doing. Each man took out a small dagger and was jostling to slice off pieces of the three unfortunate prisoners. Turning away in horror, Joseph shook from head to foot. The agonizing screams of the tortured men mingled momentarily with the raucous noise of the barbarians until they died away.

  “Not a pleasant sight,” Hezekiah said, contemplating the spyglass Joseph left on the rock. Gathering his thoughts Joseph forced himself to recall the words of the pagan leader’s speech.

  “How did they know about us camping up on the mountain?” he wondered aloud. “We didn’t go the normal patrol route.” Dunner was silent.

  “The messenger you sent out, perhaps, may have been waylaid,” Hezekiah stated.

  “Unlikely,” Dunner said with disgust. “If that was true then the scarabs over there would be having dessert.” Joseph put his head in his hands.

  “True,” Hezekiah replied, nodding.

  “One of my messengers must have been a spy,” Joseph said, taking in a shaky breath. Telker’s weazon face rose momentarily in his mind. “This patrol is a fraud. Three months ago--so my men tell me--the General at Fort Saref sent a patrol up this way, that was never to be heard from again. My orders were not to find those men but just to patrol along the highway, looking for bandits. The highway goes through a canyon, which lies just over the mountain behind that encampment.”

  “As I told you,” Dunner said, turning to Hezekiah, “Asher here showed up that yellow blowhard Inermis at Munitio, all by his lonesome.” Hezekiah shrugged.

  “Generals can be so ungrateful,” he mused aloud. “Do them a small favor like sinking an enemy armada and they send you up to some pagans for dinner.”

  Dunner climbed down the rock a little ways and lit his pipe.

  “While they are celebrating we should position ourselves,” Joseph said, climbing down as well.

  “With any luck,” Hezek
iah put in, following, “A few of them will get pushed into the fire.”

  The noise of the encampment proved a small blessing. Joseph and his men were able to sneak up into position without detection. The appointed six found the skiffs and set off quietly over the shallows to accomplish their part of the mission. Eventually the fire died down and the barbarians began to disappear into the tents, though some stretched out on blankets around the fire embers.

  As the moon settled directly overhead, it poured bright, silver light down on the quiet encampment. Lying in the meadow grass just outside the ring of tents, Joseph motioned to Hezekiah and Dunner that he was going forward. Dagger in hand he snuck past the first few tents, creeping up to the first enemy, sleeping out in the open. Gripping his dagger firmly Joseph slit the sleeper’s throat, and then moved on to the next blanket. Dunner and Hezekiah followed him then fanned out among the scores of sleeping barbarians. The sleepers died without a sound.

  First to reach the center of the camp Joseph went up to the blackened circle of ashes. Peering through the dark he spied the two shadowy figures of Dunner and Hezekiah busy finishing off the rest of the slumbering barbarians. Pushing aside some ashes with the tip of his bow Joseph found a few live embers. Reaching into his pack he took one pitch arrow and held it to the ember. After a moment it crackled to life. Carefully he aimed back the way they had come, where the west group of archers waited. Joseph’s arrow hit a tree trunk near to his men. Turning, Joseph lit another arrow and sent it east at another tree. Six small lights being moved into a line outside the encampment. Hezekiah and Dunner both came up to him, watching the lighted arrows fly into the outer tents. Drawing his long, double edged sword from its scabbard Joseph planted it in the earth in front of him and fit an unlit arrow to his bow. The other two drew their weapons as well--and turning their backs to Joseph--the men formed a small defensive circle.

  A cry went up as some barbarian woke to find his tent in flames. The Kindom archers did their work well; as the figures darted from the flaming tents more arrows took them down. From both sides of the encampment arrows flew at the tents and the fleeing enemies. In the melee only a few of the pagan warriors remembered to take their weapons with them as they ran into the center of the camp. Spying the three figures standing by the glowing embers of the bonfire, the barbarians let out piercing yells and flew at them, their weapons glinting in the moonlight. Seeing the darkened faces and white teeth of the three intruders--and the flames roaring around in the tents--a few pagans screamed out “demons!” and fled from camp.