“What are you doing?” the eldest captain, the one called Avadi, asked Kishul.
“I did not do that of my own will,” Kishul said.
Wyjec stood as tall as he could. “That’s right. I made him drop it.”
Backing away slowly, Kishul said, “Forgive me, chardi. I did not know.”
“Not chardi. No longer chardi. My name is Wyjec.” He took a step closer to the captains. “But you will call me Master.”
Part 2
Chapter 8
An arrow nicked Pendr’s arm, just enough to leave a mark on his leather armor then it continued on, barely deflected from its path. A grunt sounded behind Pendr, followed by a cry of disbelief.
“We’re under attack!” a voice called out from his right.
Pendr turned, and his eyes locked with Wescro. The young man who had come with Pendr from Logs Pond wrapped his hands around the arrow shaft that had pierced his leather cuirass, just below and to the right of his breastbone.
“Get down!” someone else shouted.
Precious little was available for cover. Pendr’s squad sat on felled trees which doubled as benches. Only heartbeats previous, Sir Lokan had been instructing the eight squads of their responsibilities during the impending battle. The knight claimed the enemy was unaware of their presence, though the arrow embedded in Wescro told another story.
More arrows sliced through the early morning air, finding targets as often as not. Pendr motioned for his squad to lay prone behind the fallen trees. We’re not ready. We aren’t supposed to be in the battle. We’re reserves, tasked with running messages and supplies.
Getting as close to the ground as he could, Pendr came face to face with Tikan.
“What is this madness?” Tikan asked. “The fighting is supposed to be several leagues down river from here.”
An arrow slammed into the ground so close that Tikan could have leaned forward slightly and touched it with his nose.
Over the cries of surprise and pain, Sir Lokan’s voice cut through the chaos. “To those trees. Quickly!”
Lifting his head, Pendr looked to see where the knight pointed. He caught sight of Sir Lokan just as their leader took an arrow in the neck, below his plated helm. If the newly armored conscripts were not panicked enough before, seeing their leader receive a fatal wound eliminated any form of discipline learned over the last moon cycle.
Young men popped up, some scattering toward the river, away from the incoming arrows. More often than not, arrows found them before they could find shelter.
“Tikan, we’re dead if we stay here,” Pendr said. “Follow me.”
Pendr stood, then turned toward the thicket where Sir Lokan had pointed before he was shot down. An arrow slashed across Pendr’s thigh, cutting through the leather armor and the skin beneath. Once again, the arrow had not hit solidly enough to do any serious damage.
“Follow Pendr!” Tikan called out as they raced for the trees.
Fighting the urge to look how many friendly soldiers were still alive, Pendr kept his focus on the towering arbors in front of him. To the south: their attackers had taken a position in that part of the forest. It gave them cover while still allowing them a full view of the area Sir Lokan had used as a staging point.
The trees ahead of Pendr ascended a small hill away from the river. It curved to the northeast, which would put a natural barrier between the archers and young soldiers who followed Pendr. By fortune or fate, he reached the hill without being struck again. Huddling down behind a large red maple, Pendr spared a glance from where he had run. A string of young men lay dead or injured in a line behind him—one of which was Tikan. An arrow had caught him in the temple—most certainly a fatal blow. Tikan’s dead? But I just spoke to him!
Pendr blinked, and then blinked again. He needed to focus. There would be time to grieve later. All was not lost. Ayab was still on his feet, as were Lunz, and a couple of other young men whom Pendr did not know by name but recognized from other squads and their standard green tunics.
“Here!” Pendr called out.
Each of the young men still coming in his direction appeared to gain an extra burst of speed, perhaps from the hope that safety was close. As each of them reached Pendr, he motioned for them to go deeper into the trees and around the hill. Once all five were safe, Pendr looked back one more time to the field. Rilam, Ayab’s brother, was crawling toward them, an arrow in his shoulder and thigh. He’s too far. I can’t help him.
“Rilam!” Ayab cried out. “Pendr! We have to get my brother!”
Ayab had crouched behind a tree, down and to the right of Pendr.
The arrows flying in the air were not as thick as before. Maybe the archers were running low. Or maybe it was because they were running out of targets. Either way, Pendr consider the risk of trying to retrieve Rilam. I’m a blacksmith, not a soldier. I did nothing to those killing us. They have no right!
At that moment, Pendr felt something stir in his mind. It was cool, like when a drop of sweat would run down his back while working at the smithy. The sensation was a bit draining, yet the energy gained from the escape gave him enough resolve to make a dash for Rilam.
Four steps from the safety of the trees, the arrows returned again in earnest, apparently from spotting a new target. The odd weariness washed stronger over Pendr, but he kept his eyes on Rilam, vowing to get him to safety. Again, it seemed his luck was holding up as Pendr reached the younger man without any of the foes’ arrows finding their mark.
“Hang on,” Pendr told Rilam as he picked him up and slung him over one shoulder.
Arrows soared around him, some piercing the ground in front of Pendr as he raced back to the trees. Ayab watched him from the forest, his face displaying shock. Once they were out of sight of the archers, Pendr put Rilam down carefully.
“How—how did you do that?” Ayab asked.
Pendr looked himself over. The only marks were from the arrows that nicked him before. He had not gained any new wounds when saving Rilam. He felt tired, more so than just from the run and carrying Rilam, though he could not say why. “Perhaps the archers were getting tired.”
“That’s not it,” Ayab said. “I saw arrows strike you.”
Pendr once again looked over his body. No, he had not taken any new hits. “You must be mistaken.”
“I’m not! I saw it clearly. Several arrows hit you, but then something strange happened.”
What is Ayab talking about? “What do you mean?”
The curly-haired young man’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “The arrows bounced right off of you.”
Chapter 9
Captain Avadi knelt with one hand flat against the stone floor and the other touching his forehead lightly in respect. For a long moment, he stayed in that position. The stained-glass windows in the main hall of the palace remained dark, covered with thick, black drapes. Tapers, lit by the dozen, lined the floor and offered the room its only light. The smell of burning wax lingered in the air, overpowering any other aromas.
The setting helped Wyjec see the red myelur in his visitors easier. He had practiced seeing the red myelur on the remaining chardi whom he had treated much kinder than their previous Masters. The chardi took care of all of Wyjec’s basic needs, and in return, they could live in the palace with food to eat, water to drink, and shelter to keep them from harm.
Over the last moon cycle, Wyjec had developed the ability to see the red myelur in others without becoming angry. Though, without strong emotions, he still could not manipulate the amber glows nor grasp the blue myelur. The yellow myelur had not manifested itself since Wyjec’s encounter with the vermin. I wonder why that is?
With sensing the red myelur came the amber glow, an indication of intention. At the moment, from Wyjec’s position in the room’s only chair, Captain Avadi’s amber glow was directed inwardly, a sign that Wyjec took that the man was trying not to do anything but show respect. Just as it should be.
“Arise,” Wyjec commanded.
Captain Avadi stood, dusting off the three stars embroidered on his left shoulder as he rose. Wyjec wondered if the action was a subtle reminder that Avadi was the highest-ranking captain of the Masters’ forces. No, not the Masters’ forces. Mine.
“My plan was successful,” Avadi said. “We ranged west, around King Viskum’s vanguard, and hit their supply lines. Our archers killed hundreds of bannermen and shield bearers. Their knights and squires doubled back from their march toward Iredell, allowing us to send reinforcements to the town.”
The respect in Avadi’s voice delighted Wyjec. As a chardi, Wyjec had never been spoken to with such reverence—it had been mainly contempt, with occasions of tolerance. Next to Wyjec’s chair was a maple table. A pewter cup full of water rested on it. Since overthrowing the previous Masters, Wyjec had made water available to the rest of the chardi upon request, as long as they continued to cook the meals and maintain the palace.
Before responding to the captain, Wyjec took a long sip of water and relished the sensation of the liquid filling his mouth. It was such a simple thing, easy to take for granted until denied. Wyjec vowed to enjoy each drink.
After swallowing, Wyjec said, “I know little of schemes of war, Captain Avadi. But I do understand that there are two types of people in this world: those who have power, and those who do not. By taking and holding Iredell, we are showing power. Yet, as you have told me, King Viskum wants that power back. Do we have the forces to keep the town?”
The question changed Avadi’s demeanor. His confident expression faded. “Master, if I may speak plainly?”
“Granted.”
“Ours is not a large land. We are still recovering from the last war with Nothcar. By the last count required from the prior Masters, the whole of our population is just shy of one hundred thousand. Of those, we can press maybe twenty thousand into a fighting force, with an extra ten thousand in support roles. The rest are too young, too old, or are needed to keep the lands producing. King Viskum controls at least thrice our number, if not more. His lands surround us to the north and west, and the wildmen rule the southern and eastern wetlands.”
“You are telling me that the old Masters started a fight we cannot hope to win,” Wyjec concluded.
“I counseled them against taking Iredell. We do not have the forces to win such a war.”
This news intrigued Wyjec. Is it possible the previous Masters made a mistake? “What can we do to keep Iredell?”
“It’s possible that after our last surprise attack, the successful one against the bannermen and shield bearers, that King Viskum will see taking back Iredell as a price too high.”
“And of what you know about the king, do you believe this?” Wyjec asked.
Avadi laced his fingers together and bowed his head. “No. I do not think he will give up. Once he regroups and tries again, Iredell will be taken.”
Wyjec took another sip of water. Ever since the captains discovered that he could wield the red and blue myelur, they had let him take the Masters’ place as the leader of the land. From what Wyjec could gather, it had been three generations since someone displayed the abilities of both the red and the blue myelur. And they have yet to learn about my ability with the yellow! As Wyjec had come to know, the last man to use both the red and the blue myelur in this part of the world was named Domtain, founder of the Masters. Domtain had overthrown the king of Sothcar and placed himself and his friends as the ruling body. When a Master died, another was chosen from the populous—that was until Wyjec killed them all. With the Masters dead, a void of power was created, one that Wyjec readily filled.
“Captain Avadi, I understand that your visits are to keep up illusions. You still control the army and the power that comes with it. Yet, by coming to me, you also create a reason to cause your men to do things they might not do else wise. In some ways, I’m not much more than a stone statue that some cultures worship; the ones the Masters would mock during meals.”
“No, not at—”
“I may have been chardi, but I grew up around the Masters. I learned how to speak from them. I learned how to think by listening carefully to what they said, though that was not their intention. Unlike the old Masters, I will not remain invisible in the palace. And with the myelur, I have power.”
Avadi looked uneasy. “There is no need. I will ensure we hold Iredell.”
“But you said we had not the forces to do so.”
“With respect, a single man who can wield the myelur, even both the blue and red, cannot make the difference in such a battle.”
Wyjec set the pewter cup on the table. “You forget, I killed the Masters. All of them. I am more powerful than you take me for.”
“Of course, Master,” Avadi said. “I know little about the myelur and what it can do. Please, forgive me.”
Watching the captain, a leader of men, grovel before him gave Wyjec pleasure not experienced before. He reveled in it. “You are forgiven. Now, go. Make the preparations for our trip to Iredell.”
Chapter 10
Pendr stared into the night sky. The stars did not look any differently here than in Logs Pond, but he was not comforted by their familiarity. He was not sure how far he was from his hometown. If he was truly honest with himself, he did not know where he was, exactly. It was one of many reasons he felt unsettled.
He had been in such a rush to escape that he had not taken the time to dwell on what Ayab had claimed—that arrows had bounced off him. He had not felt anything hit him, but his attention was focused on getting Rilam to safety. At times when he had been focusing on his blacksmithing, he would burn himself time and again, and not realize it until later when he saw the burns. Maybe, the same thing happened here. But there were not any marks on his armor aside from the ones he remembered. Aside from a brief inspection of his gear, he had not given it much thought—he did not have time until now.
Along with the other six young men who had followed him away from where the squads had been massacred, he had found refuge under a tall tree which had toppled and leaned against a steep hill, creating a shelter after a fashion. Pendr would have preferred a cave, but humans were not the only ones who found lodging in caves. He and the young men with him were in no shape to fight off the wolves which populated the area.
They had headed northwest away from the field by the river in an attempt to get away from their attackers. The going had been slow with Rilam unable to walk. The younger, curly-haired boy from Logs Pond complained about the pain. The arrows Rilam had taken did not cause a lot of bleeding, a blessing to be sure, but they did hamper his movements. Pendr ended up carrying him, thankful that his time in the smithy had given him the strength to do so—still, he felt as weary now as he had ever felt in his life. During their flight, Pendr’s group had not encountered the enemy, but neither did they come across friendly soldiers.
“What do we do now?” a voice from the depths of their shelter asked. It was one of the young men from the other squads.
“We rest and see what rations we have with us,” Pendr said. “Forgive me. Those from the other squads, I don’t know your names.”
“Rheq,” one of them said. “From Umstead.” His voice held an odd accent, like the sounds of the words were pushed together.
“Eladrel,” said the other young man, who seemed to be of an age with Pendr. “From Brentwood.”
Whereas Rheq was younger and wiry, Eladrel was tall and lanky. While it was possible that Rheq avoided the arrows due to his small size, the same could not be said for Eladrel. It appeared that this young man from Brentwood also had luck on his side. Pendr made quick introductions of Lunz, Ayab, and Rilam—the others from Logs Pond.
“Pendr’s our squad leader,” Ayab said. His younger brother, Rilam, stopped complaining. Instead, he sat curled up in a ball and whimpered quietly.
“You’ll have to be ours as well. My squad’s leader was one of the first to fall,” Eladrel said.
Pendr considered the soldiers in front of him
. They were young, especially Rilam. “Eladrel, will you take Rilam back under the tree and try to make him more comfortable?” Pendr asked.
“I'll see what I can do,” Eladrel said. Gently, he picked Rilam up and went further into the shelter provided by the fallen tree.
“What do we do now?” Ayab asked.
“I say we make a fire,” Lunz said. “I have some flint in my pack, and there is plenty of dry wood around.”
The mayor’s son had reluctantly accepted Pendr as the squad leader … to a point. Lunz’s idea for a fire was appealing. The coolness of the spring evening was settling in, but Pendr felt there were bigger things to consider.
“A fire could act as a beacon to our enemies,” Pendr said. “I don’t dare risk it.”
“We didn’t see any sign of them since we left the field,” Lunz countered. “We don’t even know for sure if they are following us.”
“We don’t know that they aren’t tracking us, either,” Ayab pointed out. “I’m with Pendr. We don’t need to draw attention to ourselves.”
“That’s settled then,” Pendr said.
“I don’t agree,” Lunz said.
“You don’t have to,” Ayab said. “Now close your lips and open your ears, Lunz.”
Pendr did not like seeing conflict between Lunz and the others, but at least the other young men understood that Pendr had responsibility over the squad. “Everyone remove your backpacks and let’s see what supplies we have.”
“I dropped mine while escaping,” Rheq said. He did not sound apologetic. It was stated as a fact.
“It’s understandable,” Pendr said. “We were running for our lives.”
For the next several moments, the backpacks were emptied and sorted. Eladrel came out to join the rest of them and offered his pack for inspection. The result was better than Pendr had hoped. There was enough food to last for several days, and the small streams and ponds in the forest would provide any water they required. Each of the members of the squad had been given a short sword as standard equipment, worn in a sheath attached to their belts. They were mainly defensive weapons, not much more than glorified knives. There were also bandages and ointments to treat Rilam’s wounds.
Darker the Shadow (The Howler King Trilogy Book 1) Page 4