The men considered his words, and Pendr detected a brief smile on Mux’s face.
“Sir Pendr is correct,” their captain said. “Now, listen carefully as I give you some general guidance.”
Making sure he had each of the soldier’s complete attention, Mux said, “All of you can wield the blue myelur, at least well enough to shield yourself for a time. We will be traveling quickly. The men in the lead and those in the back will keep themselves shielded. We will rotate amongst the fourteen of us so that no one tires out too quickly. Do not speak unless it is unreservedly essential. I will give more instructions as needed.”
Mux paused to see if anyone else had concerns. They did not.
“Sadem and I will take the lead. Pendr and Dosfogal will be the rearguard,” Mux said. Without further instructions, Mux spurred his horse southwest—a path which would parallel the king’s road while at the same time put some distance between them and the rest of the army.
Taking a deep breath, Pendr encased his body in the blue myelur. He had learned there were various degrees to which he could let the power flow. Over time, he had discovered the balance between drawing just enough power to protect himself without draining his energy too quickly.
Without speaking verbally, Dosfogal indicated he had done the same. Within a few heartbeats, the rest of the squad was on the move, leaving Pendr and Dosfogal to follow.
Pendr reflected on what he knew as he rode to keep up. The captain had told everyone this morning that they knew the location of Avadi, the leader of Sothcar. He was holed up in the town of Blythewood. The goal was to lay siege to the town, at the very least. The possibility of a full-on attack was a reality depending on the town’s defenses.
From what Pendr inferred, if Avadi were defeated then the rest of the army would surrender. The notion was a bit difficult for Pendr to comprehend. How could one man hold so much power over so many? Growing up, the only person Pendr met who had any authority was Mayor Lonz. If a group of men came into Logs Pond and killed the mayor, Pendr doubted his father, or many of the rest of the citizens, would cower automatically. While the concept was a curious one, it was also something which Pendr did not want to pursue. I’m a blacksmith at heart, not a politician. A pang of longing to return to the forge and work side-by-side with his father hit Pendr. That is what he was fighting for—not control over lands or power over others—he was fighting for the freedom to live a life of peace. Even with his title of knight, that had not changed. It gave him some comfort to think of himself first as a blacksmith, and second as a soldier. Many in the squad, especially Sadem, had embraced becoming soldiers. Pendr did not like what he saw in those who sought out battles and glory. I don’t want to become like them. Right now, I’m doing what is needed.
The squad had started their travel in the late afternoon. At twilight, Mux stopped the group next to a stream of clear water, too small to be considered a river.
“This is called Sugar Creek,” Mux said once the men had gathered around him. “Scaln and Torvo will take the lead from here. Chebur and Wentes will take the rear. We’ll travel as far as we can before it is too dark for us to travel safely. Take a quick moment to eat something from your provisions and get a drink from the creek. Feed and water your horses as well. If you need to relieve yourself, do so downstream.”
Despite the seriousness of their mission, a few men chuckled at the comment.
Pendr kept his blue myelur shielding active during the men’s respite.
“You can let it go,” Mux said as he approached Pendr.
Swallowing a bit of dried beef before responding, Pendr said, “I will as soon as the other men have set up their shields.”
Mux looked around, “How can you tell they haven’t done so already?”
The question was odd. How could I not know? He could sense it, not with any of the traditional five senses. It was simply something he could detect. And then he realized something. “How did you know I still have my shielding up, Captain?”
Leaning in closer, Mux said, “There are those strong enough in the gift who can sense it in others.”
Pendr gleaned the implication. “How many of this group can do that?”
“How many of the others have kept their shielding up?” Mux answered with a question.
“None.”
His captain replied with a simple nod.
Chapter 57
The village laid out before Wyjec appeared peaceful. Smoke drifted lazily from stone chimneys and the sound of children playing drifted over the buzz of villagers going about their daily activities. However, Wyjec, himself, was proof that appearances could be misleading. He needed to be cautious.
The wolves had calmed considerably after he touched them with the red myelur. Still, the people of the village posed a threat—they would see the wolves as something dangerous, which of course, they were.
Wyjec needed information. He had to find Iredell, and with it, Captain Avadi. That is what the wolves were for; he could not risk anything happening to them until then. Alpha stood next to him as he surveyed the village from a hilltop. The rest of the pack was behind them, out of sight.
Through the red myelur, Wyjec impressed upon Alpha to remain behind and to keep the rest of the wolves with him. The wolf obeyed without pause.
It had been nearly two seasons since Wyjec had encountered another human being. Anxiousness lanced through him, though at first, he did not know why. He was able to shield himself with the blue myelur, and with the use of the red, he could manipulate anyone who posed a threat. Why, then, am I nervous?
He contemplated the question as he picked his way down the hill. Spring grass covered the ground and was a bit slippery from a recent rainstorm. Watching where he placed his feet, understanding came. His feet were shod in bear hide—shoes he had created himself, along with the rest of his attire. A thick, course beard covered his jawline, and his hair hung down to his shoulders. His appearance would mark him as a wildman.
Wyjec conceded that he was, after a fashion, a wildman, though that was not how he felt in his heart. The power of the myelur gave him control. And isn’t control the opposite of wildness? The notion resolved his determination as he approached the dirt road which led to the heart of the settlement.
Two young boys ran from behind a hut made from logs stacked upon each other with the spaces in-between filled with mortar. They stopped, and one of them let out a tiny yelp before turning and running back the way they came.
The small cry must have caught the attention of someone inside the hut as the front door opened quickly. A woman with wide hips and a wider frown stepped into the street.
“You there!” she said. “What are you doing here?”
Immediately, Wyjec embraced the blue myelur to shield himself. The woman did not threaten him, but there could be more people in the hut.
Wyjec opened his mouth to speak. He recognized that he had not spoken the human language since the betrayal at Iredell. Instinctively, his mouth recalled how to twist and change shape to form words. “I need directions.”
The women eyed him suspiciously. “Do you have any money?”
Wyjec wore a rabbit fur cloak around his shoulders. Bear hide covered his legs, the same material as his moccasins. There simply was no place for him to carry coin, and neither did he have any need until now.
“All I want is information,” Wyjec said.
The large woman laughed. “And all I want is to be fed strawberries as I lay by the river. Everything comes with a cost.”
He could see it in her eyes: disdain. It was a look with which he was all too familiar. The Masters looked at the chardi the same way, and with that memory came a flood of frustration. He wanted to reach out with the red myelur, right then and there, and stop the woman’s heart from beating. Killing her won’t get me the information I need. If anything, it would only delay anyone from helping me.
Instead of bickering with the woman, Wyjec turned from her as if she was insignificant—which
of course, she was. Anyone who cannot help me isn’t worth my time.
Making his way deeper into the village, more people noticed him, some staring openly. In an expansive square, near a fountain, parked a wagon. From it, a man called out to people to buy his wares.
Wyjec realized this was a traveling merchant. He had heard about these types of men when the Masters were plotting one night how to tax them. Since they moved from town to town, they held no allegiance to any particular kingdom. The Masters had eventually abandoned the idea of the tax because these merchants brought in goods, as well as information, which the Masters could exploit. The tax could, and probably would, discourage their trade.
A few people, mostly women, looked over the merchant’s wares. He had a variety of cooking supplies, as well as fabrics and clothes. Wyjec did not see any items that were extravagant or luxurious in nature. Based on the simple design of the structures in the village, it made more sense that base needs were in demand.
As Wyjec approached, the villagers noticed him and started backing away. The merchant appeared not to appreciate Wyjec scaring away his customers.
“I need information,” Wyjec said. “You are a traveler, are you not?”
The merchant’s frown deepened. “I travel, yes. But I do not give away anything for free, not even information.” He scanned Wyjec from head to toe. “You do not have anything I want in trade.”
Once again, Wyjec fought the urge to let anger overtake his actions. He considered his options and decided to pull a tactic he learned from observing the Masters.
“What do you value?” Wyjec asked.
“Coin, items I can sell or trade elsewhere.”
“Nothing else?”
The merchant folded his arms across his chest. “Nothing comes to mind.”
“How about your life? Do you value that?” Wyjec said the words without menace. The plain-spoken approach often had a more substantial effect.
Quickly, the merchant’s right hand went to his side where he wore a long knife in an engraved leather sheath. “I’ve studied knife play with the Gymads. If you value your life, you will walk away. Now!”
Wyjec expected a response of that nature, to which he had a counter plan. Calling upon the red myelur, Wyjec studied the man’s life force. He could stop the man’s heart or close off his windpipe. Then, another idea came to him. He could sense how the man tensed up, ready to pull the knife out. A similar flow of the red myelur indicated that his left hand was also preparing, possibly to pull a knife out from behind his back, perhaps tucked into his belt. With a direct and firm nudge with the myelur, Wyjec shunted off the commands to the merchant’s arms.
“You will give me the information I want,” he said calmly, “and in return, I will give you the use of your arms once again.”
The merchant looked unimpressed—until he realized that he could not will his arms to move. “How …” His eyes grew wide. “You’re him! You’re the one who can wield the red myelur!”
The statement took Wyjec aback. This merchant has heard of me? If it was true, and not just a ruse, this is exactly the type of man who would know how to get to Iredell.
“Ask! Ask me anything!” the merchant pleaded. “I’ll tell you. Please, just don’t kill me.”
Wyjec looked around. None of the villagers were close enough to overhear the conversation. That would make things easier. He did not want the army at Iredell to know he was coming.
“How do I get to Iredell from here?” Wyjec asked.
“Iredell?” the merchant asked. “Why do you want to … oh! That’s where it was said that Captain Avadi defeated the last of the Masters. He’s not there. Iredell was recaptured by King Viskum’s forces.”
The news hit Wyjec hard. If Iredell had indeed fallen, then Avadi was already dead. My revenge has been taken from me! For days, he had dreamt of standing over Avadi and killing him slowly—with the man knowing the price of his betrayal. That was now gone.
“Wait! I can see this news troubles you,” the merchant said. “If it’s Avadi you seek, he’s still alive. His forces have been invading Nothcar in smaller groups, leaving unspeakable atrocities in their wake. It’s been bad for business. If you can stop him, please do so!”
Wyjec inspected the merchant’s amber glow. Based on what he could see, the man was sincere. But I’ve been fooled by men before.
“Where is he?” Wyjec asked.
“I can’t say for sure. He moves his camp around to avoid being attacked directly. However, from what I have gathered in my travels, he doesn’t stray far from a town called Blythewood. I have a map I can give you—free, of course!”
“Let me see this map.”
The merchant turned his torso but then stopped. “I can’t move my arms. Please, I promise you, I will not attempt to harm you, not that I could.”
Seeing the logic in the man’s reasoning, Wyjec released the red myelur from the man. “Show me the map.”
Chapter 58
Rheq awoke to a combination of the sound his stomach made and the discomfort which came with hunger. As unpleasant as the sensation felt, it also meant one thing: he was still alive. He was propped up against the tree near the stream where he had administered the paste to his poisoned shoulder. A brief inspection showed the paste had caked onto the skin, but would flake off if he scraped at it.
The skin underneath was an ugly red, not only from the poison but also from the burning when the hot paste was applied. Gingerly, Rheq rotated his arm. While there was some pain, it was less than he had expected.
Beams of morning sunlight bounced off the stream, creating a mosaic of constantly shifting patterns. The fire Rheq created to make the antidote was a pile of blackened wood and cooled off coals.
By fate or some other reason, the Gymads who had been chasing Rheq had not found him in the night, neither had wild animals. Yes, I made the paste which saved my life, but I’m still lucky to be alive.
His last thoughts before giving into sleep the day previous were what to do next. He remembered that his conclusion was to find King Viskum’s army and convince them he had not deserted. That could be tricky, especially since he had done just that.
There’s no use waiting to do something unpleasant which needs to be done. With that thought, Rheq stood up slowly. His head felt light at first, but standing still for a moment resolved that. After taking in several deep drinks from the stream, he was on his way.
While following the stream which led mostly to the east, Rheq foraged more berries and roots. The knife stuck into his belt was his only weapon. Though he was skilled enough to track and hunt game to eat, that would take time, and what he needed now was the safety of people he could trust, or at the very least, those not actively trying to kill him. Rheq was not entirely sure where he was, though he did know that streams fed larger rivers—and where there were rivers, there were people.
A few times during the day, he was able to spy living creatures using what he had come to discover was some form of the red myelur. The idea of him possessing such a gift alarmed him to a degree. He understood little of what it could do, aside from him spotting soft, red glows from living creatures. Yes, it was useful, but it did not explain why the Gymads had reacted in such a hostile manner once they discovered his power. Perhaps there is more that can be done with the myelur than I know.
It made sense. Just yesterday, Rheq had used wood, dandelion clocks, Bloodroot, and the bark of White Oaks to create something new: a remedy. Each of those items by themselves served other primary purposes, yet they could do more.
In Umstead, his home, talk of the myelur was frowned upon, even scoffed. To many, including Rheq, it was no more real than the gnomes said to protect gardens at night from insects. Yes, as a child he believed that night gnomes were real, but as he grew older, and after never seeing one, his doubts became his beliefs. Maybe it’s the same with the myelur.
By late afternoon, Rheq had yet to come across any sign of civilization even though the stream had
indeed merged into a larger creek. The landscape consisted of a thick forest made up of birch and elm. He was now heading mostly southward, which would take him into the heart of Sothcar—the enemy’s land.
He paused and, after weighing his options, elected to follow the creek northward—against the flow. It made traveling trickier, and often he had to follow deer paths in the forest to continue heading north.
With the sun setting and the light dimming, it made it easier for Rheq to see glimpses of the red myelur through the trees. The animal population was sparser than he would have thought was normal. However, that was usually an indication of one thing: man was nearby.
To his right, he could see that there was something different with the trees. The fading light made it hard to gauge distances, but it appeared as if the density of the trees was not as thick in that direction.
Moving more carefully, Rheq wound his way towards the oddity. Abruptly, the forest ended. Replacing the wood was a flat path—twenty or so paces wide. Tightly packed dirt made it vastly different than traveling in the forest, and Rheq could see evidence of horses and wagons. It was a road, but one larger than he had ever seen.
He scanned up and down the road. It ran north to south. By the side of the road, just to the north, Rheq spotted a rock which was too cubed in shape to be natural. It reaffirmed that this was a man-made road, and one designed for a lot of traffic. Umstead had roads, but they were little more than two divots which ran side-by-side created by wagons following the same path.
Standing in the middle of the open space made Rheq feel exposed. Yes, he wanted to find people, but it needed to be the right people. He went back to the cover of the trees and considered his next option. He still had enough light to travel for a bit, though doing so amongst the trees could be treacherous. Holes created by burrowing creatures would be nearly impossible to see, yet they could easily cause him to turn an ankle.
Darker the Shadow (The Howler King Trilogy Book 1) Page 23