The Black Sword Trilogy: The Poacher

by VanMeter, Jeffery

  Sitting and soaking in the hot water caused Kenner to think of better times. He hadn’t had a bath like this since before being captured. He’d been able to wash himself as much as possible, but to simply sit and relax in a tub full of hot, soapy water was a joy he’d nearly given up on ever experiencing again.

  Across the room, he could see a mirror and he found it hard to believe that the image he saw could really be him. His curly, black hair was longer and his beard was fuller. He looked a little thinner and his eyes seemed more sunken. And strangely, he thought he looked older than the last time he saw himself in a mirror. He no longer saw the young man he thought he knew. This new image was of a much older person; one he barely recognized as himself.

  It had also been a long time since he’d slept in a soft bed. The last time he could remember was back in Kallesh, the night before leaving for the fort. Since then, he’d slept on straw, dirt floors and even on cold, hard stone. As he lay in the bed thinking, he also began to think of staying another night or two in this inn. However, he remembered that he had a promise to keep.

  He wondered, too about his friend Terri and Captain Krall. Had she made it past the fort and across the plain? Would she be able to make it through the Blackwoods undetected? He didn’t know much about the people there; but had heard that they were not fond of strangers. Of course, he had heard the stories of it being a mystical and magical place; and his recent experiences made even the strangest stories he’d heard seem true.

  He also thought of Captain Krall and his (what Kenner thought) suicidal mission. Even following the Wolfen army a mile behind them, there would be no way, he thought that Krall could go unnoticed. He found himself wondering if he’d ever see either one of them again. Thinking these thoughts reinforced his commitment to his mission and his promise.

  In the middle of the night, as he slept, he was awoken by a high pitched ringing sound. Looking around in the darkness, he found that the noise was coming from the sword, leaning against the nightstand next to his bed. He grabbed the sword as if doing so would quiet it and it did stop. But then, he heard another sound; whispering of several voices outside his door. He couldn’t make out what the voices were saying, but he could tell that there were, at least three people standing outside. One of the voices seemed more stressed, as if commanding the others and then he heard a slight creak of the door beginning to open. And then he saw a foot slide in on the floor. He drew the sword half way out of its sheath and it made a loud ringing noise. The door then shut quickly and he heard hurried footsteps moving away from his door.

  The next morning, he had, perhaps the finest breakfast he’d ever tasted. It was fried eggs, sausage and potatoes and it was so delicious, he ordered another serving. He didn’t need to pay for any of it as the tavern keeper reminded him that the coin he’d paid the night before was more than enough for what little he’d purchased.

  Before he left, he asked the tavern keeper if the road he’d just come from would take him to Bayton.

  “That it will, sir,” he said with his pipe still sticking out of his mouth. “Three days on the road and you’ll be there.”

  Kenner presented the tavern keeper with another gold coin and as he turned to leave he heard the keeper begin to shout.

  “Alright you filthy buggers, get your asses out of my house! I’m closed for the next week!”

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Kenner followed a steady flow of people moving away from the town. The crowd moved easily along the road towards the west, but occasionally there were some delays caused by overturned carts, stubborn pack animals and people who were just slower than others. He saw some religious pilgrims going the other way towards the mountain pass and when they asked, he gave them a coin from the ones “Shadow” had packed for him. Upon seeing the coin, the pilgrims all began jumping up and down and shouting.

  Towards the end of the day, the crowd began thinning and he found himself in a more wooded area. Thinking that this was as familiar as the hills from which he came, he left the road to camp amongst the trees; however, he didn’t stray too far from the road, so as not to get lost. He started a small camp fire; ate a fine meal of fruit, cheese and bread and settled down for the night satisfied that the worst of his journey was likely over.

  Sleeping with his back against a tree, he was awoken by the same high pitched ringing noise that he had woken to at the inn. He awoke with a start and saw in the flickering firelight, four men standing near him; two had bows and drawn arrows pointed at him. He started to reach for his sword, but the leader of the group stopped him.

  “I wouldn’t do that.” He said grinning. “These boys are a little twitchy with their bows.”

  The leader (Kenner presumed) was tall and round with short, black, dirty hair and a scruffy beard. Kenner could see several teeth missing in his sinister grin and in his hand, he held a large mace.

  Kenner slowly rose to his feet with his hands held up.

  “You’ve been awfully generous with those pretty coins of yours,” the leader said. “We thought you wouldn’t mind if we helped ourselves.”

  “Take what you want and go.” Kenner said.

  “Listen to who thinks he’s in charge lads,” The leader laughed. The other men laughed with him.

  “Don’t worry young man. We will take what we want. That includes your coins, your food, your armor and that fancy sword of yours. In fact, I think I like those boots of yours as well.”

  “I don’t recommend trying.” Kenner growled.

  The leader laughed again, which sounded like a crow screaming in the night.

  “Looks like we’ve got a defiant one here, boys!” He joked and the others laughed with him. Then he looked at Kenner with greedy eyes.

  “Oi! Ripley!” He said over his shoulder. “Get this young man’s sword and we’ll see how defiant he really is.”

  One of the men stepped towards the sword, which was still leaning against a tree. He grabbed it with his hand and then let out a blood curdling scream as; what looked like bolts of blue lightning wrapped around him. The two archers shot their arrows; which merely bounced off of Kenner’s armor. Then the sword jumped out of its sheath and then Kenner found it in his right hand. He was so surprised at what had just happened, he didn’t notice the leader swing his mace at him. The head of the mace hit Kenner squarely in the chest and then shattered like glass with Kenner barely feeling anything. The three companions all ran into the woods with the leader standing frozen in front of Kenner.

  “I think your friends have the right idea.” Kenner said glaring at him intently. The man then turned and ran as fast as he could. Kenner then looked at his sword and his armor, as if examining them closer.

  “You two are kind of handy to have around.” He said, as if talking to two new friends.

  Kenner fell back into a shallow, but restful sleep. He was dreaming of his village, sitting around a roaring fire and a girl with curly brown hair and sparkling brown eyes when he awoke to the sensation of hot, smelly air being blown on his face. He opened his eyes and nearly jumped at the sight of the huge cat’s face only inches from his own. Shela made a low, moaning noise and then pressed her head against his body.

  “Good morning to you too.” He said to her. She then put her heavy head over his shoulder and purred as he rubbed the thick fur on her neck.

  He started to take some more food out of his pack and then heard her grunt. He looked at her and found her sitting back on her haunches with a look in her eyes that seemed to say, “Look at me. I’m pretty.” He tossed her his last three apples and she ate them happily. After collecting himself and his belongings, he climbed on her back and they returned to the road.

  They had no trouble or delay on the road as everyone traveling in both directions made way for them. He heard a few people say, “Look at that. A battle cat.” He also heard a few women scream as well as some men squealing like little girls.

  Riding the enormous cat was surprisingly smooth, Kenner thought. She tro
tted along effortlessly with seemingly less motion than a horse and also her paws made almost no sound as they plodded along the road. As evening fell, he began to see more and more people making camps along the road, but not too far away from it; unlike he had done the night before. The road turned to a corner, but Shela ignored it; instead heading straight into the woods. For a reason he didn’t fully understand, he was not concerned about this detour as he had a strong feeling that she knew where she was going.

  Once more, he made camp, only this time, he kept the sword closer to him than the previous night. He ate the last of his cheese and bread and listening to the sounds of the forest, he dozed off again into sleep and his dream of his village. The next morning, he awoke and found Shela lying down behind the half-eaten remains of a stag. The look on her face seemed to say, “Look what I brought for you.”

  “Good kitty.” He said to her dryly.

  They had barely traveled an hour before coming out of the woods and back on to the main road. It was thick with exhausted looking travelers all carrying small bundles. There were more children among them than the previous set of travelers and on the sides of the road were soldiers appearing to be directing them. He asked one of the soldiers what was going on and the soldier informed him that these were the refugees from Calderon. There was a long line of them stretching back over the road for as far as he could see.

  Before long, he and Shela began to enter the town of Beyton. Like Mobrey, it was stretched out along the river with boats moored along its banks. There were several smaller boats along the bank with their captains calling out, “Ferry to Mobrey!” He approached one of the captains, who backed away frightened from the sight of the huge cat.

  “I need to get across,” he said to one of the captains.

  “No room for the animal.” He stuttered. Shela answered him with a low growl. Kenner pulled out of one of his coins and tossed it at the captain. He looked to be in awe as he examined the coin and then he ordered three men off of the boat.

  It took the better part of an hour to cross the wide expanse of the river. Shela moaned sadly during the journey and at one point coughed up an enormous hairball, spitting it out on one of the soldiers crossing the river. Kenner looked at the captain as if to apologize.

  “No need to worry good sir,” the captain told him. “I’ll have it cleaned up in no time.” The captain then looked at the cat and laughed nervously.

  When they reached Mobrey, Kenner and Shela crossed through the busy city and back on to the road he knew would lead to Kallesh. They moved much faster than they had before and Kenner felt excited. Would Terri be there? Would Captain Krall be waiting for him? Had they made it?

  Captain Krall had made it sound as if he expected, at least one of them to die. Kenner hoped it wouldn’t be true. However, he also understood the danger of the routes they both had to take and tried not to think of their chances. He looked toward the sky and said, almost as a prayer, “please tell me they made it.

  By nightfall, he could see the White City in the distance with its white walls seeming to glow in the light of the nearly full moon. There were still thousands of refugees camped along the road, all intermingled with soldiers. These were probably reserve soldiers from Calderon; but he hoped that some of them may be soldiers from Post One. He was reminded that Post One would be the next to be attacked and hoped that some warning had reached them; perhaps from the refugees or reserves. He was then reminded of the battle he had fought and the awful outcome of all those brave men dying as they had. Surely, Post One had escaped such a disaster, he hoped.

  In the morning, they continued their journey until they found themselves entering the Iron Gates of the White City.

  The Second Causton War.

  Following his defeat, Causton and his few remaining followers disappeared into the hills bordering Walechia and The Blackwoods. Feeling that these would eventually die out over time, King Philas made no attempt to capture them. He also feared that expeditions to find the fugitives would lead to even further bloodshed that he felt was unnecessary.

  However, as years went by, rumors began to circulate about the nature of the First Causton War. Conspiracy theories began to grow that it had actually been King Philas that had destroyed Kasabbah in order to justify the killing of a peaceful group of religious pilgrims. While most Walechians dismissed these theories, hundreds began to believe them and called for investigations. Seven years after the end of the first war, one of Causton’s followers named Hescil (who did not actually participate in the first war) was elected to the Congress and called for an investigation into the so-called conspiracy. When his calls went unanswered, he claimed a cover up. During this time, hundreds of Walechians left the cities, farms and villages and disappeared into the hills in search of Causton; whom they saw a religious leader and prophet.

  Ten years after the end of the first war, farms and villages began being attacked by unidentified raiders. They were hit and run style attacks that left virtually no evidence of who was responsible. Many looked to the King for action; however, Congressman Hescil claimed that it was the King who had ordered the attacks; punishing those disloyal to the crown. Again, he called for investigations and again he was largely ignored. However, there were those who believed him and he began to attract a large following. He even attracted support within the Congress. When it was discovered that Hescil was frequently visiting the Hills and may have known the location of Causton, he was arrested. This caused considerable backlash. In demonstrations not unlike the protests that occurred outside the walls of Kallesh that led to the first Causton War, hundreds stood outside the city’s walls calling for his release.

  King Philas was determined not to make the same mistake of his father. He had Hescil put on trial by a panel of “independent” judges for treason. Evidence was discovered that, not only did Hescil know the location of Causton; he was also secretly conspiring with him to destabilize the government in preparation for another war. Hescil was found guilty and the panel and sentenced him to death. Philas, however commuted his sentence and banned him from Walechia. When Hescil was released from prison, he led a procession of over two thousand into the Hills. Meanwhile the attacks on farms and villages persisted with still no evidence as to their authors.

  Not long after this, an emissary from the Blackwoods reported to the King that Causton had sought an alliance with their Lady of the Woods in a “holy war” against Walechia. When she refused, Causton had threatened to destroy Avalos (also known as The Secret City); capitol of The Blackwoods and they asked Philas for help. King Philas sent an expedition of five hundred men into the hills and just like had happened years before, this expedition was wiped out in a surprise attack.

  Weeks later, Causton and an army of over three thousand emerged from the forests and marched on the Northern Wall. They marched on the “Merchant’s Gate” at Post Number Two and threatened to burn the fort and kill all the soldiers stationed there; unless the fort was surrendered. The fort’s young Captain, named Banner refused and Causton’s army attacked. For three days and nights, they attacked in wave after wave of constant infantry assaults. The garrison at the fort held back each assault losing only seventeen men. At the end of the third day, a force of over five thousand Walechian troops arrived and Causton’s army withdrew into the Badlands. Again, Philas assumed that this latest of Causton’s movements would die out; especially in the inhospitable Badlands.

  A year later, Causton’s army again emerged from the Hills and raced across the Great Plain, destroying farms and murdering civilians. Once again, rumors circulated that it had actually been Philas who had been responsible. However, again Philas outmaneuvered Causton. He had a large section of forest bordering Walechia and the Hills cut down, increasing the distance it would take Causton’s army to escape. When Causton’s army eventually marched along the Plain, King Philas encircled Causton’s forces outside Kallesh and cut them off from escaping back into the Hills.

  Foolishly, Causton attempte
d to attack Kallesh; even using a giant stone battering ram to try and break down the Iron Gates. The gates held and Causton’s army was decimated. Hescil was captured and executed, along with other captured military leaders. Causton again escaped and several expeditions sent over a period of five years failed to find him. King Philas assumed then that Causton must have died somewhere in the Badlands.

  Many questions remained about this second war. One persistent question settled around the origin of the giant battering ram used against the Iron Gates. Rumors began to circulate that it had been obtained from Masallah, based on its design and fine stone construction. Their King Mussah refused to answer when asked. Philas didn’t press the issue at the time; but suspicion remained.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  When Terri woke up, both Captain Krall and Kenner were already gone. She had a feeling that she wanted to get started on her own journey as soon as possible; but then remembered that Captain Krall had ordered her to rest for a full day before leaving the hide. She ate a few apples and some cheese; then stood over the barrel of ale and told it, “looks like you and me are going to be good friends today.”

  It didn’t take long for her to find herself bored and restless. There was no one to talk to and nothing to do and she still felt the urge to just leave and get as far as she could. Yes, she thought to herself, Captain Krall had given her an order; but he would never know if she had disobeyed. In addition, she had vital information to deliver and though she tried not to think too much on the subject, she doubted that either the Captain or her new friend would survive their journeys. The Captain’s route was virtually suicidal and Kenner, although a good fighter didn’t look quite tough enough to handle the mountain pass. Thinking on this, she took a deep drink of her ale; as if to wash these depressing thoughts away.