Wart singled out his father. “Are you coming all the way to Endor with us?” he asked.
“Hush, Son,” his father chided. “This country has many ears, and you do not want your plans to go before you. However, in answer to your question, I will only go as far as the river. I must return to my post.”
Wart could not hide his disappointment. He understood Lady Helsa’s reluctance to release Seagood this morning. He had been separated from his father for only about a year, but he longed to stay by his side.
Benhada seemed to understand. “Son, you’ve grown into quite a young man. I wish we could stay together, but your friends are counting on you. You are part of their company now, and you have a job to do. I do not know how you will accomplish your mission, but if you each do your part and stay together, you may succeed.”
They rode late into the evening. They would reach the river late tomorrow. There was little talk around a scant meal. A sentry was posted, and everyone else turned in. Though the sentry was relieved sometime during the night, Wart knew nothing until daylight began to soften the morning sky.
The smell of coffee woke the lad. Rolling out, he saw Rudy struggling over the embers of a smokeless fire. “What’s to eat?” Wart asked.
Rudy laughed and sliced a few more strips of salt port into a skillet. He glanced at Wart. “We reach our crossing today.”
Wart’s face clouded. “I know. Dad told me last night.”
“Are you going on with us, or staying with your father?”
Wart stared at Rudy in disbelief. “There isn’t any choice, is there?”
“Sure, there is. Seagood knows how you feel. He feels it too. If you want to stay, he’ll relieve you of your commitment.”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” The anger in Wart’s voice surprised Rudy.
“No,” Rudy responded. “Why do you say that?”
“I volunteered to find Master Thomas, not my dad. That has been a bonus. I know I’ve been a lot of trouble to you guys, but I want to see this through.”
Rudy smiled and turned his back on the angry lad. “Now, now,” he soothed. “No need for a tempest in a teapot. Nobody said anything about not wanting you, though rations may run mighty low before we get back.”
“I can go without food as well as anybody!” Wart said hotly.
“I just thought you might like to think about it today and decide when we reach the crossing.”
“I’ve made my choice. I don’t have to think about it,” Wart said.
Rudy turned back around, still smiling. “Good! I was hoping you felt that way. Guess I just needed to know. I’m glad you’re on board, mate.” His big hand clapped firmly over Wart’s thin shoulder.
The anger melted from Wart’s heart, and he felt fear creep in to take its place. “Rudy, I’m already scared. You won’t leave me, will you?”
Rudy’s jaw suddenly began to tremble, and tears threatened to spill from his eyes. Pulling Wart close, he whispered, “I’m going to stay with you as long as I can, boy. As long as I can.”
Seagood and his party cleared another outpost of Watchers. It was growing dark, but they could hear the river churning in the distance.
Wart leaned close to his father. “There sure are a lot of Watchers in this area.”
“You are near the very heart of our enemy’s realm,” Benhada replied. “We try to keep track of all their movements, but sometimes we fail. Jabin is crafty, slipping in and out without our knowledge.”
“What about Endor?” Wart asked. “How do we get inside?”
“I have told your master all I know, and that is limited. We post a few men on the other side of the river, but that is very dangerous. Few venture near the castle.”
They began their descent to the river. Even though Wart had plied his father with questions all day and knew much about Endor, he felt he was walking into a trap. No one seemed to have a plan for rescuing Thomas.
Twisting among the trees, they finally came to the water’s edge. Memories of their first crossing and the loss of both Clyde and Darren haunted the small party. All was somber and quiet.
Benhada was the first to speak. “Are you ready, my lord?” he asked Seagood. When Seagood nodded, Benhada set a special arrow to his bow. Attached to the arrow was a thin cord, which whistled as it sped across the water. Unseen hands removed the arrow from its mark and began to pull the cord across the river.
Benhada, Rudy, and Mathias uncovered a small raft hidden along the bank of the river. Heavy ropes snaked into the water behind the thin cord and began to cross the river. Strong hands across the river would pull the raft and its cargo safely to the other side.
Wart hugged his father before stepping onto the raft. “Will I see you again?” he asked.
“I hope so, Son,” Benhada said, glad that the darkness hid the tears forming in his eyes.
The raft suddenly lurched and moved into the muddy water. Wart felt his heart sink. Across the river lay an adventure from which there seemed no return.
CHAPTER 26
Enemy Territory
Bill leaned heavily against a tree. His body ached, and he was ready to drop from exhaustion. Just a moment longer, he thought. Then I must return to my post.
Campfires dotted the valley below Bill. The sky turned crimson as dusk settled across the land. He often dreamed of Mary. Thoughts of her carried him down each winding path and filled each mountain hollow. This evening she was especially close as he gazed at the serene beauty of the evening sky.
I wonder how she is tonight, Bill pondered. Has she had the baby? Is it a boy or a girl? What did she name it?
Fading hues of color tinted the western sky. Campfires became beacons in the darkness. Bill stirred. He and Mary had loved this time of day when they could lay their daily routines aside and enjoy each other and the dying day. Now, each setting sun took them farther apart.
A twig snapped in the darkness, and Bill realized his folly: he’d abandoned his post. He started to turn, and then something slammed into his shoulder. It burned like a hot poker. His left arm dropped to his side, and his shield fell to the ground.
Tears of pain and frustration rendered him useless as men crept into the clearing. Gasping, he stumbled and bumped his shoulder on a tree. New shards of pain wakened him to the growing danger. Drawing his blade, he mustered enough strength to shout one word of warning to those in the valley below. “Attack!” His sword sliced the darkness, rending a hole in the onslaught.
John felt tension in the air. Danger seemed to lurk in every nook and corner. They had made camp early today, for tomorrow they crossed into Jeshemon. A bony ridge of rock was all that separated the once proud kingdoms.
Jeshemon and Geba were only two of the many kingdom states that had fallen to the fierce and assertive aggression of Jabin and his confederation. Now they were all one, and they were at war with Amity.
John withdrew from the campfire. He had no desire to chat or tell stories tonight. Still, it was comforting to hear his men joke and tell tall tales back and forth.
Resting in the shadows, John thought of the long march from Green Meadow and the fierce battle at Watershed. For days Jabin had hurled his forces against those of Gaff and Stafford—to little or no avail.
But one morning the armies of Amity and Emancipation had awakened to find no enemy camped against them. Their initial euphoria had given way when it was discovered that about half the enemy had withdrawn to the east, and the other half north. The army had to divide to pursue both factions. Gaff had gone east and John north.
The days since had been dreadful. Every tree or bush seemed to hold enemy fighters. Often they would strike unseen and then disappear into the hills. These hit-and-run tactics were exhausting, far more so than the outright venom of a frontal assault. Every step was dogged with fear.
Then they came to Deorn, a city built s
quarely across their path. Its high armored wall blocked the road upon which they traveled. It had cost many lives and days of bone-breaking labor to conquer the stronghold.
While laboring at Deorn, news came that Gaff had taken Hesron and Lashish, and his campaign had turned north.
When Deorn finally fell, everyone was dismayed to find that so few had denied progress to the army of Amity. The cost had been large in lives, time, and morale.
Drought had come to the Mountains of Despair. The forest and meadows had become a tinderbox. John warily eyed the campfires all around him. Extreme caution had to be taken to keep the fires from spreading. A fire among the troops could be far more devastating than an enemy assault.
Suddenly John sat upright. He heard a scuffle in the rocks above him. “Douse the fire,” he hissed, and an unseen boot kicked dirt over the feeble flames.
“Attack!” It was Bill’s unmistakable voice directly above him. John looked left and right. Men were already scrambling up the rugged slope.
John surveyed the hill. The rocks were sharp and the incline steep, but he grabbed a protruding bush and pulled. Scraping his knees, cutting his hands, and bruising himself all over, John finally attained the summit. In the darkness, John heard rather than saw Bill fighting for his life. He could hear the angry hiss of Bill’s blade, slashing left and right, plunging forward, only to recoil and strike again. Drawing his own blade, John heard a cry and saw shadows turn to flee. Swords in hand, the men of Amity took up the chase.
Bill staggered. One moment he was fighting for his life, and the next, his enemies were fleeing. He was confused until he saw the familiar helms of Amity dart past him. Help had come.
Trying to catch his breath, Bill suddenly felt nauseous and weak. He closed his eyes in an effort to stop his world from spinning. Opening them again, he saw a shadow move in the darkness, and he caught the faint glitter of steel. A burning pain seared his left arm. Bill raised his blade and lunged at the shadow. He felt the blade twist in his hand as he fell, and he remembered no more.
Archers lined the rim of Jeshemon Valley. Arrows fell thick upon fleeing shadows as they melted into the brush and trees below. With a great shout, John and his men leaped down the rocky crag in a fierce counterattack.
Amity’s brutal assault caused Jabin’s men to flee in confusion. Deeper into the forest the battle raged. From tree to tree, men cut down the enemy in the dark hollows of the forest.
A broad meadow opened before the onslaught. Archers took positions behind trees along the edge of the glade and cut down those who fled before them. An eerie light twinkled in the darkness, not in one location, but all across the meadow. By some unspoken word, light sprang from a myriad of torches.
“Fire,” John breathed. “I can’t believe they would use fire!” Yellow flames licked hungrily at the tall, dry grass. John watched in horror as hundreds of tiny lights suddenly roared into a wall of flame.
A breeze gathered at his back as the fire drew a tremendous breath and then rushed toward Stafford and his men with alarming speed.
“Retreat!” John shouted over the roar of the flames. It was agonizing to realize his folly. He was trapped! The enemy had feigned retreat only to box John’s entire army between a rocky cliff and a raging furnace.
“Retreat!” John yelled again. He could hear fiendish laughter beyond the flames. The eerie light cast dancing shadows between the trees.
“Spare us, heavenly Father,” John prayed as he raced into the forest. A strange moan caught his attention, and he slowed for a moment to understand its significance. “Wind!” He was horrified. He had seen fire race through treetops faster than any deer could run. “We are doomed!” he wept. Tears of frustration mingled with his sweat.
Suddenly John stopped. The breeze was cool and was growing in strength, but more importantly, it was in his face. Cold and tempestuous, a sudden gale unleashed itself upon the earth.
John forgot about the fire as the ground shook and trees bowed before something far greater. A large branch snapped from a tree nearby and narrowly missed John’s head as it sailed by. He crawled behind a tree trunk and pulled his cloak tight around his head. He struggled to breathe as sand, twigs, and leaves filled the air.
“Oh, Lord, be merciful,” John prayed as the wind ripped viciously through the trees. “Be with my men,” he cried. “They have left home and family. They have faced the terror of foreign armies, but who can stand in Your presence?”
A deafening roar filled the air as his shelter shook and swayed. He wondered if anyone would survive. Suddenly, all was quiet. John didn’t move. His ears told him it was over, but his heart was unsure.
“Somebody help me!” a pitiful cry cut through John’s clouded mind. He clambered to his hands and knees, noting that all his limbs seemed to work. “Call again,” he shouted. “I’m on my way.”
Voices were raised all around John as men forgot about war, enemy attacks, or fire. All over the forest, men crawled from locations of refuge to assist those who could not.
Glancing over his shoulder, John saw an eerie light as fire danced upon the distant slopes of Jeshemon. The fire, intended to destroy him, had been turned upon the enemies of Amity. Racing unchecked, it consumed everything in its path.
Silently John bowed before his Creator and gave thanks for the wind’s change of direction. He knew how close he and his men had come to being destroyed. Morning’s light would tell the full story, but that would have to wait. Right now, there were those who needed his help.
CHAPTER 27
Regrouping
As dawn softened the eastern sky, John stood alone on the ridge of Jeshemon and surveyed the carnage below. What had once been a beautiful forest now lay shattered: a ruinous tangle of limbs and debris.
“It’s a miracle,” John said with a sigh. Weary as he was, he still marveled that they were missing only one man.
John’s joy was mixed with sorrow, though, for the man they were missing was Bill Cotton. Bill was the lone survivor of the bodyguard John had formed after their first skirmish in Amity. Bill had been at John’s side through thick and thin. Never once had he allowed a foe to come between them. Now he, like all the rest, was gone, and a replacement would have to be chosen.
John felt his loss acutely. He could not bear to leave without saying goodbye to his friend. But where was Bill? He had searched the ridge where he’d last seen Bill fighting the enemy, but to no avail. Men had been dispatched to gather Jabin’s dead. They might find Bill, but John could not wait past noon.
John turned to gaze past the broken forest. The valley beyond was black and promised to hold grim tales. Already scouts were returning with tales of their fallen foe. The change of wind had taken Jabin’s army by surprise. Thousands had fled the scorching flames. Most had not escaped.
Far away, smoke poured into a hazy sky. Fire still consumed the countryside with abandon.
John sighed and turned from the sight. Endor seemed so far away! Glancing one last time at the broken wood, a thought struck him. “If Bill is down there, how are we ever going to find him?” And his spirits sank even lower.
Two men found Bill at the bottom of the Jeshemon Ridge. An arrow was protruding from his shoulder, and his hand had been severed from his left arm. He was alive, but barely. Men were summoned, and a team carried Bill to a medic, who stretched the skin from Bill’s arm to cover the protruding bones. It took quite a few stitches to close the wound and cover the bones, but when the medic was finished, he turned his attention to the arrow. It took considerably more time to open Bill’s shoulder and remove the arrow, but once the wound was clean, that too was stitched shut.
John had joined several men who were praying for Bill while the medic did his work. When the surgeon was through, John rose from his knees and drew a small flask of oil from his knapsack. When he opened the flask, a strong, sweet odor permeated the air. He rubbed the oil over
Bill’s stump and shoulder.
“Bill,” John called, holding the ointment under Bill’s nose. “Come and join the living, Bill. Your mission in this world is not yet finished.”
Slowly Bill opened his eyes, and recognition registered. “Master,” he managed to croak.
There was not a dry eye among the men in their little group.
John Stafford assigned several men to care for Bill and to transport him back to Deorn to recuperate. It was a slow process, and they thought they’d lost Bill more than once before they got the big man back to the fortress. Once there, it took some time, but eventually Bill began to mend.
CHAPTER 28
Into the Jaws
Wart was growing uneasy the farther Seagood and his companions rode into Endor. “Rudy,” he whispered, “how are we going to find Master Thomas?” At the sound of his whisper, everything in the forest grew deadly still.
Rudy held up a silencing finger, and the group waited several long minutes before proceeding again.
Wart gasped at a weed that looked like a man crouching in the shadows.
The group paused again, and this time Seagood got off to look around. The early part of their journey on this side of the river had been easy. Without a word, the Watchers had led them around countless bends in the brush and trees until they’d come to a road. Now Seagood and his party were alone.
The Watchers had still been with them when they’d spied the distant lights of Endor, but now the dreaded castle was very near. The chance of being discovered and captured grew with every movement.
They remained under the canopy of the forest about five furlongs from the walls of the cliff upon which Endor stood. The meadow between the castle and forest appeared tilled and tended as if it were a massive garden.
Seagood motioned, and the party followed him toward the river where brush and weeds would hide their passage. The longer they avoided discovery, the better.
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