Wildling

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Wildling Page 15

by Curtis, Greg


  The soldiers normally had little respect for the priests. They obeyed their instructions because disobedience could get them killed and because it was expected of them. Their lord demanded it of them, probably because he in turn was frightened of the church, and the Dicans controlled a lot of the realm one way or another. To disobey the church was one way for a lord to end up either destitute or dead. The soldiers owed their allegiance to their lord so they did as they were told. But since the attack on the fort that lack of respect had changed to active hatred. The soldiers expected little of the priests. Little except that they protected them from the unknown dangers of the spirit world. They'd failed in that duty, and that failure would not be quickly forgotten.

  On the third evening as they made camp Dorn knew that it was finally time to act. It was time for two reasons. The first was simply that the men from Little Rock had met up with another hundred or so soldiers from the rest of the province and now a camp of a hundred and fifty was being set up for the night. It was a perfect target for the white wrath, and he knew he might not get another.

  The second reason though he hadn't expected. Not even as he set up his little bags of white wrath mushrooms ready to be lit upwind of the camp site. But as night had fallen two more patrols of soldiers had joined the camp and many of his questions were suddenly answered. The new patrols were dusky elves.

  Dorn was shocked when he saw the fifty or so elves simply ride into the camp and then make themselves at home around the fires. It seemed wrong. Especially when the elves managed to overcome the soldiers’ suspicions so easily. They should be killing one another. But instead they were friendly – even relaxed. The elves of course claimed that it was obviously another clan that had attacked their men. A rival clan. And their excuse was quickly accepted.

  Dorn couldn’t understand why they would accept the excuse until he realised that the soldiers from Lampton Heights and the elves had formed an alliance – or rather, they had formed an alliance with at least one of the dusky elves’ clans. The one whose riders were sharing their camp.

  And it would not easily set aside. Even a few deaths would not break the alliance. Not when they had obviously agreed to carve up the southern wastes between them. Given such a prize a few deaths would be quickly forgotten. There was too much to gain to risk losing it fighting among themselves.

  This was an invasion.

  They were taking the wastes town by town without anyone being the wiser. And they were making fools of the people of the wastes in the process.

  The people of Little Rock had thought that the soldiers had come to protect them from the elves, and at first they'd welcomed them. After what they'd been through it was only natural. But the soldiers had had no need to protect them. The elves would have left by themselves in time as they took over the next set of towns and villages. They'd likely only wanted the town as a base as they pressed on north. Only the fact that the elves were divided into warring tribes had complicated things. Rodan had come from out of nowhere to strike the other elves down because they weren't of his clan.

  If the invasion succeeded Dorn knew, life for his people would become impossible. Wildlings would either be enslaved or killed. The elves would take them or the Dicans would burn them. And the survivors would have to flee further north. Much further north.

  That could not happen!

  Seeing them camped out together as though it were normal, Dorn grew angry. He felt a terrible need to kill them all. To simply run through their midst and start slashing out their throats. But he also knew that if he struck at them as he truly wanted to, he'd be killed. He had to stick to his plan.

  There was another problem too. He saw it as he watched the dusky elves hammer some iron pegs into the bark of a tree and then chain their captives to them. They had three wildlings with them. There was no way that he could unleash his white wrath powder without them also being affected. But at the same time he knew that if he didn't stop these people tonight, those three wildlings would be taken somewhere else and would then spend the rest of their lives as slaves. Unless they handed them over to the Dicans who were staring at them intently, all the while muttering incantations. If that happened the three of them would be staked out over a fire shortly and be burned alive.

  Their only hope he decided, was for him to carry out the plan as he'd intended, drive the soldiers into a terrified frenzy and hope that no one harmed the wildlings in the confusion. Once they'd fled he would rescue them and keep them safe until the effects of the white wrath wore off. It was a cruel thing to do to them, but it was the only way, and they would – if everything worked out as he hoped – be free. At least he knew they wouldn't be running off since they were chained to a tree. So with that in mind he continued setting his bags of the mushrooms out and said a few short prayers to Eldas The Fortunate for luck.

  A couple of hours later things were going well enough that he thought it was time. The soldiers - dusky elves and humans both – were settling in for the night. The dinner had been eaten and a lot of ale had been drunk. Some were still up, chatting with the others, a few were singing quietly, songs of battle and victory, and the guards they'd posted were looking less alert than they should have been. They wouldn't notice a dark shape moving silently about in the distant darkness of the forest. And they wouldn't see any smoke.

  So he lit the first fire. Of course the fire was behind a tree so that its flames couldn't be seen and the pods of white wrath were on a flat stone beside it, gently heating up. They would puff away in time and send the powder down to the camp and no one would be the wiser. After that he went to the next trap and the one after that. He'd set up half a dozen of them as he'd waited for the camp to settle, not knowing how many he'd need. The wind had to carry the powder seventy yards or so to the camp and he had no idea as to how concentrated it would be when it arrived.

  After the fires were lit he waited nervously, watching the white mushrooms slowly warming and swelling.

  It probably only took five minutes or so until the first one popped, but as Dorn waited, his stomach churning with worry, those minutes felt like hours.

  When the first of the mushroom pods popped though he had a new worry. How would the powder work? Would it be as fast and overwhelming as the effects had been in the courtyard? Or would it be weaker and take time? Or would it not work at all?

  The last thought was the real worry. If it didn't work he had only one option left, and that was to creep up and drop the little bags on the ground beside the camp fires. He didn't want to do that, not least because he would be seen and he'd have to be in his human shape. Naked, in human form and with hundreds of armed men surrounding him, that was not something he liked the thought of. He did not ever want to be that vulnerable. But what else could he do?

  The white wrath wasn't fast. He waited nervously – wanting to pace the ground but knowing that he shouldn't – to see some sign of the powder working. But there was none. Nothing at all. The men slept and chatted and sang and nothing changed. And for the longest while he thought he'd failed. Then a man cried out in his sleep and he knew a brief surge of hope.

  Unfortunately the man quietened down quickly and with that the rush of hope faded in Dorn's heart. It was beginning to look as though he'd failed.

  Then another man cried out in his sleep a few seconds later and Dorn's pulse raced again. And this time the man didn't stop crying out. Then one by one others started joining him and Dorn knew that the powder was finally working. It was a good feeling.

  Little by little he heard the camp waking up again, as many of the soldiers started having nightmares and others hurried to see what was wrong. Best of all it wasn't just the soldiers from Lampton Heights that were affected. He watched the dusky elves having their own problems and knew some relief at that. He'd worried that they might either be more resistant to the powder or recognise its signs and be able to deal with it. But they didn't have any defence.

  Soon more men were running around, worried and calling ou
t and he recognised the signs of imminent panic about to set in. Some were shouting and pointing at the forest, seeing demons in the trees. They had enough wit left to them to call out a warning, but not so much to realise that it was just the normal movement of the trees as the wind gently wove through them.

  Then someone screamed in uncontrolled terror and everything went to the underworld. Once the panic started it spread like fire. Weapons were drawn, people started shouting crazy things at one another and battle ensued. Not an organised battle but a random brawl as people started fighting invisible enemies while others fought back. It was a gigantic alehouse riot with even less reasoning behind it. Some men ran into the forest, chased by their nightmares. Others started chasing them, thinking perhaps to kill the things that scared them.

  A trio of men came running his way, not because they saw him but simply because they were terrified of whatever they thought lay behind them. But still Dorn knew that they were armed and could be dangerous even as they were. He put an arrow in each of their thighs as they ran and they fell down. They wouldn't be walking for a long time he figured. Better yet he realised, they would blame the elves. After all, his arrows were fletched as theirs were. If they survived they would report that the elves had attacked them, and with luck their alliance would be at least strained.

  That suddenly struck him as a good thing. So he started putting a few more arrows into the hides of those soldiers still standing, and quickly had them screaming and running.

  A few minutes later three quarters of the camp was deserted and the men had run off into the night. Those that remained were only there because they were either too injured to run or else simply didn't know which way to go. He decided to help those who didn't know where their enemy came from by roaring, a good solid sound that they heard even through their terror. Two score more soldiers ran like frightened rabbits a heartbeat later.

  That left only a dozen or so lying on the ground, some of them moving, some not, and he knew that none of them would pose him any danger. And of course the three wildlings remained chained to the tree. It was time to free them.

  Cautiously he walked into the camp, uncommonly aware that he was naked, and headed for them. The men on the ground paid him no notice. They were terrified of the monsters hunting them in their thoughts and a naked man was nothing to them. He doubted any of them even noticed him.

  Soon Dorn was at the tree, and he knew that the three prisoners were just as shaken by the powder as everyone else. They were screaming and yelling as loudly as anyone else and desperately straining against their collars. So much so that he could see blood around all their necks.

  He hit them. Good solid punches to their jaws that knocked them out cleanly. It was probably some sort of crime, especially as far as the glowing people would be concerned, but it was the only way he was going to be able to handle them. Then one by one he freed them from their collars, threw them over the sides of the nearest horses, and tied them in place. There was no way they were going to be able to ride in their condition, and if they woke up they would run too. He also gagged them, knowing that their screams if they awoke would likely call attention to them and frighten the horses.

  After that all he had to do was remove the saddles and bridles from the horses that hadn't bolted, something he did with a knife for speed, and then send them running off into the night. A tiny little roar was enough to get them racing away. Their owners would not be returning in the calm light of the morning to find their horses waiting for them. Those that survived the night and then knew enough to find the camp that was. They'd have to walk to wherever they were going. And hopefully when they got there they would spread plenty of wild stories about demons in the night among their comrades. He also helped himself to a few coin purses he found lying around and then robbed the fallen as well. It might not be a noble thing to do, but it didn't feel that wrong either.

  Ten minutes later he left the camp with the three wildlings in tow, feeling remarkably good about his evening's work. More than that he felt like a warrior achieving a mighty victory. He should be standing there proudly, waving his sword at the gods and proclaiming his victory to the heavens.

  Even if he was completely naked, didn't have a sword and wouldn't have known how to use one anyway.

  Chapter Nineteen.

  Morning brought some sanity to the wildlings. Enough that after checking that they weren't going to cry out or run screaming he felt comfortable enough to untie them. They'd slept through the night, mostly, and though he could see in their eyes that they weren't yet completely free of the spell of the white wrath, they were well enough to sit around a fire instead of simply being bound over the side of a horse.

  So he freed them and one by one watched as they made their way over to the fire and the rabbit he was busy roasting. He figured that that and some water from the flasks the soldiers had conveniently left in their saddle bags would help them. But he also knew that if they were mostly free from the effects of the powder then so too were the soldiers. Sooner or later some of them might start hunting them, and they were only a couple of leagues north of the camp. He could have run much further as a cat but the horses would never have been led by him. Even as a man they were nervous of him.

  They were a surprising group he thought. Two men and a woman all in their early twenties at most. They also were all surprisingly neatly dressed. Further, the marks around their necks from the iron collars were all much the same age. No old scars, just welts that had barely begun to heal. It seemed to him that they had all been together when the elves had taken them, and that had been recently. But he wasn't there to interrogate them.

  “You feel all right?” He asked and one by one they nodded – a little hesitantly. They even accepted the pieces of meat he handed to them.

  “Good.”

  They ate in silence after that, each of them lost in his or her own thoughts. And Dorn was glad that their thoughts weren't his. He had felt a little of the impact of the powder the previous night and he knew he didn't like it. It had to be much worse for them. And their pain was his doing. But eventually the rabbit was gone and there was nothing left to do but talk.

  “Why are you undressed?”

  The girl began with the obvious question, except that to Dorn it wasn't that obvious. He'd forgotten he was naked until she mentioned it. The only time he remembered lately was when he felt cold without any clothes on to keep him warm. But it had been a mild night and the morning air was still and warm. With the sunlight shining down on him through the leaves above he was quite comfortable.

  “Shifter.”

  “Oh!”

  She seemed surprised for some reason. As if she hadn't heard of shifters and their problems with clothes before. But whether she had or she hadn't he suddenly decided he didn't care. There were things to do and they didn't involve sitting around a fire talking.

  “You need to head north east. Avoid the large tracks and trails – there are still dusky elves riding through the land everywhere. The smaller ones will be safer and I can draw you a map. If you can reach Enderly you'll be safe there.”

  At least he hoped they would be. He couldn't imagine either the elves or the soldiers of Lampton Heights trying to take the coastal province. Not even together. If they still were together. He hoped however that the alliance would be feeling some strain soon, when the survivors returned to the towns and cities and told their tales. Stories that with luck would speak about the betrayals by the elves. He'd put enough dusky elf arrows into them over the previous weeks after all. And for how long could they keep defending themselves by claiming it was a rival clan's doing?

  “We're not going to Enderly.”

  “Oh?”

  For a moment Dorn was surprised. Then he understood. They were heading to the temple. A place that was not held fondly in his thoughts. And they'd presumably been captured by the elves as they made the journey. “Balen Rale?”

  “Yes.” All three of them nodded.

  �
��Then you'll have to take the old fisherman's trail running north from Little Rock and turn north north east before you reach the end. After that it's a long hard ride, but if you stay off the tracks and trails you should be safe. I'll draw you a map.”

  “You know the path? You've been there?”

  The woman sounded hopeful. As if he might be able to lead them there.

  “Yes. But I wasn't welcome.” He looked at them knowing that they didn't understand. And that he didn't particularly want them to. “It's a long story.”

  “You said everyone was welcome?” The woman turned to the bearded man beside him, accusing him of something. Of telling her lies perhaps.

  “That's what I was told. Everyone is welcome. Every wildling.” He looked up at Dorn. “We were told to spread the word to everyone. Go to the temple. There's not supposed to be anyone with the gift left behind.”

  Left behind? Dorn didn't understand that. Were they going somewhere? But he understood that there were always going to be some left behind despite the boy's fine words.

  “Except me. Except those held as slaves by the dusky elves. Except those who haven't heard because they've fled too far away to hear. Or who are too frail or frightened to make the trip alone.” Someone had to point out the obvious Dorn thought.

  “But they will all be called. The dream walkers are sending their thoughts out every night. The wayfarers are also carrying the word. All are being told, all are being shown the path.”

  “But not all can answer. Tell the glowing people that. But for me you three would be spending the rest of your short lives as slaves. All the messages and dreams in the world could not save you. And many others are already in the clutches of the dusky elves. More than you can count.”

 

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