The Whispers of War [Wells End Chronicles Book 2]

by Robert Beers

  Chabaad snorted against another background of murmur. “Savior!”

  Niamh turned to face Chabaad, her nostrils flaring. “Are you so quick to scoff Chabaad? I smelled the magik in the human child's amulet. He even carried the parchment Labad wrote his prophecy on, the blood confirmed it.”

  Chabaad recoiled slightly from Niamh's vehemence.

  Mashglach nodded, “I was there as well and there is some truth in Harlig's supposition.” He held up a hand to forestall another outburst from the now indignant Chabaad. “I said some truth. This matter requires further discussion, but not a full Winglauch.”

  “Things seem to be moving ahead faster these days, don't they?” Drinaugh looked around at the other Dragons.

  “They certainly do young Drinaugh. They certainly do.” Mashglach cast his eyes skyward.

  * * * *

  “You what?!” Captain Bilardi shot out of his chair gaping at Adam and in the process spilling his morning tisane. He ignored the mess.

  “You heard me.” Adam's voice remained cool and professional. “I appointed this man as my Sergeant. Every other officer in the guard above junior grade has an assistant who's either a Corporal or Sergeant. I made him a Sergeant.” Adam nodded in Ethan's direction.

  “What?!”

  “You keep saying that,” Adam remarked, “But I'm not going to keep repeating myself just because you're hard of hearing.” Ethan hid his smile behind a cough.

  “You can't do that!”

  “Do what?” Adam raised an eyebrow. “Not repeat myself?”

  Bilardi came out from behind his desk. “Don't be impertinent. You know perfectly well what I mean. You can't appoint this man or anyone to a higher grade, it's against regulations.”

  “Oh?” Adam reached forward and plucked a thick book bound in indigo leather off the right corner of the Captain's desk. “Show me the regulation.” Ethan raised an eyebrow.

  The Captain snatched the book out of Adam's hand. “All right damn you! I will.” He opened the volume and began leafing through it, turning the pages several at a time until he came to the spot he wanted.

  He thrust the book under Adam's nose and pointed to the passage with a forefinger. “There, read that.”

  Adam took the book back and read what Bilardi wanted him to. He finished and looked back at the Captain. “This can mean anything.”

  “Well, it means he's no Sergeant unless I say he is.”

  “No it doesn't.”

  “Yes it does.”

  “Where? Show me where it says that exactly.” Adam handed the book back to the Captain.

  “I'll show you all right. It says so right ... it says so...” Bilardi pulled the book closer to his eyes. “It says so...” He turned the pages back and forth several times and then looked at Adam helplessly.

  “It doesn't, does it?” Adam turned, crossed the room and sat in one of the armless chairs. “Nowhere in that entire book does it say explicitly that I can't appoint my own assistant out of the guard, conscripts or otherwise. I read it before coming over here and I couldn't find one that came close. That passage is so vague it could be used to justify your transfer to the swine yard.”

  “But...” Captain Bilardi looked through the book once more, a helpless expression washing over his face. “The tradition...”

  He raised his head and bellowed, “McKenit!”

  The old Corporal's face appeared at the door. “Milord?”

  Bilardi turned back to his desk and gestured toward Ethan with a wave of his hand. “Pull out one of those promotion forms and fill it out making this fellow a Sergeant. What's his name?” He reached his chair, sat down and peered at Adam.

  Adam leaned back in his chair. “Ethan. Ethan of Swaledale.”

  Bilardi's eyebrows climbed into his hairline. “The Blademaster?”

  McKenit came into the Captain's office chuckling. “I recollect this feller, Milord. He's the one what fought that big lug over there at the new wall. Won, too, from what I hear.”

  For the first time, Ethan noticed, the Captain really looked at him. “You were the one?” He continued to stare at Ethan for a long, long moment and then sat back in his chair. “I'm not surprised. If you are the man I'm thinking of I'm not surprised at all. You were a student of Morgan were you not?”

  Adam looked at Ethan. “Morgan?” McKenit continued to chuckle.

  Bilardi leaned back in his chair. “The finest hand fighter in the Northern world. Man could take you apart using feet or hands and it didn't matter if you held a blade or not.”

  “I find that hard to believe.” Adam said from his chair. “How could an unarmed man get past my sword?”

  “Your sword?” Bilardi smirked, “maybe not, but then again, maybe so. You never knew Morgan and by your question you never heard of him either. Morgan grew into a legend in his own time. He could turn anything at hand into a weapon, even a ladies’ silk scarf from what I understand,” he quirked an eye at Ethan.

  “He could,” Ethan said quietly.

  Adam cast a glance Ethan's way. McKenit chuckled all the louder and left the office saying, “That's right, he could. Oh yes, he could.”

  Bilardi got up, walked over to the door and closed it. “McKenit served with Morgan before he was a legend. He's told me a few of the tales.”

  “He could do that? Use a ladies’ scarf as a weapon?” Adam tried to visualize someone waving a scarf at a swordsman and failed.

  Ethan nodded. “He could, and a few other things as well. I learned some of his tricks over the years I served with him.”

  “Yes,” The Captain murmured, “about that, why didn't you let it be known you were among the conscripts? You would have had a commission handed to you, most likely a Captaincy.”

  “I know.” Ethan toyed with the sleeve of his tunic. “Didn't want to do that as I had no plans to stick around.”

  “Desertion?” Bilardi raised his eyebrows.

  “Ethan!” Adam hissed the caution.

  His warning was brushed aside. “Desertion, Captain, applies to a member of an army, not a captive. According to Imperial Law, conscripts aren't members of that military body until they've sworn the oath. I never did. The only reason I'm here is because this Lieutenant of yours talked me into staying.”

  Bilardi slowly nodded his head, twice. “A technicality, but one that could kill the man exercising it. Not too many of the guards have a legal background Sergeant, and wouldn't believe the reference.” He waved the issue away and reached into his desk. “But that's past us now.” He held up a sheet of parchment. “This is a Captaincy. I've been saving it for your Lieutenant here,” he nodded at Adam, “but it's yours if you want it.” He winked. “Sorry Adam.”

  Adam smiled. “That's all right. I wasn't really comfortable with the idea of him taking orders from me.”

  “What ever gave you the idea I would anyway?” Ethan said out of the side of his mouth.

  “Oh, I like this man,” Bilardi laughed, “he's a scoundrel, just like me.”

  Ethan shook his head. “I'd prefer remaining a Sergeant if you don't mind Captain.”

  “What?” Adam and Bilardi both stood to their feet.

  “I've been an officer and I remember what a headache it was. Being a Sergeant will absolve me of the grunt work I did enough of as a kid and also keep the weight of a commission off my shoulders.” Ethan shrugged. “A man gets to be my age he likes to take it easy now and then.”

  Bilardi sat back in his chair and laughed again as he stuck the Captaincy back into his desk. “Very well Ethan, consider yourself a Sergeant.”

  * * * *

  Nicoll pulled her shawl more tightly around her. Even though late spring had brought forth all of its floral beauty the wind coming down from the Spine held a winter's bite. Sammel was in the process of packing for their journey to find the healer and she felt a strong urge to check in on Ellona and that poor boy.

  Ellona's daughter, Sari was sitting on the front stoop when Nicoll turned the corner o
n Shilling Street. She waved and waited for her mother's friend to close the distance. “Mommy said for me to wait for you. She said for you to go right in.”

  “Is she with Jonas?”

  Sari nodded. “Uh huh, he's still sleeping.” The little boy had not gained consciousness since falling into a coma the day before yesterday.

  Nicoll touched Sari's cheek in a gesture of sympathy and then entered the house. Ellona had placed Jonas into the back room, the warmest in the house, converting it from storage into a sort of bedchamber with just barely enough space for the bed. She looked up at her neighbor's approach. “Nicoll. I'm glad you're here.” There was a touch of a smile in Ellona's expression as well as her voice.

  “What happened?” Nicoll hurried to the bedside and placed a hand on Jonas’ forehead. “Has it broken? Is he getting better?” The boy's skin still felt like ice.

  Ellona stood and massaged the little boy's hair. “Not that I can tell,” She said while looking at him, “but something happened last night that gave me hope. No, more than hope, a knowing. I now know that Jonas will be healed. I've no doubt about that at all.”

  “Why? What was it? Was it a vision?”

  “No, nothing like that.” Ellona smiled again. “It was more of a presence. I could feel Ethan as if he was right here looking at me. It only lasted for a few moments and I don't know why but after that I've just felt that everything is going to be ok.”

  Nicoll nodded. “That's good Ellona, real good. I'll try to think on that while you and Sammel find the healer. He's packing now and should be here soon.” She placed a hand on her friend's shoulder. “Don't you worry about Jonas or Sari. I'll keep a watch on them both while you're gone.”

  Ellona covered Nicoll's hand with one of hers.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Flynn shaded his eyes with a hand as the sun peeked out from behind one of the rain-laden clouds. He ran his gaze over the warring armies on the plain below. “They's got the highway blocked off, looks like for miles.”

  “You see any sign of Travers and his men?” Neely squinted as he tried to bring the specks into focus.

  “You kidding?” Flynn turned to look at his old friend. “I can't even tell which is man an’ which is beast.”

  “He's over there.” Circumstance pointed to a sector on the western edge of the battle.

  Flynn and Neely peered in the direction the boy pointed, straining to see what he saw. Charity just smiled.

  “You kin see that?” Flynn rubbed his eyes. “From here?”

  “Th’ kid's magik, Flynn, wouldn't be much surprised at what he can do. How's about pickin’ out a path for us Circ?” Neely straightened from his slouch and cracked his back in a stretch.

  Circumstance looked over at Charity. “Do we want to go down into the fighting?” There was no sound of concern or fear in his voice. “The boy was simply asking for a choice.

  “We did promised we'd help...” Charity mused.

  Flynn nodded. “Aye, that we did.”

  “We helped already. Picked near on two score of their dead up and did ‘em proper. Also hauled that bunch back to th’ base camp, and kept those Tradin’ States troopers from butcherin’ ‘em after we got there.” Neely scowled. “Did enough as far as I'm concerned.”

  “What About that pretty little speech before we left the base camp Neely, about our consciences bothering us?” Charity tilted her head at the tracker. Flynn and Circumstance perked their ears for his answer.

  Neely shrugged. “Changed me mind, I guess. Started thinkin’ about it while we was stackin’ that last bunch on the pyre. Finished thinkin’ about it when I was lookin’ at that goin’ on down there.” He pointed back at the battle boiling away on the plain.

  “Flynn?” Charity caught the big man out of the corner of her eye. A light rain began to replace the mist.

  He pushed out his lower lip as he thought. “I'm thinkin’ Neely may have the right of it Miss Charity. Sergeant Travers'll be upset ... but we didn't sign on, we just said we'd help. Seems to me we done that.”

  “Circumstance?”

  “Flynn is right, Sergeant Travers will be very upset but he'll get over it.”

  “You kin tell th’ future too?” Neely smirked. “I want you with me th’ next time I get into a game o’ Jack th’ Spot.”

  Charity hid her smile by turning to rub the velvet on her mare's nose. Flynn grunted and climbed back into the saddle of his draft horse. He reached down and pulled Circumstance up behind him.

  Neely swept his eyes across the battle one more time and then mounted his old dapple gray. “So, what'd we decide? We goin’ into that down there, or we gonna see iffn we can skirt around it?”

  “Around seems a likely way fer me,” Flynn grunted.

  “Around it is.” Charity clicked her tongue and pulled her mare into a path away from the edge of the rise. “Do you have a path in mind Circumstance?”

  He led them along a ridgeline that descended steadily into an area of wooded downs approximately four miles west of Labad's highway. A mix of hardwoods and wild fruit trees crowded the low hills and shallow valleys that made up the downs. Several small creeks traced their way through the valleys but none of them flowed wide, or deep enough to hamper the party's passage. The light rain gave way to broken clouds, leaving the air smelling fresh and green. They rode until an hour past midday following a path through the trees and lunched in a clearing with a number of burnt stumps jutting out of its perimeter. A small brook cut through one corner of the clearing and then arced back into the woods.

  Rrrruuuupp!

  “Flynn! What do you say?” Charity looked up from her cup at the big redhead's belch while at the same time tossing more tidbits to the cat.

  He wiped his mouth with the back of a hand. “Sorry Miss Charity, sure was tasty.”

  Neely drained his cup and stood. “Yep, can't beat th’ taste of fresh-caught brook trout with wild onion for a toothful lunch. I'll see to th’ horses, don't want ‘em eatin’ too many of those windfall apples.”

  “I'll help clean things up.” Circumstance began gathering up the bones onto one of the bark trays they'd used as plates. He reached for the small pile in front of where Flynn sat and stopped, “They're coming.”

  Flynn stood at the announcement and pulled his knife. “Who's coming?”

  Charity's cat released a low growl and then hissed.

  Circumstance turned in a circle as if testing the air. “It's them.”

  “Who?”

  “The ones who killed all those Ortian soldiers, he's leading them.” Circumstance made one more turn and stopped facing west. “That way, they'll come over that hill.”

  “The one you said wasn't human? The one you said you didn't know what it was?” Flynn tested the edge of his knife, “Neely!”

  “What?” The tracker ambled back over to the cook fire munching a windfall.

  Flynn pointed in the direction Circumstance had indicated. “We got big trouble comin’ over that hill. The lad said so.”

  Neely pulled his own knife, “Who, did he say who?”

  “He says they're the ones who killed all those men we came across.” Charity pointed at the fire, “Bury that while I get my bow. We're going to have to get back into the trees and hope they can give us some cover. Maybe they'll miss the signs if we hide them well enough.”

  Neely strode over to the nearby brook, muttering as he filed his hat with water, “Bloody flickin’ life this is, tryin’ to get around a bloody battle an’ what happens?” He poured water from his hat onto the fire. Steam, smelling of fish and lye, billowed up. “Th’ bloody flickin’ row comes to us.”

  Flynn stirred the ashes as Neely poured. “Could be worse Neely,” he said, “leastways we got's the trees to hide in.”

  “Look at them trees, Flynn,” Neely wrung the last of the water from his hat, “you think one of them skinny things'd be able to hide that stomach o’ yourn?”

  “Well they're a lot better than standing out here
in the open.” Charity came up behind them wearing her quiver and clutching her bow. “Finish this up and help us with the horses. How close are they Circumstance?”

  The half-elf boy's eyes blanked for a second and then came back to focus. “I think if we hurry we can be two or three valleys away by the time they get here.”

  Neely kicked a bit more dirt onto the drowned ashes and jogged over to his horse. “Then let's get th’ flick outta here. Whatta you waitin’ for, an invitation?”

  Charity and Flynn rolled their eyes at each other and mounted up. Flynn pulled Circumstance up with him and the cat leapt onto her accustomed place behind Charity's saddle. Neely took the lead and followed a path designed to put as much distance between them and the approaching danger as possible.

  The trees grew denser and, to Neely's satisfaction, thicker. Overhead Sentry Birds and Jays scolded them as they passed beneath the birds’ territories.

  “Can't you do somethin’ about th’ birds, lad? They ain't helpin’ us none,” Neely glowered up into the foliage overhead as a Sentry Bird loudly proclaimed that tree as his.

  Circumstance looked up and shook his head. “I'm sorry, but they belong here. I can't do anything about them.”

  Flynn turned in his saddle and pointed, “Well I'm sure they don't belong here.”

  Behind Flynn at least a full score of riders carrying the heavy curved horn bows of the Trading States archers had crested the hill and were galloping full tilt through the trees towards them. One rider, wearing a black cloak fastened with silver scarabs reined in at the hilltop and watched the others as they bore down on Charity and her friends.

  “Dig yer heels in,” Neely gave action to his words and the old Dapple Gray leapt into a run, “we got to get some space ‘tween those bloody bastards an’ us!”

  The others followed Neely's example and the chase was on. Charity's mare soon overtook Neely's mount. “Keep riding,” She shouted, “I'll try to slow them down a little.” The cat howled as Charity rode past, screaming out her defiance.