“Thorson, you should arm yourself,” said Matthias.
“Oh, yes,” replied Thorson.
Thorson took hold of a sword. He looked at it with resignation.
“We are not dead yet,” said Matthias.
The men stood in the tavern listening to the wolves. The storm continued with shocking bursts of light and great thundering bellows. They could hear the wolves run past the tavern, hitting against its walls. Suddenly, the door slammed against the wood that latched it shut. There was another thud against the door and then it stopped.
“Calm yourselves,” whispered Matthias.
A thud was heard on the roof of the tavern. Dust fell from the ceiling. Wreth looked up and then at the door. A scrambling could be heard on top of the roof.
“That roof will cave,” whispered Thorson.
Luras reached back and drew both his sabers. Matthias already had his greatsword drawn. There was another bang against the door.
“Prepare yourselves,” Matthias whispered.
Wreth looked around. He did not know where to aim his bow.
“They are coming in. Stay together. If we fight apart, we will die,” said Matthias.
“Wreth, breathe. Look at what you shoot … if I die today, I do not want it to be from one of your arrows,” said Luras, grinning.
There was another bang at the door. Wreth aimed his bow at the door. He held the string lightly between his fingers. Suddenly, a wolf barreled through a window breaking both the glass and the wooden panel. Wreth twisted but his arrow slipped and lodged in the wall beside the door. Wreth tripped and let out a scream. The wolf snarled and lunged towards him. Wreth instinctively covered his face. Matthias threw his greatsword with both hands. It caught the wolf in the belly and sent it rolling. It grabbed at the greatsword jutting out of its belly, as it stood. Its snarl was gone; it was replaced with a high pitched howl. Luras swung both sabers down into its chest. They sliced through easily. He brought one blade back up removing the wolf's arm. It fell to the floor. Matthias removed his greatsword from its opened belly.
“We need you in this, Wreth,” said Matthias.
Luras helped him up.
“Go stand behind the bar and shoot anything with fur,” said Matthias.
“There are no windows there,” whispered Thorson.
“I think the time for whispering is over,” said Matthias.
There was more banging on the door. This time it was much louder and with more force. The banging was constant. They wanted in. Another wolf burst through the window. Two more followed. A fourth wolf broke through another window. The wolves stood two legged and lunged towards the men. Matthias kicked a table towards one wolf causing it to stumble. He sliced down with his greatsword catching another wolf in the shoulder. The blade dug deeply through its torso, almost cleaving it in two. The wolf that stumbled threw the table over. An arrow hissed through the air lodging in its neck. The beast snarled and ran towards Wreth. Another arrow hit just below its neck. It took one step back but kept coming. Luras twisted and dragged one of his blades across its stomach. Its insides spilled from the cut. Luras gracefully twisted in the other direction letting his other blade strike into the beast's heart. It fell. Matthias swung at another wolf taking off its arm and cutting into its chest. The beast fell to its knees and he kicked it to the floor. Luras saw Thorson on the floor holding his chest. Blood spilled out from between his fingers. Luras ran to him. A wolf stood over him. It turned to strike at Luras, but it was too late. Luras' blades struck through the neck and cleaved its head. Luras helped Thorson to his feet.
“We will put you behind the bar. Stay calm. Panic will cause your blood to flow more rapidly,” said Luras.
The door to the tavern split down the middle and broke off its hinges. Wolves began to flow in like water.
“Wreth!” yelled Matthias.
Wreth let loose arrow after arrow. Matthias was able to cut at the wolves as they barreled through the opening. Luras sank his blades into every wolf he saw. He remembered his village. He remembered the other children that had been slain. Luras and Matthais' eyes grew brighter. The darkness no longer mattered. They could see clearly, as if it was day.
“I am out of arrows!” yelled Wreth.
“Take Thorson to the cellar,” ordered Matthias.
“I can help,” said Wreth.
“Help by bringing him the cellar. Go!” yelled Matthias.
Matthias swung in large arches, hitting wolves in all directions. They lunged at him scratching through parts of his armor. He felt pain in his arms but continued. Luras watched as Wreth opened the cellar and helped Thorson. Once they were down, Luras locked it from above.
“They are safe,” yelled Luras.
A wolf slammed into Luras knocking him off his feet. He turned before the wolf could pounce down on top of him. Matthias cleaved the wolf above the waist. Blood and bone erupted from the beast.
“We need to get them away from here,” said Luras.
Luras stood and barreled out the door and into the rain. He stood in front of the tavern, close to Norris' ravaged corpse. The wolves ran after him. Luras stood in the road with both blades drawn. Blood and rain dripped along their edges and off their tips. The wolves circled him, snarling. Matthias pulled his sword from a wolf and ran to the door. He knew that Luras always had a slight glow but, he had never seen him like this. The Bourne radiated a hue of red. His skin was not red, but the silver hue was gone. It had been replaced. Matthias looked in astonishment. The anger of the Bourne was of legend. However, Matthias now saw it with his own eyes.
The wolves circled Luras. There were at least fifteen of them. They snarled and gnashed their teeth. One would start to move towards him but then fall back in the circle. The blades of Luras' sabers reflected the lightning and the hue of his skin. A wolf charged at him. Luras evaded the wolf's pounce with grace. He brought down one of his blades. It caught the wolf at the top of its skull. Luras did this in one motion. His eyes were back on the other wolves before the corpse hit the muddy road. The other wolves were enraged. They continued to snarl and howl into the night. Two more lunged forward. Then three more charged with them. Luras moved with fluidity. He dodged one wolf, while sinking his sabers into two others. He pulled them out, while slashing two others across their chest and belly. A wolf grabbed Luras by the arm and neck. It lifted him off the ground. Another wolf raked its claws at his chest. Luras brought down a saber cleaving the arm of the wolf holding him. It dropped him. Luras fell to the ground and rolled back to his feet before the other wolf could sink its claws into him. Luras felt blood drip down his arm and into his tunic. The wolf that missed him reached out flailing its claws in a frenzy. Luras twisted to one side, as he cut the wolf's right leg. It fell to the ground, still trying grasp at him. He sank a sword into its heart. Luras felt a gust of air fly past his head. An arrow hissed and caught a wolf through the eye. Its tip cracked through the back of the skull. Two more arrows flew by him, landing into more wolves. Luras looked back to see Matthias. He had Wreth's bow.
He removed the arrows from the wolves in the tavern.
The remaining wolves began to disperse. They fell to all fours and ran into the surrounding forest, disappearing into the night. Matthias shot arrows as they scurried into the darkness. Luras fell to one knee. He breathed heavily. It was still raining, but the lightning was no longer constant.
“That was quite a show,” said Matthias.
“I didn't want them to enter the cellar.”
“Well, they did not.”
Matthias helped Luras to his feet.
“That was impressive for never having had any weapon training in your entire life,” said Matthias.
“It just … seems natural.”
“We need to have someone look at those wounds. You're bleeding.”
Luras' arm and chest seared with pain.
“Matthias ...”
“Yes.”
“You are not leaving tomorrow.”
Chapter 19
The Beginning of Isolation
The boy ran through the streets of the Timball. The king's soldiers walked in squadrons, while others rode the village streets on horseback. The villagers scurried like mice through the roads, trying to make it to their homes or businesses for shelter. Soldiers burst open the doors to storehouses and began to carry out bags of provisions. They loaded wagons with wheat, corn, beans and salted meats. Any villager or merchant that shouted at them met the tips of their spears. The fortunate ones were only kicked and beaten. Timball was falling into utter chaos. The boy was able to dart in between all the horses and wagons. Confusion and pandemonium allowed him enough stealth to navigate through the streets. His size benefited him as well.
“As was declared by King Welthorn of the Eastern Realm, all provisions and items of value, for the longevity of the realm, are hereby claimed in the name of the king. The requisitioned provisions will be dispersed to the people of the realm as need determines. This was enacted in order to thwart the current tyrannical bandits that seek to wreak havoc within the realm for personal gain,” bellowed a captain on horseback. He read from a parchment. He rode the village surrounded by four other flag bearers and soldiers. He continued to recite the proclamation throughout Timball.
The boy had made it to the edge of the village. He could see the wood mill in the distance. He hoped that the others would be there. He ran from the village towards the mill as fast as his legs would take him. He breathed heavily knowing that he was almost there. He could rest once he made it. The king's proclamation still echoed behind him and throughout the village. He could still hear the screams and shouts of villagers. The boy dared not look behind him. His legs were moving too fast to keep up. He stumbled and fell, causing his lip to bleed and his mouth fill with dirt. He stood feeling his mouth, spitting blood and earth. This only made him run faster. His heart pounded.
Ellison, Cal Mossy, Jared Horn and Jon Lince sat a table made of thick wood that had been heavily stained. It was a simple round design. Its legs still wore a light coating of bark under the finish. The round table top revealed many tree rings. A map was spread across the table. A jug of water kept it from moving. Saws and other woodsmen tools hung against the walls. There was no woodwork being done inside or outside of the mill.
“If we were to gather as much supplies as we could, we could form a caravan. Head north. We could ask King Tellos for refuge,” said Jon Lince.
“My brother would never allow that,” said Ellison.
“We would leave in the late hours of the night,” said Jon.
“It would take planning. Could the village keep such a secret from the king?” asked Jared.
“Given the circumstances, I think so,” replied Jon. “We've slowly taken what we can from the realm to store. The villagers have been largely quiet so far. They understand what is at stake.”
“I agree. We cannot wait here. But we don't know what awaits us on the road. It would be a large caravan … they are not easily concealed,” said Cal.
“So we take our chances here or on the road north,” said Ellison.
“At least we have a chance going north. We know what awaits us here,” said Jon. “This is not a perfect plan but … I do not see any other way. We cannot simply take Castle Horos or overthrow your brother.”
“We should float this idea to the others,” said Ellison. “It is dangerous. We should all be aware of the risks.”
“I can talk to …,” started Cal.
The door burst open. Cal Mossy and Jon Lince jumped to their feet. The boy stood in the door frame. He was breathing rapidly. He tried to catch his breathe.
“Ethan? What is it?” asked Cal Mossy.
“They are sacking the village,” he said between breathes.
“Who is?” asked Ellison.
“Your brother. He is raiding Timball.”
“Come in. Shut the door,” said Jared Horn.
“I saw riders behind me,” said Ethan, shutting the door.
Jon Lince brought him a cup of water.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Please sit,” said Jared. He went to the window.
“They are taking storehouses … killing or beating those that resist,” said Ethan.
“Put the map away,” said Jared. “He is right. There are riders.”
“Then our plan to go north is too late,” said Jon.
“It seems so,” said Cal. He pulled the table to one side. A cellar door appeared below it.
“I think those days are done, my friend,” said Ellison.
“Soldiers are here,” said Ethan.
Five men on horseback approached the mill. They wore leather tunics that were dyed a deep reddish brown. Plated armor was on their chests, shoulders, and forearms. Two men dismounted and drew their swords. Two more remained on their horses and carried spears. The fifth was a captain. He did not wear the same armor as the others. He wore a leather tunic that was dyed green. He was a heavyset man with long sideburns that almost met at his chin. The hair on his head was a dull red and patchy. He was very pale, which made the hair on his neck and forearms seem thick and abundant. The sun was turning his fleshy skin a pinkish red. His horse was swaybacked; it snorted loudly.
“Come out,” said the captain in a dry tone.
There was silence from within the mill.
“If this were the first place we started today … perhaps, hiding would work. However, this is most definitely not the first place we have been today. If you do not come out from this mill, these soldiers will come in and drag your fresh corpses out by their ankles. The boy will be no exception. He will find no quarter here. He will be with you among the dead here today. So, I will not ask again,” said the captain.
There was silence. The captain's horse snorted and hacked.
“Go,” the captain ordered, as he nodded towards the two dismounted soldiers.
The door opened before they could enter. Cal Mossy and Jon Lince walked out from the mill. The boy, Ethan, was between them.
“Show us your hands,” said the captain.
The men opened their arms out revealing they had no weapons.
“Good choice,” said the captain.
“Which one of you is Calvin Mossy,” asked the captain.
“I am he,” said Cal.
“Em. There you are. I suppose I should know you, but I don't bother myself with the comings and goings of this filthy village. You are all much too high-minded for your own good,” said the captain.
“Where is your wagon?” asked Cal.
The captain looked at Cal with contempt.
“I was told the king is taking storehouses for the realm. You are here at my wood mill but I do not see any wagons. Your soldiers seem to have strong backs, but I don’t think they will be able to manage,” said Cal.
“The wagons … they will be along shortly. I would not concern myself with them. Bring them closer,” said the captain.
The two dismounted soldiers motioned at the men. They walked further away from the mill towards the captain. Ethan looked around nervously. The day had been too much for him.
“I was informed that you may know the location of someone we are looking for,” said the captain.
“Who is this?” asked Cal.
The captain motioned to one of the soldiers. He immediately slammed the hilt of his sword into Cal's abdomen. Cal coughed and fell to one knee.
“Let's try this again. Where is the king's brother? I was told you had spoken to him on occasion. He is a wanted man and giving shelter to a wanted man is an immediate sentence of death. So, I will ask a final time,” said captain.
“There is no need for you to keep talking,” coughed Cal, as he stood up. “He is inside with one other.”
The captain motioned to the dismounted soldiers. They turned and entered the mill with swords in hand. The captain looked down at Cal Mossy.
“You could have spared us this entire …,”
His word
s were cut short, as Cal pulled a dagger from inside his waistband. The captain's horse spooked and jumped to the side. Cal sank his dagger deeply into the horse's neck and pulled. The animal screeched and staggered. The captain jerked on the reins but it did no good. The horse was dead before it fell to the ground. The captain's leg twisted and snapped loudly. He rolled on the ground in pain, but his leg was pinned under the weight of the dead horse. Jon Lince grabbed Ethan by the arm. They began to run. The mounted soldier looked at his captain with surprise. He pulled hard on his reins. His horse snorted and turned towards Jon and Ethan. Cal grabbed an axe from a wood pile. He rushed and swung blindly at the horse. The axe missed the body but came down hard on its back hoof. The horse jerked, reared, and stumbled. The rider fell from the saddle. Cal buried his axe into the soldier, hitting him in the collar and neck. Behind him, one soldier walked out of the mill. He was no longer holding his sword. Blood trickled down his arm and off his fingers. He looked around once before falling to the dirt. A dagger stuck from his neck.
“Ellison! Jared!” yelled Cal. He pulled the axe from the soldier and walked to the mill.
Ellison appeared in the doorway.
“Ellison!” said Cal.
“Hurry. Help me with Jared,” said Ellison.
Jared was lying by the large wooden table. He held his arms tightly around his stomach and chest. The other soldier lay dead beside him.
“Cal,” said Jared, in almost a whisper.
“Let's get you out of here,” said Cal. “We can get you to a healing table.”
Cal bent down putting his hand on Jared's cheek.
“We need something to carry him on,” said Ellison.
“No … you can't move me. I was cut too deeply. I'm holding everything in. You need to,” Jared's eyes slowly fell to one side. The tension in his arms was gone.
“Jared,” said Cal.
Ellison looked down at them.
“He's dead,” said Cal.
The captain no longer tried to free his leg from under the horse. Instead, he laid on his side moaning in agony. Cal and Ellison left the mill. Ellison carried one of the soldier's swords. Cal still had his axe.
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