“Should I put out the fire?” asked Luras.
“They have seen us. Leave it be.”
Luras felt the leather straps holding his sheathed sabers.
“Remove your hood. Let them stare at you,” said Matthias.
“Will they recognize you?”
“We will see.”
The riders slowed as they approached the camp. They left a trampled line of grass in their wake. All but two of the riders wore helmets of leather with iron bands in the front and along the jaw. One wore no helmet at all. He was in his mid-twenties with dark hair and dull green eyes. His skin was pale, but his armor was very clean and bright. He rode upright and proper in the saddle. The other man alongside him did not wear a helmet like the others. His was of full plate. It was faded iron with silver outlying. It was not clean. There were scratches and dents in it from battle. The helmet covered his head and nose. However, it did not cover his eyes or mouth. The riders stopped at the camp. They remained mounted. Their horses breathed heavily. Two of the soldiers held crossbows aimed at Luras and Matthias. The young man with no helmet was in front of the others.
“God and kings, look at that one there,” said one of the soldiers.
“What business do you have in the north?” asked the young man.
“We are Acolytes. We are traveling north to meet up with more,” replied Luras.
“King Tellos has declared the Northern Realm closed to travelers,” said the young man.
“We did not know this. We are simply meeting with others of our kind,” replied Luras.
“There are no more of your kind,” snickered one of the soldiers.
“Enough,” said the man with the helmet of full plate.
“Yes sir, Captain Eaves,” replied the soldier.
“You will have to excuse these men. Some have seen very little battle, while one has seen too much,” said the young man.
“And what of you?” asked Luras.
“The king requires noble blood to lead these men. Otherwise, they are lost to their own devices. I am Gerald Lancing, the first son of the Baron Martin Lancing. It is of no consequence to you, though. You and your friend here are not of the north, so you will be departing now,” said Gerald.
“There are other Acolytes converging together in the lower hills south of here. King Tellos' declaration stands. However, they are meeting there for now with plans to travel. I suggest you meet up with your kind there … and then leave the north,” said Captain Eaves.
“That will be all, captain,” said Gerald.
“How many of them are there?” Luras asked the captain.
“It appeared to be 200 – 300 hundred men the last time I checked,” answered Captain Eaves.
Luras immediately desired to group with the other Acolytes.
“What have you been fighting here? What has happened to seal off an entire realm?” asked Luras.
“Wolves, Skin Merchants - our scouting parties have seen other things,” answered Captain Eaves.
“I am in charge here. They will leave now … not later,” Gerald interjected, angrily. His voice was whiny and high.
“Acolytes were chosen by the Creator. Why would your king or anyone else keep them from gathering?” said Luras.
“Captain Eaves, next time you go to the south hills please look for this Creator. You see, I have seen these Acolytes you speak of … though I have yet to see some grand Creator. I only see men full of delusion,” retorted Gerald.
“What of our eyes? What of me? Have you seen a Bourne before?” asked Luras.
“I have no doubt that there is savagery and oddity to the world. You keep speaking of we and us, but I've yet to hear your companion say one word,” said Gerald.
“We will leave,” said Matthias.
Matthias looked at Luras. They began to gather their belongings.
“What are your names?” asked Gerald.
“We are leaving,” replied Matthias.
“This I know, but you will also surrender your names,” said Gerald. His voice was again high pitched.
“Remove your hood,” Gerald ordered Matthias.
“I am Luras.”
“Very well. I've heard enough from you. You there, remove your hood at once,” ordered Gerald.
Matthias looked over the eight men. He observed their armor, weapons, and faces. He knew that two of the soldiers had seen battle, along with Captain Eaves. The remaining would be momentarily lost in a fight. They could die last. He would focus on those with experience.
Captain Eaves first, then the soldiers. The boy has never seen battle. He will run. Strike his horse then the Captain.
“Soldier, shoot this man if he does not remove his hood at once!” exclaimed Gerald.
“Do nothing without my lead,” Matthias said to Luras.
“Clear your hands from your weapons,” ordered Captain Eaves.
“I have no battle with you,” said Matthias to Captain Eaves.
Matthias removed his hood. He felt the breeze through his straw colored hair and beard.
“God and kings, look at that,” said one of the soldiers.
“What?” asked Gerald.
“Is that the commander?” asked a soldier.
“Commander? What commander? Who is this man?” demanded Gerald.
“Matthias Thorne?” asked Captain Eaves.
“He is an Acolyte now. Whatever he has done no longer matters,” said Luras.
“This is Matthias Thorne? The great traitor of the north,” said Gerald.
Luras touched the hilt of a saber with one hand.
“Easy, Luras,” said Matthias.
“There is an edict for you across the four realms. Yet, here I find you … right in our own foot hills. My luck only grows by the day. Kill this man. Take his head,” ordered Gerald.
Luras drew both sabers from their sheaths. Matthias could see him reviewing the men. He was picking his targets and their weak spots. Matthias felt the hilt of his greatsword.
“There is no reason to kill this man here and now. He should be brought before the king,” warned Captain Eaves.
“Shoot him,” ordered Gerald.
“Do you know nothing about a Bourne?” asked Matthias. “You shoot me and he will kill you all. They have a thirst for blood, the Bournes. He may not look it, but he would delight in your death. I have seen him fight. He took down a team of Storm Wolves just days ago.”
“A pack. It is a pack of wolves. I'm tired of all this talk,” said Gerald.
“No. A pack is a small family of wolves. This was an army of wolves … a team of wolves. He cut them down and would easily do the same to you,” said Matthias.
“Can your magical friend here dodge a bolt from a crossbow? I would truly delight in seeing that,” said Gerald.
“Why can you not just let us join with the others?” asked Luras.
“Do not fire upon either of them,” ordered the Captain.
“You will do so,” ordered Gerald.
“We will not. Take the commander into custody. We will bring him before the king,” ordered Captain Eaves.
“The king will hear of this. I will make it my business to have two men lose their heads instead of one,” whined Gerald.
“Do what you must,” replied Captain Eaves.
Two soldiers dismounted and approached Matthias.
“Go to the others, Luras. They are not a day's march away. I have business here,” said Matthias.
“I cannot leave you here to die.”
“We have no quarrel with you,” said Captain Eaves. “The other Acolytes are just south of here. You should listen to your friend.”
Matthias dropped his sword. The soldiers tied his arms behind his back. He sat down with his back against the large tree.
“Go Luras. Leave here and meet the others. It was never really my place to go on,” said Matthias.
“What is it this man has done?” asked Luras.
“He raised arms against the king,” replied Capt
ain Eaves.
“Come now, it's more than that, Captain Eaves. Your ever so pure of heart companion here deserted his post during a time of battle. Men lost their lives in the chaos … innocent men … enlisted soldiers left without a leader or orders to follow. Please, tell me if I'm wrong. We've all heard this tale, have we not?” scoffed Gerald.
“That is a lie. I left Conlin in command,” replied Matthias.
“Well, I suppose this Conlin is dead, so the king will just have to take your word for it. Of course, you used this time to track down and murder a squadron of the king's men,” said Gerald.
“They killed my family,” replied Matthias.
“The king ordered it. You killed men following orders. You, of all people, should know of following such … harsh orders,” Gerald sneered.
“They killed my family,” said Matthias, almost to himself.
“Why?” asked Luras.
“A truce was made along the border of the Northern and Eastern Realms. Part of the conditions of peace was to surrender Commander Thorne - and his line - for actions committed against the people of the eastern and surrounding realms,” said Captain Eaves.
“Surrender his line?” said Luras, incredulously.
“His lineage,” replied Gerald.
“Who gives out such orders and demands?” asked Luras.
“Don't act so shocked. Your companion here has carried out much worse orders,” muttered Gerald.
“Any orders I carried out were in the king's name. His hands are no less bloody. I don’t have to defend myself to a wicked king or some boy leader, whose only achievement is his spewing forth from the loins of a duke's spoiled wife or whore,” spat Matthias.
“Well, this duke's son will still have his head in one week's time,” retorted Gerald.
“Go Luras,” whispered Matthias.
“No. They've no claim to you,” said Luras.
“Fine, take him - just leave his head,” laughed Gerald.
Luras felt the hilt of his sabers. He could feel a deep seated anger welling up inside him. Gerald continued to laugh, but the others stared at Luras. There was palpable tension that all could feel except for one.
“Calm down, Luras. You will kill mostly innocent men that are following orders,” Matthias spoke softly to Luras.
“Sir, a rider,” said one of the soldiers.
A lone rider galloped towards the camp. He wore a thick green cloak and leather pants and tunic. The tips of his leather boots and stirrups were stained green from the grass. The setting sun dripped a soft orange glow behind him, as it began to sink below the horizon.
“Keep your crossbows on these men,” ordered Gerald.
“It looks like Helms,” said another soldier.
“A scout,” said Captain Eaves.
“I deducted as much. Thank you for stating the obvious,” replied Gerald. “It seems this day grows more interesting by the moment.”
Helms was in his mid-fifties. He was covered in dirt and dust. His hair had thinned to where only a few strains of brownish gray hair remained. His teeth were yellow and overlapped in the front. He pulled tightly on the reins causing his horse to dig its hooves into the ground.
“Captain!” exclaimed Helms.
“Calm yourself, Helms. What is it?” asked Captain Eaves.
“Address me. I am in charge here,” stated Gerald.
“Yes … yes, sir,” replied Helms.
Helms looked at both Gerald and Captain Eaves. He looked at neither too long, as to not provoke anyone.
“Bandits. They're just west of here. They have captives,” said Helms.
“How many?” asked Captain Eaves.
“Fifteen to twenty. I can't be sure,” replied Helms.
“Twenty bandits?” asked Gerald.
“No, sir. Twenty captives. There looks to be ten or so bandits. There could be more, but that's all I seen,” said Helms.
“Good work,” said Captain Eaves.
“Yes. Thank you for bringing us partial information,” scoffed Gerald.
“They have buckled down like they plan to meet someone,” said Helms.
“Skin Merchants, probably. Selling them for their skins,” said one of the soldiers.
“God and kings. Sir, some of 'em were children,” said Helms.
“Well then, nine soldiers against ten vagrants. It seems I will bring the king the commander here and a lot of freed countrymen. My day only improves,” said Gerald.
“We will wait until dark. We only have eight soldiers. We will all move west towards their camp, but only eight will fight. One has to watch the commander. If it comes to battle, I would not rely on them being mere vagrants,” said Captain Eaves.
Captain Eaves removed his helmet. Matthias was surprised that Captain Eaves seemed to be in his early thirties. He had a chiseled face and closely cropped black hair. His eyes were a pale blue. Captain Eaves wiped his brow with his gloved hand. He looked around him and at the setting sun. Matthias had seen that look before. It was the look of a man leading others to battle when he knew they were not ready.
He has three men that have seen battle. The others will die or run.
“Luras, you should help them,” said Matthias.
“We need no help from him,” said Gerald.
“Eaves, right? You and I both know that only three of your men have ever seen battle. The rest are just Royal Soldiers. They're not fighters. The boy will run and the others will stay and fight … but they will die,” said Matthias.
“I am not fighting with these men,” said Luras.
“He is right. We could use someone that has seen battle,” said Captain Eaves.
“Release him and I will help,” instructed Luras.
“Never. I'd sooner let them skin all twenty than release this man,” said Gerald.
“If you open your mouth to me again, come one week's time - your head would have long been buried,” said Luras.
“We need your help. If not for us, for the captives. I understand your disdain. I would feel the same. There are children there. At the hands of a skin-slaver is no way to die,” said Captain Eaves.
“I have seen what's left in their wake,” replied Luras.
“Then you know this is the right thing to do,” replied Captain Eaves.
Chapter 25
The Gorgon Caravan
The caravan had stopped for the night. The prisoners sat on the ground in the center of camp. A rope circled them. They knew that anyone moving beyond the roped area would be shown no mercy. More gorgons had joined the caravan in the recent days. Two wagons had also joined the caravan. They were pulled by three oxen a piece. The wagons were much taller than the others ones. They looked to be more like moving cabins. Each one had heavily varnished walls on the sides and a wooden ceiling on top. There was a metal latch on the outside of the back door that clanked when the wagons moved. The captives had not seen any prisoners being taken from them, so they assumed they were a type of living quarters.
Nylah sat with the other captives. She and Tilda leaned against one another, while Douglas sat behind them. The grass was damp and felt good against Nylah's skin. The valley they were in had very little breeze, but the night was still quite cool. Nylah was hungry and thirsty, as was everyone else. The gruel they were given was barely enough to sustain them. She moved her hands along the top of the grass and then rubbed what water she had collected against her face. It felt cool against her dry skin and lips.
“The nights are growing cooler, Tilda. I'm so tired, but I cannot sleep. I wish I could lay here and sleep for days. Fall asleep and when I wake no one is here but me. I should never have gone to Castle Red. I would have run if I knew this awaited me. I would have run somewhere far from here. This whole thing is like some cruel dream. Are you already asleep, Tilda?” whispered Nylah.
Nylah looked at Tilda. She rubbed the old woman's hair and face lightly.
“Tilda?”
Tilda leaned against Nylah. She stared lifelessly at th
e ground.
“No … Tilda, please,” whispered Nylah. “Please no.”
Nylah gently laid Tilda on the ground. Her skin had grown pale. The life behind her eyes had diminished. Nylah closed Tilda's eyes with a damp hand. She straightened the woman's hair and tucked it behind her ears. Nylah rubbed her hands along the grass to gather more water. She cleaned Tilda's face as much as she could.
“Dead?” asked Douglas.
“Yes,” answered Nylah. “I don't have any more tears. I can't seem to cry. Am I cruel?” asked Nylah.
“No. It's not cruel at all. We are marching to an awaiting death. You cannot care for us all,” answered Douglas.
“I will not die,” replied Nylah.
She felt a disdain at the resignation. She was tired and hungry. She was sick of the others’ apathy.
“I will leave this place. I have to,” whispered Nylah.
“I am sorry. Your friend, he will not return. He is not coming back. He is gone. Dead,” said Douglas.
“I cannot believe that Finn is dead. I refuse to,” said Nylah.
“He is. He is as dead as Tilda. I'm sorry, but it is true. You need to understand the situation you find yourself in,” said Douglas.
“I refuse to believe it. I understand my situation, Douglas. However, I refuse to accept it. If you feel you are walking to your death, why wait? Die now,” said Nylah.
“What?” asked Douglas, incredulously.
“Kill yourself. Why walk the distance. You are dead man, are you not?” asked Nylah.
“I don't want to die. I just understand what is afoot,” said Douglas.
“I don’t want to die, either. I do not accept what is afoot,” said Nylah.
The group of captives began to move inward, as a gorgon approached the group. He did not wear a leather tunic like the other soldiers. Instead, he donned a wool shirt and pants that had been dyed a very faded brown and black. His tail was uncoiled and drug behind him. He was flanked by four gorgon guards with spears and coiled tails. His black eyes looked over the prisoners. He began to speak in the guttural language of the gorgon tongue. He pointed at some captives, while speaking to the guards. They immediately grabbed those captives and pulled them from the group. Nylah stared at the ground. Her heart raced.
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