“Tell me, General Bludworth,” Lee whispered, ignoring Brutus’s blatant debasing of his Samarian duties. “What possessed you to station such a large company of Samarian Guards all the way up at Cliff’s Landing?” He sang the world all in a high pitched voice as if to make it seem as far away from Sugarpine Pass as earth is from the moon. Cliff’s Landing was a small goat herding community that occupied a small parcel of land in the northeast corner of the country. That was where Captain Kingsley was marching from as they spoke.
“You know blasted well why,” Brutus shot back. “I positioned Captain Kingsley there to responded to your aid when needed. He and his men are first recourse in the event we are attacked.”
“General, you and I both know that’s only a half truth,” Lee responded sounding board. Brutus just glared at him, unable to speak, his temples twitching in irritation.
“I know you reassigned Gerod Kingsley’s company there to provide protection from the Noman soldiers that raid during the night.” Lee’s face darkened, and his voice lowered so it was almost inaudible. “The raids that Queen Evangeline won’t admit are sourced from Olger Guttensen himself, just to terrorize our people.” He leaned back against the battlement wall and looked smugly at Brutus.
“The entire army of Samarian Guards knows whose behind those murders, but no one says a word. And our proud Queen, who wastes all her misappropriated efforts trying to prove to the world that she can rule this country as good as her father, washes her hands of it.” He made the action of hand washing as his voice took on a venomous tone. “So to sum it up for you, General Bludworth, I did what everyone else in this dying country does; I denied the truth of what I was seeing. We lie to ourselves about the condition of the mines, about the murders along the border, about the future of our country…and I bet the Queen is lying about any hope we have about winning this war.”
Lee stopped talking and shrugged to himself. “But what does it matter anymore,” he mumbled as he snuffed out the remaining leaf in his wooden pipe. “I’m going to retire, General Bludworth. May the Creator be with all of us during this forsaken war.”
With that last statement, the Captain stood up and disappeared back into the tower, not giving him a second glance. Brutus remained behind on the bench, running through his head everything Lee had said. He wanted to tell him that help was coming, that Chancellor Leonardo of Rienne was on the way to Samaria right now. Surely, the Sovereign Alliance would have some influence over the unmanageable Queen.
Brutus looked around again. He hadn’t realized night had overtaken the glen, and already a sliver of a white moon was seen over the Anion crests along with a few twinkling stars. Corporal Richards still made his rounds atop the tower, and the other soldiers had made up their bedrolls since there was no more light to work by. Brutus brought his legs into his chest and sighed with a heavy heart. He didn’t know how long it was till sleep finally found him.
***
When Brutus awoke it was still dark out, and he was huddled against the battlement wall. His arms and legs were tingling from lack of blood circulation. Brutus rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stretched out his legs, intent on retrieving one of the bedrolls from the platforms inside the tower. The sound of approaching footsteps caused him to look up, and Corporal Richards came into view.
“Do you need me to get you anything, General Bludworth?” the young recruit asked.
“Nothing you can get for me, Corporal,” Brutus replied. “I’ve had much worse than this in my day.” He groaned as he stood up and walked over to the battlement wall to survey the glen. The Corporal followed like a lost puppy. Above them, the clouds still clung to the sky like shreds of white cotton. Across from him, Brutus could see the outline of the sister tower in the darkness, and if he squinted his eyes tight enough, he could make out some more Samarian Guards manning the top of that tower as well.
The night was overly quiet to be surrounded by a forest full of wildlife, and drafts of algid mountain air continued to ruffle the strands of hair poking out of Brutus’s chainmail hood. As if his thoughts turned into magic words, a small herd of gazelle suddenly burst through a patch of forest to the east and out onto the openness of the glen. Their tall necks and graceful bodies sped through the overgrown grasses at speeds no human would have thought possible until they finally disappeared into the shade of night once more.
“Look at that!” Corporal Richards said excitedly. He put his palms on the battlement wall and leaned over to get a better look. “I’ve seen one or two of those before, but never an actual herd. Boy, are they fast!” Something clicked in Brutus’s mind when the youthful recruit said this, and a feeling of unease caused his stomach to turn over.
“There is no reason for them to be running like that,” Brutus said slowly, thinking. “Unless something spooked them.” The corporal turned away from the wall and met Brutus’s concerned gaze, finally understanding what he was insinuating.
“Go wake Captain Atwater. Now!” Brutus yelled at the young man. The Corporal immediately followed orders and rushed over to the hatch then knelt down till his entire head was submerged in the opening. Before long, the sound of rustling bodies and groggy voices rose up from inside the tower. The other Guards that were sleeping atop the tower were also awakened by Brutus’s outburst. When the General explained to them what he’d observed, they immediately slipped on their armor and grabbed their quivers, getting into firing position behind the merlons.
Brutus stood unmoving in his spot, barely breathing, watching for any unusual movement in the shadows of the night. When none came, he began to relax, thinking maybe all this anticipation of war was causing him to be overly jumpy. But before that thought even left his mind, Brutus could see light shinning from within the dark forest, almost like camp fires, but smaller. Then fire catapulted from the forest and into the air like blazing meteors, landing atop the battlement of the sister tower.
Brutus watched horrified as the Samarian Guards tried to scramble out of the way of the fire arrows, some of them finding refuge in the tower, some being struck down by the deadly weapons. Another wave of arrows came, in the exact direction as before, this time aiming for the bell tower.
“They are too far away, General,” one of the soldiers observed. He had an arrow notched and ready to fly. “There is no way we could reach them from here.” At that same moment, Lee emerged from the tower hatch, his long white hair messy from sleep and his face twisted in rage.
“What in the name of King Edgar is going on?” he bellowed as another round of arrows rained down on the sister tower. By now, the wooden roof covering the alarm bell had caught fire and was smoking destructively amidst flickers of orange flame
“I don’t know what they are trying to do,” Lee surmised angrily. “But we need to evacuate now! Twenty men can’t fight ten thousand! Where is Captain Kingsley, dammit!”
Brutus scanned the glen as Lee and his soldiers quickly tried to analyze what was happening, but something about the whole situation just felt wrong to the General.
“We need to vacate the premises. Have the other men prepare the horses,” Brutus instructed Lee. “Then we ride. Next camp is several miles west of here, but it has an adequate number of men who’ll fight. If we leave now, we’ll have a head start on these attackers and can warn the others before they’re surprised.” Lee nodded mutely then turn to Corporal Richards.
“When we get to the glen floor, I need you to grab those men in the sister tower,” Lee instructed. “Don’t hesitate. Just go and make sure they are safe.” The corporal drew his feet together till he was standing at attention and saluted his Captain.
“Aye, Sir,” he responded confidently.
Two minutes later, all the men occupying the outpost tower were battle dressed, armed, and ready to ride. One of the Guards opened the steel grated gate via a pulley system until all the men were able to duck underneath it and exit single file into the sweet smelling mountain air, their horses trailing behind them.
&
nbsp; Once outside, Brutus could hear the crackling of the fire breaking down the wooden timbers of the bell tower and turning it into nothing but ash. The fire seemed to smoke more than it burned, and the dense miasma blacked out the cotton clouds as it rose higher into the air. One of sergeants headed the line, pulling his horse by the bridle and looking over his shoulder frequently to make sure no one was lagging behind. He turned to the northwest and stopped, knowing the rest of the men from the sister tower would soon be joining. Brutus wadded through the thick grasses of the glen that were dry and prickly against his skin. He was anxious to keep moving. The animalistic instinct to run from danger was almost too overwhelming to ignore.
The fire atop the sister tower glowed brightly, making a circle of light in the darkness of the green mountain floor. Brutus could clearly see Corporal Richards remove himself from the squad of Samarian Guards and run towards the sister tower, intent to rescue his brothers. As if in slow motion, an arrow tipped with flame flew across the cover of darkness and planted itself in the soldier’s upper back. Brutus sucked in his break, as if someone had just kicked him in the ribs. He watched the young corporal crumple to the ground, lifeless. Beneath him he felt the earth begin to tremble, and the lazily swaying gasses all around them began to shake uncontrollably as a massive sea of black rose up from the cover of the weeds.
Noman soldiers had infiltrated Samaria and surrounded Sugarpine Pass, all completely unnoticed in the cover of night. They rushed at the small group of Samarian Guards, swords drawn and glinting deadly in the night. The clanging of metal on metal rang out into the air as the enemies made contact with the unsuspecting Guards. Cries of victory and pain came from both sides as the Samarians desperately fought for their lives.
Brutus saw a soldier rush straight at him, sword held high, the Noman lamellar armor encasing his entire body. The sounds and sights of battle beat at his senses, but Brutus ignored the massacre going on around him and brought his own sword up just in time to deflect the blow so it landed on his mail covered arm instead of piercing his chest. The Noman shoulder growled in rage and lunched at Brutus again, but he spun out of the attacker’s line of sight only to come face to face with another Noman soldier who smiled crookedly at him before punching him in the mouth.
Brutus groaned in pain as another blow landed on his cheek causing him to taste blood in his mouth. Before the third one came that would surely finish him off, Brutus stumbled backward to throw his assailant off, gripped his sword with all his strength and sliced it through the Noman’s torso, armor and all. Brutus pushed his sword deeper and deeper into the dying Noman’s body until sticky blood covered his hands then he released the man who landed dead at his feet.
Brutus relished this quick moment to look around, and what he saw hurt his eyes. The Noman attackers had broken into the sister tower and dragged the remaining Samarian Guards out into the glen. From there, they lined them up against the tower wall and executed them one by one until all his fellow soldiers lay hunched over with arrows protruding from their backs and their bodily fluid sprayed across the stone behind them. His men lay crumpled all around him with lifeless eyes and bloody faces, murdered by the very people who’d once enslaved them.
Lee Atwater was the only other Samarian still standing, although his white hair was stained crimson with blood. His eyes were pulsating with hate as he beat a Noman soldier senseless before stabbing him, slowly, so he could watched him die. When he was done he kicked the man to the side and looked up with a face frenzied with revenge. The remaining Nomans advanced towards the two men with weapons ready to kill.
Fear froze Brutus in place, and hopelessness kept his feet planted firmly on the ground. He couldn’t run; there was no place to go. The Nomans were inside now, and who knew how far their army stretched. He was going to die at this very moment, like the men who just fought so valiantly in a battle that couldn’t be won. All Brutus could do was glare at the men who advanced towards him till they stopped in their tracks.
One man continued moving towards him, the man who’d punched him in the face till he saw spots in his vision. Brutus suddenly recognized him as Alvard, one of Olger’s leaders. His armor was dented where the Samarians had fought against him, and he wore an iron helm atop a mass of dark hair. He eyes were black and sinister, filled with violence for a people who weren’t so different from them.
“What do you want?” Brutus blurted out before Alvard had a chance to say anything. The General’s voice sounded broken, even in his own ears. “If you’re going to kill us, just get it over with.” Alvard came over till he was standing directly in front of him, and Brutus could see sweat and dirt caked into the creases of his face.
“I’m not going to kill you, General,” Alvard said in his salient accent. Anger for the Nomans begin bubble inside of him. He’d rather die than talk to this lunatic. “You two are going to be the messengers,” Alvard continued, “and carry some important information from our leader to yours.”
Brutus spat in Alvard’s face. “Deliver it yourself, you worthless shmuck,” he growled, which only resulted in another strike to the face. Pain seared up Brutus’s nasal bone following a disgusting crack that most certainly meant he had a broken nose. Alvard continued to talk through Brutus’s agony as blood began to drip from his nostrils.
“This is just a sample, General, of what our Overlord intends to do to this beautiful country, in order to take back what was promised to him by your Queen. In fact, he’s already starting reclamation.”
“What do you mean?” Brutus coughed, trying to wipe the oozing liquid from his face with the edge of his tunic. It was at this moment the General realized that Alvard had something clutched tightly in his hand. It hung heavily at his side, was slightly oblong, and wrapped in a coarse burlap sac. Brutus eyed it suspiciously, and he saw a small, knowing smile creep across Alvard’s face until his top row of teeth were completely revealed. Alvard tossed the sac at Brutus who tried to catch it, but the object slipped out of his hands as if it was slick with oil. The sac hit the ground, and the object rolled out of it across the ground, several paces away from him.
The orange lambency of the fire atop the guard tower was the only light from which Brutus could see, and he had to blink several time to ensure that what he thought he saw was actually correct. Staring back at him from the green grass of the glen was Gerod Kingsley, his eyes agape and glazed over, his skin pallid and drained of blood. The flesh of his neck was black and rotting where it had been severed from his body, and his dead organs spilled out of the opening.
One of the Noman soldiers walked over and grabbed the head by its hair and put it back in the bloody sac before forcing it into Brutus’s trembling hands. The sight of the gory head, the smell of blood and sweat surrounding him, and the noise of the roaring fire behind him made Brutus want to throw up the contents of his stomach.
“Olger has already taken over Cliff’s Landing, General. You can tell your Queen that her people there are dead, as well as the entire company of soldiers sent to protect it. Olger will be in Alumhy by morning. Maybe that will make her understand that the Overlord was not blowing smoke with his warnings.”
With that, Alvard stopping talking, turned around, and retreated back to his men as if he’d made himself clear. They were leaving. They were going to let him and Lee live. Alvard didn’t even give a second glance to the wounded or dying Noman soldiers who lay in their own blood on the ground. To him, their lives weren’t worth attempting to save. Brutus watched, shaking with emotion, as the remaining Noman soldiers faded into the darkness of the glen and then disappeared into the night.
Brutus collapsed to his knees, his entire body trembling. Lee rushed over to him, a piece of cloth now pressed against his head where it was bleeding. He was saying something to Brutus, but he couldn’t make it out because the world around him was spinning uncontrollably. Somehow, Lee helped him up, draped his arm over his shoulders, and the two of them began staggering back to Alumhy in the darkness.
Chapter 24
“You can go now,” Evangeline said to her maidservant, Ashley, as the young woman finished sewing up a loose end to one of Evangeline’s dresses. “I’m no longer in need of your services.” Ashley stopped mid-stitch and looked at the Queen doe-eyed, as if she was being released for poor performance. Evangeline stood up straighter and glanced down to where Ashley was kneeled on the ground next to her.
“Leave!” she demanded. Ashley jumped and dropped her sewing supplies to the floor before rushing out of the Queen’s chamber. Evangeline examined her appearance in the large mirror propped up against her chamber wall. She was about to address her country in an open forum manner, the first of its kind since her reign began. She wanted to look like a powerful, confident, and determined Queen even if at this particular moment she felt the exact opposite.
She’d chosen to wear one of Queen Cecelia’s dresses, hoping that it would spark some sort of nostalgia in the people who remembered her mother, and they would only see Samaria for what it use to be and not what it was now. Her dress was ivory silk and simply cut, with fabric that ran all the way down her arms, puffing out slightly at the shoulder. The midsection was black velvet, and ran around her like a corset, and the scoop neck and sleeve hems were lined with beautiful designs stitched in black and red threads. The dress made her look small since it didn’t flare out, but hugged her body instead. She placed her diamond, sapphire, and topaz crown on her head and patted down her chocolate brown hair that ran the length of her back.
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