Bloodletting Part 2

by Peter J. Wacks

  “You filthy sack of—” Jaimson stepped forward, but Sibyl’s arm shot out and stopped him.

  She scanned the opposing men again, paying careful attention to those ogling her. “I see. A pity you’ve become so base and lost everything admirable about you after all. But so be it. Just remember, if you come for us, plenty of you will die. I swear it. And I certainly won’t let you take me alive. If one of you thinks you can take me, feel free to try it. You have an hour to decide if it’s worth it.”

  Putting her back to them, she headed for the forge, giving Pavil a slight nod as she did. He took the cue and pulled harder on their doubt. Many of them looked disturbed as they returned to their side of the clearing, leaving only Riktos and a few others. After a final glaring match with Pavil and the others, they, too, stalked off.

  ***

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Tetra Bicks

  Mirewatch was little more than a few shoddy palisades with stubby guard towers surrounding a ramshackle cluster of huts and lean-tos. One large structure fashioned from stone and milled lumber sat at the fort’s center, housing the Drayston guardsmen who rotated through on monthly shifts. Mirewatch was larger than it should have been because of the market it boasted, making it a hub for local commerce. Few others lived in Mirewatch. Instead, they came from nearby villages to sell goods to travelers along the road at the forest’s edge, or in one of the coveted stalls in the market.

  One side of the fort was forest, the other the plains. Three main roads came into Mirewatch, leading each way but into the forest. The roads were packed dirt, but well maintained. Through the western gate of the fort was the fourth and final road, the Rocmire road, which followed the forest’s edge.

  When Tetra and Mikkels arrived, the market looked void of everyone except the vendors. “Why is it so empty, Kellian? Is it always like this?”

  Mikkels shook his head. “I’ve done a roster here before, and it was packed. I suspect that it is due to the attack on Drayston. People are scared.”

  “Why didn’t the orocs attack Mirewatch?” Tetra asked as they passed through the northern gate. Mikkels had left his tabard and helm at the castle, but his studded leather armor marked him as a comrade to the guardsmen at the gate, who nodded as the two travelers passed.

  “I don’t have an answer to that, sorry. If I had to guess: an attack here might’ve alerted Drayston to the danger, and they were hoping to catch us entirely off-guard. Plus, I think they passed up Mirewatch for the bigger prize.” Mikkels studied the muddy square. “Though if they’d stopped to attack here, they would’ve found it abandoned since Lord Drayston called the men back to defend the castle. It might have kept them from hitting Drayston.”

  “Lucky for us they didn’t then,” Tetra said as they entered the market. Carts and wagons formed semi-straight lines, making a convoluted web of passages through the palisades and huts.

  “Might’ve been luckier if they had,” Mikkels stopped and turned to Tetra. “I know you are proud of our victory, but both sides lost a lot. Had they stopped here and realized we were ready for them, we could’ve maybe avoided the whole battle and not lost hundreds of our own men.”

  Tetra bowed his head, ashamed. He’d been so focused on the thought of dead orocs he’d forgotten the heavy cost they’d paid in human lives as well.

  Mikkels put a hand on Tetra’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Tetra. We all get caught in those moments. Let’s explore the market.” They walked on.

  As they wended their way deeper into the stalls, they approached a cart displaying an assortment of bows and arrows. Mikkels examined the cart, selecting the best looking bow. The wood was stained and runes were etched along the limbs. A soft leather grip was wrapped halfway down. “Is this made of yew?” he asked the vendor.

  “What’re you planning on hunting?” the old man asked. “A hickory bow will work just fine for most game you’ll find along the road.”

  Tetra watched Kellian carefully. His companion’s eyebrows scrunched together and he looked slightly annoyed. “I’m looking for something with a little more range and power.”

  The old man eyed their weapons and armor. “You grabbed a right fancy one. Well made, too.… But that one there’s yew.” He pointed to another stave. “And one of the best I’ve ever made. Ain’t as fancy to look at, but it’ll get the job done a right bit better.”

  Mikkels took up the one the vendor had indicated. “May I?”

  The old man held out a hand in invitation. Mikkels planted one end in the dirt and pulled down on the other, but couldn’t quite get the bowstring loop over the end. The old man smirked. Mikkels released the tension on the bow and nodded. “Good.” He placed the lower half of the stave between his legs, the end of it over his left foot, and used his whole body to bend the stave over his right calf until he easily caught the loop. He released the tension into the string and pulled his right leg free.

  The man gave a snaggletoothed grin. “You know your bows.”

  Kellian drew the bow, like he was going to shoot an arrow, then gently and slowly released the tension on the string. “Your work is superb. What’s a craftsman like you doing in Mirewatch?”

  “I go where the demand for my wares is greatest.”

  “Demand?” Mikkels asked as he tested the bow’s draw a second time.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard of the attacks? That’s why ya’s want the yew, ya?”

  “Drayston and Jaegen?” Tetra asked.

  “No, no. I pity the man who shoots an oroc with an arrow—unless it’s a flaming one, and even then, you best pray to the Aspects for luck.” The vendor’s eyes gleamed. “I’m talking about ravagers.”

  “There’s been a sighting?” Mikkels’ voice rose in disbelief. “On top of the oroc attacks … this doesn’t bode well. It’s going to be a dangerous season.”

  “It is. And as to the ravagers, it’s been several attacks, actually. That’s why I’ll throw in a quiver of my finest broad-heads with the bow.” The man took down a quiver filled with feathered shafts from where it hung on the cart. “Honed their edges with my own earth magic.”

  “How much?” Mikkels asked.

  “Twenty marks.” As the price was spoken, Mikkels sucked in a breath between his teeth.

  “Well worth it, but that’s quite a few more than I have.” Mikkels moved to unstring the bow.

  “Fifteen marks for just the bow then, lad. Don’t be too hasty.”

  “The bow isn’t much good without arrows. And it’s still far more than the ten I have that I can spend—and I couldn’t ask you to part with a masterpiece like this for ten.”

  The man smiled and rubbed his hands together, ready to haggle.

  Tetra enjoyed listening to them haggle a bit longer, until the vendor agreed to part with the set for twelve marks. After he handed the quiver over, Mikkels unstrung the bow and emptied his coin purse into the vendor’s hand. Twelve marks, exactly. Fortunately, they wouldn’t need coin where they were headed. Kellian wrapped the bowstring around itself and carefully deposited it into the now empty coin purse.

  “May the Aspects protect you,” the man called as they headed off through the streets.

  They returned the blessing and continued through the fort’s western gate where the forest road began.

  “You think he was telling the truth?” Tetra asked as they set out from Mirewatch.

  “About the ravagers?” Mikkels made a doubtful noise. “There hasn’t been a sighting of one of those in years. No, I’m more worried about orocs.”

  Tetra frowned. “Why buy the bow then?”

  Mikkels patted the bow. “You can never have too many weapons, especially ones that are useful in different situations. Maybe there’s no ravagers, but there’ll be plenty of other beasts to watch for.” His smile made Tetra think that there was more that Kellian wasn’t telling him.

  They stayed on the road until Mirewatch was out of sight. After checking in all directions to ensure the road was clear, they darted t
oward the forest’s edge. They quickly crossed the cleared land and stopped at the first tiered drop leading into the deeper forest. The earth here had been reshaped centuries ago by orocs, forming distinct strata to mark the boundary of their land.

  Mikkels studied the area. “The place where we found you isn’t far from here.”

  “How can you tell?” Tetra asked. “It all looks the same to me.”

  “We followed the farm roads from Jaegen that join up with the forest road a few miles farther west.” Mikkels pointed to a tier several levels below them. “An old path drops to that tier and stops abruptly. That’s where we cut back and ran into the orocs.” He faced Tetra. “Listen, Tetra, once we go in there we may not ever come back out.”

  “I know” Tetra straightened, pulling at the bottom of the back brace. It had become an unconscious tic of his. “I’m not afraid.”

  Mikkels grimaced at the forest. “I know you aren’t. You’re a fighter. But the odds of us surviving an encounter with orocs in there, on their ground and their terms, are slim at best. I’m not even sure how we’ll find the children, if they’re even alive. Frankly, I’m a little afraid. I’m just not letting it show.” He turned and grinned.

  “Halli is,” Tetra said. “I know she is. I’ll lead us to her.”

  Mikkels looked him in the eye, and Tetra met his searching gaze, trying to communicate the strength of his conviction. Then he waved for Tetra to go first. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  Tetra jumped down the first short drop, lightening his clothes and gear as he fell to make the impact less painful. He knew Halli lived. The connection had weakened the day before his uncle showed up at Drayston. He thought this meant that she was moving further away—though he couldn’t guess why. He would find her and bring her back. He would bring them all back.

  His father’s words echoed in his mind, quiet, but never forgotten. Your sister. You must get her back. Save her.

  ***

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Pavil Serevin

  “Keep up,” Sibyl hissed as they fled the camp. “Fall behind, and you’ll be left behind. They’ll kill us if they catch us, so don’t get left behind.”

  As soon as they had returned to the forge, after confronting Riktos, she’d had a brief conversation with the three other Admired. Jaimson and Thardin had raised their voices, but she’d silenced them with slash of her hand.

  “Riktos is going to come after me,” she’d said. “Not just me. The boys, too. My hope is he won’t be coming back. That means these men are going to need real leadership … again.”

  Jaimson stared at her hand on his shoulder, while Thardin looked at his forge like a pet he couldn’t imagine abandoning.

  She raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side. “They’ll need you. It’s the three of us that Riktos wants, no … needs, to exterminate. I’m counting on you to make this all right.”

  After hurried farewells, she’d handed each boy a pack of supplies and guided them to a small clearing on the side of the camp Pavil never even knew existed. There was another exit there. He didn’t even think Riktos knew about it, as the man had posted guards at the main entry, but this one stood untended.

  Once they were clear of the camp, Sibyl started running. They did their best to keep up. She dashed ahead, agile despite the haphazard terrain and heavy load. Only after they put a couple ridges between themselves and the camp did she slow to a more manageable pace.

  Pavil stumbled up beside her, gasping for breath. “W-why didn’t we leave sooner, Commander?” Riktos’ lack of respect for her made him want to balance it out somehow.

  “Riktos pulled the dampeners days ago and had the Geists tracking us. We had to wait until he put them back to work or they would’ve alerted him the moment we left. The oroc thing was just me baiting him to give us a chance to escape.” She glanced at him irritably as they jogged. “And I’m not your commander.”

  Malec reached them, also breathless. “Wha—What do we do now?”

  “We’re doing it,” she said. “Not much else we can do, for the moment. Not till Riktos comes after us.”

  “Where are we going, Captain?” Pavil asked.

  “Northwest. Stop giving me ranks. Hopefully we can reach a human settlement before Riktos catches up … and if we don’t, I know the lay of the land well enough to balance a fight somewhat.”

  “Why don’t we go directly north then?” Malec asked. The slower jog was helping both of the boys catch their breath again. “We’d leave the forest faster that way, wouldn’t we?”

  She jutted to the side, leading them around a dense growth. “Riktos will expect that. It’s going to be hard enough to keep him from tracking us as it is.”

  “What about orocs, my lady?” Pavil asked. He had no clue how she was guiding them through the dark forest without mishaps or stumbling.

  “Hopefully I’ll see them before they can sense us. And my name is Sibyl, dammit! Stop giving me titles. I’m just Sibyl now.”

  Malec punched Pavil’s arm. He punched back, and the two of them wound up on the ground, wrestling for control. Malec soon had Pavil in a headlock, and he fought to wriggle free.

  “She is a lady,” he choked out.

  “Shut it, squirrel herder,” Malec hissed. “You want to draw Riktos right to us with your squalling?”

  Recalling the threat of being hunted ended the fight as quick as it started. They both got to their feet, and Pavil tried to quash his panic as Sybil was nowhere in sight.

  He spun a full circle. “Where’d she go?”

  Her voice floated over from a distance. “If you gentlemen are finished fighting for my honor, we’re going this way.”

  They followed and Pavil determined to never lose sight of her again.

  ***

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Halli Bicks

  For the first time in months, Halli felt a change in her connection with Tetra. It … moved … closer? Farther away? She found it hard to tell. It was like watching a light shimmering in the night. Distance was impossible to gauge unless one looked away long enough for the difference to be noticeable after glancing back. And she couldn’t “look away” from her brother.

  The orocs had moved far ahead, with just a pair of hunters straggling to ensure they remained on the right path. The Jaegen children just couldn’t keep up. The hunters checked on them fewer times each day. Halli and Sven had discussed breaking away, as it appeared the orocs were no longer concerned with being attacked and so didn’t care if the humans kept up or not.

  But nobody knew where they were in the forest, nor did anyone know what direction would lead them back out. Their best chances for survival lay in staying with the orocs until they could reorient and head out on their own. Had months of captivity truly led to this, Halli wondered? Were they just going to be abandoned to walk their own way out of the forest?

  Halli had lost count of the days they traveled. She only knew they’d come far from the original Bearoak camp and neared the wild heart of the Rocmire. Their time in captivity seemed a distant, almost pleasant, memory, if just for the stability it offered.

  As they trudged along, sweating despite the shade of the trees, she spied a lone hunter in a clearing up ahead. The clearing curved away out of her sight to both the right and left. It was almost like a clear space before the oddest arrangement of plant life she had ever seen. Massive trees, hundreds of feet tall, formed a wall on the far side of the clearing. Between the trees, moss formed a wall, with vines running through it like veins ran through flesh. She couldn’t see what lay beyond, but she could guess.

  The hunter waited until they reached him and stopped to rest. Then he singled Halli out and spoke in Rocmirian.

  “You may go no further, sapling.”

  Her breath fled for a moment. “What? Why not? What do you mean?”

  He extended an arm to indicate the thick curtain of moss. “You may not pass here. The lake, the heart, is sacred and forbidden to all but
orocs. Any others who come too close will be killed on sight, without question.” He gestured to several sacks piled near the roots of one of the trees. “There is food enough for you for several days. You will receive nothing more.” He turned and strode away.

  She shouted after him. “What are we supposed to do?” As the hunter disappeared into the growth, she became frantic. “Where’s Gnarrl? Let me speak to Gnarrl!”

  “Halli,” Sven said her name in warning as he and Laney laid Katerine on the ground.

  Laney had gone pale, and her lips trembled. While unable to understand the oroc, she must’ve picked up enough of the context, and her distress had already spread to several of the other children. “Are they leaving us to die?” she asked.

  Halli went to the sacks of food and rifled through them. Dried meats, fruits, nuts, vegetables, and water. It all might be enough to get them back to the cave if they rationed it … and if they knew the way.

  She needed time to figure this all out. If only they had a Magnus … There had to be a solution here. There had to be.

  With no immediate solution presenting itself, she set about giving each of the children something to eat and then snacking herself. The food helped to distract the younger ones, while she quietly explained the situation to Sven and Laney. After finishing his portion, Sven stood and explored the area, careful not to get near the forbidden edge of the clearing.

  As Laney invented a number of colorful phrases to describe the orocs, Halli took a cup and a stick to mash up food for Katerine. She placed several chunks of vegetable and dried meat inside. Streams and pools of drinkable water had been abundant since they reached the deep forest, and a couple children already drank from a pool at the edge of the clearing. Adding a few dribbles to the food, she began mashing. Once she’d worked everything into a grainy paste, she settled down next to Katerine and began pushing the meal into her mouth.

  As she worked, she realized she hadn’t delved her friend for signs of sickness or injury in weeks. The closest she had come was when she pushed some of the strength of the forest into Katerine. While once it had been a nightly ritual, recent events, plus their travels had robbed her of any time to try to find a cure for her friend. But guilt nagged at her, since back at the cave it had been something she did nightly.