by Martin Owton
“And we will. We’ll talk about it in the morning.” Not much time to come up with a plan.
Morning came all too soon with a trumpet blast to rouse the sleepers; Aron felt he’d only just fallen asleep.
“How did it go last night?” asked Maldwyn, pulling on his boots as Aron struggled to clear his head.
“She’s there, in that house,” said Edith. “We need to get her out now before they hurt her anymore.”
“How badly is she hurt?” asked Maldwyn.
“I don’t know,” said Edith. “She wouldn’t wake up.”
“She may be drugged,” said Aron.
“Then we get her out tonight,” said Maldwyn.
“We can do that, said Aron. “But what then? We need to have a plan of how we’re going to get back down south.”
“Just follow the coast,” said Maldwyn. “It only took a couple of days on the ship from Keshan. It can’t be all that far.”
“Further than you think, there’s no roads and we may have to carry her,” said Aron. “The hills are full of enemies. We have no map and no food to carry with us. We need a better plan than this.”
“If we wait they’ll hurt her more,” said Edith.
“I think we have to move tonight,” said Maldwyn. “They could send us upcountry any time. We missed her in Keshan because we waited. I’m not going to risk that again.”
Aron clenched his fists; Maldwyn was right. As much as he disliked the idea, they should try to free Celaine tonight.
“Tonight then,” he said.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Faraz stood facing Lord Merrek across the rough wooden table in his private room in the headquarters building.
“I have a reply from Master Tabian,” he said. “He has sought the views of several other mages. It is their opinion that no creature such as Wiston described has been raised for hundreds of years, and that there is no-one alive capable of such a feat.”
“So Wiston was mistaken,” said Lord Merrek. “Or lying.”
“It does not sit easily with me to think either thing, my Lord. I know Wiston to be a fine soldier and an honest man.”
“Quite so. Which is why you will be joining me up into the hills. My father commends the idea of forts to protect the road and bids me to speed up the construction. We will also make a sweep of the area in force to flush out the natives. I take the point about the vulnerability of the forts and if this creature appears again, I want you to be close enough to investigate it.”
“Very good, my Lord. I’m confident the junior mages can handle the everyday requirements here.”
“Good, otherwise I would have cause to question what you’ve been teaching them.” Lord Merrek smiled.
“Yes, my lord.” said Faraz. “There is one other thing. The wards around the inner camp were breached last night.”
Lord Merrek looked up. “By what?”
“I’m sorry, my Lord, I cannot tell you that. The ward is but a simple working. It records only the passage of something through it.”
“But this has not happened before?”
“Not since I have had charge of the wards.”
Lord Merrek frowned. “Is this a threat? Something we should be concerned about?”
“I don’t know, my Lord.”
“Is it possible to set up a more sensitive warding that would tell us the nature of the intruder?”
“It is, my Lord. Anyone of the junior mages can do so. It depends on how much resource you wish to put into it. The more detailed the warding, the more information you can get, but the mage can do fewer other things while maintaining it. I could, if you desired, set one of them to maintaining a barrier to keep out all such intruders, but he would be able to do little else.”
Lord Merrek frowned again. “Thank you, Faraz. The mages have enough to do. But I do want to know if it happens again.”
“Very good, my Lord.”
“You’d best be about your packing. We leave immediately.”
***
“The whole company is deploying upcountry,” said Captain Elthorn. “We will be reinforcing the guard on the mines and protecting the new forts that Lord Merrek is building along the road in. Get packed and be ready to march immediately.” He turned and left the mess tent.
“What are we going to do?” Edith turned to Maldwyn and Aron, dismay written across her face.
“March,” said Granna, who was standing just behind them. “And get rained on, just like everyone else. That’s what we pay you for.”
“But we can’t,” said Edith. “We have to stay here.”
“You’ll march,” said Granna. “Same as everybody else.”
“You don’t understand,” said Edith. “We have to stay here. I want to talk to the Captain.”
“Captain don’t want to talk to you.” said Granna, an edge of anger in his voice. “You’ll march as ordered, or you’ll take the punishment. Now get packed.”
“Leave it,” said Aron. “Let’s go.”
He glanced at Granna’s hard set face and silently begged Edith to say nothing more; her next words could earn her a flogging.
Edith turned, eyes blazing and jaw set firm but before she could speak Maldwyn caught her firmly by the arm and propelled her out of the mess tent. Aron followed them after a moment, conscious of Granna’s eyes on their progress.
Edith contained her anger until they reached their tent. “We can’t just leave her. We’ve got so close, we have to do something. How much more is she going to suffer if we don’t do something now?”
“There’s nothing we can do right now that will help her,” said Aron. “We need to get to one of Caldon’s senior commanders and we can’t do that.”
“But you’re not even going to try!” said Edith. Her voice broke, she turned away from them and went into the tent.
“Is there really nothing we can do?” asked Maldwyn quietly.
“If there was, I’d be doing it,” said Aron. “The only way to the commander is through Captain Elthorn, and he won’t see us. We’re not in a position to go in and take her and I don’t see what else we can do. I feel the same as Edith, but earning a flogging for questioning orders isn’t going to help.”
“I suppose you’re right,” said Maldwyn. “But I don’t like it.”
There didn’t seem to be any reply to be made so Aron ducked into the tent followed by Maldwyn. The two hostile soldiers glared at them as they passed. Edith was angrily stuffing gear into her pack at the far end of the tent and kept her back to him as he approached. Aron changed his mind about speaking to her and went to his own kit.
Granna’s bellow from outside urged them to hurry.
***
They marched all day under grey skies, following a muddy track beside a fast-flowing river through the woods up into the hills. Edith walked in silence ahead of Aron and Maldwyn and did not even once turn to look at them.
“Does she often do this?” Aron asked Maldwyn quietly.
“All the time with Celaine,” said Maldwyn. “She’ll get over it in a day or two.”
Aron prayed that she would not do or say something to cause further trouble, but he could think of nothing to say that would help.
As dusk approached they reached their destination. The top of a low hill had been cleared of trees, a bank raised around the clearing and the tree trunks used to form a palisade on it, as yet unfinished. A horn blew and the gateway in the bank opened as they approached. Within, tents and freshly-built huts formed a camp. Cookfires burned and the scent of roasting meat filled the air. They dumped their kit as directed in a set of tents and then made for the cookhouse. Edith hung back not joining them.
“I’m not hungry,” she said.
“You need to eat something,” said Aron but she turned away into the tent.
“Come on,” said Maldwyn. “She’ll change her mind when she gets hungry enough.”
As they turned towards the cookhouse Aron saw the two hostile soldiers watching them. The scar-fac
ed one made a comment that Aron didn’t catch and both laughed. They held his gaze as he stared at them until Maldwyn pulled him away.
Aron finished his meal quickly and then slipped away from the group with a couple of flatbreads for Edith, ignoring Maldwyn’s advice that he was wasting his time.
Edith was lying at the back of the tent, face to the canvas wall. Aron walked quietly over to her.
“I brought you something to eat.”
“Go away.” She sat up and shoved his hand away.
“You need to eat something,” said Aron.
“Just leave me alone.” She surged to her feet and pushed past him out of the tent.
Aron hesitated a moment before throwing the flatbreads onto his pack and going after her.
She had not gone far; Aron hurried round the end of the line of tents to see her backed up against a hut wall by the two hostile soldiers. His heart gave a little kick and he cursed that his sword was back in the tent but he still had his knives; they should be enough.
“Hey! What are you doing?” He ran towards them, right hand on the hilt of the knife in his left sleeve as they turned towards him.
“Look! We’ve got both of the arse-bandits,” said the scar-faced soldier.
“That’s handy,” said the other. “We can give them both a good kicking.”
Aron drew his knife. “Leave now and I won’t hurt you.”
Scarface grinned and pulled out a longer knife from his jerkin. “On no, pansy boy. You won’t hurt me.”
The second man also drew a knife and turned to face Aron then doubled up in pain as Edith’s knee caught him squarely between the legs. Edith dropped onto him her own knife at his throat.
“Hold! Drop your weapons.”
The command came from behind Aron. The soldier facing him dropped his knife and held his arms out wide. Aron lowered his knife and turned around.
“I said drop your weapons, soldier.” Granna stood facing them. Aron released the knife.
Granna glared at them.
“You and you,” he said to the two soldiers. “Get out of my sight.”
The uninjured man helped his mate to his feet and hurried away as fast as they could manage.
Granna turned to Aron and Edith. “You again! You don’t seem to be able to stay out of trouble. I think I need to split you up.” He pointed at Edith. “You will stay here. And you.” He pointed to Aron. “Will march with me tomorrow. Now if I see either of you again before then I’ll have you flogged.”
***
Aron did not sleep; he lay awake all night trying to think of some way to avoid separation from Edith. Edith still did not speak to him or Maldwyn; she went straight to her bedroll in the tent, turned her back to them and appeared to fall asleep. Dawn brought Aron no inspiration, just a trumpet blast to rouse the camp followed by Granna’s bellow.
Edith did not join them for their brief and meagre breakfast. Aron had no appetite but forced himself to eat. His concern was compounded when they returned to collect their packs and Edith was gone from the tent. Granna harried them to make ready and gave Aron no opportunity to find her, or even talk to Maldwyn.
A brief look around the camp as they marched out showed that a much larger force had arrived last night after dark. Caldon-liveried men-at-arms and Saxish clansmen thronged the cook tent and two dozen fine horses in a makeshift stable suggested that senior commanders had travelled with them.
They marched all day with only two short breaks. The trail grew narrower and steeper as they climbed into the hills; every step a reminder of Edith’s absence, every breath a prayer for her and Celaine.
“I hope Edith has the sense to keep her head down until we can get back to her,” Aron said to Maldwyn.
“I would not wager any money on it,” said Maldwyn. “She’s capable of almost any folly. She’ll probably try to get back down to the base camp.”
That would be exactly what she would try to do. Aron cursed, and muttered a prayer to Iduna under his breath; Edith was beyond their help now. “It will go badly for her if they catch her.”
“They would punish a girl?” asked Maldwyn.
“She signed on as a soldier. They would punish her as a soldier.”
The thought chilled him far more than the wind and rain.
They reached their objective in the middle of the afternoon; a collection of tents in a clearing on the crown of a rain-swept hill amidst an ocean of trees. A short section of palisade had been erected and freshly-felled timber was stacked in an untidy pile nearby to continue it.
“Is that what we’re going to be guarding?” asked Maldwyn.
“Probably,” said Aron. “At least until the wall is finished.”
They pitched their tents beside those of the rest of the company and ate a frugal meal to the patter of rain falling on the canvas of the cookhouse. Just before sundown a mule train came in from upcountry; the guards carrying tales of raids and ambushes and grateful for some respite. Several of them proclaimed their intention of shipping out.
“Gods be with you, boys,” said one. “I’ve done my time, and all the money in the world’s no good if you’re not alive to spend it.”
Granna was around quickly to quell their talk and order them to turn in, leaving Aron wanting more information on the enemy they faced.
Despite his lack of sleep and the day’s march, Aron barely slept as he struggled with what to do next and his regret at bringing Edith into the north.
It seemed to Aron that he had only drifted off moments before the trumpet blared to wake the camp. Then, moments later, Granna was at the mouth of the tent, bellowing at them to get up.
They ate another frugal meal in the cookhouse and then paraded in the rain.
“We will patrol in strength today,” said Granna. “There are reports of the enemy near at hand so we will sweep the area to flush them out.”
Aron looked around at the sea of tree-covered hills; they looked to be difficult ground for flushing anyone out of, let alone those born to it.
“Its difficult going in the trees so we’re going in in groups of four. You will keep in contact with these.” He took something out of a pocket and put it to his lips; a clear note shrilled across the parade ground. “Take one each.”
A basket of whistles was passed up the line. A few people tried them out.
“Stop that!” roared Granna. “Use single blasts to signal where you are. Three short blasts is the recall. Blow continuously on contact with the enemy. If you hear whistles blowing move immediately towards them. Now divide up into fours.”
Aron joined up with Maldwyn, Thomi and Haas, leaving Jirg standing forlornly beside three strangers.
“Wait!” said Granna. “You and you.” He pointed to Aron and Maldwyn. “Join up with them.” He pointed to Scarface and his mate further up the line and Aron’s heart sank. “You will learn to work together. Or you’ll take the punishment together.”
Scarface grinned at them as they approached. “Good to see you boys.”
There was no welcome or camaraderie in his face. Aron looked him levelly in the eye as his hands moved surreptiously to check his knives.
“Move out!” ordered Granna.
They marched the short distance to the edge of the clearing. Granna distributed them into their groups of four, thirty paces apart. He blew a short blast on his whistle and they moved into the forest.
It was dark under the trees and treacherous underfoot, the ground slick with wet fallen leaves. They made slow progress downhill, but quickly lost sight of the other groups; the whistles shrilling occasionally on either side the only evidence that they were not alone. At the foot of the slope a river rushed and foamed through a deep rocky cleft.
Aron stepped cautiously forward to look for a crossing point, as he stood on the brink a shove in the back pitched him over the edge. He fell, arms flailing, and hit the water within a handswidth of cracking his head on a log. Moments later Maldwyn tumbled in beside him. Harsh laughter hung in the air
above them; Scarface leaned over the brink and said something Aron did not catch.
Then the whistles started blowing. Aron could not tell from where, it seemed they were all around them. Scarface disappeared instantly. Helpless, they could do little except let the current carry them down river until they came upon a place where they could scramble out.
Whistles were still blowing in the distance. Without debate they ran, dripping water, as fast as the thick forest would permit upstream towards them. As the whistles grew louder they could also hear the war-cries and screams of men in combat.
A burst of war-cries sounded very near. Aron pulled Maldwyn back, they both drew their swords. They moved cautiously forward through the trees. Ahead of them, in a clearing where a big tree had fallen, two men in the company colours fought for their lives against five long-haired figures armed with spears and stone axes. Even as they sprang forward one of the spears found its mark. The company man fell screaming and clutching at the shaft in his belly. His mate tried to step in to protect him and quickly went down under a flurry of axe blows, the screams abruptly cut off as the axes fell.
Aron charged in, dropping the first man with a cut up between his legs into the top of the thigh. The second man turned and caught Aron’s blade across the neck. Blood spurted as the steel bit into the unprotected flesh. Maldwyn took the third man unawares and ran him through the body, his blade standing a handswidth out of the man’s belly. He shrieked and tried to turn, swinging his axe at Maldwyn who had to release his sword to keep out of harm’s way. A fourth man swung his axe at Aron’s head. Aron stepped in and met the swing with his blade, severing the arm between wrist and elbow. The man dropped screaming to the ground, his blood spraying over Aron. The fifth man charged at them with his spear, but Maldwyn stretched out a long leg and tripped him. Aron struck him on the forehead with the pommel of his sword as he sprawled. He fell with a grunt and lay still.
They moved to look at the company men. The first man was clearly dead, his head so smashed by the axes that no features were recognisable. Aron turned to the second man, lying in a wide pool of blood curled up around the spear in his guts. He rolled him over to reveal his scarred face.