by D. M. Murray
“Kal!” Broden shouted. “Get down!”
The arrow thumped into the road about fifty yards in front of Kalfinar’s horse. Kalfinar dismounted from his saddle and undid his longbow, which was fastened to the rear of his saddle. He strung it and rolled his injured shoulder to loosen out the stiff muscle. He untied the cover of his quiver as another arrow thumped into the ground several yards ahead of the last, sending forth a plume of dust.
“Kal! What are you doing?” Broden called out.
“Never worry, we’re out of range for now. We can wait here a moment and then pick these dreamers off. Interested in joining me?”
A third arrow smashed into the ground just behind the first.
“See? We’ll be fine here. They don’t have our range, and they’ve lost their advantage.”
“Alright.” Broden trotted his horse back towards Kalfinar, before dismounting and untying his longbow.
“Look!” Evelyne shouted, pointing towards the trees.
A group of six men came running out of the woods. Five of them ran towards them waving swords, while one followed behind holding a bow.
“Seems a little unusual, don’t you think?” Broden commented.
“No appreciation of strategy,” Kalfinar said as he pulled an arrow from his quiver and readied his bow. His cousin mirrored his actions. “Broden, you’re a better shot than me.”
“So you finally admit it,” the big captain grumbled with a throaty laugh.
“Shoulder’s still a little stiff, that’s all. Be a good man and take out that bowman when he makes it to range, would you?”
“It’s done.” A moment later, he pulled his arm back, so the feather flights sat by the side of his face. Broden waited a moment, and then let fly his arrow. “Wait for it.”
In the passing moment, Kalfinar fired off an arrow at one of the onrushing attackers.
“Got him!” Broden shouted as his arrow slammed into the throat of the charging bowman, fletchings flush to his skin and sending a mist of blood into the air before the man crashed to the ground in a stiff heap.
One kick. Two kicks. Dead.
“Nice work,” Kalfinar said, as his own shot fell wide of his mark.
“You take the left and I’ll take the right,” Broden apportioned the targets. “We’ll meet in the middle.”
The two men fired off several arrows. Broden’s found their mark expertly, while Kalfinar only made his target once out of four shots. One attacker remained, and continued his mad charge along the road they travelled.
“Wait!” Kalfinar ordered, his bow laid across Broden’s. “He attacks alone.”
The onrushing man yelled nonsense as he charged the final two hundred yards towards them.
“Seems strange, don’t you think?” Kalfinar said as he dropped his bow and drew his sword. “He’s just seen his comrade’s fall dead around him, yet he still charges, outnumbered, outmatched. It’s not normal. Let’s take him alive.”
The man, dressed in the plain clothes of a farm labourer, charged towards them holding a rusted and nicked short sword above his head. His screams were seemingly nothing but random noises, though they were disturbing nonetheless. As the man bore down on the two captains they stepped a short distance apart.
“Let him come,” Kalfinar said.
The man stopped a few strides from the men before him. His wild eyes flashed from Kalfinar to Broden, and then back. His face bore no significant expression until his eyes rested on Kalfinar. The man’s face broke into a savage cry as he charged, his sword aloft. Kalfinar deftly sidestepped the rush, parried the blow, and spun around the man in one movement. Kalfinar’s hilt crashed onto the back of the man’s skull, sending him face-first into the hard dirt of the road.
“Fetch me rope,” Kalfinar instructed. “Let’s bind him before any more come at us.”
*
Broden and Chentuck reined in their gallop.
“The stand’s empty.” Broden said. “No more of them in there. Looks like there was a camp of sorts. Seems they’d been waiting a few days.”
“Bandits?” Kalfinar asked.
“Don’t think so,” Broden replied. “Let’s go wake this one and ask him just what he and his friends were doing shooting arrows at us.” He walked towards the bound man, who lay slumped by a rock at the side of the road.
The party stood around their captive as Broden aimed a kick at the man’s thigh to wake him. As he stirred, the man’s eyes flickered and he groaned. He moved his bound hands to the back of his head, searching for his blood-crusted and swollen wound.
“Just who the fuck are you?” Kalfinar asked, looking down on the man.
As he spoke, the captive’s eyes flashed open and he exploded into action, leaping towards Kalfinar’s leg with his mouth gaping. Springing backwards, Kalfinar avoided the rabid man, who now hunkered before them, posed ready to strike like a wild animal. His mouth was open wide and he hissed. A faint green discharge crusted around his eyes.
“What’s wrong with this man?” Broden asked.
“He’s been taken,” Chentuck replied, eyes fixed on those of the man.
“Who are you?” Kalfinar asked.
The man answered in a foreign tongue, alien to Kalfinar, but not unfamiliar.
As the man answered, Chentuck’s face twisted in revulsion. “This man’s soul is tainted. It is twinned with something evil.”
“This man is possessed,” Evelyne said.
“He speaks the tongue of the Undergods,” Chentuck supplied. “He just said there are more and that we’re all going to die this very day.”
“That’s encouraging,” Broden muttered.
“He’s lying,” Evelyne said. “The spirit is frightened.”
“Frightened of what?” Kalfinar asked.
“Frightened of me.” Evelyne stepped forward.
As she did, the possessed man fell backwards and tried to scramble away, spitting words in the guttural tongue. She hunkered down beside the man and looked into his eyes. A stillness passed between them and the possessed man’s rabid face relaxed and became calm. In almost the same instant, the savage look returned and he leapt at Evelyne.
She deflected his face with the back of her hand before wheeling around on the balls of her feet and kneeling on the man’s shoulders. Her middle and forefinger pressed firmly into the man’s forehead. The skin of his head began to hiss as she pressed her fingers. The man screamed. She pressed firmer still until he emitted a shrill cry, which shot out of him and shrieked skyward from the party. The man looked into Evelyne’s eyes, exhausted, and then passed out of consciousness.
Evelyne whispered a short incantation into a closed fist before opening it to reveal a small copper-like amulet, similar to the one Kalfinar wore around his neck. Fastening it around the unconscious man’s neck, she said, “Wrap him in some blankets and let’s take him with us. He poses no threat to us now.”
“Evelyne, that’s really quite amazing,” Broden exclaimed, enraptured by her ability. “Did your father teach you that also?”
“This is not something I’ve been taught.” She looked solemnly towards the man as Chentuck wrapped a blanket around him. “I felt compelled to do this. I believe it to be something I’ve gained, along with the insight.”
“Damn it,” Kalfinar spat as he turned from the scene and headed toward his horse.
“What is it, Kal?” Broden asked.
“If Evelyne can free a man from a spirit, then those other men didn’t need to die.” Kalfinar looked at the five bodies that littered the open ground between the stand of trees and them. “Those men could have gone home to their families tonight.”
They tied the unconscious man across the rear of Chentuck’s saddle and started off again.
“Let’s avoid the roads from here on,” Kalfinar said. “Too easy to lay an ambush.”
“We’ve made good headway up until now,” Broden said as he shifted in his saddle. “A bit of cross country won’t do us any harm.”
“Evel
yne,” Kalfinar said, “can you orientate us accurately to Enulin across wild country?”
“Yes. I can lead us wherever I feel the draw is strongest. I’m sure I can keep us on track,” she replied.
“Good, let’s get going then. We’ve hours yet until sunset.”
They rode on through the open, rolling countryside of southern Ilsinuer, avoiding the road and keeping a keen eye for any further signs of ambush. The captive man remained unconscious.
“If all’s well, we should reach Enulin by tomorrow. Sometime after midday,” Kalfinar said as they reined in. “We should check that area out.” He pointed towards a rocky outcrop in the distance. “If it’s clear, it’ll make a good spot for us to rest up for the night.”
*
After they cooked their evening meal, the captive man began to stir. He awoke and let out a ragged groan, followed by a low and quite sob. His eyes adjusted and settled on the faces before him. He snivelled and began to cry once more.
“Enough sorrow,” Broden said.
“Who are you?” Kalfinar followed up, looming tall above the man.
The captive’s body trembled and tears began to stream freely down his dirt-smeared face. “Name’s Yaren. Yaren Hobbs, my lord. Just a farmer. From Helvensfoot Brook.” A bead of spit coalesced on his lower lip as it wobbled like hooked meat on his face. “My lord, I dunno what I’ve done to cause you offence. Dunno why I’m here.”
Evelyne picked up a cloth and moved towards Yaren, hunkering down beside him and placing the cloth into the pot of the recently warmed water. She wrung off the excess and began to wipe the dirt from his face as he sobbed with fear. Her touch, unnerving at first, seemed to relax him and he stared at her, fixated by her eyes as she cleaned his face.
“Do you remember trying to kill us?” Kalfinar asked.
Yaren’s eyes widened at the mention of his crime. His whole body started to judder.
“Cease that!” Kalfinar shouted. “We’ll do you?” he pressed.
Yaren shut his mouth and tried to control his panic-struck body.
“No, my lord, I don’t remember that.” He looked up at Evelyne. “Last I recall, I was digging out my rotten neeps. I remember a feeling like I was going to be sick…feeling afraid, and then a pain in my head. After that, dunno what happened until I woke here.”
Kalfinar thought for a moment as he fingered the amulet around his neck. Yaren watched him before realising he too had a similar one around his own neck.
Kalfinar looked at the man. “Have you had dark dreams? Dreams where you felt something was coming for you. Have you sensed dread in sleep?”
Yaren nodded his head slowly, a frightened look dawning in the man’s eyes. “Aye, my lord. I truly have.”
*
They provided Yaren with some food and sent him off in the direction of his home, which appeared to be about two days walk to the north of their position. They set off just before sunrise and made good time. They crested a tall hill of dry, thick-bladed yellow grass, and looked down upon the southern Ilsinian city of Enulin.
“It’s beautiful,” Evelyne exclaimed. The city sparkled in the midday sun, making it a fine sight when paired with the glittering sea by which it was situated.
“What do you feel?” Kalfinar asked Evelyne.
“We’re near. I can feel a pull towards the city. The urge has grown stronger and more defined. I can feel it now as we sit here, tugging at me.”
“What do we look for?” Kalfinar asked.
“We’ll know soon enough. I believe that when the time comes it will be unmistakable,” Evelyne answered, her eyes fixated on the city before her. Focused like a hunter’s eyes upon prey.
They set off again towards Enulin, the final stretch of the first leg of their journey coming to a conclusion. Ever alert, they approached the city a short time afterwards and were greeted by an explosion of spices and colours as they passed through the bazaar outside the sandstone walls.
“Things seem normal here,” Broden said as he observed the hubbub of the marketplace.
“It’s not,” Kalfinar spoke quietly. He indicated with his eyes. “The City Guard are everywhere. I have to deliver dispatches to the Command when we get in here. I want to keep our visibility as low as possible, for as long as possible. We should take a room at the command safe house. There’s a cosy, somewhat-underused inn over by the eastern gate that is sometimes used by agents not wanting to be seen entering the High Command keep. That’ll be a good place to lay low until we work out just what we need to do.”
They wound their way through the noisy and hot streets of Enulin. The streets teemed with traders and customers alike, all bartering in great animated gestures, as was the Enulinian way. Kalfinar and his companions formed a protective knot around Evelyne as they led their horses through the busy streets, believing passing on foot would draw less attention. They watched the hands and eyes of the passers-by as they went, ever watchful for the slightest sign of trouble.
They entered into the courtyard of an unspectacular inn. “Head in and take a room with a view of the street,” Kalfinar ordered. “I must deliver these dispatches. I should be back within the hour.”
*
Kalfinar knocked three times on the heavy oak wood door. “It’s Kalfinar. Put your weapons down.”
Chentuck opened the door and Kalfinar strode in.
He slumped into a battered wooden chair by the grubby window. “We’ve lost twelve men here.”
“Twelve.” Broden shook his head sorrowfully. “Did they catch any of the assassins?”
“None.” Kalfinar rubbed his bearding face as he felt dust clinging thickly to it. “Command sits with a major by the name of Maltasi. I’ve never heard of him before. He seems unsure of himself. All the more senior officers are dead.” The weariness in Kalfinar’s voice was palpable. “After the assassinations, the more senior major, Major Coltsmoot, was to assume command.”
“What happened to him then?” Broden asked.
“Seems the shock brought on a falling sickness and he dropped dead.” Kalfinar stepped over to a wash bowl and proceeded to splash his face. Dirt dripped from his chin, creating whirls and spirals as it merged with the clean water. “Maltasi’s dispatches should have reached Carte by now.” He dried off his face and neck. “Any food?”
*
Kalfinar ate the modest meal of hard bread, cheese and ham without complaint. “Evelyne, how do you feel now?” he asked as he finished his meal.
“I feel as though I am being pulled towards them, and I think they are coming to me also.” She sat by a window. It was clouded with age-old dirt, obscuring the view onto the street below.
“So you think the horn comes to us?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied without looking away from the window. “I can feel the draw getting stronger, they are getting closer.” Her voice had adopted an almost monotone drone and she focussed intently on the street.
“Why don’t we just wait here then?” Broden asked. “It’s probably safer, don’t you think?”
“Aye, you’re probably right,” Kalfinar responded. “Fine, it’s decided then. Let’s wait until we see them, then we’ll make an approach.”
They surrounded the window overlooking the street and waited.
“I can’t see through that damned thing,” Broden said as he reached out to rub the dirt away with the cuff of his sleeve.
“No!” Kalfinar grabbed his wrist to prevent him from clearing the time-gathered filth away from the pane of glass, “Let’s not make it too obvious that we are watching the street. We don’t know who else is out there. Watching. Waiting.”
*
They waited for what seemed an eternity, with no signs of any approach.
“Are you sure they’ll come to us?” Broden asked Evelyne as the light of day began to fade. There was no reply, and Broden looked quizzically to Kalfinar. “Guess she’s not listening to—“
“They are here,” she replied, her eyes closed and her vo
ice almost lifeless.
“You alright?” Broden reached over and touched her shoulder. “Evelyne?” he asked again.
“It’s beautiful,” Kalfinar murmured. Before him he saw a glowing light, about the size of a man, moving up the centre of the street towards the inn.
He was struck with an overwhelming mix of emotion. “So beautiful.”
“What can you see?” Broden asked.
“The one before us shine bright with Dajda’s love. This is called the reverie,” Evelyne said. “This is what draws them home to Dajda’s heart.”
“I can only see the people below.” Broden said.
“What of the light moving up the middle of the street towards us?” Kalfinar asked.
“I see no light. There’s nothing, save for a child. A little beggar girl walking towards us,” Broden replied.
Evelyne interrupted them, “It is time. We must bring them here. They must be awoken.” Her eyes snapped open and she turned to face Kalfinar. “Hurry. Danger comes.”
*
Kalfinar and Broden bounded down the stairs, hands fixed on sword hilts, ready to draw should the need arise. They burst out of the back entrance to the inn and through the courtyard into the street. Kalfinar froze at the sight of the glowing light hovering in place outside the entrance to the inn.
“Come on,” Broden snapped, hauling at Kalfinar.
As Kalfinar made the final steps towards the nimbus, the light faded, revealing a weak and dishevelled little girl, no more than five years old. Her eyes shone a deep green, complemented by a shock of rich brown hair. Kalfinar choked as his throat swelled up at the sight of her.
“Kal, pull yourself together!” Broden snapped. “Come on, let’s get her inside.”
The little girl appeared to be in a trance-like state and offered little resistance as Broden picked her up. A number of onlookers stopped and watched as the two men hurried back around to the courtyard with the small girl. Kalfinar opened the doors and allowed Broden to storm in and up the stairs towards their room. As he followed his cousin up the stairs, the small girl, being held over Broden’s shoulder, looked at Kalfinar with her skin still sparkling, and smiled the faintest little smile. Kalfinar’s heart broke.