The Brotherhood (The Eirensgarth Chronicles Book 1)

by Philip Smith

  Paige felt her brain begin to connect the dots, and she felt her mouth go dry.

  “And he went after her?”

  “He did, and the fool got himself caught,” Robert said, his voice low and quiet. “They beat him and put him to work, but not before they hung Elethia and tossed her in the rubbish burn pile. He spent six months in those labor camps cutting stone.”

  Duelmaster’s voice broke as he tried to compose himself, that same haunting horror Paige knew all too well flooding his expression.

  She placed a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. “I’m so sorry,” she stammered. “I shouldn’t have been nosey. It was not my place to pry-”

  “No,” Duelmaster cut her short. “It’s quite alright. You might as well know. As for Din, he still feels the pain of those memories. He bears the guilt of her death every day he opens his eyes.”

  Paige started to say, “But why does he feel…?” Then she stopped short as she processed Duelmaster’s words. They registered in her mind like a nail being driven through her skull. She felt her heart sink. “She went hunting for him, didn’t she.” Paige’s words were a statement more than a question. She glanced back at Dinendale, who was now at the bottom of the gully and had started climbing the other side.

  “He’d sprained his ankle in a fight,” Duelmaster grunted. “So she swapped days with him. That’s why he won’t quit now. He figures any moment he allows weakness to keep him from moving forward, it’s a moment he can’t be saving someone else.”

  “I had no idea,” she said, watching the recovering cripple hobble and hop his way up the incline on the opposite side.

  “That’s why he changed his mind about your sister that night at the willow,” Dulemaster said, pulling off his boots and stretching his toes inside his wool stockings. “We all know your desire to save her and the fate she faces if we don’t. But he knows, better than any of us.”

  Paige turned back and smiled at the dryad whose crooked grin was back, making his eyes shine. He laid back on his pack and crossed his arms dramatically behind his head.

  “Now if the lady doth not protest too much, methinks I’ll be snagging that kip we spoke of earlier,” the duelist laughed, winking at Paige before closing both eyes and settling in for a quick nap. Within moments he was snoring along with Twostaves and Broadside. Robert lay motionless, but not snoring, so it was hard for Paige to tell if he was sleeping. Jenake dozed in and out while sharpening his throwing knives once more, occasionally testing the edge on his arm hair. The only one who remained vigilant was Woodcarver, who stood atop a boulder watching Dinendale ascend the next ridge with great interest. He glanced down at Paige who looked away quickly to avoid awkwardly meeting his gaze. The magician stepped off the rock and sat on her other side.

  “May I just say that I know your mother and father would be so proud of you, Alwasu,” he said, sincerity etched into every word.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Still doesn’t change the fact they are gone.”

  “I know. For what it’s worth, I know the feeling of losing your parents to those in the pursuit of power. And while the pain will always be there, I can promise you it will ease.”

  “Is that another story we have to bank for a better time?” Paige asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

  The ageless wizard chuckled. “I know that isn’t ideal, but as cliche as it may sound,” he lightly laughed again.

  “Don't you dare say,” Paige countered.

  Woodcarver said, “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

  Paige rolled her eyes, and Woodcarver chuckled as he stood and gazed out at Dinendale once more.

  “He is getting stronger,” the magician commented. “He’s nearly at the top already.”

  “Why do you think your magic couldn’t help him?” Paige asked.

  Woodcarver got a curious look on his face. “You know I’ve been wandering this world for longer than any of these fellows have been alive, and yet I have never seen anything like it. Sometime I want to do a little more studying as to why that is, but obviously our current situation doesn’t exactly warrant…” Woodcarver’s words immediately drowned in a loud sound. A blast of a horn echoed across the gorge, and the Brotherhood’s sleeping members all woke. Paige leapt to her feet. They gazed across the gorge to see Dinendale blowing on his hunting horn and gesturing wildly to them, hopping up and down as much as he could, and waving his arms like a madman between horn blasts.

  “What is that fool going on about?” Robert rolled to his feet with a variety of grunts, mumbled curses, and heaving sounds. They soon gathered about Woodcarver and Paige, gazing at the elf who looked absolutely ridiculous.

  “Maybe he’s bleeding out,” said the sleepy giant as he threw his pack and targe on his back.

  “Whatever it is, we’d best be getting over there as quickly as we can.” Woodcarver tossed his satchel back over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  It took them about a third of the time it had taken Dinendale to cross the gorge and reach the peak. He was still waving them over urgently when they arrived near the top of the ridge.

  “Confound it all elf, what is going on!?” demanded Woodcarver.

  “Come and see, I promise it will be worth a shortened naptime,” Dinendale urged, hobbling ahead of them to the top of the ridge. They crawled over the last few boulders and came out on a small, rocky precipice that opened up from the treeline overlooking the ridge. This provided a clear view of the rest of the Reychel’s, the long, spine-like crags jutting north to south like a child’s line drawing of a river. Many were already topped with small amounts of snow on the taller peaks, their white caps glistening in the sunset.

  “Look there!” he said pointing to the sky, the fast sinking sun making its way to the eastern horizon.

  Paige squinted. “What is it?” she asked.

  “Can you not see it?” Dinendale asked.

  She looked harder, then noticed far to the north and heading east, there was a hazy patch of sky that was more greyish-black than the pink and oranges that surrounded it.

  “Why, it’s smoke!” Broadside exclaimed.

  “A fire?” Twostaves asked.

  Robert rolled his eyes. “Yes, moron. Where else are you going to get smoke from?”

  Dinendale gazed at the smoke. “Not just one fire.”

  Paige’s heart leaped. There were only two explanations for many fires in the same area: an army camp, or a city.

  “Aschin!” cheered Broadside

  The men gave a whoop and holler of triumph.

  “We’re not quite out of the mountains yet,” cautioned Woodcarver. “But yes. That is where Aschin lies.”

  “How far?” asked Paige.

  “I’d say about forty miles as the crow flies,” Jesnake surmised, narrowing his eyes as he judged the distance.

  “Obviously arrival there depends on how many times we have to take switchbacks around mountains,” Woodcarver urged. “We are close enough to now be back on our guard. We’ll have to scout ahead to make sure the way is clear of vermin wearing helmets and carrying swords.”

  “I agree,” Dinendale added. “We’d best keep our noise to a minimum as well from now on.”

  Jesnake stepped forward, knocking an arrow on his string.

  “That inncludes hunting horns, Din,” he chuckled, jogging forward with no more pitter patter than a squirrel. It did not take long for him to be out of their sight. They shuffled through the trees, down the slope, to the wide valley this hill and the ridge adjacent made between them. They snuck through what was left of the scant pines, like shadows and specters of the thinning forest. The trees gave way to moss-covered stone mounds offering only ferns and lichen for cover. The company moved in columns of two: Dinendale and Paige at the front, Duelmaster and Robert behind them, Twostaves and Broadside after them, and Woodcarver taking the lone position in the vanguard.

  They walked like this for nearly an hour when they heard a low whistle in front of them mimicking a
bird call. They all stopped, listening. It came again, only closer now. Soon, Jesnake came sprinting up the mountain slope as quickly and as quietly as possible.

  “What?” hissed Dinendale to his comrade.

  “Men,” the elf whispered. “Five soldiers and a wagon carrying supplies. Hundred yards straight ahead.”

  “Probably foragers, my guess,” Woodcarver muttered.

  “Detour?” Dinendale asked.

  Robert shook his head, eyes gleaming with anticipation. “I say we take em. We need the re-supply.”

  “We shouldn't risk it,” Jesnake said quietly.

  “I’m with Robert. We need the supplies,” Duelmaster drew his rapier. “I say we at least have a look.”

  “Agreed,” Dinendale said. Paige felt excitement, mixed with worry, well up in her as she glanced at Dinendale’s bandages.

  “I’m not sure. With Din’s condition, that puts us at only seven on five, and I’ve never tested my metal in a battle not brought on by desperation and running,” she pulled her hairpin from its braided home. “And I really think Dinendale should not be fighting in his current condition. At least not yet.”

  “She has a point,” Broadside added. Dinendale looked disgusted.

  “Who are you both? My mother?” He pulled himself up to his feet and drew his sword.

  “You still need a crutch, I’d say,” Paige started to argue, but Dinendale dropped the crude crutch and brought his sword down on it. The resounding ‘twack’ echoed through the woods and down into the basin.

  “Shhh!” Jesnake glared at his fellow elf. “You idiot! This is no time for dramatic effect!”

  “Oh shut up, Mother Hen,” Dinendale winked. “Let’s go check it out.”

  Jesnake led them quietly, glancing around himself to be sure they were safe. Within moments, Paige could hear the rumble of a wagon up ahead and a small, crude path came into view at the basin of the valley. The group dispersed along the lane, hiding in the bushes and behind rocks on the high ground, looking down at the foraging party. Paige dove for cover and found herself next to Duelmaster lying atop a boulder overlooking the wagon. He poked his eyes and nose over the edge to peer down at their foes.

  It was a small wagon. Paige saw two giant horses with shaggy manes and socks of white hair overtop chestnut coats. A fat man with an oily mop of crow black hair and a clean, sunburned face, drove onward. He sang an off-key lullaby in some desert gypsy language. The five Shauden soldiers that accompanied him seemed to be quite annoyed with the man’s endeavors to entertain them.

  “Light guard,” observed Duelmaster. “It must be headed to an outpost near here.”

  Paige nodded. The soldiers were slight infantry, carrying only swords and moon-shaped shields. The armor afforded them were mere metal helms poking out from underneath yellow turbans and breastplates lying over their white robes.

  She looked back at Duelmaster, but to her shock the dryad was no longer lying at her side. He stood atop the outcropping of rock. She felt her heart race as he winked at her, then took a single step forward, dropping directly into the pathway of the cart. Landing on his feet and crossing his arms, a mischievous look glared in his merry eyes. The Shauds shouted out in astonishment, and quickly drew their swords.

  “Gentlemen! Gentlemen! There is no need for that!” Dulemaster called out. “Just asking you to allow a poor fellow a drink of water!”

  “Get out of the way, Wildlander!” snapped one of the soldiers.

  “Eh, I’ve been called worse!” the dryad tucked his long hair behind his roundly tapered ears. The soldier in charge pointed and shouted.

  “An elf! Get him!”

  A young soldier rushed the dryad. Duelmaster merely sidestepped, stuck his foot out, and using the soldier’s forward momentum flipped the man onto his back with one sweep of his arm. The wind ripped out of the man as he landed with a heavy thud.

  “Oh, now, that wasn't very nice, was it?” Duelmaster cooed like a mother scolding a child. “You shouldn’t call people names. An elf? My good sir, perhaps you need your eyes checked.”

  The man attempted a swipe at Duelmaster’s feet but found that his limbs were immobilized by brown snake-like entities winding their way up his legs and arms from the earth.

  “What the?” he started.

  Duelmaster only smiled, and placed his boot over the man’s mouth. “Now, now, no swearing! There are ladies present,” he said. He turned to the woods were Paige felt her cheeks flushing red with adrenaline. Duelmaster looked towards her hiding spot and pretended to call from a long ways off.

  “Not you m’lady, of course!” he called out. “I meant these pretty little girls down here dressed up like soldiers!” he pointed to the remaining guards.

  “Witchcraft!” one of the humans screamed in terror.

  Duelmaster made a disgusted face as the men raised their weapons in fear. “Hardly. I never touch the stuff! But I guess you wouldn’t know the difference anyways. They don’t teach that at state-run schools, I imagine.”

  The Shauds had had enough of this magic-wielding nutcase mocking them. They rushed him with a cry, and the dryad spread his arms wide, beckoning them come. One by one, large brown, eel-like entities popped up out of the ground like salmon breaking the surface of a stream and grabbed the men by the ankles and legs, wrapping up their bodies and pinning them to the earth. Soon, the only one not encircled by these strange things was the wagon driver, who was as white as a bleached sheet of vellum.

  “Roots, gentlemen! A simple Creator-given talent!” Duelmaster laughed, pointing his finger in the air like a scholar. “They are most handy when rude men try and attack you and call you names like elf! The sheer audacity, I say! Now in the spirit of recompense and developing goodwill between his Royal Highness and ourselves, we, the Brotherhood must insist that you relinquish the wagon and supplies.”

  The driver immediately threw his hands up, one comically clutching a round silver flask. By the way he swayed, back and forth, off balance even in a sitting position, Paige could guess what was inside, or at least what had been.

  “It’s all yours. I never liked this job anyways,” the fat man whined in a high-pitched voice that sounded like a pig.

  “Thank you, my good man!” Duelmaster said with a dramatic bow. He approached the wagon and the trembling driver.

  “So,” the dryad asked casually. “What all have ye got?”

  “Pots, pans, weapons, food, clothing for the people living in the outpost, spices, armor, um, tools, cloth and um, um, gold,” he said in a rush of words. “You can have it all. Just don’t hurt me. You can have any….”

  He began to blubber, when a sharp, earsplitting crack resounded in the air. Duelmaster drew both his swords and crouched, eyes darting around and looking for the source of the sound.

  “Oh,” the driver stammered, staring down at a hole that had appeared in his breast. Blood began to pump out of it, soaking his white shirt and spreading through the fabric like a crimson waterfall. He let out a raspy grunt and fell backwards into the wagon, stone dead.

  Paige had no time to react. Arrows began to ‘zing’ from the trees on the other side of the ravine. They struck the defenseless men that were still held down by the roots Duelmaster summoned from in the earth. They cried out in anguish till all of them were dead. Duelmaster felt stunned, and he looked around wildly. Paige burst out of hiding followed by the other members of the Brotherhood. She saw several carrying bows. Angrily, she scanned each face, till she came to Robert. She remembered his contempt for the Boggartrolls and saw the same contempt etched into his face as he stared at the bodies of the murdered soldiers.

  “Why?” she shouted. “They were unarmed! Defenseless!”

  Robert darkened with rage.

  “Listen, princess,” he said in vehement anger. “I had twenty arrows in my quiver this morning, and there are twenty arrows in it now!”

  “Then, who?!” she screamed, pounding her knuckles against his chest. She was about to do it a
gain, when Dinendale grabbed her wrist. She tried to yank it free, but the elf’s grip was firm.

  “The shots came from the other side of the gorge. We were all on this side,” he said forcefully.

  “So sorry to interrupt,” slithered a dark, deep voice from the other side of the valley. Paige whirled around.

  A man in a rust-colored cloak faced them, arrow drawn and pointed at Paige. Dinendale stepped in front of her at the same time Robert did. The archer was only a few inches taller than Paige herself, putting him about the same height as Robert. What could be seen of his face under his hood showed a scruffy, unkempt red beard and square jawline. He had a saber attached to his belt and wore a pair of old, scuffed up, worn-out boots.