By Ways Unseen

by Daniel Dydek

  “There are others still alive,” he said gently. “Come with us.”

  So they moved through the city, following the shouts; occasionally they would pause while Haydren gathered arrows and flipped them to the rooftops to resupply Pladt; just as occasionally, two or three men would stay back to tend to the dying before quickly moving on. Ignoring fatigue, they cleared the city until the stars in the east began to fade. By morning, with Haydren’s estimation, twenty more soldiers would not see the next sunset. By Geoffrey’s estimation, that accounted for nearly half of what remained in Jyunta’s defense.

  “Is this every night?” Geoffrey asked the band of fifteen who now followed them as they stood over four hellhounds – the last, they hoped.

  “Nearly,” replied several at once.

  “You do no better than wait for them to come in, and try desperately to keep in groups large enough to not be picked apart?” he asked.

  Haydren glanced up quickly, notching his head sideways to tell Geoffrey to walk gently.

  “Our commander was killed weeks ago,” said one, the oldest of the group. “We had no one to replace him.”

  “So you…” Geoffrey trailed off, gazing hard at Haydren first, then the men, then around at the city. So they waited. They waited in hope of a miracle – maybe for Earl Durdamon to send someone. More likely they waited for their destruction. The image of Quaran fastened itself in Geoffrey’s mind; he could see the charred scape of Jyunta, the lord’s stone building the only thing left, and these men before him piled in a heap – if their bodies even remained.

  Had he not done much the same? Would he not lead these men, if they repelled the beasts, in total annihilation of – something? Anything? He had before: a leader with nowhere to go will make any excuse to go everywhere.

  He sighed, looking back at Haydren: he promised to help this young man, wherever he was going. Geoffrey knew he couldn’t stay here if he wanted to. Besides, he was getting too old to go campaigning.

  The men still stood staring at him: maybe he wasn’t too old quite yet – at least not for a few days.

  “Haydren, I’ve been with you for a while, now,” Geoffrey said in a low voice. Haydren cocked his head. “Now, I need you to do something for me.”

  “What is it?”

  Geoffrey grinned. “Trust me.”

  As day began dawning, they found Lord Garoun walking through the streets. The wails of mothers, fathers, children, and wives echoed through streets that had once resounded with jubilation. Lord Garoun gazed at them with swollen eyes; they gazed back in solemn respect.

  “You seemed perhaps in consternation of our celebration last night, young swordsman,” Garoun said, addressing Haydren. He gestured to the streets. “Now you see why. We have little cause for celebration these days; the destruction of Paolound is the best news we have had in many months.”

  “Why does the Earl not send help?” Haydren asked.

  Garoun scoffed. “He is determined not to be as overbearing as the east,” he replied. “Each town under his rule is granted far more autonomy than those of Kelian Province. He claims it is more Rinc Nain that way. It is far beyond my ken, though, where he assumes the bestial army will go once they have done for Jyunta.”

  Geoffrey glanced at Haydren; with Paolound still on the plains, a plan had begun forming in his mind. Too new to have discussed with Haydren, he hoped he would agree to the plan as he spoke it now to Lord Garoun.

  “My lord,” Geoffrey said, clasping his hands behind his back. “I cannot say what may be on the Earl’s mind, but I wish to offer my services in your defense.”

  “What is it you wish to do?” Garoun asked, facing him squarely.

  Geoffrey glanced at his friends once more, then faced Garoun. “I would have Haydren take Paolound’s body to Estwind, and trade for it whatever he can. In the meantime I would stay here with Pladt and Sarah to aid in your defenses; and, in three days, I would hope Haydren would return with a mercenary army.”

  Garoun glanced at the three of them. Then, with a crooked finger, said: “Come with me, and let us talk.”

  They followed him back to his hall, leaving the soldiers of Jyunta to finish burying the dead. Jyunta’s only hope was to keep those who worked from the fate of those upon whom they worked.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  PLANS

  “You leave now for Andelen?”

  “I think it should be yours, Teresh.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “You will do well. I stay with Haydren.”

  34 Haschina 1320 – Summer

  “My lord, a fog is coming in,” Geoffrey said. “If Haydren rides out under it, any spies that might be out there won’t see him leave.”

  Lord Garoun shifted uncomfortably. “Perhaps, but I still do not like losing such a valuable sword now, when that bestial army still threatens our city.”

  Haydren cut in. “My lord, my companions and I cannot hold back this army, no matter how valuable our swords, or bows,” he added, gesturing to Pladt. “You need an army; with Paolound’s hide, I can buy you one. Geoffrey, Pladt, and Sarah would still be here, and I trust them with my life; I would certainly trust Geoffrey with your soldiers.”

  “I did not have the opportunity to see him fight,” Garoun admitted. “Though, his sword seems interesting enough. Can it transfigure into fire, as yours can?”

  Sarah now moved forward. “Geoffrey can organize your troops; after what I saw last night, and have heard this morning, they need that more than one or two new swords: tactics can be employed by all.”

  Garoun rubbed his chin. “Yes; yes, I see what you mean. I suppose there is really no other way, then. Well,” he said, clapping his hands once. “You will need a fast horse, and a small number of supplies. Estwind is a single hard-days’ ride north. There is an inn, the Mercenary Inn, where I hear mercenary captains often find work. We have not been able to spare anyone to go,” Garoun explained. “Even though we knew where to find them, we do not have the assets to hire the army we need. Now, perhaps; with the luck you seem to possess. But!” he said suddenly. “The fog will burn off while I sit here and speak on; and whatever you may think, someone is watching this castle, and it will be far better for you to leave without being noticed. See Thessar, he will equip you quickly with a horse.”

  Garoun gestured to his aide, who ushered the three companions from the hall; Sarah remained behind with Lord Garoun.

  At the stables, the stableman Thessar quickly saddled a large black stallion. Geoffrey and Pladt stood to one side with Haydren as the preparations were being made.

  “I hope you’re right about this,” Haydren said. “If they come before I get back, the Earl’s mission is forfeit.”

  “It may as well be forfeit if we leave the Jyuntans to themselves,” Geoffrey replied. “And I am only as sure about this as any other decision I’ve made.”

  “I thought you were a pillar of confidence, Geoffrey.”

  “You wished I was.”

  Haydren glanced over the stallion as Thessar fitted the bit in his mouth. “I did.”

  “I’m sorry I was not the leader you hoped I would be,” Geoffrey said. “But you have helped me find that ability again.”

  Haydren grinned at him. “I think you should thank Sarah for that one.”

  Geoffrey cleared his throat; this boy had a tendency of speaking words with greater weight than he realized. “You don’t intend to take Pladt to Estwind, then?”

  Pladt glanced quizzically at Geoffrey, then at Haydren. “Should he?”

  “He’s aided in the defense of a city far longer than either of us.”

  “You told him to say that, didn’t you?” Pladt asked, barely getting the question formed around his broad smile.

  Haydren raised a brow; Geoffrey waved him off. “Garoun thinks we are a great boon, coming to him now,” he said. “If he’s right, if someone is watching this city at all times, they’re going to come expecting a dragon slayer. They’re going to come in gre
at force. I could sense it last night: whoever is coordinating these attacks is growing weary of the game. The next assault will be to finish Jyunta completely, if it can be done.”

  “You think someone is coordinating these?” Thessar asked, coming up beside them then.

  “We walked across much of this country,” Haydren replied, turning to him. “Never have beasts come in diverse numbers, organized enough to attack when the people are distracted by celebration. Yes, we think someone is coordinating these. The horse is ready?”

  Thessar nodded. “It should get you to Estwind in one stretch,” he said. “Water it at the Vilde River and slow up some; but it can run all day if you pace it well.”

  “Thank you,” Haydren said. He turned back to Geoffrey and Pladt. “You must hold for two days,” he said.

  “It will take them a while to get organized, or even gathered, if they’re going to come in as large a size as you think,” Pladt said.

  Geoffrey nodded. “There’s a lot of good men left here,” he said. “We’ll hold. The God speed you on your mission, Haydren.”

  Haydren paused a moment. “I hope he will,” he said finally. “And may he be with you as well, Geoffrey.”

  Pladt rolled his eyes. “You would think you guys had just met!” he said. “You and your formalities. Good bye Haydren! And if you don’t come back in time, I’m going to stay right here as a ghost and harass you for the rest of your life.” With that, he wrapped Haydren in a bear-hug and lifted him a little off the ground. When he released him, Haydren stepped back a little, a grin creeping on his face.

  “Good to see your strength returning, Pladt,” he muttered, glancing sheepishly at Geoffrey.

  “Don’t expect him to pick you up,” Pladt said, gesturing at Geoffrey. He shook his head. “Far, far too old.”

  Geoffrey shook his head, and nodded toward the horse. “The fog’s lifting,” he said.

  “Right,” Haydren said. He turned and climbed onto the shifting stallion. “Two days!” he said, then spurred the horse forward toward the front gate.

  Geoffrey and Pladt watched him turn north onto the road and disappear. Already, several men could be seen wrestling the better parts of the dragon into three large carts, each with a team of six draft horses to pull them. They would not chance a slow journey following Haydren’s heels.

  *

  “The young one rides north,” Jgei said, straightening slowly from the map table.

  It always bothered Guntsen when Jgei did that; this time the news tickled him too much to worry about its presentation.

  “To Estwind?” he asked gleefully. “Haydren’s fleeing? I always knew he was a coward. Do you think he makes for Andelen?”

  Lasserain turned his gaze slowly from the behemoth of an Earl before him to fix Guntsen in one of his most uncomfortable glances. “You really do pay no attention to him whatsoever, don’t you?” he asked.

  Guntsen sat back, his smile gone. “How’s your headache?” he asked.

  “Still sitting before me,” Lasserain replied, a chill wind blasting Guntsen’s cloak.

  “I don’t know why you have me here,” Guntsen said, getting to his feet and wrestling his clothing straight. “Why couldn’t you leave me in Hewolucs to govern my province?”

  “Because even here you think it is your province,” Lasserain replied, twitching a finger toward the door. “I might be afraid of someone taking over from your gelatinous bulk and posing a threat to me.”

  As the door slammed behind Guntsen, he tugged his tunic straight once more. “It may not take some one to take over,” he muttered, striding down the stark corridors. “Some mage might already have overthrown me.” He returned to his chambers, passing a tray of still-steaming ham as he made for his sword.

  *

  “Do you think he’ll come back in time?” Pladt asked.

  Geoffrey nodded. “This siege has been going on a long time, Pladt,” he said. “I would not be surprised if fifteen mercenary armies were in Estwind, waiting for someone to come and pay them to fight.”

  “Why wouldn’t they just come here?” Pladt asked.

  “And risk arriving in the middle of a battle, and fighting for free?” Geoffrey replied with a grin. “They’ll be there. And Haydren will be back the day after tomorrow. Which means,” he continued, growing serious. “We need to prepare this place. I need to speak to lord Garoun; you wait outside, because if he tells me what I need him to, I’m going to need you immediately.”

  “Of course,” Pladt replied.

  Geoffrey returned to the hall just as Sarah exited.

  “He’s expecting you,” she said, laying a hand on the doorknob. “Geoffrey, he’s been lord of Jyunta for a long time; make sure he sees you as a general, not another lord.”

  Geoffrey bit back a chuckle. “That should not be difficult,” he replied. “I’m sure I don’t want to be a lord.”

  “Not wanting it, and not sounding like you want it are two very different things,” Sarah said with a smile. “Consider his position – not how you feel his position is, one of desperate need, but how he sees it: as sole leader of an embattled people – and address him as you would want to be addressed in his situation.”

  “Thank you,” Geoffrey said, and he meant it. He had been considering Garoun in the former position. Sarah stepped back, and Geoffrey entered to find lord Garoun still gazing into the fire.

  “My lord?” he asked as he approached.

  “You call me ‘lord’ because that is what I am supposed to be,” Garoun replied quietly. “Your coming here has cast me in rather a poor light, though, has it not? My subjects, so close to death and destruction, were quite certain I was doing everything that could be done.” He smiled, and glanced at Geoffrey quickly. “And then you four arrive, full of hope and promise.”

  “Perhaps we are just what you need to save your city, my lord,” Geoffrey replied gently. “Until now, perhaps you have been doing everything possible; I have not been here, and I cannot judge. What is important, my lord, is what you have us do now when circumstances have changed.”

  “I have given the order already, Geoffrey,” Garoun replied. “You are the city captain: an order from you, especially concerning the defenses, is an order from me. The leader of the troops should be on his way; he knows the city, and will be able to get you anyone or anything you need. Will that serve you?”

  Geoffrey’s eyebrows shot up in unfeigned surprise. “It is far more than I hoped, my lord.”

  “Is there anything else?”

  Geoffrey paused. “Your city will be saved, my lord.”

  Garoun said nothing, but gestured his dismissal with a finger. As Geoffrey turned to leave, Garoun’s quiet voice made him stop and turn back. “We’re a country trying to figure out who we are,” he said, his gaze still bent on the flames.

  “My lord?” Geoffrey asked, taking a step back toward him.

  Garoun shifted, glancing at Geoffrey. “Burieng,” he said. “We’re half Rinc Nain, half Cariste – other parts Endolin, Keste…” he paused and nodded toward the door, where Pladt presumably waited. “Werine: I recognized Pladt, who he was,” he added, gazing at Geoffrey. “Even the Ancient Kalen, long since gone from these lands, still hold sway over it within the Forest. If both Earls could come together, imagine what might be accomplished against Lasserain? Instead, here we are: divided, unable to make a decision for fear it’s the wrong one – about to fall.”

  “That is indeed true, my lord,” Geoffrey said, though his thoughts were not on Jyunta alone. “And I would that all Burieng will one day be united; but if we wait too long, it may be united under Lasserain.”

  “Yes, I know,” Garoun said, his gaze returning again to the fire. “Good luck, Geoffrey.”

  Turning on his heel, Geoffrey departed the hall. He found Pladt outside conversing with another man who appeared several years younger than Geoffrey, but not many. Sarah had apparently departed again; as much as she wanted to be part of the company, she could not seem
to stay around when he might need her.

  Pladt looked up as Geoffrey stepped through the door, and broke into a grin.

  “Geoffrey, this is Corith,” he said with a meaningful glance. “He says he’s the leader of the troops; that Lord Garoun sent for him. He even speaks Cariste!” he added with a broad grin.

  Corith, Geoffrey recalled, was to be their guide through the Northern Forest, though Corith was undoubtedly unaware of the fact. Short and lithe, Corith did look the part of guide - a man who could get himself into and out of just about anywhere. His features were nondescript, also marking him ideal as a scout, someone that no one would remember. And yet his easy smile engendered trust almost immediately. It was no small wonder to Geoffrey that Corith had gotten the attention of Earl Durdamon.

  “Many in Jyunta speak the language,” Corith explained. “We’re not quite as cosmopolitan as Estwind; but if that port sees it, so do we, at least in some small measure. For traders, there’s no other route overland.”

  “True enough,” Geoffrey replied, descending the stairs with hand outstretched. Corith took it and gripped it firmly; his spirit, at least, was yet unbroken. “What does the city have as far as builders?”

  “We have three masons and five carpenters, all with apprentices,” Corith replied. “At least, we had before the battle last night. We may have lost some; I have been tending to the troops since then.”

  “Yes, troops: what soldiers are under your command?”

  “About thirty men—”

  “About?” Geoffrey demanded with an authoritative air Pladt had never heard.