by Cas Peace
He rewound his bow, taking the bolt held out to him by an impressed Vanyr. “Where the Void did you learn to shoot like that?” the Commander murmured.
Dexter, crouched on the other side of the tree, heard him and chuckled. “Our Captain’s the best shot in the King’s forces.”
Robin smiled grimly and took aim on another of Sonten’s men, who had left himself exposed while searching for a target of his own. He never stood a chance.
After that, the opportunity for clear shots was over. Robin released his swordsmen and Sonten’s defenders rushed toward them. The clash of steel and the cries of men sounded louder than normal in the darkness. Robin and Vanyr fought side by side, the Commander grunting hard with each stroke. Dexter fought on their right, his strokes rarely missing their target.
Despite their skill, it soon became clear that the defenders were too well entrenched for the Albian forces to make any real headway. They fell back on Robin’s signal and regrouped, none of them having seen Zolt get through. Dexter thought he had seen a man on the roof of an outhouse, but couldn’t be sure if it was Zolt or one of Sonten’s men. Robin shrugged. He could only hope the man would return safely with his report.
He took stock of injuries and losses. They had got off lightly due to the surprise of their attack, and there were only minor wounds. The crossbows, however, had accounted for a good ten of Sonten’s men, which was heartening. To prevent the besiegers from resting, Robin gave the order for the bowmen to continue shooting sporadically during the night. Then he retired to the barn.
Baily and Parren were already there. Vanyr, Ky-shan, Almid, and Kester followed Robin in. The two giants, much to Robin’s surprise, stationed themselves on either side of him as he sat on a campstool, and Parren regarded them sourly, looking them up and down. “What’s this, Tamsen?” he sneered. “Bodyguards?”
Robin smiled. “No, Parren, just loyal friends. Not virtues you have much experience of, are they, loyalty and friendship?”
Parren’s expression hardened and he stared hungrily at Robin. He forbore to comment, but his demeanor promised retribution. Robin didn’t dwell on it. He had more pressing matters to worry over. Once they had eaten and the camp settled for the night, he turned in.
+ + + + +
Dexter’s hand on his shoulder woke him just before dawn. The barn was quiet, the others still asleep. Robin roused and followed Dexter at the Sergeant’s beckon. A figure wrapped in a cloak was waiting for him outside, the little man’s grin clearly visible in the predawn gloom.
“Zolt,” exclaimed Robin softly, “I didn’t expect you back so soon. Any luck?”
The small man nodded. “Told you it wouldn’t take me long, Skip. Yes, I got your information.”
“Come and tell me what you learned,” said Robin, keen to hear the news and form a plan before Parren got wind of it. He guided Zolt over to the edge of the camp, Dexter following. “Right, let’s have it. You obviously didn’t have any trouble from Sonten’s men.”
The little man spat dismissively. “It was easy as stealing. Managed to slip past them and move about freely. I know how to be inconspicuous when I want. From what I could tell, pretty much all the villagers are being held in a large building to the west. It’s a tavern. None of them have been harmed, as far as I could tell. Some of their jailors are a little worse for drink, but not enough to incapacitate them. I doubt they’ve paid for their grog, though, and your tavern keeper’s none too happy! Your mate Cal isn’t with them. He and Sonten, along with about five guards, are holed up in a small cottage near where the two streets cross. It’s in a right state. There’s rubble all over the deck and it looks like someone’s been digging up the floor.”
Robin frowned. Had Sonten already found the Staff? “Do you think the rubble’s fresh, or does it look like it’s been there for weeks?”
“Dunno.” Zolt shrugged. “There’s plaster dust everywhere. Could be fresh, could be old. Dust is dust.”
“I suppose so. Alright, what else did you learn? I take it Cal’s still alive?”
“He’s alive. I saw him through the window. He’s in a bad way, though. Broken arm at least, and he’s been beaten and burned. I reckon Sonten’s not finished with him yet either, because one of the guards was giving him water. He’s safe enough for now.”
Robin forced down his concern for Cal. He could not afford the distraction. “What about their numbers?”
The little man replied after a moment’s hesitation. ‘‘I reckon two-fifty’s about right, Skip. I couldn’t see any more concealed anywhere. Most of Sonten’s strength’s in the cordon. There’re only a few score inside the village as guards. My guess is that the villagers’ good behavior is surety for Cal’s life, and they’re mindful of that. But they didn’t look like they were cowed or frightened, so I don’t think they’d hesitate to fight back if they thought it would do any good.”
Robin pondered this before realizing he had to tell the others. Much as he hated to admit it, Parren was right. Blaine had not put anyone in overall charge, and he, Baily, and Parren were all the same rank. Without their cooperation he couldn’t command them, and he needed their cooperation if the village was to be saved. Taking Zolt back inside the barn, he woke the others and told them the news.
Parren was unimpressed by Zolt’s suggestion that the villagers would support them from the inside. “I think we ought to wait for this Sonten to dig up what he wants and let him leave the village,” he said. “That way he’s done all the hard work, none of the villagers are endangered, and we can engage him out in the fields.”
Cautious as always, Baily shook his head. “Don’t forget he has equal numbers. It wouldn’t be an easy fight, out in the open with no cover.”
“And there’s no guarantee he’ll leave the villagers unharmed,” added Robin. “He’s bound to kill Cal, at least, and I wouldn’t put it past him to fire the houses as a diversion. Even kill the lot of them as revenge for Rykan’s death.”
Parren glared at him. “That was your doing, Tamsen, not ours. It has nothing to do with Albia.”
“He’s made it Albia’s business by invading Hyecombe,” Robin shot back.
“And anyway,” said Baily, “since when have we let demons run roughshod over our countryside without giving them a taste of our steel?” He flushed, suddenly remembering there were five armed demons in the barn with him. He glanced hastily at them. “Begging your pardon, of course.”
Vanyr showed his teeth and Ky-shan glowered.
Robin sighed. He couldn’t afford to let them argue. “Gentlemen, all this bickering is getting us nowhere. General Blaine’s orders are that we do whatever we can to prevent Sonten from escaping with the Staff, and to rescue Cal. Protecting the villagers is a given, but we mustn’t let Sonten leave. Are you two going to help me or not?”
“Of course we are,” said Baily. He glared pointedly at Parren.
The sallow captain didn’t take his empty eyes from Robin’s face. “Oh yes, of course. Can’t leave the Queen of Darkness in trouble, can we?”
Robin reacted immediately, but Vanyr was quicker. The Andaryan loomed over Parren, his lithe form hovering dangerously, his hand on his sword hilt. “Are you referring to Major Sullyan?”
Parren was unfazed by Vanyr’s menace and spat back at him, “What’s it to you? You another witch-lover, are you?”
Vanyr’s white eyes narrowed. “How dare you? She’s a friend, and a good one. If I hear any more insults from your mouth, I’ll stop it for good.”
Parren snarled, surging forward with his sword half-drawn. “I’d like to see you try!”
Dismayed, Robin stepped between them. Almid and Kester moved swiftly to either side of Parren, ready to take his arms if necessary. Glowering at them, recognizing his peril, Parren spat on the ground by Vanyr’s feet. His sword slid home.
Robin stared at both of them, trying to keep his tone level. “Gentlemen, please! Surely we have more important concerns right now than arguing and insulting each ot
her? There’ll be time enough for settling personal scores once we’ve accomplished our task.” He turned to Vanyr. “Commander, may I remind you of the reason we’re here? The Major is relying on us. Let’s keep our minds on that.”
Vanyr backed off slowly, his eyes still fixed on Parren. “Very well, Captain. But once we’re done here, I intend to have an accounting for his insults.”
“My pleasure.” Parren spat again. “If you live long enough.”
The tension in the barn subsided as they made their plans. The dawn light brought confirmation that their night raid, coupled with the sporadic attacks that had continued through the dark hours, had caused Sonten to tighten his cordon. He had fired some of the outlying buildings, presumably to prevent them being used by the Albians, and had withdrawn farther into the village. The smoke gave the Albians some cover, but also meant it was harder to see Sonten’s men.
Robin, his memories of the village from his brief acquaintance with Paulus, Hyecombe’s Elder and tavern keeper, having been refreshed by Zolt, drew its layout in the dust for the others to see. “There’s one central street,” he said, “running east to west, like this. The tavern where the villagers are being held is at the western end—here. There’s another lane running at a tangent to the main one. Taran’s house, where Cal and Sonten are, is here, just before that lane bisects the main one. There are houses and shops along both streets, but they’re probably deserted, if the villagers are all in the tavern as Zolt says. That means they can be used as cover by Sonten’s men, and we can’t let that happen or we’ll never flush them out.
“I suggest we expand on last night’s tactics. If we detail about a third of our strength to mount an attack at the eastern end of the village, the Andaryans will have to counter it. Once they’re committed, the rest of us will make an all-out assault on the western end, forcing Sonten to split his men. With any luck, we’ll capture the tavern before they can stop us. If we do, I think the villagers will lend us their support by fighting back. It’s a gamble, but if we time it right, I think we stand a good chance of success. Any thoughts?”
He glanced around, inviting comment. Parren remained silent, and Robin suppressed a sigh. The man was going to keep any thoughts, helpful or otherwise, to himself. Judging by his expression, he was still seething, and probably hoping either that Robin would be killed in the fighting or that the plan would fail, causing Robin to lose face with Blaine. Either way, Robin knew, Parren would be happy. He certainly wouldn’t lose any sleep if they lost the Staff.
By the look on Baily’s face, he was going over the plan in his mind. Naturally cautious, he was not given to spontaneous action. While his courage was never in doubt, he wasn’t known for making quick decisions. Robin suspected the man would never rise higher than captain, but he knew Baily wasn’t worried. He was quite content with his life. He eventually shook his head, seeing no flaws in the plan.
After giving the Albians time to speak, Vanyr voiced his thoughts. “Captain, it occurs to me that the house where Cal is being held is some distance from the tavern. As the villagers are your first objective, might I suggest that Ky-shan and I make the house our target? If Sonten has not yet recovered the Staff then he’s likely to use Cal against you. And if he gains it over the next few hours he’ll want to slip away as quickly as possible. He may very well kill Cal once he’s served his purpose. If Ky-shan’s men and I head directly for the house, using your attacks as cover, we can be in a position to prevent Sonten’s escape and hopefully offer Cal some protection as well.”
Robin glanced at Ky-shan, who nodded, before turning back to Vanyr. “That sounds good to me, Commander. You and Ky-shan will hold yourselves in readiness. Wait for us to gain you access to the village. You will then concentrate on the cottage. Baily, how many men do you think you would need to cause a good diversion at the eastern edge of the village? If you circle north round the fields and come up through the trees, you can get pretty close to the end of the main street before you risk being seen. Remember, we need enough to make them think you’re a decent attack-force.”
Baily thought about it while Robin suppressed his impatience. “I’ll need them all, Robin. To make it look like there’s more of us, some could cut south and come up through the orchards as well, although we’ll have to take care to avoid the marshes and the pond.”
Robin nodded, indicating the marshes on his drawing. “We should all avoid that area, although if we can get Sonten on the run, we can push his men that way. They don’t know the terrain, and the ground looks solid enough until you step on it. Right then, Baily will split his command and come at the eastern end of the village from the trees and the orchards. The rest will come with Parren and me. Torman, it might be better if you and Ky-shan go through the fields to the north and approach Taran’s house from the back. Once you hear the fighting start and the cordon begins to fragment, you can make straight for the house. And if Sonten’s men don’t all leave their posts, you should still be able to slip through by working your way closer to the tavern and driving in with us. But the field route would be better because it would save you having to cut through the mêlée. Are we all agreed?”
There were no objections, so it only remained to decide the timing of the attack. Parren wanted to go in straight away, and Baily recommended waiting until the evening. Robin and Vanyr, however, were both in accord.
“Unless Sonten finds the Staff beforehand and shows signs of trying to leave,” the Andaryan Commander said, “I recommend just before dawn tomorrow. They’ll be cold, hungry, and sleepy. We’ll have the advantage of knowing it will get lighter, so if the fighting’s fierce, we won’t have to worry about losing them in the dark. The last thing we want is for Sonten to slip the net.”
Parren’s eyes betrayed his thoughts on that, but he kept his counsel and no one but Robin noticed.
“We should mount occasional raids on the cordon throughout the rest of the day and night,” continued Vanyr, “to keep Sonten unsettled and hopefully account for a few more of his men. Even the odds a little before we strike.”
“I agree,” Robin said, “although I hate the thought of leaving Cal so long in Sonten’s hands. I dread to think what state he’ll be in. Zolt, do you think there’s any chance of you getting back into the village and passing a message to Cal? At least to alert him to the possibility of rescue? It might just give him the strength to hold out.”
Zolt shook his head. “I could get back in alright, but there’s no way I can guarantee getting a message to your mate without jeopardizing the whole operation. Not in daylight, anyhow. He was pretty closely guarded last night and, from what I could see, he was in a bad way. I’d have to risk entering the house to make sure he saw me, and that would have been tricky enough last night. Nothing will have changed today to make it any easier. I think you should stick to the plan, Skip. Keep them on their toes today to let them know we’ve not given up. With any luck, and if he’s conscious, your friend will hear us and know help is at hand. Let Sonten think he’s held us off successfully, then drive in hard and fast at dawn.”
Still unhappy about Cal’s precarious situation, Robin couldn’t improve on the plan. They parted, Parren still muttering about wasting time.
Throughout the rest of the day the Albians subjected Sonten’s men to sporadic raids. Although this kept them awake and alert, it didn’t do much else. Robin tried to curb his impatience by going over the plan again and again in his mind. He felt frustrated that he was unable to do more. He tried contacting Cal on more than one occasion, but spellsilver was still blocking his mind. All Robin could glean from his efforts was that the dark-skinned young Apprentice was alive and, for the most part, conscious.
Chapter Eight
At that moment, Cal would have been more than happy to be thoroughly oblivious. His broken right arm was in agony, and his entire body was one vast bruise. He knew that if they started on him again, he would have no strength left for resistance. He wasn’t even sure why he was bothering to r
esist at all. According to Sonten, Taran, Bull, and Robin were dead, as was Sullyan. She had been killed by Rykan, who even now was lording it over the Hierarch, whom he had deposed and would soon execute. Sonten would be his right-hand man once he returned to Andaryon with the Staff, a priceless artifact that Taran had willfully stolen from Sonten’s nephew, murdering him most foully in the process.
Cal might be dazed and confused from the pain, but he knew very well that the last two statements were false. Taran had never stolen anything in his entire life—unlike Cal himself—and the young man was well aware of the story behind Jaskin’s killing. So, he reasoned, if these two things were false, what about the rest?
He didn’t know. All he did know was that after Sonten’s men had taken them, he and Taran had been severely beaten. Then Robin and Bull had been captured too, and Sonten had tormented Taran with graphic descriptions of what he would do to his friends if Taran didn’t tell him what he wanted to know.
Now Cal was on his own, so Sonten’s story about the others being dead could very well be true. And from what he had seen of the duel between Rykan and Sullyan, well, none of them had held out much hope for her survival. Sonten was here, in Albia, and clearly in control. If the Major had triumphed, surely Sonten would now be the Hierarch’s prisoner.
Bewildered, in pain, and afraid, Cal very much feared that most of what Sonten had said was true. He knew the General would see the killing of his nephew as murder no matter what the circumstances, and Taran must somehow have been persuaded to give Sonten the information he wanted, because the General hadn’t needed Cal’s assistance to find their village. When they had arrived, Cal was dismayed to find that Sonten’s men were already in control of Hyecombe, and that the villagers had all been imprisoned. This had very nearly broken what remained of Cal’s spirit. There seemed little point in holding out any longer.