Kairos could not stay silent any longer.
‘W-what was that?’ he asked as loudly as he dared.
‘What was what?’ Gulliver misunderstood the question, then saw that Kairos was staring at the cleared, narrow path. ‘Oh, the magic? A minor windcutter spell. Easy to do, really. You could probably learn it in a few months with the proper study.’
Kairos froze. The enemy who killed his comrades could also use this ‘magic.’ Thoughts swarmed around his head. Could everyone in this land use such trickery? Could he learn it? Would it save his homeland?
‘Are you coming?’ Gulliver snapped Kairos from his reverie.
‘Y-yeah,’ he mumbled, shuffling along the newly cleared path, thoughts of magic on his mind. He did not dwell on it all day, though. He soon had other concerns.
As the sun rose, casting dim light through the thick foliage of the forest, Kairos was limping along, his feet ached, and he was hungry and exhausted. He continued due to sheer willpower and the fact that he did not want to appear inferior or weak in front of Gulliver. The knight saw his struggles, however, and instead of mocking him for his shortcomings, he took pity and called for a short rest, setting up camp beside a stream.
The site was a steep, wooded bank with an overhang of earth and tree roots that provided them with not only shelter, but cover from prying eyes should their pursuers venture near. They miserably hunched under their meagre shelter, eating dried fish and stale bread that Gulliver had brought along and drinking from the stream to quench their thirst.
There was no sound of anything else nearby, except the trickling of the stream and the chatter of birds, so Kairos risked a whisper.
‘Why are you helping me?’
After travelling for so long in silence, the young knight jumped at the sound of Kairos’s voice. ‘What do you mean?’
‘What’s in this for you? I have nothing to give you, and I’m only slowing you down.’
‘It’s my duty as a Mana Knight to help you,’ Gulliver replied.
That answer did not help, but Kairos did not persist. He assumed that Gulliver wanted something from him; no Einar would ever help a total stranger from the kindness of his heart unless there was something to gain. So be it, he thought. If the knight wanted to use him, then he would use the knight. The first thing he would do was learn as much as possible from him.
‘What is this place? Cape Caipora, you called it. What sort of place is it?’
Gulliver nodded as if pleased to engage in conversation. ‘Cape Caipora was the promontory with the lighthouse. The most north-westerly point of Ordonia, garrisoned by the Mana Knights, just me and Tanton, really.’ His face sank and looked down. ‘Was garrisoned, I might add. Malus’s army now holds it.’
Most of this made little sense to Kairos. ‘What is a Mana Knight?’ he asked.
The young knight gave Kairos a quizzical glance. ‘You don’t know much, do you?’ Before Kairos could answer, he continued, ‘Mana Knights are the protectors of the godshards, and the defenders of justice. We promote peace throughout the land by aiding those in need. Come on, mate. Even the most outlandish country bumpkin knows what a Mana Knight is! Were you born inside a mountain, or across the sea?’
Kairos flushed in embarrassment at his own ignorance, but said nothing. He listened to Gulliver explain more about the Knighthood, yammering on about peace and justice, which sounded like an odd concept to an Einar’s ears. No one talked about peace in Logres, where the love of battle was shared amongst all clans. Then again, this whole land seemed odd to Kairos. Everything from the vegetation to the animals and creatures. Even the way Gulliver spoke differed from the Einar. Kairos couldn’t quite place it, his words took on a lilting intonation compared to the Einars’ sharp way of speaking. He wondered what kind of gods these people worshipped, and if they even knew about Rudras.
‘I suppose the Mana Knights and Magmus’s army are enemies?’ Kairos asked. The enemy of his enemy could possibly be a friend.
‘It’s Malus,’ Gulliver corrected, ‘and yes, he has been our enemy for more than fifty years.’
‘Fifty years!’ Kairos gasped. ‘He must be a shrivelled, old man.’
‘Shhh! Not so loud,’ Gulliver hissed. ‘He’s an elf. A dark elf. They live much longer than we humans do… You really don’t know much, do you?’
Kairos ignored the question. ‘Who’s going to stop Malus? Where is the rest of your army?’
Gulliver looked uncertain. ‘In Vadost. We can only hope they saw my signal fire…’
‘Signal fire?’ Kairos asked. ‘Was that the large fire you had atop the tower?’
‘Aye,’ Gulliver replied. ‘It is the Knighthood’s way of sounding the alarm to danger. The other citadels see our signal fire and light their own. This continues until the knighthood sends us help. If they even saw the fire before Malus’s army extinguished it.’
‘How long will it take for them to come?’
‘At least a week, I suppose,’ said Gulliver grimly.
‘We’ll be dead by then!’ said Kairos.
‘We can make it,’ Gulliver said, clapping Kairos on the back reassuringly. ‘We have to keep moving, otherwise they’ll catch us.’
‘Like the other knight?’
‘Aye.’ Gulliver’s face paled at the mention of Tanton, but he shook his head and looked up. ‘What about you? Do you have family?’
‘I did,’ said Kairos. ‘They are gone now. I’m all alone.’ He gritted his teeth, fighting back the tears. If his father were here, he would have cuffed him.
‘You’re not alone now,’ said Gulliver. His teeth flashed in the gloom.
Kairos forced a smile, but deep inside he felt empty and lost.
The song of the birds in the forest ceased. Something momentarily blotted out the sun’s light trickling above the canopy. Kairos peered up. A beast with a large wingspan soared over their campsite and across the stream. A rider sat on its back watching the ground below. Gulliver grabbed Kairos and pulled him further into the dark shadows of the earthen overhang on the bank.
‘A griffon-rider,’ the knight hissed. ‘Get back or he’ll see you!’
As soon as he uttered the warning, more griffon-riders flew over. Kairos willed them not to detect their hiding place. Gulliver held still in the corner of the overhang.
The griffon-riders flew so low that they almost brushed the treetops, and Kairos and Gulliver could smell the beasts, but none of them seemed to look in their direction. The sight of the winged beasts brought back the memories of Kairos’s battle at sea, the fear he felt back then had now returned. His whole body trembled.
After some time, the pair dared to breathe again. They waited a while longer after the last griffon-rider flew by before cautiously venturing out of their hiding place and peering around. There were no signs of the flying beasts, and the birds had resumed their singing, but the pair feared it was only a matter of time before the dwarves caught up. They were both stiff. Kairos still felt weak from his fever and found it hard to stand. His breathing was laboured as he concentrated on overcoming his dizziness. ‘Where shall we go?’ he dared to whisper.
‘Those griffons were heading east,’ said Gulliver. ‘Downstream leads to a settlement to the south, though it’s a bit of a longer route to Vadost. It’s called Milbrooke. We can replenish our food there, and walking in the water will mask our trail.’
‘Vadost?’ Kairos asked. He had heard Gulliver mention that word before, yet there were many words not making sense to him lately.
Gulliver sighed like a parent explaining something to a child. ‘It’s the second largest city in Ordonia. The Mana Knights have a strong presence there, and Malus’s army would not dare attack them there. That’s where we need to be.’
Gulliver offered his hand to Kairos who was still unsteady on his feet, and together, they waded downstream. Kairos struggled to keep up with Gulliver. He wished he still had the boots he had left at Cape Caipora. The soft, sandy bottom of the stream provide
d some relief to his feet, which were beginning to form blisters on the bottoms, but trudging through the water slowed their pace significantly. Although it was difficult to walk, the wonders of the flora and fauna around him took his mind from the pain. He did not know that so much green could exist in the world. The birds even seemed happy. The Einar would love it here, he thought sadly.
They followed the stream for the remainder of the day, taking shelter in what Gulliver claimed was an abandoned Caipora den underground, still filled with primitive furniture, a bundle of furs, and some crockery that was apparently stolen from humans. Gulliver discovered the dwelling by accident after he tried unsuccessfully to catch a rabbit for dinner. In the furthest depths of the den, Kairos found the skeletal remains of a humanoid creature that was almost his size.
‘Probably died of old age.’ Gulliver prodded the skull with the tip of his mana lance, which was partially extended. ‘It’s very odd that it lived alone. Caiporas usually live in large families.’
‘We should bury it,’ Kairos suggested, ‘so we don’t anger its spirit.’
The knight paused and raised an eyebrow, but shrugged. ‘Very well. Where do you suggest?’
‘Outside, since we’re staying in here.’
Gulliver did not argue. They buried the skeleton in a shallow, sandy grave near the stream, and ventured back inside the den. Kairos found a dagger, which also seemed to have been stolen from humans, and took it for himself. The blade provided him a sense of relief and security, for any Einar without a weapon felt naked and exposed.
The pair spoke very little that night, since the day’s journey had sapped them of their energy. Gulliver’s plan to go south seemed to have worked for they heard no signs of the pursuers, but they dared not risk making more noise than necessary. Hunger was their immediate concern. They had eaten the remaining food Gulliver had brought along, and now their stomachs growled pitifully. Kairos feared starvation would kill them before their pursuers could. At least they had a bed tonight, if rather earthy, using the bundle of furs for warmth.
The following morning, they left the caipora den and resumed their journey south. Kairos wondered if the forest would ever end; it stretched further than the largest isle in Logres.
‘We should be arriving at Milbrooke soon,’ Gulliver said, as if reading Kairos’s thoughts. ‘We’ll fill our bellies soon.’
It was late evening when they finally came to edge of the trees. Kairos’s hopes sank as he smelt the smoke in the forest before seeing it. They emerged to a great expanse of rolling hills, which would have been beautiful on any other day.
‘Dear Zemus,’ Gulliver gasped, making the sign of his god. ‘What happened?’
They saw the source of the smoke – the charred remains of what was once a thriving settlement.
Milbrooke was no more.
* * *
The small settlement – what remained of it – nestled in the bend of the stream. The buildings with walls made of finely hewn rocks still stood, though their thatched roofs had burnt away. The charred beams of the other buildings stood out like blackened skeletons, smoke billowing out from their remains. Only one dilapidated barn had escaped the flames, perhaps due to the attackers feeling it was already damaged enough on its own. The dead were heaped on the ground near the dwellings, some charred, others butchered. Some corpses lay on the outskirts of the settlement, a pitiful attempt to flee the attackers, but none had made it far. Whoever killed them was much faster.
‘Dear Zemus,’ Gulliver said again, covering his mouth.
Memories of Logres flooded Kairos’s mind at the vision before him. The Einar attacked each other and razed settlements, but they did not wantonly slaughter the women and children like this. Instead, they took them as thralls to serve the victorious clan. As he saw the charred body of a little boy, a slow anger began to boil within him. This was butchery.
‘Why do they kill the children?’ Kairos asked.
‘Malus and his army despise humans.’
Sensing no sign of the enemy, the pair entered the settlement in silence, both fearing what other atrocities they would find within. Gulliver walked past the corpse of a middle-aged farmer, cut in half. His torso, with its gut lines, soaked the earth while the legs lay nearby, bent at odd angles. The young knight hurried away a few paces and vomited. When he was finished, he gazed at Kairos in shock.
‘W-what are you doing?’
‘Taking his boots,’ Kairos said. ‘He doesn’t need them anymore, but I do.’
Gulliver frowned, but said nothing as Kairos tugged the pair of boots off the dismembered legs. Kairos knew the knight disapproved of looting the dead, but the Einar had always looted corpses after a battle. Spoils of war. He tried on the boots and discovered that they were a little loose, given that the farmer was a grown man, but he could walk around fine and the lining inside felt comfortable on his travel-worn feet.
They went to the first largest building. Its walls, made of stone, were now blackened from the soot. Near the entrance, the burnt bodies of a couple huddled together, embracing each other in death. Gulliver mumbled something under his breath but Kairos couldn’t make it out. He cast a glimpse at the young knight, whose tears had begun to roll down his scruffy cheeks, leaving salty furrows in the grime. Kairos looked away and back to the building they had just reached. It was getting dark now, and Kairos strained to see in the gloom. Nothing could have survived here. Whatever food there must have been was burnt.
‘We shouldn’t tarry here,’ Gulliver muttered.
Kairos nodded. There was nothing here except death. He had been hungry earlier, but the sight before him made him lose whatever appetite he had, leaving only weakness behind. As the pair readied to leave, they heard a horse whinny from the dilapidated barn, causing both to jump at the sound.
Gulliver stealthily unslung his spear. ‘Can you fight?’ he whispered.
‘A little,’ replied Kairos, drawing his recently acquired dagger and wondering the same thing about the knight. For an adult, Gulliver’s face had a soft look of a boy, and his body lacked the chiselled physical conditioning and size that the Einar took pride in. But Kairos would take any ally now than face whatever danger lurked nearby alone.
His hand shook. Was there an enemy still in the barn, waiting to ambush them? Or did the attackers simply leave a horse behind? He did not ask the questions on his mind, but silently moved forward with Gulliver; two cats stalking their prey. Kairos was not sure what the knight planned to do, but he felt his own blood rise at the anticipation of action. These past few days of travel and self-reflection wearied his soul, and here was a chance for him to do something – redeem himself, at least.
Gulliver’s brows furrowed in pure concentration as he clutched his mana lance tightly. The tip of the spear was made of a blue stone, which gave off a faint glow as the entire spear lengthened to six feet. The knight no longer looked like a soft, innocent boy as he nodded for Kairos to move forward. They crept towards the barn, using an overturned cart and the boles of the remaining trees for cover, spreading out to approach the barn from two different angles. Another horse whinny gave them a heartbeat’s pause.
Kairos did not think. The wave of battle lust descended upon him. If there was an enemy inside, he would take his revenge, thinking of Thylar, the crew on the Grenda, and the slaughtered villagers of this town. He didn’t care if he was outnumbered, and he didn’t care if he was going to die. He wanted there to be a score of dwarven warriors inside to fight, because if he could lash out at them, then each slash of his dagger would cleave away at the guilt that had been gnawing at him ever since he escaped Malus’s army at sea.
Gulliver tried to motion Kairos to wait, but the young Einar ran into the barn, dagger ready for blood. Once inside the shadowy interior, he didn’t find the dwarven warriors, a griffon, or its elven rider.
He found a girl around his age, huddling protectively over a smaller boy, who was next to a brown mare, all three looking fearfully at him.
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* * *
Captain Hargonnas patted his griffon on the neck and congratulated himself for the successful raid on the town, which yielded a plump reward for his men. The townsfolk of Milbrooke did not put up much of a fight, and those that did were easily defeated.
Hargonnas had been itching for a fight. He wanted to prove himself to Malus by locating the boy from across the sea along with his knightly companion. There were only two settlements near Cape Caipora that those two could travel to within a week: Milbrooke and Gersholm. Captain Hargonnas anticipated that Gersholm, being closer, was the obvious route for the two fugitives, but his instincts told him they would go to Milbrooke, especially if they managed to see the griffons flying eastward from the forest.
‘We should not attack Milbrooke,’ his Sergeant, Selkis, had warned him. ‘We should conceal ourselves and observe. They will appear before long and we can capture them when they leave.’
The captain seethed at the memory. He was not going to allow some inferior tell him what to do. Sergeant Selkis was jealous, because Hargonnas had managed to rise to the rank of captain despite being the son of a tailor and a light elf. Selkis was the son of a prominent dark elf lord, yet he did not command the magical power that Hargonnas did. He saw the hatred in the sergeant’s violet eyes and knew who to watch out for when his back was turned.
So he attacked Milbrooke. His men were frustrated and restless after raiding the lighthouse and only finding a paltry store of food and a fat, bloated knight who squealed like a swine before slaughter. He grovelled before Hargonnas and told everything he knew about the visitor from ‘across the sea’ along with his knowledge of the Knighthood – which wasn’t much. Unfortunately, listening to the snivelling knight wasted time, and the other knight and the boy had escaped. His men’s morale plummeted after scouring the forests in an unfruitful search. Therefore, the attack on the village cheered them up immensely, the loot and carnage applying a much needed salve to the boredom festering amongst them.
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