by M. K. Adams
“Yes,” she replied as she scanned each and every line of information like a thirst she had not known she needed to quench until now. “Troop numbers… Officer names… Turiel, this has everything.”
The pair smiled at one another. “Nearly… nearly everything,” He replied, blunting the enthusiasm. “This document belonged to a foreign dignitary, specifically one from the Kingdom of Midden. They stole it from the king during a series of diplomatic talks, and one our sources within the castle caught drift and let us know. With the timing of it going missing, it wasn’t hard to figure out where it had gone. That’s when you and I stepped in, the night before the dignitary was due to head back to Midden. The only thing that it doesn’t detail is where the troops are based.”
“Which is why there’s a plan to use Avagarde to draw them out?”
“Exactly,” Turiel confirmed. The memory of his argument with Jocelyn came rushing back to him, and he had no doubt that Lyvanne had noticed it when he bit his lip in guilt. All he could do now was thank the Goddess’ fortune that Jocelyn had made her peace with what needed to happen, and more importantly, had forgiven him.
“Turiel… what happened to Drystal?” Lyvanne asked, her eyes never leaving the wooden soldier as she spun over and over again high above the ground.
“He…” Turiel started to reply, careful to find the right words. “We couldn’t keep someone like that around, not after what he did to you.”
“Is he dead?”
“Yes,” he replied, not wanting to keep the truth from her. Tears began to well in her eyes as she held her head up high and forced the water to stay hidden. He was more surprised to find his own vision blurred as water slowly forced its way across his eyes. “Come here,” Turiel said before walking around the table to her side and placing both his arms around her shoulders and bringing her in tight to his chest. “You’re growing up too quick.”
• • •
Later that afternoon, Lyvanne found herself sat around a large cauldron that was bubbling over with water and vegetables as she helped Oblib with that evening’s meal prep. Apparently her talents weren’t as a future chef, as Oblib was quick to jovially chastise her for the multitude of mistakes she was making.
“It’s not my fault this rabbit has no meat on it!” she replied one time, earning a few cheers of encouragement from passers-by.
Shortly after, she was relegated to washing pots and pans. Not the most thrilling of past times, but she was happy to be helping out where she could. It was in the middle of her washing up that Lyvanne saw Kwah rush into the Annex with Turiel in tow behind him. Something’s happening, Lyvanne thought as she watched the pair shifting around figures on their map of The Rive. They were shortly joined by Tublik and Shri’ook who appeared from differing parts of the camp.
“Eyes down kid,” Oblib said, as he turned her head back towards the dishes with a forceful hand. “Not for our eyes and ears until we’re told it is.”
Lyvanne grunted her reluctant acceptance. She knew Oblib was right, she’d been fortunate to be involved in conversations that she shouldn’t have been before, but if she was going to fit in then she had to know her place alongside everyone else. Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait long. A few minutes later, Kwah appeared from within the Annex and started rounding up various men and women from around the camp. Not everyone, Lyvanne noticed, but a sizeable number.
“What’s going on?” Lyvanne asked Oblib, all the while making sure she kept scrubbing the dirty cooking utensils.
“Looks like someone’s found us a new target on the North Road,” Oblib replied as he nonchalantly carried on mixing in ingredients into a large cauldron.
Lyvanne’s mind raced with possibilities. She remembered Jocelyn saying earlier in the day that the reason for the camp’s location wasn’t just that it was hidden among the trees, and hard to get to with a sizeable troop. But that less than half a day’s ride to the east was a fairly significant road, which connected Avagarde with the northern reaches of The Rive, including Astreya. From this location, The Spring could carry out strikes along the road against the king’s convoys; whether they were carrying food, money or weapons and not be in the immediate vicinity where the king would search if he ever grew tired of their attacks.
Spread throughout the camp, Lyvanne could make out men and women sharpening weapons at a much faster rate than was usually the case. Others had begun prepping gambesons and stray pieces of leather armour, washing it and testing that it was fit for purpose.
“Will people get hurt?”
“Depends what the target is like,” Oblib replied, clearly not taking much notice in what was happening. “If there’s a big security detail then yeah maybe, but that’s what we’ve got Tyler for.”
One medic between a camp of over fifty didn’t seem like great numbers to Lyvanne, but she bit her tongue. She just hoped that Tyler wasn’t the only one who knew how to knit stitches.
Moments later, much to her surprise, Kwah came over in her direction.
“You want to see what we’re all about kid?” he asked, a toothy smile on his face.
She didn’t know what to say or what to expect.
“Go on kid, gotta be around this stuff eventually,” Oblib said, egging her on from his cauldron.
“Yeah… yeah okay then,” she replied, putting down the washing. “I won’t need to kill anyone will I?”
Kwah burst out in laughter as he ushered her over towards where the weapons were being prepped.
“No kid, no you won’t. We leave at first light, how about you help this lot sharpen weapons and clean up the armour until evening meal?”
She nodded and immediately found a spot to sit down and help out. The armour smelled, and the swords felt unnatural and heavy to hold, but she didn’t let that deter her. Instead, she just gritted her teeth and kept working. Those around her helped when they saw her struggling, but she was doing a decent enough job that she could handle most of what was needed on her own.
Turiel emerged from the Annex shortly thereafter and passed her as he made his way over to their hut. He looked down at her as he passed by and gave her a wink. She returned the gesture. She hated to admit it, but she was excited.
Chapter 25
Oblib hadn’t been wrong. The North Road stretched out before Lyvanne, almost as far as the eye could see before it followed the curvature of an outbreak of hills in the distance. As the company had gathered to leave, Lyvanne had done a quick head count. At least half, she thought to herself, half of the camp was being taken.
“Our scouts report that the security detail is large enough to signal a worthy target,” Kwah had said during his briefing the night before. Lyvanne recalled the feeling of nausea she’d had whilst listening to the plan. “One convoy heading south from Astreya, we’ll be split into two teams to handle this one. A prime team, and a second hidden from view… there for emergencies.”
Lyvanne had asked why that was the case, and Turiel had been forthcoming. “If we start showing our real numbers then it’s more likely that the king will start to take notice. The Spring has always tried do things with the fewest people involved that the situation will allow,” he said as they walked towards their destination.
The flatlands themselves save for the occasional small hill that was dotted across the landscape, were not ideal for ambushes. At least not at first glance, which was probably ideal. The particular section of road that Lyvanne now looked over was at the bottom of a small ridge, not taller than seven feet high and only three or four carriages long, but it was enough to hide some of their troops. On the other side of the road was a field of crops grown tall, that’s where the other half of The Spring had hidden, the half who ideally wouldn’t be needed.
The journey to the spot had gone quickly, but long enough for Lyvanne to bite off half of her nails with nerves and anticipation. She’d never dreamed of being in a situation like this, and now here she was, laying down on the top of the small ridge, eagerly waiting the s
ignal from Turiel to retreat further into the field behind her with Jocelyn and to hide. She wasn’t to take part in the mission, which she was thankful for, but everyone had agreed that the sooner she was around situations like these the sooner she’d be able to handle herself when the right time came.
The plan seemed simple enough. There were enough weapons at camp for everyone who went on the mission to be armed, and should everything go smoothly, they wouldn’t have to use any of them.
“Are you nervous, little one?” Jocelyn asked, as she lay beside Lyvanne on the dew covered grass.
“Yes,” she wasn’t afraid to admit it.
There was something else that had added to Lyvanne’s nerves. Upon leaving the camp at daybreak, Jocelyn had readied herself for a fight, just in case she was called upon to protect Lyvanne. Around her waist, she’d hung two swords, both identical and as basic as they came.
“They might not look like much, but they suit my style of fighting,” Jocelyn had said. But it wasn’t Jocelyn’s ability to fight that had Lyvanne worried. It was the burning memory of her nightmares, the reminder that she’d watched Jocelyn die so many times, and many of them with twin swords in hand.
“Just try not to get into trouble if you don’t have to, okay?” she said as she turned on the grass to face her protector.
“That’s the plan,” Jocelyn replied, a playful grin peering back at Lyvanne. “Chances are that they’ll surrender once they see they’re outnumbered anyway,” Lyvanne wasn’t sure how it was that easy, but she nodded along and hoped for the best.
It wasn’t much later that they caught the first signs of the convoy in the distance. The king’s silver and green banners were flying high from two carriages, and Lyvanne could make out at least five or six heavily armed guards riding alongside.
Turiel came up behind them. “Time for you two to disappear.”
Without needing to be told twice, they crouched and retreated back to their hiding spot a few metres away and off to the side where they had a clear but hidden view of what was about to unfold.
From her spot in the tall grasses of the field Lyvanne saw one of the singing brothers. Greyson, she thought, but couldn’t tell from that distance, step out onto the road, a bit further down from the ridge. He had his lute in hand and began playing. Lyvanne was sure that he had been a bard before he and his brother joined The Spring.
The convoy grew closer. Two carriages and six guards, all adorning the king’s colours.
“What do you -
“Sssh,” Jocelyn interjected, holding a single finger up to her lips.
She heard shouting from the convoy, someone was calling out to Greyson to step out of the way. Unsurprisingly, he ignored them and carried on playing. Just as they’d planned the convoy began to slow down, eventually stopping right where Turiel and the others were waiting; at the bottom of the small ridge.
“Greetings, gentlemen,” she heard Greyson saying, but the response from the guard was muzzled by his steel helm.
The guard who was at the front of the convoy was becoming highly animated, waving his arms in erratic fashion as if it would magically cast Greyson to the side of the road. Then came the whistle, and as if perfectly rehearsed all of the men and women lying flat against the ridge rose in unison, each of them with a longbow in hand. All together they knocked an arrow into their bow and aimed them down at the convoy. The horses jerked as the figures rose like shadows from the dark, but the guards kept control. She was surprised to see how calm everyone in the convoy looked. They were easily outnumbered by nearly two to one just by the people on the ridge.
She spied Turiel among those on top of the ridge. He seemed quite in control of the situation, his voice commanding and stern as he shouted down his conditions to the convoy.
“Place your weapons on the floor and drop to your knees!” he shouted.
After a moment’s hesitation, it became clear why the king’s soldiers appeared so calm. As four more heavily armed soldiers exited the front carriage and piled out onto the road on the opposite side of the ridge, putting the safety of the lumbering carriage frame between themselves and the archers above. Lyvanne knew that they’d inadvertently put themselves closer to Kwah’s troops hidden in the crops behind them, but they wouldn’t appear unless absolutely necessary. Suddenly the odds seemed far more even than they had before. Twelve lightly armed soldiers on the ridge facing off against ten fully armoured soldiers on the road, as well as two drivers. Greyson, still stood in the road beyond the carriages tipped the odds in the favour of The Spring by one person, but even with the archers trained on their prey Lyvanne didn’t trust the arrows to pierce the plate armour of all their targets, and that still left the four other soldiers who were hidden behind the carriage.
The nerves made her feel sick, but at the same time she was entirely enthralled. Her mind was racing with numbers, possibilities and strategies.
Turiel began shouting at the convoy again, ordering the hidden soldiers to come out from behind the carriage. But they weren’t about to budge and the parley didn’t appear to be going well.
Lyvanne’s eyes drifted to the second carriage, the one that was obviously carrying the cargo. What have they got in there? She wondered. She was no military genius but it seemed like a significant security escort for whatever it was inside. Jocelyn moved beside her. Looking across she noticed that the Hemeti had moved her hand down by her side, hovering ready over the hilt of one of her swords.
This isn’t going well, Lyvanne thought as she saw the concerned look growing in Jocelyn’s eyes. She moved her attention back to the road. The person who was talking with Turiel had begun to remove his sword from its sheath, she could see Turiel commanding him to stop, but it appeared a lost cause.
There was movement in the field opposite the ridge. Tall stems of wheat began to move, rustling as if blown by a wind and as she had expected, Kwah and the rest of the men and women who had been brought along from camp emerged out onto the road, swords in hand. They immediately took hold of the four soldiers who had used the carriage as cover from the archers on the ridge, and the game was won.
“Surrender!” she heard Turiel shout down from the ridge as Kwah appeared around the side of the carriage with his prisoners in hand. No doubt the soldiers would still be able to take a few of The Spring with them into the next life if they chose to fight, but it was no longer a fight that they could win.
Jocelyn breathed a sigh of relief as they watched the rest of the convoy place their weapons on the ground, swiftly followed by Turiel leading the archers down from the ridge to procure them for better use. The convoy had been taken and not a single person had needed to lose their life. Lyvanne felt pleased, almost proud even, knowing that if it had been the other way around then the king would have ordered men to kill first, ask questions later. But they were better than that.
The pair waited, they knew the drill; once the king’s men had been dispatched they could join in. Turiel hadn’t wanted to risk Lyvanne being out in the open, even after the battle had been won. So they watched as one by one the king’s soldiers were bound and placed into the first carriage, whilst Kwah and three others worked on breaking open the rear carriage. Once the soldiers had been squeezed into one carriage, Turiel gave one of the driving horses a slap across the rear and set it off back in the direction of Astreya. Lyvanne wasted no time in running over to the road once the coast was clear, Jocelyn taking a more relaxed approach to her walk over.
“Well done!” she shouted at Turiel as she ran over and jumped into his arms. She hadn’t known what to expect from the ambush, but she’d never felt adrenaline quite like it.
“Thanks, little one. It nearly didn’t go so smooth. We have Kwah to thank for that,” He said beckoning over to the muscle laden islander who was currently contending with a particularly stubborn rear door of a windowless carriage.
All in all, The Spring had commandeered a selection of well-made Palace steel longswords, two longbows fashioned from som
e kind of animal bone and most importantly nine of the king’s royal horses, strong and beautiful Destriers taken from the Eastern Plains.
Crack! Kwah and his companions had broken into the carriage.
“Turiel, you better come see this,” Kwah said from behind the carriage.
Turiel, Jocelyn, Lyvanne and few more curious men and women who were keen to see what the prize for the ambush would be made their way over to Kwah. What Lyvanne saw made her sick to her stomach. The carriage wasn’t filled with money, food, or any other goods that could be put to purpose by The Spring. It was filled Hemeti.
Mostly everyone stood there in stunned silence. One Hemeti woman to the back of the crowd started crying, and the look on Jocelyn’s face turned ice cold. Slavery was common among pirates off the coast of The Rive, it was even known to take place in some of the richer households on the Shimmering Isles. But it was a strictly forbidden practice on The Rive.
“Are they prisoners?” she asked, hoping that her initial reaction had been wrong.
Turiel shook his head. “No need to transport prisoners,” he replied, his eyes moving to watch Jocelyn. Lyvanne thought that it looked like he wanted to say something to her, to comfort her perhaps, but the words were lost in the gravity of the moment. There were ten Hemeti in total, two of whom were no older than Lyvanne was. Sat in their own squalor each of them looked deprived of nutrition, their ribs showing through their skin and barely enough energy to raise their hands as Jocelyn took the first steps up into the carriage to help them.
“Get in and help them,” Kwah ordered to a handful of people stood around him.
“Why?” It was about the only question Lyvanne could feasibly put together. She had no idea that this sort of thing was happening in The Rive, let alone under the orders of the king.
“I don’t know, Lyvanne. I’m sorry,” Turiel replied, his face forlorn and haggard.
Lyvanne stole a look back at the carriage as the first of the Hemeti was helped out and onto the road. They looked drained of all life, and she wasn’t even sure if they were aware they had been rescued.