The Last Archer: A Green Ember Story

by S D Smith

  “But your father’s debts, and any disgrace, need not fall on you,” Smalls said.

  Jo looked down. “It’s easy to say that when it isn’t your own family’s story.”

  “I understand. So how will you come out of it, Jo? You don’t seem the type to settle for dishonor.”

  “No, Smalls, I won’t,” Jo said. “I’ve told almost no one this, but I paid Father’s debts.”

  “Even though you had no obligation?”

  “No legal obligation.”

  “I see.”

  “And I’ve tried ever since to pursue honor and distinction in the field my father dreamed of. I’m an archer.”

  “You must be doing well, Jo. I know the citadels have only brought their finest to this congress, so you must be well thought of at Halfwind. Congratulations.”

  “I’m not so well thought of as you might think,” Jo said, glancing back at the tents behind and below them, “but I aim to change that.”

  “I hope you gain all you aim for and strike the target in its middlemost heart,” Smalls said.

  Jo felt this genuine well-wishing like a blessing. He had no idea why he had so honestly opened up to this stranger. Smalls was young, yes, but when Jo looked into his eyes, he saw a deep well. Jo had told him so much in such a short time, even about paying Father’s debts. Would he next share how he gave the sisters the portion he used to set aside to pay debts? Would he tell this rabbit his deepest secrets? Jo knew that, for courtesy, and to protect himself, he must turn the conversation back.

  “What about your father, Smalls?”

  “Died as well,” Smalls answered. Jo waited for him to elaborate, but he only stared off into the distance, a look of inconsolable longing on his face.

  “What’s your course now, Smalls? Find a calling here, a wife?” Jo asked. Smalls looked down, grimacing as he did. “There is a doe,” Jo said, smiling at Smalls. “I can tell. There’s a doe you have in mind.”

  Smalls nodded, then let out a short laugh. “There’s always hope,” he said. “As for my calling, I’m a soldier and a scout, eager to take the war to Morbin, just like everyone else. I don’t know what will happen to me, but I know what I have to do.”

  Jo nodded. “May your feet find the next stone.”

  “And you, brother,” Smalls said, touching his ears, eyes, then mouth.

  Just then, the evening bell rang out.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Jo hurried down the steps and jogged over to join up with the mustering bucks of Halfwind. He found Nate and the Bracers, and he stepped into the last slot just as Captain Frye appeared at the head of the company. Jo stood near the middle of the fifty or so soldiers who had been selected for this mission. Each buck stood a comfortable distance away from the next.

  “Soldiers, we are officially here as Lord Ramnor’s escort,” Frye began, “but we all know that other kinds of trouble may await us. There are traitors here. We know who they are. They know who they are. So, we must be vigilant. You have had your rest; now we must work.” He signaled to Lieutenant Drand, who hurried to the front of the muster. “Lieutenant Drand will lead you through drill, but I will be watching. Do not put our citadel to shame. Let us show what we are capable of.” He pounded his chest three times, and the entire company followed suit. Then a rhythmic drumming began in the core of the company, and Jo joined in, slapping his thigh in time with the thrilling, thrumming sound.

  Lieutenant Drand smiled, then shouted, “Attack positions!” The company burst into action, letting out a fierce cry as they crouched in readiness. “Advance and draw!” he called. The company surged ahead, each buck retrieving his sword and holding it ready. “Battle forms!” Jo joined the others, all swinging their swords in energetic, but careful, maneuvers, keeping their distance from one another.

  “Hold and thunder!” Drand ordered. The company stopped moving forward but kept their feet churning in deliberate steps, crouching in a rapid stamp that seemed to shake the ground. Jo’s legs hurt, but he had done this often and knew he had it in him to continue. He wouldn’t let Nate down. The rhythmic rumble stretched on in a swelling anticipation.

  “Strike on me!” Drand cried at last, louder than ever, in an urgent order that the eager bucks obeyed with fervor. They swarmed their commander, swords poised and cries ringing out, in a blistering attack that collapsed the space between soldiers. Jo, anticipating the order, pressed ahead, and brought his sword point near Drand’s neck in time with only a few others. They froze there, weapons aimed and holding steady, until Drand, who had not moved, nodded approvingly and called out, “Turn and rally!” Each rabbit drew back and twisted, rushing back to his original mark in line. When they were all set, Lieutenant Drand glanced over at Captain Frye. The old buck nodded. “Partner and clash,” Drand called, and he walked over to speak to Captain Frye while the soldiers paired up. Jo and Owen partnered and began going through sword forms together, working hard and challenging each other intensely.

  “You’re good with a blade,” Owen said, surprised. “I mean, you’re by far the worst in the Bracers, but still, not as terrible as I would have thought.”

  “Thank you?” Jo smirked.

  Owen nodded, smiling mischievously. They kept working for the next half hour, Jo feeling more and more at home among the bucks of Nate’s band.

  “How long have you been with Nate’s archers?” Jo asked as they took a moment to catch their breath.

  “Six months or so,” Owen answered.

  “Is he always as focused and, I don’t know,” Jo searched for the word, “perfect?”

  “Nate’s all he seems,” Owen said, “but he has chinks in his armor just like everyone else. A few months back, he almost left Halfwind.”

  “I never heard about that. Why?”

  “He lets the pressure build and build. He takes too much on himself. He acts like the pressure doesn’t matter. He ignores it; then it comes back and attacks him all at once. It was pretty bad.”

  Jo felt a twinge of guilt. He had always thought of Nate as nearly invincible and had envied him for it. He shook his head.

  “What is it?” Owen asked.

  “I can’t believe how unfair I’ve been to Nate,” Jo said.

  Owen nodded and seemed impressed by Jo’s contrition. “Yeah, of all the rabbits to be angry at, Nate shouldn’t be high on anyone’s list.”

  Just then Jo saw a grey rabbit emerge from the cave passage ahead and gaze over the plateau as if he was looking for someone. Jo squinted, then pointed, eyes going wide.

  “Is that Wilfred Longtreader?” he asked, a knot of anger twisting in his stomach. He knew what the older rabbit looked like from drawings and descriptions.

  “I think it must be,” Owen said. He looked on in disgust as Wilfred stood in front of the caves. The loud clang of clashing swords died down as a murmur swelled among the Halfwind company. Jo saw Captain Frye break off his conversation with Drand to angrily ask why none of his soldiers were working. Before anyone else could speak, his gaze fell on Wilfred. His eyes bulged and his mouth bent in a fierce frown. He marched toward Wilfred.

  Jo stepped forward, eager to see and hear what would pass. But he had no need to fear not hearing. The whole plateau had gone quiet. Wilfred was looking past Frye, toward the standing stones, then back over the Halfwind soldiers.

  “Ah, come to spy out our military readiness, have you, Longtreader scum?” Frye asked, coming almost nose-to-nose with Wilfred.

  The grey buck didn’t blanch. “They have been well cared for, Captain,” Wilfred said, glancing over the Halfwind bucks. “If only your breath had been so diligently addressed,” he finished, waving the air between himself and Frye.

  “You mock me?” Frye asked in almost a snarl. Jo saw that Wilfred was calm, carefully attending to his surroundings, while Captain Frye was near frothing.

  “I do. But you do far worse to me, without even accounting for the foul breath. Mockery is far less severe than slander,” Wilfred said.

&nbs
p; “Slander?” Frye fumed. “Do you deny that Longtreaders betrayed the king to Morbin Blackhawk?”

  “Longtreader,” Wilfred said, his own anger rising. “Singular. One Longtreader, first name Garten.”

  “Do you deny that you answered to your brother, Garten?”

  “I do not. I was his right hand.”

  “And yet you persist in this fantasy that we’re supposed to believe you knew nothing of the imminent betrayal?”

  Wilfred’s head fell, and he rubbed at his eyes. He looked very tired. Jo nodded, and murmuring began again among the Halfwind soldiers. Jo felt as though Captain Frye’s fury spoke for every common buck who hated the name Longtreader and wanted them confronted with their treachery.

  After a moment, Wilfred spoke again. “I am ashamed I did not see it coming,” he said, his anger subsiding and his voice much softer. “It’s a shame that I strive every day to erase.”

  “You can’t pretend your family is anything other than a cadre of traitors,” Frye said coldly, “and every last one of you deserves justice.”

  “Does Lord Ramnor know that you threaten me,” Wilfred asked, “and that you threaten my young niece and nephew? How many children need to be killed to satisfy your slanderous bloodlust?”

  “They aren’t really children.” Frye said, his voice growing louder again. “We want justice, and if the lords can’t bring it, then we will.”

  “You’re insane, Frye,” Wilfred said, “and I wish you’d see reason and join the actual cause of Jupiter’s heir and the Mended Wood.”

  “You don’t get to lecture me!” Frye shouted. “I bled for this cause, and I’ll die for it. I’d give my life in a moment if it meant advancing this cause. Even if that meant going outside the law to deal with you!”

  Jo found himself grunting his agreement with the watching soldiers as they not-so-silently urged their captain on.

  “You sadden me deeply, Frye,” Wilfred said. “I want you to aim your weapons at Morbin and Redeye Garlackson once more.”

  “I am,” Frye said. Then he raised his arm and turned to his soldiers. After a moment’s pause, he cried out, “Strike on me!”

  Jo and the rest of the Halfwind soldiers gave a shout and charged toward Wilfred. Captain Frye tore free his sword and, along with fifty furious bucks, leveled it at Wilfred’s neck. Jo’s own blade was stretched out and his face set in an angry snarl.

  “What do you say now, Traitor Longtreader?” Frye asked, seething with rage.

  Wilfred had a sword at his side, and Jo could tell by his motions that he knew how to handle himself. Yet the sword stayed in its sheath. Probably smart. If he dared draw on Frye, he would be cut to pieces in a moment.

  Then Jo heard another voice, a strong, calm tone that sounded familiar. “Wilfred, sir,” Jo heard, “you’ll be late for the meeting with the citadel lords. I know they’re expecting you at their session. Let’s go.” Then Jo saw him, the white rabbit from the seventh standing stone. Smalls took Wilfred’s arm and, though Wilfred was reluctant to step away, as good as forced him to turn and head back into the cave. They disappeared as the sun set.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The next days passed quickly, but the tension in Cloud Mountain only rose. Rumor had it that Captain Frye had been reprimanded and warned by the congress—in a narrow vote—not to harass Wilfred Longtreader. Others said that the incident hadn’t even been reported. Still, most of the Halfwind soldiers, and their friends from Blackstone Citadel, seemed certain that the trial of Wilfred Longtreader would be announced at any moment.

  Jo joined the other soldiers in congratulating Captain Frye for standing up to the traitor. At lunch one day, Jo saluted the surly captain. “You were right to do it, sir,” Jo said. “Thank you for saying what none of us can.”

  “Stay alert, soldier,” Frye said, nodding to Jo with a neutral expression. “Storm’s coming. Be ready.”

  That night the storm did come, rolling in just as Jo and the Bracers followed Captain Frye and Pacer out of the Savory Den and into the long cave tunnel. They emerged into the night as the rain started, with thunder booming. A pulsing flash lit up the purple clouds hanging low overhead. Jo felt like the storm was right on top of them. He shivered, and not from cold. Once beyond the cave and into the woods, Pacer led them down the mountain and toward a tower hide. The tower hide was a secret fort built for observation. Jo climbed the rope ladder and went through the hole cut in the wood that surrounded the high, large, but well-concealed tower hide in the forest. Thankfully, a sturdy roof kept off the rain.

  “Captain Frye, if you please. The Bracers will observe from here,” Pacer said, motioning to Nate. “I’ll take my bucks into the woods for our perimeter checks. I’ll see you at the rendezvous.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant Pacer,” Frye said. “Keep a sharp eye out, lads. Captain Brone of Blackstone says they’ve had wolf sightings the past few nights. Lieutenant Flynn, carry on.”

  Nate saluted his commander and gathered the Bracers.

  “Studge, Junder, Owen, and Shanks, you’re on first watch,” Nate said. “The rest will sleep until midnight.” They nodded, and Nate assigned Jo and each of the other first watchers to one of the four sides of the fort.

  From his perch, Jo had a clear view of several open areas of the mountainside forest. He could see, by squinting in the occasional flashes of light, the wider open lands toward the bottom of the mountain. The tower hide was partway down the mountain, below the usual fog. But in this rumbling storm, there was no wispy wall of mist, only a bank of cloud so heavy and threatening that Jo cringed at its closeness. Right now the clouds seemed to be just overhead, and their thundering rumble rattled his bones.

  The lightning, which had so far lit up only the angry clouds above, now sent a searing spike to earth, crackling down to shatter a tree close to the fort. Jo shot up and stumbled back. His heart was racing, but he peered out into the night. He had seen something in the sudden light.

  Keeping his eyes on the spot, he waited until the next flash illuminated the clearing. There, he saw three rabbits. It was Pacer’s team. There were two bucks with the lieutenant, and Jo relaxed as the storm went on. Still, Jo kept an eye out, especially in that clearing, to see if Pacer’s team was being followed.

  Captain Frye rounded the corner, hands behind his back as he examined Jo’s position and the surrounding scene. “You all right, soldier?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Jo said, “but I saw something, there.” He pointed to the clearing. “It was Lieutenant Pacer’s team, sir.”

  “Very good,” Frye began. “Like I said, we have to—”

  “Wait,” Jo said, cutting him off. “Look!” he whispered.

  Captain Frye turned to see what Jo had seen. A lone rabbit, visible in the frequent flashes of lightning, was crouched near the edge of the clearing where Pacer’s team had just passed. He looked nervously back and forth, even peering toward the fort where two sets of eager eyes gazed down on him.

  “Can you make out who he is?” Captain Frye asked in his gruff tone. “My eyes aren’t as young as they once were.”

  “I see him pretty clearly, sir,” Jo said, “but I don’t recognize him.”

  “Color?”

  “Grey or gold, sir,” Jo said. “Maybe both. It’s hard to see color well, especially in this rain.”

  “Well,” Captain Frye said, whistling softly. “That’s very interesting. Let’s get down there and see what’s afoot.”

  Jo saluted, and they quickly found Nate. “Lieutenant Flynn, leave four bucks here,” Frye said. “The rest, including you, with me. Now!”

  “Yes, sir,” Nate said, hurrying to leave orders with the restless bucks.

  Captain Frye was already making his difficult way down the ladder, followed by Jo, Junder, and Nate. Reaching the wet forest floor, they followed Captain Frye down the mountainside, toward the clearing where they had seen the grey-and-gold-furred rabbit.

  Captain Frye was out of breath by the time they came to t
he clearing, and they slowed to approach the spot with caution. Jo had his bow out as he scanned the darkness for any sign of movement. When they reached the spot, Frye raised his hand in a signal to wait and pointed to his ears. Jo listened carefully over the pattering rain, continuing to scan the clearing and the surrounding trees.

  An agonizing minute passed before they heard a rustling across the clearing. Captain Frye signaled them to stay down, then peered out into the night. Then Jo heard a very familiar sound—the thwick and whish of an arrow fired.

  Nate Flynn darted out a hand, undercutting Captain Frye’s feet as the arrows sped overhead, and the old captain tumbled down. Jo got to his knees as he and Junder quickly nocked and fired a return volley, sending several shots into the darkness from which their attackers had fired. Junder got to his feet and darted right, firing as he moved wider. They were trained for this. To make a target harder to hit, you split up to widen your force. Jo sprang up and headed left. After a few steps, he leapt from a rock, firing in midair as the sky crackled and split with a twisting dart of lightning. Landing, he rolled over and took cover behind a tree.

  A quiet moment passed in which Jo could hear his heartbeat, Captain Frye’s wheeze, and the steady sound of the slowly weakening rain.

  Then they came.

  Wolves broke into the clearing.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Three of the massive creatures surged toward them across the clearing. Their attack was covered by arrows shot from at least one more wolf in hiding.

  “Run!” Captain Frye called, and the three younger rabbits quickly obeyed. There was no shame in a strategic retreat when the odds were this bad.

  Jo risked a last shot into the forest, but he turned to flee before he could see if it had helped stifle the lupine archer in the darkness.

  It was a mad scramble back up the mountain, and he had never run so fast. Nor ever had he felt so powerless to escape. The wolves were too big, and too fast, to just dart away from easily. And he kept slipping on the wet, muddy ground.