by B N Miles
Now he looked emaciated and his skin hung off him in loose flaps. His tunic was ripped and stained, and his trousers were no more than scraps. His sons looked much the same, hollow-eyed and starving. The three of them reeked, though Cam was having a hard time pinpointing exactly where the smell of unwashed Humanity was coming from.
“Arter,” Cam said, standing next to Key.
The former Elder’s eyes widened. “Cam,” he said. “By the Urspirit, I’m so happy to see you.”
“What’s happening here?” he asked.
Arter took a step back and leaned against a wooden post. He stared over Cam’s shoulder, seemingly at nothing, before shaking his head. He looked at the ground like he couldn’t bring himself to meet Cam’s gaze. That wasn’t the Arter Cam remembered from just over a week ago, and he wondered what had happened to the man.
“The wolves came days after we left you. They took the village, killed anyone that fought, captured the rest. Rounded us up, marched us here, and threw us inside that… that cage. Left us there until… until now. I haven’t eaten in days, my sons are starving.”
“Were they feeding you?” Key asked. “How did you survive outside like this?”
“They threw scraps over the fence,” Arter said. “It was… it was a fight to get anything. There are troughs for water at the far end, and we just… Urpsirit, Cam, I can’t go back in there. I can’t go back.”
“You don’t have to,” Cam said, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder. His sons stared into the distance, and Cam wasn’t sure what they were seeing, if they were seeing anything at all.
He turned away from Arter and took Key’s arm. He pulled her aside and leaned close.
“We have to get some order,” he said. “Get these people fed and cleaned up. Start organizing them as best you can, start with Arter and his sons. Get buckets, get water from that stream to the west, and put that fire out.”
“Got it,” she said.
“I’m going to go finish off the wolves.”
She met his eyes then touched his chest. “Be careful. We can’t afford to lose more supplies”
He nodded once. Key dropped her hand, looked back at Felin, and gestured for her to follow. Felin walked over, her dagger in her belt, her arms crossed over her chest.
Cam left them to work it out. He moved through the steady stream of people lingering and wandering the open campsite, looking confused and lost and starving. He slid his sword from its sheath and walked toward the burning tents. He found a half-dead wolf still smoldering on the ground and finished it off with a sword through its neck. A wolf lunged at him from the safety of an unburned tent, but he ashed the thing without a second thought, his fire springing up along his blade like a rolling wave.
He swept through the camp and killed any wolf he came across. He used fire where he had to but kept it to a minimum and refrained from burning any more tents. There weren’t many left alive, and when he was finished, half the tents were still burning, but the rest stood.
He found the Medlar men picking through what was left of the campsite while Frew’s men gathered in a loose group, cheering their victory and offering praises to the Urspirit.
“Dagan!” Cam shouted as he dropped his flames again, the Need slamming into him in a rush. He clenched his jaw and forced away the discomfort as Dagan detached himself from the Medlar warriors and came over.
“We need to get these fires out,” Cam said. “Key and Felin are trying to organize the prisoners. Send a few men to help them.”
Dagan nodded. “How bad are they?” he asked, eyes moving over to the mass of starving people.
“Arter’s there, Dagan,” Cam said.
Dagan’s eyes went wide and he pulled back.
“Arter?” he asked. “And his sons?”
“Both of his sons are alive,” Cam said. “We’ll talk to him and figure out what to do. But for now, we need to get the fires out and take stock of what we have. Dagan, those people are starving.”
Dagan nodded, his eyes hard. “I’ll get on it.”
“Bring Frew’s men with you. They don’t seem interested in doing much right now.”
Dagan looked at the group of cheering and praying warriors and let out a grunt. He was sweating and breathing hard, and his spear was slicked with gore, but he had a determined gleam in his eye.
“I’ll take care of them,” Dagan said and marched off.
Cam nodded and turned to look out over the camp before walking over to the nearest earthwork. He climbed up and stood on top of it, one hand on the hilt of his sword, the other holding on to a wooden stake hammered into the top. He leaned against it and surveyed the camp with a deep, terrible sinking feeling.
Humans lingered all over as the tents burned. He saw some of them beginning to organize into groups led by Felin, Key, and Miuri. They brought buckets of water from inside the pens, and Cam guessed they were taking water from the trough. They began to fight the fires as Dagan practically dragged Frew’s men along with him to help out.
Cam guessed at least eighty, maybe a hundred people still remained. Most were lingering in small circles, leaning against the fences or sitting out in the open, oblivious to the burning tents around them. The whole camp was in chaos, and Cam knew this was going to be more difficult than he had anticipated.
But they had done it at least, and with no casualties so far as he could tell. Burning the tents was a mistake, and he knew they would all pay for his bloodlust, but it felt so good to ash those wolves. Hatred boiled up inside of him, and he had to take deep breaths to steady himself. The Need was there, clawing at his mind, making him want to take more power into his body, or to find his nearest girlfriend and fuck her into oblivion. But he had to keep control, had to stay in charge.
Right now, these people needed his leadership more than anything else, and he couldn’t let them down.
“Cam!” He saw Miuri waving to him. She was working with Dagan and Frew’s men as they searched for buckets and gathered more water.
He nodded to himself, climbed down off the earthworks, and went to help.
17
It took an hour to get the fires out. When they were finished, Cam and his warriors picked through what was left and found as many supplies as they could.
Most of the tents closest to where Cam had unleashed his magic were destroyed beyond recognition. Nothing could be done about those, and whatever supplies they had held were no more than ash beneath their boots.
But most of the large tent had survived, though the front half was charred. Miuri found rations inside, rice, lentils, turnips, cabbage, and a small amount of heavily salted fermented fish. Kenden and Godug set to work figuring out how much they had and how much they’d need. There wasn’t a lot, but it would help feed the hungry and confused people that milled around the camp.
Frew and his men set up as much shelter as they could. They dismantled two of the watch towers, and as the sun sank down into darkness, they created a makeshift pavilion for people to sleep beneath. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. There were still wolf tents available, and those were given out to the weakest.
Campfires sprang up and Key oversaw the distribution of food. Theus helped organize the prisoners into groups, and they handed out as much as they could. Cam watched it all and moved through the people, speaking with them and providing as much comfort as he could.
He heard the same stories over and over. These people were from the surrounding villages and farmsteads. The wolves came in the night, killed and burned as much as they could. They murdered anyone that fought back, took anyone that didn’t, and brought them here to this horrible place.
Cam met a woman with long, dark hair and sunken blue eyes. She a wore a brightly colored shawl around her shoulders that was mud stained and torn.
“I was in that pen for a week,” she said. “Maybe longer, I don’t know. The wolves brought more people every morning, young and old, didn’t matter. They shoved them in, packed us all tight
. Sometimes, they’d take a group away, corralled them, put them in chains, and march off.”
“Where were they taking them?” Cam asked.
She only shook her head. “I was waiting for my turn when you came,” she said.
He moved on and heard more stories just like it. The wolves would bring more captives in the morning and take large groups throughout the day, marching them north, never to be seen again. The wolves threw scraps over the fence, and people would fight over them like dogs. Several people claimed the wolves would laugh as they wrestled for scraps of old, moldy bread.
After several hours of work and too many troubling stories, he found Felin alone beside a fire in the far corner of the campsite, right near the earthworks. He sat down beside her for a moment and she leaned against his shoulder without speaking. He put an arm across her, and she stayed there in silence for a few minutes.
“This was a staging ground,” Cam said, breaking their silence, his voice no more than a whisper. “Wolves were bringing prisoners here before they marched them somewhere else. I think that’s why it’s not heavily guarded. It’s just a stopover before taking the prisoners somewhere else.”
Felin nodded. “I think you’re right.” She pulled back and stared into his eyes. “Cam, I didn’t know places like this existed.”
He touched her cheek and thumbed her lower lip. “I believe you.”
She bit his thumb then kissed him. He kissed her back, the Need he’d been trying to ignore all evening flaring to life again. But she broke the kiss off and leaned back against the earthworks, staring up at the sky. Cam had to take deep breaths to keep him from having her then and there.
“I knew we were taking prisoners,” she said. “I knew we were taking slaves. But I didn’t know…” She trailed off, eyes moving over to the pens. “I didn’t know we were doing that.”
Cam didn’t speak. He was hungry and exhausted, and the Need still gnawed at him. He didn’t know when he’d have a chance to take care of it, but soon he’d break down and pull one of his girls off into the darkness of the surrounding forest. He noticed that the Need wasn’t as bad as it had been, though still present and still very much driving him wild. But it was possible to control, or at least to ignore it enough to think.
Felin leaned against him and they shared a long silence. Cam stared into the flames and thought about his own mistakes, his own failures. He never should have unleashed all that magic and burned so many tents. He should have left the Mansion sooner and looked for people to help instead of wasting so much time talking politics and strategy with Remorn and the Elders. He burned Theus and scarred his best friend through his own recklessness and lack of control. So many lives were lost because of his inaction, and he feared more lives would be lost if he didn’t pull himself together.
He looked up from the fire and scanned the camp. He saw Theus slip past a group of older women wrapped in rags and huddled around a small campfire. He hurried toward Cam, head bent forward, eyes hard. Cam shifted his weight and sat up straight as Theus approached the fire and lifted his head.
“Cam,” he said.
“What’s wrong?” Cam asked.
“There’s someone you have to meet,” he said.
Cam nodded then looked at Felin. She gave him a look and shrugged. He pulled his arm away from her shoulder and got to his feet, battling the exhaustion and the Need that still roared in his skull.
“All right,” Cam said. “Take me there.”
Theus nodded, turned, and stalked off without another word. Cam had a strange feeling as he followed his friend through the camp. People sat in groups around campfires, some of them huddled together as if for warmth, some of them spread out and lounging back against the ground like they needed as much space as they could get. Cam could only guess what being locked in a pen for days or weeks at a time would do to a person, and he tried not to put any judgement on the people around him.
They were victims of a horrible atrocity, and they needed time to deal with their wounds.
Cam followed Theus along the western edge of the earthworks and approached a fire burning outside of a lone wolf tent. The tent itself was a long triangle, with worn, frayed edges and a flap in the front, pinned back to allow airflow. Elder Dagan and Elder Frew sat in front of the fire with a man Cam didn’t recognize.
“There he is,” Elder Frew said. “The shaman that can’t follow directions.”
Cam gave Frew a look then bowed his head. “Elders,” he said.
“Ignore Frew,” Dagan said. “Come sit down. We have someone you need to meet.”
Cam looked up and frowned at the man who sat between them. He wore dark brown pants, worn and ripped in places, and a long, dark blue tunic that was missing one sleeve. His hair was dark black and patchy in places, like some of it had fallen out. He was thin like everyone else from those pens, and his eyes were hollow, sunken jewels that flickered in the flames.
Theus took a seat and leaned back on an elbow, crossing his legs at the ankles. He picked up a large wooden mug of what Cam had to assume was beer and tossed it back with a grunt. Cam lowered himself down across the fire from the stranger, sitting cross-legged.
“Cam, this is Isrit,” Dagan said. “He claims to be a scout from the army Lord Remorn sent out.”
Cam felt a jolt of surprise. He leaned forward and his hands gripped his knees. “Is that true?” he asked.
“Yes,” Isrit said. “And I know where they are.”
Cam looked around in surprise and first met Dagan’s gaze. The Elder grinned at him, his head leaned back. Cam looked to Frew next, who gave Cam an angry glare, but there was a small smile at the corner of his mouth.
“How did you end up in that pen?” Cam asked.
Isrit let out a little grunt and stared at the fire. He leaned forward and picked up a small twig. He poked the flames with it, head tilted to the side like he was trying to process the question before he opened his mouth.
“Two days ago I was sent to report back to the Mansion,” he said. “I made it about this far before three wolves captured me in the forest and brought me to these pens. I was lucky they didn’t kill me, as far as we know most of our other scouts and messengers have been killed.” He shook his head, eyes wide and wild. “We’ve been sending messengers every day, but nothing comes back from the Mansion.”
“The Mansion hasn’t received a word,” Cam said.
“That’s what your Elders tell me.” Isrit glanced at Frew then back at the fire. “It doesn’t matter. None of it really matters. The Mansion couldn’t do a thing to help the army, not now.”
“Where are they?” Cam asked. He wanted to get up and shake the man, scream in his face. If they could find the army, even if it was badly beaten and a shadow of its original strength, they could build something new with it. All wasn’t lost, Cam could feel it now.
“Two days further up the valley,” he said. “Along the western ridge. They’re holed up behind makeshift palisades, with the mountain to their backs and a host of wolves at their gates.”
Cam straightened and looked at Dagan. The Elder didn’t seem surprised, so Cam guessed Isrit already told this story. Cam took a deep breath and rested his left hand on the pommel of his sword, his fingers stroking the cold, smooth metal.
“How many wolves?” Cam asked.
“Hundreds. Thousands. I don’t know.” Isrit threw the twig into the fire. “We need to get away from here. They saw that smoke you made, I’m sure of it, and they’re going to come. They won’t let us live this time. I know they won’t. They told us that, taunted us, when they weren’t busy throwing rocks.”
Cam caught an angry look from Frew. He inclined his head again in apology, and wished he could do more, but there was no going back now.
“We need to discuss this,” Cam said. “If we can reach the army—”
“No,” Isrit said, his voice hard and eyes wide. The man leaned back away from Cam and the fire. “No, I’m not going back. The wolves are everywh
ere, and they’re going to take us all again.”
“Nobody will make you go back,” Dagan said, his voice gentle. “Nobody will make you do anything. But please, tell Cam exactly where they are, and we will do the rest.”
Isrit looked around at their faces and Cam could see a deep, unrelenting fear inside the man. It sent a shiver down Cam’s spine, and he could only guess how all the others felt after surviving that pen.
Cam shifted and stood. “Dagan’s right,” Cam said. “Nobody will make you do anything you don’t want to do. But I’m going to that army, and I’m bringing it back to the Mansion. Please, rest tonight, and in the morning, you can tell me what you know.” He inclined his head out of respect for the Elders one more time before he turned and walked away from the fire.
His mind whirled with possibilities. He heard Theus catch up with him, and together they headed back to Cam’s fire.
“Go find Miuri and Key,” Cam said to Theus. “Tell them what happened and bring them over. We need to start planning.”
Theus nodded once and walked off. Cam reached the fire and sat back down next to Felin, but this time he leaned forward and looked at the flames.
“What happened?” she asked.
“There was a scout from the army in that pen,” he said. “And I think we’re going to find them.”
She sucked in a breath as he stared at the flames, fighting exhaustion, fighting the Need, but worst of all, fighting the hope that bloomed in his chest.
18
Cam woke with the sun and kindled a cook fire. He slept out under the stars the night before with Key, Felin, and Miuri. His girls were still huddled together under skins and blankets, their heads rested on their packs. Once the fire was up, he began to heat up a breakfast porridge with a mixture of Elven spices and some of the fermented fish from the night before.
The smell of the food woke Key first. She sat up, the skins falling off her bare chest, and Cam smiled at her as she stretched, her golden hair spilling down around her shoulders.