Death Rises

by Brian Murray

  Jayson realised what he had said and silently wished for a knife to draw over his wrists. He had made a mistake.

  “How many men did he bring?”

  “Everyone.”

  “Now, now. We know they have to go to Kal-Pharina to help the Chosen against the Dark One. So not everyone is here.”

  Jayson chuckled, but the sound lacked humour. “It’s only Dax, and he’s all we need against scum like you. One Rhaurn warrior against your whole god-forsaken army, that sounds like equal odds.”

  Jayson was viciously slapped again. This time he was left on the floor, unconscious. The two men interrogating him left the tent, one of them red with anger.

  “Who is Dax?” asked the other man in Raffton.

  “He is nobody,” replied Conn, picturing the warrior with his awesome axes. “Death-dealers,” he whispered.

  “Pardon?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.” Conn tried to smile for reassurance, but failed. He stalked back to his tent, his mind full of Dax’s image, looming large.

  ***

  The mist in the valley evaporated and still no sign of Jayson. So, with Thade and another scout named Paxton, Dax set out into the pass to find him. Night was descending on the three men as they moved farther north. The scout found some tracks and a hoof mark from Jayson’s horse.

  “How do you know it’s his horse?” asked Thade.

  Paxton pointed. “All the scouts here mark our horse shoes and if we’re in trouble we try and leave a hoof mark. It also avoids confusion so we don’t follow a companion’s tracks.”

  “So, we can follow the marked hoof to its destination,” said Thade with a knowing nod, answering his own question.

  “Good idea,” admitted Dax.

  The three men followed the tracks and specifically the marked horseshoe. After a while they reached the end of the pass, but the tracks continued towards the east. They decided to follow them. Soon, they reached a large campsite. Dax, Thade, and Paxton hid their horses and crept towards the camp among some trees. Dax silently killed two forward scouts and Paxton a third, taking the man in the neck with his crossbow. Paxton found the tracks and crawled back to where Dax and Thade remained hiding in thick undergrowth. Paxton entered the thicket to find Dax helping Thade into a Raffton’s uniform.

  “You’re not going to . . . ”

  “Listen,” hissed Dax. “We do not leave a man in the enemy’s company. And trust us, we have done this before.” In the gloom, Paxton could just about see Dax’s wicked smile and shivered. Dax continued. “Thade, you know what to do. Follow the tracks as far as you can. The shoe you are looking for has a V-shaped chip on the front left by the topmost nail hole.”

  “Not a problem, I hope there has not been too much movement in the camp.”

  “Thade, just go in, find him, and get him here.”

  “Trust me,” said the former gladiator mischievously.

  Before Dax could reply, Thade slipped out of the hollow and walked confidently towards the city of tents. Only then did it strike him—he could only remember very little of the Rafftonia language. He sighed and continued on his way. He reached the camp and looked down. In the murky lantern light of the camp, he found the shoe imprint he sought. He ventured in.

  ***

  The Chosen sat in his study, reading various reports. There were no reports from beyond the walls of Kal-Pharina and this bothered the emperor. He had no idea what was happening outside the walls of his city. Even in his study in the centre of Kal-Pharina, he could still just hear the howling from the Dread camped beyond the mound and moat. He sighed. He had been putting on such a brave face when touring around the white city. All of the questions being asked were about the beasts surrounding the city. The Chosen put everyone’s mind at rest, telling them they would have help and when the time came they would be victorious. He had visited the mound a few times and gazed upon the mass of creatures baying for blood. Bored of being cooped up in his room, the Chosen decided to revisit the mound. He hoped the beasts would have disappeared like a bad dream, but he knew that was wishful thinking. When he arrived at the mount, he met Danf, the son of the Cross-swords clan chieftain.

  “How are you?” asked the Chosen walking up to the young man who had helped with the construction of the defences.

  “I’m fine, your Highness,” replied Danf, bowing deeply.

  “I sense a ‘but’ in your tone.”

  “Yes,” started the young clan warrior. “I wish my clan had arrived safely. It would have been nice to see them enter the city before the gates were closed and these . . . ” he hesitated and looked out over the beasts.

  The Chosen put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I know. I would say your father is held up somewhere safe on the Steppes.”

  “I wish I could believe that, sire. They were camped to the west of the city directly from where they came from. I think . . . ” Danf’s voice drifted off—he didn’t want to finish his sentence and hear his own words aloud.

  The Chosen could say nothing. He had intelligence of where all of the major clans were during the last couple of weeks and the Cross-swords clan were to the west of the city. He silently prayed for their safety, but like the young clansman, deep down he felt a nagging trepidation.

  Staring out across the sea of beasts, all manner of thoughts drifted into his mind. Should he have evacuated the city? Should he have sent his daughters away? Where were his friends? He hoped they knew of his plight; he hoped they were safe but more importantly, coming to his aid.

  ***

  Thade entered the city of tents made by the Rafftons army. He walked as bold as brass, following the tracks but trying not to appear as though he was following them. Then towards the centre of camp he found the horse and, near the gelding, a tent guarded by two soldiers. Thade heard someone speaking the Rhaurn language and ducked down behind the horse, pretending to retie his bootlaces. He looked up and saw the back of two men leaving the tent, walking away from him. In the orange gloom of a campfire, the men were silhouetted and Thade could not see their faces. He blocked that out of his mind and looked at the tent. Two men remained outside the tent looking grim, with their spears crossed in front of the tent’s flaps.

  Time for some fancy talking, thought Thade. He straightened himself and approached the two men. He stood right in front of them and stared them both in the eye. He was impressed neither man looked back at him. Then slowly, one of the men peered at him and spoke in the guttural Raffton’s language.

  “What do you want?”

  “I’ve been ordered to see the man,” said Thade, trying to put the correct accent onto his voice.

  “Who ordered so?”

  “The general, who do you think?” snapped Thade, trying to show some authority.

  “We have no orders.”

  “I don’t care about that. I have to complete my duty. Now move!” bellowed Thade, staring into the soldier’s dark, joyless eyes.

  The soldier faltered for a moment and then lifted his spear.

  Thade entered the gloomy tent. Inside one small lantern was lit on a table, but Thade could see no one in the fabric room. Then he heard a groan. He moved around the table and saw Jayson strapped to an upended wooden chair. Thade righted the chair and cut Jayson’s bonds. Jayson slumped forward and Thade saw the whip marks on his back. Many of the raw welts were weeping blood, so gently he eased Jayson to sit straight. He tapped the man’s swollen cheek and again the scout groaned.

  “Jayson,” said Thade, shaking the scout gently. “Jayson it is I, Thade.”

  “Thade,” said Jayson weakly, opening his swollen eyes.

  “Yes, I’ve come to get you out of here.”

  “Are you insane?” asked the scout, failing to hide his sarcasm.

  “Well, I’ve been told so in the past, but that’s a conversation we will have on the right side of the pass.”

  “I’m in favour of that.”

  “Can you walk?”

  “I think so, help me up
.” Thade helped Jayson to his feet and he nearly collapsed. “Water . . . please.”

  Thade found a water canteen and handed it to the scout. The man drank deeply, then sighed and smiled at Thade. “Thank you for coming for me.”

  “Thank me after we get out of here.” Thade found Jayson’s tunic, woollen jerkin, and cloak. He helped the man into his clothes. Jayson winced when the course tunic pulled deep, purple scabs on his back. Thade moved to the back of the tent, pulled a dagger free, and cut a little peeping hole in the oiled canvass. He peered through and saw no movement. Using the dagger, he cut a long vertical slit in the canvas. He poked his head out and looked around. No movement. He helped Jayson to his feet and they moved silently through the new exit he had made.

  “We need to move fast and in silence,” whispered Thade.

  Jayson nodded, trying to block out the agonising pain from his back. Thade could see the distress across the scout’s face. “We will have you sitting before a Rhaurn fire soon enough.”

  They moved through the camp, trying to remain in the dark shadows away from the campfires.

  ***

  Dax fidgeted around, unable to sit still. He watched the camp intently, waiting for Thade to reappear. Only when they had the uniforms did he come up with the plan. The only problem was that none of the uniforms fitted him and so Thade had had to go. He hated sending his “boy” into danger, but that was the only way he could see to get Jayson out of the camp. Something told Dax to get the horses ready and he moved to where Paxton sat waiting impatiently.

  The scout was not comfortable being stationary in enemy land.

  “Get the horses ready,” whispered Dax.

  “Why?”

  “I have a feeling we will need to move fast.”

  The scout got the horses ready and Dax moved back up to the hill. He looked up and watched a deep cloud glide in front of the half-moon. Darkness shrouded the area. Slowly, the cloud moseyed clear of the half-moon and silvery light blessed the land. From their hiding place, Dax saw two riders leave the camp heading due west. One of the riders was swaying in the saddle and the other man occasionally glanced back at the camp. Then from the camp a bell sounded, and the two men heeled their horses into a wild gallop. Dax skidded down the slope towards Paxton, grabbed the reins for his horse, and vaulted into the saddle in one motion. He turned the horse and galloped away. Paxton did not need telling and followed the older warrior. Dax’s horse thundered down the hill towards the two men; one of them waved towards Dax, then pointed behind him. A squad of riders galloped out of the camp towards the two escapees.

  Dax looped his horse in front of the two riders and saw Jayson struggling to remain in the saddle. He did not stop and undid the ties to his cloak. The cloak fluttered away behind him as Dax galloped towards the enemy riders chasing them. He pulled one of his death-dealers free and wrapped his horse’s reins around the saddle horn. With his other hand free, Dax pulled out his other axe. Now he charged into the squad of eight riders. He heard a horse next to him and assumed it would be Thade, leaving the two scouts to escape. The older warrior did not look around but thundered towards the enemy, his axes down by his horse’s flanks. Then, suddenly, they clashed. Dax lifted his death-dealers and sliced one through the first rider’s neck, hacking through his leather neck guard—decapitation. The second axe clanged loudly against another man’s helm, biting deep.

  Thade was just behind Dax when he plunged into the squad of Rafftons. He had one of his gladiator short swords in his hand and charged in. He slashed upwards, hitting a man’s helm, knocking him off his horse. He blocked a slice from a cavalry sword and chopped the attacker across the neck, cutting backwards. He yanked his reins violently to the left and turned his horse virtually on the spot to face another rider. The Raffton soldier charged his horse into Thade’s, almost knocking him from this mount. Swiftly, Thade reversed his sword and plunged it into the man’s back as he passed.

  Dax turned his horse and charged into the remaining men. He knew they would not have much time and cut through another rider’s chain mail, cleaving into his neck. Hacking backhanded, he slammed one of his axes against a soldier’s helm, denting it deeply, and crushing the man’s skull. He harnessed one of his axes and unwrapped the leather reins. Dax screamed at Thade, who killed another Raffton, then galloped towards Reach Pass.

  Thade heard Dax’s cry to leave, swiftly turned his horse, and galloped after him. He took a glance over his shoulder and saw several more enemy riders leave the camp. Time to ride hard and fast, thought the former gladiator. Thade did not look back again; he could feel the thunder from the horses’ hooves in his heart.

  ***

  General Conn was fuming over the scout’s escape. He rushed to the edge of the camp with a long spyglass. He peered into the night’s gloom and saw the silvery moon glinting off one of the attacker’s weapons. Conn swallowed. He instantly recognised the warrior with his two formidable short axes. He lowered the spyglass and hollered his orders. The men were to be captured, but under no circumstances were they to enter the pass. When the squad of riders left the camp, Conn took one more look at the fleeing men. They had just crested a hill and Dax looked back. Conn was convinced the warrior was staring at him, but Dax continued on. His mind raced. It seemed that they had lost the element of surprise. But how many men did he now face? He knew Zane needed to travel to Kal-Pharina to help the Chosen, but would he turn his force and defend the pass? He shook his head. To Zane the threat from the Dark One would be more of a concern and therefore by now, he should be travelling across the Steppes.

  But if Dax were there, surely that meant Zane would be as well. So, if Zane was there how many men could he muster to defend the pass? Conn knew that with a couple thousand men the pass could prove impenetrable. He strolled back through the camp where the two soldiers who had been guarding the prisoner’s tent waited.

  “What did the man look like?” asked Conn, trying to control his anger.

  “He was an average-looking, tall man, with long dark hair and grey eyes. He was wearing one of our uniforms,” the soldier added quickly.

  Conn thought for a moment, looking down at the churned grey mud. He only knew two men who fitted that description who travelled with Dax; one was Zane and the other Thade, who was always with Dax. He concluded it must have been Thade—Dax would not have risked Zane in such an outrageous ploy. He looked up at the captain of the men.

  “Give them ten lashes each and send them home in disgrace. They are dismissed from my force.”

  “Yes sir,” replied the captain, snapping a crisp salute. The two men were taken away to endure their punishment and the personal disgrace that followed.

  Conn walked back to his own tent, mulling over the thoughts streaming into his head. He entered the oiled canvass room to be faced by the small councillor.

  “So, what does this mean?” asked Councillor Rigden.

  “Nothing,” snapped Conn, annoyed that the man was waiting for him in his tent.

  “Have we lost our element of surprise, General? And could there be a large force waiting for us in the valley?”

  “There is or there isn’t, it makes no difference. We are Rafftons and we will crush all who stand before us.”

  “We have a small window of opportunity before the snows come. We cannot afford a delay. Such an event would push us back months and then the Rhaurns may be waiting for us.”

  Conn did not answer the councillor. If we fail now there is no chance of us conquering the Rhaurns, thought the general. From outside, Conn heard a whip cracking the air, the sound of the two soldiers receiving their punishment.

  ***

  The two warriors rode their horses through the meadows, heading for the pass. They could just see the two scouts in front of them. One of the riders, Jayson, swayed badly in his saddle. Thade looked back and saw the pursuing riders were not yet gaining. However, they were all rapidly catching the two scouts. The two warriors crested a hill and their horses skidded down
into the next valley, churning the lush grassy slope. Their horses struggled up the next slope, but they reached the ridge where Dax stopped his horse and looked over his shoulder. Their pursuers crested the previous hill. He turned his horse and galloped on.

  Thade reached the two scouts to find Jayson faring badly, just managing to stay in his saddle. He knew he had no other option and leapt onto the back of Jayson’s horse.

  Now, the three horses thundered on; behind them the enemy started to close the gap.

  ***

  Zane and the remainder of the Rhaurn force reached the outpost of Mandeville several hours before Thade entered the Rafftons’ camp. Zane, travel weary, did not go to see the baron straight away. Instead, he rode to the camp made by Dax and Thade and had his men rest. He made sure the wagons containing the barrels he had commandeered on the way were safely stored. He asked the captain on watch where Dax and Thade were and was told they went looking for a scout who had gone missing earlier that day. Zane walked to, and climbed up on, the wall. He peered out to the north. Something did not sit right with the young king. He felt concerned. He turned and walked quickly along the wall heading to the camp, his brow deeply furrowed.

  ***

  Dax glanced over his shoulder and saw the enemy quickly gaining ground on them. There were about thirty of them and they all looked to be riding fresh horses. The problem the Rhaurns had was that Thade had to ride behind Jayson, to stop the scout falling from his saddle. He looked into the distance and saw the mouth of the pass, but it may be too far. He looked over his shoulder again. The enemy was gaining ground.

  Thade sat behind Jayson and rode the chestnut hard and fast. He did not look back—he could not for this would mean the horse becoming unbalanced. He knew the enemy was getting closer, he could hear their galloping horses drumming on the lush ground. They would catch them before they reached the pass. Thade saw Dax pull alongside him. He had one of his dreaded axes free from its harness. The older warrior smiled then pulled on his reins, causing his horse to stop suddenly, skidding on its haunches in the loamy soil.