by Jon Bender
Cribble and Jerup had dismounted, with Cribble in the process of binding the other man’s wound. Both bearing many smaller wounds scattered over their bodies having received the brunt of the fight. Standing Da’san stopped Cribble’s ministrations then doing for Jerup what he had done for Jaxom. Brenin walked up to them and Jaxom could see over the archers shoulder that his horse had been caught in one of the fire mages attacks. It laid on its side near the boulders where the archer had been standing with half of its hide burnt away.
Cribble walked over offering a hand to help Jaxom to his feet. “You have made a powerful enemy if they are sending mages to kill you,” the guard said.
Standing Jaxom could see that Da’san had finished healing Jerup, the priest standing a little unsteadily but seemed no worse for the effort. “It also means we are heading the right way. Whoever is behind the attack at the castle does not want us to find them,” Jaxom said.
“We did not kill them all, at least five have fled and they will be reporting the failure. When their master finds out he will most likely send more to finish the job,” Cribble said.
“Not if we find him first,” Jaxom said. Cribble gave an amused grunt before returning to his horse. Bending over Jaxom cleaned his sword on the dead mage’s cloak still feeling the power contained within the blade. He thought to release the flame but did not, a fireball may come in handy in the near future.
Chapter 9
Celia waited in the tree line along with her two hundred cavalry. She adjusted the heavy plate armor she wore, trying to settle the full face helm into a more comfortable position. The men were becoming restless having been waiting for an hour. Her mentor and friend Graydon was annoyingly calm and relaxed, seemingly unaffected by the slow passage of time. He had taken to whittling a small stick and seemed content to continue all day if that is what it took. Once they had moved south, Nelix had broken the thousand men into five units spreading them out across the country side. The reason he had given Celia was that the unit commanders would be less likely to take unnecessary risks with so few men at hand, and this would allow the force to cover more ground striking in many places at once. Their purpose was to slow the enemy not win the war.
She had received a message this morning from the General that an advance party had been seen in their area by scouts. His instructions had been to determine strength and destination, and if the situation allowed Celia was to engage the enemy inflicting as much harm as possible without serious loss to her own men.
“What was the scout’s report on the southerners,” she said to Graydon.
The man sighed never looking up from his whittling. “It was the same the last time you asked twenty minutes ago.”
Giving him a look that said she did not care Graydon let out another sigh. “One hundred men on horse moving to the north. They are taking the trade road which is why we are here.”
“There was nothing else?” she asked.
“What more do you want? Was the man to go up to them and ask their names?” he said.
He was right of course, he had been right most of the way down. When she had tried to make sure every man was maintaining their gear or caring for the horses, Graydon had stepped in and told her that if she continued on she would have time for nothing else. It was her job to tell the officers what she wanted, they would in turn tell the sergeants who would make sure the men were doing so. It had worked just as he said it would and she was thankful that Graydon was not the “I told you so” type, he had let her see for herself and left it at that.
“So how much longer do you think?” she asked.
Graydon just shook his head in amusement and pointed with the stick. Looking where he indicated she could see the enemy soldiers moving into view, riding in ranks of ten across they moved at a steady pace. Nodding to Graydon, her mentor whispered something to a man next to him and the word spread to await the signal. The time waiting for the enemy to move into position was agonizingly slow. Finally Graydon nodded and the horn blew sounding the charge. Spurring her horse forward Celia charged out of the trees, the sound of hundreds of hooves pounding the earth was deafening as her men formed around her. The southerners had heard the horn and had reacted quickly, turning with precision and rushing forward to meet them.
Chaos erupted as the first line of her cavalry smashed into the enemy. Horses and men crashed into each other, steel meeting flesh in sickening thwacks. Celia faced a man in dark leather armor who had gotten past the first line. Meeting her eyes the enemy soldier swung a heavy mace aimed for her chest. Stopping the strike, Celia reversed her blade to cut the man’s throat only to be blocked by the shield on his other arm. Swinging downward with the mace he attempted to crush her shoulder under the mighty blow. Gripping the sword in a two handed grip her blade met the metal sheathed haft of the weapon, the weight buckling her arms as she stopped the attack. Before he could recover to strike again, a sword slashed under his arm then again across his back. Falling to the ground, the mace wielder was lost under the press of horses.
Looking up she saw Graydon’s back as he had already turned away to meet another southerner. Taking his cue she looked for her next target and found one of her men was being hard pressed. His left harm hung limply at his side, the right desperately trying to keep an enemy blade at bay. Urging her horse forward, Celia blocked the next attack meant for his head. As Celia held the Southerner’s blade in place, the wounded man thrust forward with his own sword piecing flesh. Looking to the cavalryman’s eyes she saw them widen in surprise at something behind her. Turning quickly she barely blocked the incoming sword meant for her neck. Catching the sword wielding enemy by surprise with the suddenness of her parry, Celia threw his sword wide leaving the man open, her counter strike spilling intestines across his horse’s back.
As Celia began looking for another opponent, a horn blew in the distance causing the enemy soldiers around her shouted a cheer and slowly begin collapsing into a tighter formation. The wind began to whip around her sending dirt and dust into the air. Pulling her horse back from the fight she looked for the source of the horn. Another group of the enemy was riding hard towards them with only twenty or so reinforcements. The wind grew stronger and faster until it formed into a cyclone headed straight for her men. The realization struck her like an arrow, a storm mage had joined the fight. The numbers were still in their favor but killing the mage would have a high cost, if they could even get close enough to accomplish the task.
“Retreat! Fall back to the trees,” she screamed. Graydon heard her and yelled to the signaler who blew a long note on his horn. Slowly her men disengaged from the enemy, trying to break away without receiving a sword in the back. Finally they were moving in mass away from the Southerns but even at full gallop the cyclone caught up to the men at the rear, tossing them and their horses into the air or throwing them wide to the side. She turned away from the horrible sight unable to do anything for them.
They were forced to slow once they were amongst the trees the magical attack continuing follow, catching more men in a storm of flying branches and trunks. Weaving through the forest she braved a look over shoulder and saw the cyclone dissipate but she did not stop. At some point in their frantic flight Graydon had found her, matching the speed of her horse to ride at her side. Breaking through into a clearing Celia reigned her horse in with Graydon following suit. Some of her men had already found the spot, stopping to wait for others to arrive. Looking about she counted twenty of the two hundred she had started the day with. Finding a signaler she ordered him to give the call to assemble. As he blew a series of short notes more men began filtering in, many wounded and riding double having lost their mounts in the fight. After several more calls from the horn a total of one hundred and twenty-seven had arrived. It was devastating for Celia, her first brush with the enemy and she had lost almost half of her force. Graydon spoke softly to her saying they had to move for their camp, if any more of the men were coming they would have made it by now. Not trusting
her voice to betray her grief she nodded her assent leading the tattered force away, thinking only of the seventy-three who were not there.
It was several hours before the tired and wounded men made their way back to the camp. Dismounting, Celia removed the saddle from her horse and walked directly for her tent speaking to no one. She told herself it was only to have a quiet place to think, but knowing in her heart it was to hide from the eyes of men she had failed. Sitting down on her small cot she put her face in her hands thinking over what had happened, unable to the control the tears that fell to the ground.
It was much later, how much she was unsure, when Graydon entered breaking her self-imposed solitude. The Weapons Master stood at the entrance remaining silent and she could not find the strength to meet his eyes or even speak. Several minutes passed before he finally broke the silence with a soft comforting voice.
“You are not at fault,” he said.
“Of course I am! Those men put their trust in me, and I got over seventy killed in thirty minutes. All because I decided to lead them, to selfishly keep my father safe,” she said.
“Listen to me Celia, you are not at fault here. Every decision you made was correct and your father could not have done better.”
Celia shook her head in denial of his words. She had played her decisions over and over in her mind. Every time it seemed so straight forward and she could not see doing anything different, but no matter how many times she told herself that it did not ease the guilt she felt. “I should not be here. It should be you or my father leading.”
“Your father could not have survived this campaign, and instead of letting someone who does not know these men take them into battle, you risked your own life to make sure they were taken care of,” he said moving to sit down beside her. “Men die in war. No matter how much you prepare or how well you plan men will die. The only way to avoid that is to give up, letting the enemy have everything they want.”
“I know that, but maybe if I had planned it differently so many would not have had to,” Celia said.
“As I said, you did everything correctly. There was no way to know that another group would be shadowing the one we attacked. We thought we were the one ambushing them, it just turned out they out thought us. Not even your father would have guessed they would be risking mages in skirmishes.”
“It was an ambush?” she said speaking more to herself then Graydon. “Of course, it makes sense now. Why would such a small unit with a mage be nearby unless they were waiting for us.”
“Yes, if you had not given the call for retreat we may all have been lost. I saw those soldiers coming towards us but I did not think it changed anything. You saved us,” he said.
Celia finally looked up to see compassion in his eyes. “Even knowing that does not stop me from thinking about who we left behind.”
“The pain you feel will never go away, and the day it does is when you should no longer lead,” he said standing. “Now we have just suffered a loss. The men out there need to know that their commander has not abandon them.”
Nodding in agreement Celia stood firming her resolve to do her duty. “Yes, and thank you Graydon.”
“What is our next move?” he asked.
“The wounded have already been cared for?”
“Yes, but two more died from their wounds,” he said quietly.
Two more gone while she had wallowed in self-pity. She decided right then that never again would her men die while she sat and did nothing. “We need to send a message to General Blackburn about what happened. Let him know that the enemy has placed mages in their advanced units. Tell him we will be needing bows, and find out who among the men can shoot from horseback.” If they were to fight mages they would be needing the extended range. The man brought his fist to his chest before turning and leaving her tent. Taking a deep breath Celia moved to follow, there was much to do before their next fight.
Chapter 10
The small town Da’san led them to was called Chams’dell, a small settlement of a thousand people surrounded by a ten foot stone wall. The men who had met them at the gate had not been friendly, treating their small group with suspicion. The priest had explained that bandits were a large problem this far north, and it was not unheard of for them to send spies to search for weaknesses in a town’s defenses. Jaxom rode down the main road on his chestnut horse, one of two they recaptured from the men who had attacked them. Passing through the town he scrutinized the buildings and people going about their day, most of the structures were two stories with only a few having a third level, made of wood with wooden shingles covering the roofs. The people wore simple clothing but all walked straight backed with a sense pride that was lacking in Ale’adar amongst the common people. Everything from the doors of their houses to carts were created for function but looked to be well made.
Da’san guided them to the largest structure in sight and the only building to be made completely from stone. A sign hanging above the front door depicted a man sleeping in a bed, the name painted in white announcing the building to be the Travelers Rest. A young boy came around the corner taking their horses away and once inside they took seats at an empty table. The common area was clean and well-kept, as was the girl who came and took their orders for drinks returning quickly to set down the finely crafted wooden mugs.
“So we are here, what now?” Cribble asked.
“We need to find someone to guide us into Teriken,” Jaxom replied. “Da’san, do you know anyone who can do that?”
“There are many who hunt in the forest, but I do not know of any who go far enough to spend the night within its borders,” the priest said.
“Then we will have to ask around,” Jerup said.
Jaxom hoped that they could find someone willing to do so but they could not afford to spend a lot of time looking. If a person could not be found they would have to go on their own, the thought filling him with anxiety since he was still not sure what he was looking for. All he knew was that within the forest there was a building containing a great room.
“We will split up and ask around. Cribble take Da’san and ask the hunters he knows, see if any are up to the task. Jerup will you see that we have enough supplies to last for a long journey,” Jaxom said handing him several gold coins. Taking the coins Jerup stood from the table to go talk to the Inn keeper.
“What will you be doing?” Cribble asked.
“Brenin and I will also be looking for a guide, with any luck one of us will be successful,” Jaxom said.
Cribble nodded and downed his ale in a swallow before moving to his feet and placing a hand on Da’san shoulder indicating he was ready to go.
“So where do we start?” Brenin asked as the two other men left.
“We passed fur traders on our way here, we can ask around for names of those who they buy their skins from,” Jaxom said.
After visiting several fur traders and the hunters they recommended, the companions had found none willing to guide them. Many had advised them not to attempt the venture in the first place, saying that even the men who hunted in the forest never went deeper than a couple of miles. Local legends told of cities and towns that were deeper than any had traveled to, and every so often treasure seekers would risk the danger in hopes of becoming rich. The myth had been passed down for generations since the time of the mage wars, attracting many people over the centuries with the possibilities of wealth. One old trader had whispered about how the forest was once home to a powerful nation, and when it fell the mages of that time had cursed the land so that none would ever claim what was theirs. People had tried to explore the forest over the years but only one man had returned, stumbling into town half mad and talking about animals and men hunting him and his party. The survivor spoke of how the forest’s inhabitants could not be killed, how they would take wounds that would stop any mortal and still would not die. The more Jaxom heard the less he wanted to enter the forest, risking not only his life but the lives of those with him.
The sun had already set when Brenin and he returned to the Travelers Rest, finding the other three men sitting and enjoying the evening meal. Joining them Jaxom waved over the young girl serving the patrons and ordered the same for himself and Brenin.
“I hope you fared better than we did. Da’san’s knowledge of the locals leaves much to want,” Cribble said around a mouthful of meat.
Da’san stared at the Captain with a look of disdain, whether it was from his comment or his table manners Jaxom did not know. “I told you it has been two years since I was last here. In that time I did not exert my effort in learning how the people here earn a living.”
“What did you do while you were here then?” Cribble asked taking a swallow from his mug.
“I worked towards bringing them to the grace of my goddess,” Da’san said.
“From the lack of temples and shrines I can see that you really won them over,” Cribble said not trying to hide the sarcasm in his voice.
“The people here are… hardy. The general feeling was that they had survived this long without Sarinsha and did not need her blessings,” he said.
“We did no better than you,” Jaxom said taking Cribble’s attention away from Da’san. “We will try again tomorrow, but if we do not make any progress there will be no choice but to continue on. Jerup, did you find everything we need?”
“Yes, the Innkeeper directed me to merchants who had everything. The supplies are in the rooms I have rented for the night,” he said.
“Then I guess we can begin our search again in the morning. For now I intend to spend the rest of the night enjoying the drink and food,” Cribble said. To show how serious he was he finished his mug of ale and waved for another. Aside from Da’san, the others indulged in the wine and ale for the rest of the night. Jaxom still thinking about the last Inn they had visited could not bring himself to let his guard down.
