The man nodded. “You look just like your father, lad.”
“What happened? Where is he?” Corin desperately pled for any sort of information.
Ivor shrugged unhappily. “I don’t know, sir. I was with Prince Darrin and was badly hurt in the last battle. I barely made it here. And before you ask, I don’t know where your brother is either. I’m sorry.”
“Were there any others that escaped?” Corin asked.
“If any survived that last fight, they would have gone to Dunham Forest. There are plenty of places to hide in there,” Ivor replied.
“Then that’s where I’ll go. Will you come with me?”
The warrior shook his head. “I would, sir, but I’m afraid I’ll only slow you down. My leg is such that I cannot ride.” He ducked his head in shame.
Corin met Ivor’s gaze, remembering the proud warrior he’d once been. “If you can still wield a sword or draw a bow, then come looking for me. You know where I’ll be.”
A new light sparked in Ivor’s eyes. “Yes, my lord.”
“I should go before the Calorins come back looking for me. I hope they’ll not punish you worse for helping me,” Corin said
“We’ll take it gladly,” the old man said. “You gave us fresh hope today.”
As Corin mounted, a woman handed him a bag of food. “It’s not much, lord, but it will keep you until you reach the forest,” she said.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Corin said, taking the bag.
The sun was setting as he rode from the village. He rode all night, skirting other towns and garrison outposts. At dawn, he could see the dark line of Dunham Forest in the distance.
Chapter 2
Corin rested well away from the road. Opening his pack, he drew out some bread and cheese and dried meat. It was plain, but filling. Also in the bag were some round cakes made from oats and dried fruit and sweetened with honey. Memories came flooding back as he ate: journeys to the coast, picnics by the river, he and Darrin racing their ponies across the plain. His father laughing, his mother singing, Amaura teasing the cats that roamed the castle. She would be a young woman of twenty-one. Darrin showing him a move with the broadsword…what was he like now? The brothers had been close as they were only separated by three years. Amaura and Darrin were dark haired like their mother, but all three siblings had inherited the same piercing blue eyes of their father.
Amaura was gentle, ready with a laugh but deep down possessed a resolve the equal of her brothers. Darrin had always been a little more serious and cautious and quietly confident though patient with his headstrong, mischievous brother. Corin had known how to get him to laugh with head thrown back and eyes sparkling. He was always helping Corin out of trouble or getting drawn into another wild idea of Corin’s that would get them both in trouble, but they would laugh helplessly about it later. He seemed so close to seeing them all again but knew it might take years before he found them, if they were still alive at all. His gaze turned again to the distant forest, and he wondered if there was any hope of ever overthrowing the Calorin rule.
* * *
Corin dozed all morning, letting Zephyr rest. It was relatively quiet and peaceful. When Karif returned from hunting, Corin rode out again. As he traveled closer to the forest, the road became more heavily traveled by patrols. Keeping away from the roads, he was able to slip by until he came to the Darkan River.
The river flowed by to his left, and in front of him stretched the road guarded by an outpost. The river was too deep for him to cross, and the bridge was heavily guarded, as was the town on the opposite bank. He had to cross the road in order to reach the forest, which still lay a tempting half mile away. During the day, the patrols were too frequent for him to make it across unseen. But he didn’t want to spend another night out in the open. His luck had held so far, but he knew how quickly that could change. He decided the only way to cross was to bluff his way.
Corin tethered Zephyr in the trees by the river where he wouldn’t be seen, and slipped over to view the outpost. A familiar and much hated standard fluttered in the breeze above the outpost—Balkor’s emblem of a leopard prowling across a purple field. He lay hidden in a ditch by the roadside and watched the soldiers that stood at attention watching the road in opposite directions.
“What are we watching for this time?” one soldier asked.
“Some rebel escaped and was giving some trouble in a village. General Kadar brought orders from Kingscastle that all roads are to be watched. He wants him caught alive if possible,” his companion replied.
“Maybe he’ll come this way and give us some excitement.”
The second guard snorted. “You weren’t here when we invaded. You didn’t fight these Northerners. He won’t want to be caught. You’d get more excitement than you want.”
Corin had heard enough. He slid quietly back to Zephyr. Seeing the banner had brought back all his anger against Balkor. Corin now knew what he would do. He had training, and he would fight against the Calorins any way possible in the hopes of exacting retribution against Balkor.
He had first felt it in the village. His past life here was too far gone to reclaim, and now away from Calorin, he was no longer Hamíd. It was time to find out who he really was. He sent Karif flying off and rode toward the road.
The soldiers guarding the road turned to face him as he approached. He forced himself to relax and not tug at the hood he’d pulled forward.
“Where are you going?” the soldier in command asked.
“I’m to deliver a message in the town,” he replied.
“Who sent you?”
“General Kadar.”
The soldier waved him through. Corin threw him a salute and spurred Zephyr through the barricade, feeling their stares following him.
“Wait…His bow…” He caught the commander’s murmur and cursed. His longbow was visible across his back. A clear giveaway of his nationality.
“Stop him!”
Corin turned to see a dozen mounted Calorins sweeping around from behind the outpost. He turned Zephyr off the road and spurred toward the forest.
Zephyr thundered across the open plain, and Corin fumbled for his bow as arrows flew around him.
* * *
Two cloaked figures watched from the safety of the forest.
“You think he’ll make it?” one asked.
“He might. He’s got a few arrows off now,” the other replied.
“Should we help?” the first asked.
“You know, that’s what I like about you, Liam. Always ready to help.” His companion nocked an arrow to his bow.
Liam smiled and fired off his own shaft. “Just as long as it involves shooting some of these blasted Calorins.”
* * *
The Calorins fell back in surprise at the arrows coming from the forest, allowing Corin time to disappear into the trees. Zephyr reared in surprise when a dark figure appeared in front of him and nearly unseated his rider. Corin unsheathed his scimitar, ready to fight. The man held up his hands in a placating gesture, throwing back his hood to reveal the features of an Aredorian not much older than he was.
“I’m a friend. I thought you might like to get away before they decide to come in looking for you.”
It would have to be good enough for now. Corin sheathed his blade and slid down from Zephyr.
“Thanks for your help,” he said as Karif flew in to perch on his shoulder.
“Shall we hold the pleasantries? I hear them coming,” the man said.
After a brief moment’s hesitation, Corin followed him.
He led Corin through the trees and on to a narrow forest track. He walked quickly, taking them deeper into the forest. Corin sized up his guide as they walked. He was tall, well built, and carried a broadsword and a bow complete with a well-stocked quiver. His dark clothes blended with the shadows and Corin almost lost sight of him once or twice. He recognized bits of an old uniform with a wolf insignia adorning the front of his tunic—the crest of Aredor.
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His guide stopped suddenly and pinned him with serious brown eyes.
“Before we go any farther, I have to know if I can trust you,” he said. “You look too much like one of them for me to bring you to our camp.”
“I’d do the same in your place.” Corin could hold no offense at his tone. “I’ve been in the South for a few years and just now been able to return. I came in at Carreg and have been traveling overland since. I heard from some villagers that the forest is the safest place to be. My name’s Corin.”
The man studied him carefully for a moment. “You look to be telling the truth. But one false move and I’ll run you through. Now that’s out of the way, I’m Liam.”
Corin grinned and extended his hand. Liam shook it firmly, and they continued on. They came upon an open dell. A small fire was burning, which was tended by another young man.
“Trey, we’ve got some company!” Liam called.
Trey rose and walked over. He was dressed and armed just like Liam. Lithe and muscular, he looked as dangerous as the longsword he carried at his side. Steely grey eyes looked Corin up and down.
“I’m Trey.” He extended a hand.
Corin grasped it firmly and introduced himself, albeit to an old friend.
“There’s only one person I ever knew by that name,” Trey said. “But I haven’t seen him in a long time.”
“Almost twelve years at last count,” Corin replied.
A smile crossed Trey’s face. “You made it back. But there’s someone you’ll want to see more than me in a few minutes.”
A low whistle announced the arrival of a third outlaw. A cheerful-looking young man with black hair and green eyes bounded into the clearing.
“What happened to the Calorins?” Liam asked him.
“They’ll be going in circles for a while. I wouldn’t worry too much about them.” His laughter died as he caught sight of Corin and he stared as if confronting a ghost. “Lleu’s hands,” he whispered. “Corin, is that you?”
Corin could hardly believe his own eyes in turn. It had been years, but he could still recognize his oldest friend.
“Aye, Martin. It’s me,” he finally managed.
Martin wrapped him in a wild embrace. “What happened? We thought you were dead! They looked everywhere for you!”
“I stumbled upon some slavers. They took me to Calorin. I lived under Balkor for eight years, and then another lord took me and trained me to fight. After three years, I won my freedom and made my back way here.” Corin was surprised at how easily the story came.
“Cor, I’m sorry,” Martin said.
Corin shrugged. “None of that matters anymore. What happened here? How’d you three escape?” He tethered Zephyr nearby. The four men moved around the fire as Trey began to cook fresh deer meat.
“I was with the king in one of the last battles. I got knocked out after a Calorin took a swing at me with his shield. When I came to, the battlefield was deserted,” Martin began. “As soon as I could, I made my way here to the forest where I met up with them.”
“I led the last of the coastal warbands under Darrin. We were cut off with our backs to the forest. We tried to retreat inside but couldn’t make it. Darrin made me run for it while he fought them off. I was the only one who made it in safely. Last I saw, he was still alive,” Trey said. “If I hadn’t run, we could’ve made it in together.”
Corin saw the anger and frustration in Trey’s eyes and knew all too well how he felt.
“What about Tristan?” Corin noted the painful absence of any mention of the rest of the Martel family. There was a frozen agony in Trey’s voice as he spoke about his brother.
“I don’t know. Most likely dead.”
“Lynwood Keep was the last to fall. That’s where I was stationed,” Liam began his tale. “They were taking me to Darkan Village when Trey rescued me. As far as we know, we’re the only ones still free.”
“You’ve stayed in the forest this whole time then?” Corin asked.
“Aye, there’s plenty of food, with caves and valleys to hide in, and blessedly free of Calorins. They hate this place,” Martin answered.
“You ever try to free anyone else?” Corin asked.
Trey shook his head. “Prisoners and slaves are too heavily guarded. I know a bit of Calorin. It might be enough to bluff my way out, but we never tried.”
Corin contributed the food in his pack, and they ate in silence. He tossed meat to Karif as the faint beginnings of an idea began to nag at the back of his mind. Martin watched him closely.
“I remember that look,” he said. “You’ve got some sort of crazy plan, don’t you?”
“Maybe. I’ll have to get to know this forest better first though.” Corin was unwilling to say anything else as doubt began to rear its ugly head again.
* * *
Corin and Martin trod lightly down a narrow forest path. Martin had elected to show him the main paths and trails that the outlaws usually followed through the forest. Martin surreptitiously watched Corin from the corner of his eye. He still couldn’t believe that his friend was alive. He was quieter and more reserved than Martin remembered, but he showed flashes of the same roguish boy of twelve years ago. Martin took another glance. Corin was moving quietly despite his limp with his weapons within easy reach; and Karif, as always, flew nearby.
“You ever make it to the mountains?” Corin broke their silence.
Martin smiled as he remembered their childhood dream. “No, I didn’t want to after you disappeared.”
Corin glanced at him, understanding flashing in his eyes. They had done everything together. Martin had never backed down from anything, but he hadn’t ever been able to go find the adventure they’d planned to share together.
“Truth is, I went a little crazy after that,” he continued. “Father wouldn’t let me go along with the search parties, and after they told me that you were probably dead…” He shrugged. “There seemed to be no point in anything. Father sent me to Castle Martel to start training the next summer. I was a lieutenant in the king’s warband by seventeen.”
“You must have gotten plenty of fighting on the coast,” Corin said.
“Aye, two years of fighting off the Raiders will prepare you for anything,” Martin said. “Trey was always of the opinion that we needed our own fleet. That way, we could follow them back and attack Terminus, but he’s always looking to start a fight somewhere. Having our own warships might have given us a warning of the Calorins.”
“What happened in the attacks? In Calorin, I heard it from the Sultaan’s messenger. He said it was a massacre.”
“He wasn’t exaggerating much. We had almost no warning. Martel wasn’t ready to withstand the assaults, and by the time we were able to make it to the coast, the Calorins had taken the castle and were pouring inland. We tried to send to the Clans for help, but our messengers never made it.”
“What happened to your father?” Corin asked the question he’d been dreading.
“He was captured with his men when they were out scouting. Trey and I and some of my men tried to rescue him, but the Calorins had killed them all by the time we got there.” Martin pushed a low hanging branch out of the way with more force than was strictly necessary.
“Martin, I’m sorry.” It was clear Corin knew how Calorins treated prisoners of war.
Martin gave him a sad smile. “Your father gave me his position. That was about the time things really started to get bad. When I regained consciousness on that field, I saw more than half my men were dead. We had been the last big threat to the Calorins. The last person I saw was my sister. I was trying to make it here and ran into a Calorin patrol. Ended up half dead on the side of the road outside Gorwydd village. She was there taking care of the wounded soldiers. The villagers hid me until I could travel again. But I’m sure you don’t want to hear any more of this. I’ve been doing all the talking so far, what about you? You said you fought for them in Calorin?”
“I was almost twen
ty when I met Lord Rishdah. He was so different than anyone else I knew. He was stern, but not cruel. All his people respected him, and so do I. He wanted me in his personal guard, so I trained hard for months until the captain thought I was ready. After that, there were wars to fight. We went to Argus on a campaign, survived the desert, and came out victorious,” Corin said. “In between wars, there was never really peace. Bandits roam the roads, lords fight over boundaries or any reason they can think of. One month, Lord Rishdah had an alliance with another lord. The next month, they were fighting each other after a southern lord started an uprising.”
“Is that all they do? Fight each other?” Martin asked in mild disbelief.
“Pretty much,” Corin said. “I’ve done a little bit of everything: scouting, getting captured, professing allegiance to another lord in order to get information, been on both sides of a siege.”
“So everything you always wanted to do?” Martin grinned as Corin laughed.
“What kind of training did you go through?” Martin asked curiously.
“My friend called it assassin training,” Corin said.
“That explains everything then,” Martin said as they both laughed. “We’ll see how good you are with that blade later,” he challenged.
“I think you might be pleasantly surprised.” Corin grinned in anticipation. He knew full well that anyone who made lieutenant at seventeen had to be an expert swordsman.
* * *
“This should be good.” Trey sat back against a log and crossed his arms as Corin and Martin prepared to spar. Liam joined him.
“Who do you think will win?” Liam asked.
“I’m rather hoping Corin will,” Trey replied.
“You’re just jealous because I won our last bout,” Martin called to him and Liam smirked.
“You can fight the winner, Liam,” Corin said. Trey looked at the identical grins on Martin’s and Corin’s faces and suppressed his own smile.
“The terrible duo has returned, I see,” he said.
Martin and Corin began to circle each other, handling their blades with apparent carelessness. One would flicker forward and be tossed away by the other. Liam and Trey watched closely.
The Rise of Aredor Page 15
