Fates Choice

by Tristan Fairfield

  Torr felt panic rising as it became clear that Raeknor’s life hung in the balance. His friend’s wound had been caused not by a clean blade, but by a force laden with decay and disease. Torr knew Raeknor was not a strong man. He was surprised the wound and subsequently being thrown into the wood had not killed him, so maybe, maybe....

  Raeknor’s body started to go limp. Torr pressed his head to his friend’s chest and then his mouth. He was breathing, but shallowly.

  “I have done all I can for him”. Bernhart paused. “I am glad to see you alive though. You have fought bravely here today” Bernhart then looked at Raeknor. “So did young master Millerson and all who have come to this place of death”. The wizard sounded truly remorseful as he also surveyed the field of battle.

  Torr, reached for his crutch and hauled himself up. Bernhart glanced at his leg and pointed. “Has that been treated?”

  “Yes, thank you. I thought you were dead” repeated Torr.

  “So you said. I’ll take your comments as surprise rather than wishful thinking” mirthed Bernhart. “But, suffice it to say, it did take me some time before I could compose myself”. Torr looked at the wizards cloak that, earlier, had appeared to swirl with patterns until looked at directly. Now, it looked like a battered and, rather singed, old leather cloak. “I also suspect people will need to speak up when talking to me for at least a ten day or more because, frankly young man, I can hear bugger all after dropping my last spell rather closer than I anticipated”.

  Bernhart smiled. Torr wasn’t sure if the wizard had genuinely found his sense of humour at a time like this, or if he was trying to keep the young man’s spirit up. Before Torr could consider this, Bernhart carried on.

  “I did note, with interest though, as I made my way back out onto the battlefield, that a certain young cavalryman’s mace was alight and obviously not by natural means”.

  “I couldn’t really help it”, protested Torr, “but as I charged, I just felt like I did the night before the battle, with, you know...” Torr waved his fingers “so I thought..., actually, I didn’t really think, I just..well...focused, and then...”

  Bernhart patted Torr on the shoulder. “Good job. It seemed focused enough not to spread and set fire to you, your horse and all around you”. If Bernhart had spectacles on, he would have been peering over them now at Torr. All Torr could do was shrug in response.

  “Well, we shall have time to discuss your new found talents in a little more depth when we return to Oaks Keep. The wagons should be on their way and I had best see if I can be of assistance with those”. Bernhart pointed to the gates of the palisade behind them. Torr lurched round to see four well kept caravans being manhandled down the rampart by some of the men.

  “Where did those come from?” exclaimed Torr.

  “Our bandit friends. They needed some way to transport their ill gotten gains out from their little fortress here. Or did you think that gaestnips like to wear silk and the other fine garments that were taken from the caravans they ransacked?”

  Torr grinned at the wizard’s light sarcasm. What the gaestnips had been doing or their purpose had not really been discussed and nor had it entered Torr’s head about the why’s or wherefore’s of their mission, just how to deal with it. They were hardly civilised creatures. They just grouped together in packs, generally causing mayhem and death whenever they crossed paths with human settlements. Whilst banditry wasn’t beyond them, staying in one place for so long seemed unusual, even from the little Torr knew.

  “Hang on though” Torr caught on quickly. “Does that mean there is more than one base or more...”

  “Possibly, I’m afraid dear boy, possibly. But I do believe we will find some answers within the palisade itself. Once we have cleared the area and evacuated our wounded”.

  This was no small task. It took the rest of the day to clear all the bodies and clear out the fetid camp. Of the one hundred and ninety or so men to take part, around fifty lay dead, another fifty wounded, leaving just about half the force to tend to the injured, until the apothecaries and their staff arrived and started loading up the injured on the steady flow of caravans that were starting to materialise. The caravans found in the palisade were stripped to help evacuate more of the men most in need, back to the infirmary at Oaks Keep and also Bereofs Town as well.

  Another detail had been formed to collect the bodies of all the gaestnips and burn them, which Torr quickly realised had been the cause of the smoke and ash he had seen as soon as he got up.

  He had been approached by an aide and told he could be evacuated but Bernhart’s last comments had intrigued and worried Torr, so he declined and, eventually, limped off after the wizard, up the rampart and into the palisade itself.

  The fortress was probably over a hundred yards long and at least fifty yards wide. It was entirely open inside except for a small corner on one side at the far end, where some small stakes had been erected to make an enclosed area, almost room like.

  Torr limped his way through the stench ridden fortress, which was littered with bones, refuse, dung and broken pieces of caravan as if the largest of the gaestnips had picked up all the waste and flung it, as evenly as they could, right across the earth floor of their habitat.

  Men were still bringing bodies of dead gaestnips from out of the compound together with the war dogs that appeared to have perished chasing them out.

  As Torr approached the far end of the fortress, he could see a hole in the far end of the earth ramp, just below the bottom end of the wooden wall. It was just large enough for a man to crouch down and get through. The tunnel had just been covered in earth but, as he got up to it, there were some wooden supports built in, to stop the simple earthen escape tunnel from collapsing and bringing down the part of the rampart above it.

  “Ahh...Captain Torr, good to see you are up and around, if just slightly worse for wear”.

  Torr recognised Garel’s voice. He turned awkwardly and saw the commanding officer, together with Bernhart, Ahred, the officer from Bereofs Town and Sergeant Bourne looking down at him from the small enclosed area, which was also slightly raised on an earth worked platform, accessed by three steps cut into the slope.

  Torr tried to salute with difficulty as he was still propping himself up with his branch.

  “Don’t stand on ceremony young man. I can’t salute you back anyway”. Garel indicated to the sling that kept one arm in place together with another thick tourniquet around his neck.

  Sergeant Bourne helped Torr up the stairs and also offered his congratulations to the young cavalry officer. “Wasn’t sure if you’d made it after that giantkin started throwing trees all over the place. Couldn’t see from the far side, but I did see it go down, well done sir”.

  Torr nodded and it only then occurred to him that he had not seen Caenet.

  “Sir, do you know where my sergeant is?” inquired Torr.

  “Still helping burn the bandit’s bodies I believe, despite being battered and bruised himself. Surprised you missed him on your way up, given the number that have had to be piled up”. Garel then turned to Bernhart. “Do we have a final number yet?”

  “Around ninety in number, almost twice what you had reckoned on”. It was Ahred who answered but he directed his comment at Bernhart.

  Torr leant against the small number of wooden stakes separating them from the rest of the fortress, partly for extra support but also on disclosure of this news.

  “Unfortunately, yes, Mr Ulher. But the twenty or so gaestnips that attacked us before we even got out of the forest looked as if they had been travelling for quite some time. So I suspect they were not part of the original number. We were therefore fortunate, or unfortunate, depending on how you wish to look at it, to come across this group. I suspect they were just reaching the palisade at around the same time as we were about to attack”.

  “You mean coincidence?”

  “Yes sir, coincidence”. Bernhart responded to Garel’s question. “These caravans were l
aden up with goods, yes, but certainly not with four years worth of plunder. I had no doubt that someone would be quite willing to deal even with gaestnips if it meant making a profit selling stolen wares, but the sudden arrival of this additional group, which had come from the south and not from the direction of the palisade, leads me to quickly conclude that the bandits were moving the goods somewhere else”.

  “My scouts have reported fresh tracks to the south, wheeled tracks, so that might be right, yes,” added Ahred.

  “Unfortunately, that may mean they have another base of operation but, possibly, one that maybe empty now if as I say by good fortune, we arrived at the same time as they intended to move their latest cargo. At least, largely empty perhaps”. Bernhart seemed to become lost in his thoughts before composing himself. “Either way sir, we have dealt a mortal blow to this operation even if it does mean a further hunt for some form of discreet bandit’s warehouse somewhere else”.

  Garel looked pained, both physically and with the thought that these bandit’s may have somehow been able to move goods, en masse, without detection.

  “Isn’t that a bit beyond normal gaestnip thinking and behaviour?” He mused out loud.

  “Oh undoubtedly, which does leave one or two further questions I am afraid. At least, ones that I cannot possibly answer here or now. As for now, gentleman, it is getting late so, unless we wish to stay here the night, we may want to think about leaving”.

  “Before we go though, there is the question of this small box”. Ahred indicated a very small silver inlaid chest on the floor near Garel’s feet. There was no furniture in here, save for some straw that appeared to pass as a bed, presumably for the chief, whichever one of the creatures that had been. It did not seem large enough for any of the giantkin though.

  “Yes indeed, well, unfortunately, that is anther mystery I cannot solve here and now, given that, despite its small size, it appears to be of a weight that none here can lift it. Or the enchantment upon it will need more time to evaluate”.

  Torr had not noticed it until Ahred had pointed it out, so shuffled towards it. “Why, what is it?” he said, instinctively bending down to try and pick it up.

  “We are not sure”, said Ahred. “But there is a small gem inside the box which none here can take out or lift. Another oddity to this place”, mused the Suthrasian.

  Torr looked at the box which was only just bigger than his fist. He thought Ahred was joking with him.

  “Yes, indeed”, continued Bernhart, “Though obviously it’s difficult to see how it got here if none can lift it. I shall resign my post if it turns out that a gaestnip has somehow managed to carry this trinket around with him where I cannot. It may well be....oh...”.

  Torr had just picked up the box and taken the gem out to examine it when he turned to look at all the shocked expressions directed at him.

  “What...I thought he was joking”, exclaimed Torr.

  ******************************************

  Shortly after, Carodin approached his fellow officers’ to confirm that all the creatures corpses had been disposed of, the largest having to be dragged up to the large pyre by the few horses that remained.

  This was the first time that Torr wondered where Raelf was, only to be told that Torr’s mount had actually been one of the first to leave with the more seriously wounded. There was also a heartfelt exchange between the two young men at finding each other largely in one piece.

  Carodin’s unit had remained mainly unscathed as the full force of the gaestnips had fallen on the other side of the battle. So, for their sins of survival, the men of Tantes had been tasked with clearing the dead and wounded, albeit with help from elements of the other units. Some had started the march back to Oaks Keep and Bereofs Town respectively.

  This bought Carodin onto the final part of his de-briefing. All the wounded had been evacuated, once all the spare wagons that could be mustered from the above mentioned settlements had arrived. However, there had not been time or the space to load the bandit’s stolen goods up as well.

  As at least one crate contained some diamonds and most of the others were full of silks, salts, spices and other valuable materials, Carodin had volunteered to set up camp with his men overnight to guard them, rather than wait for another spare caravan which would not be back until after nightfall.

  Undoubtedly some of the men would figure that they were due a greater recompense for the horrors they had faced here today and news of the contents of the stolen cargos had spread as quickly as the pyre used to burn the dead bodies.

  One small wagon now remained to take Garel, Torr, Bernhart and Sergeant Bourne back to Oaks Keep. It was at this point that Ahred confirmed that he would be departing with the officer from Bereofs Town. His remaining men and dogs had assembled and already started their separate march south, rather than head a few hours north or so, back to Oaks Keep. They would be heading south out of the wealds and back to Sha Haram anyway.

  Garel confirmed that their agreed payment for the mercenary company would therefore be ready in time for their departure from Bereofs Town, tomorrow morning.

  Garel saluted the Suthrasian mercenary captain and offered his undying gratitude for their timely arrival on the field of battle. Ahred turned to each of the other men in turn, offering them employment with his company any time they wanted. As he shook Torr’s hand though, Ahred fixed him with an intent look. “You are an interesting young man Torr Skarsdale. I would not be surprised if our paths crossed again”.

  By the time they left the palisade together, the pyre was still burning, with the carcass of horse, dog and gaestnip. The light of the early Stormsen sun was starting to fade over the treetops of the hill where the fortress had been strategically placed. Shadows danced across the wooden wall of stakes - a funeral jig of flame for the dead.

  The bodies of the dead men had been laid out as best as possible in the time available. The commander from Bereofs Town had confirmed, before he left with Ahred Ulher, that he would ensure their Abbot would return the following day. A suitable ceremony would be required in order to commit the dead to the arms of The Sunlord, before a separate pyre could be lit for them.

  Carodin’s men were in the process of setting up camp, having cleared out enough of the palisade for a bearable night’s sleep.

  Torr, Garel, Bernhart and Sergeant Bourne mounted the last caravan, although Torr had to be helped up. There was a silence on the ride back deeper than just the contemplation of men happy to be alive or battling to forget the horrors of the day. Torr could feel Garel’s gaze on the back of his neck and even Bernhart seemed strangely silent. Sergeant Bourne, his duties ably dispatched earlier, had fallen asleep after they had passed the most uneven part of the path, back towards the turnpike.

  Torr had picked up the gem and box it had come in and stored it in a leather pouch which he affixed to his belt. There had not been time to consider the young man’s ability to pick up the object that no one else could. Carodin had come in before further questions could be asked about what may just be a simple magical curiosity.

  Torr wondered if it was something to do with his new found ability. He had turned to ask Bernhart the question but saw the wizard also appeared to be asleep now. The head of Oaks Keep still appeared to be wearing his almost constantly polite and inscrutable smile upon his face, even at rest.

  Garel was still looking at Torr. “So what happened to you sir?” Torr indicated his commander’s arm and neck.

  “What..oh” Garel seemed to start at the long silence having been broken. “Gaestnip bit clean through my plate, right into my neck, bastard!”. Garel seemed half annoyed at himself but went on with his recount to the young man.

  “They came out of nowhere whilst we were still marching. Killed half the main unit before we could deal with them, including Braetol and, I’m afraid, the messenger from your unit. Savage fucking beasts”. Garel caught himself losing his composure.

  “You did well today Torr. That was a large beast y
ou killed. You showed skill and courage, as did your sergeant. Aided by your mace though I am told”. Garel fixed Torr with another stare.

  He was too tired to beat around the bush or postpone, what would otherwise be, a continual line of questioning. Besides, for a Valheimer, Garel did indeed seem to be a reasonable man.

  “He says I can use magic” Torr pointed to Bernhart’s sleeping body as the only additional explanation he thought his brief answer required.

  “Ahhh... so does that also explain the umm...” Now it was Garel’s turn to point at inanimate objects in place of conversation.

  Torr retrieved the box, took the gem out and rolled it between his fingers. It was quite a boring dull and dark amber colour. It had no sheen or sparkle that he could discern but it did give him a disquieting feeling now that he studied it properly for the first time.

  “Maybe sir. I don’ t know”.

  “Well, I think, after today a little thing like that can wait to be scrutinised, don’t you?” Garel instinctively tried to stretch his arms behind his head wincing in pain as he did. “Try and get some rest son”.

  Torr couldn’t really sleep, even after Garel appeared to have dozed off. He studied the gem for signs of intrigue. He still wondered if everyone else had been joking when they said they could not lift such a tiny thing. Maybe it was something to do with his new found magical ability. But, if so, why couldn’t Bernhart pick it up?

  When they eventually reached Oaks Keep it was dark. The track off the turnpike leading to the wizard’s enclave was lit with glowing lanterns set into the trees.

  Once the light from the lanterns reached the occupants of the wagon, Bernhart awoke. After the other two had been roused, they entered under the gatehouse. With the back of the wagon open, Torr saw that some men were still camped outside the walls of the settlement itself. Even with their greatly diminished number, there was still not quite enough room for all the troops to be garrisoned in the barracks. The wounded by now had been taken into the infirmaries, and the dead left on the field of battle. Before they left the palisade, it had been agreed a monument would be erected to honour their sacrifice, once men could be spared to complete such a shrine and it had received the proper blessing of the church.