by M. S. Brook
“Well done, Sergeant,” the captain said. We all cheered, and Torin made a mock bow. Azar gave us a moment to laugh off the tension of the last few minutes before giving new orders.
“All right, let’s get back to work. Torin, you’re in charge of the conscripts. Have them dig graves and bury their dead. Brady, get after these horses before they’re scattered into the forest. We’ll need to move quickly if we’re to find shelter before nightfall.”
We ran to our tasks. Rowland started organizing the wounded while I retrieved my treatment bag. The dust swirled up by battle hung over the field, reflecting in the slanted rays of afternoon light. The sight of the dead and wounded scattered over the ground sickened me. Many of them had surrendered, and we’d failed to protect them from the unexpected attack. But there was no time to look back now. Our plight would not improve with approaching nightfall.
I took a long draft from my canteen and went to the worst casualties. I knelt beside a man lying on one of our blankets. His eyes were clamped shut, fists clenched in pain, his swarthy skin tinged with gray. He swallowed a few sips of opium drops in brandy, groaning as I cut open his bloody trouser legs to reveal purple gashes and torn flesh. I cleaned it up as well as I could, wishing I had a basin of warm water. Instead, I smeared plenty of drawing salve on clean linens and tied on the bandages with strips torn from the cleaner parts of his cloak. Rowland helped me wrap him in a blanket to mitigate the chills that would soon come from the vithon venom.
I treated the worst of the wounded, dosing liberally with opium and brandy to prepare them for traveling. Several of the prisoners helped us by tearing strips from their cloaks to tie on for bandages. I was surprised by how young they looked and how anxious to be helpful, but none of them would look me in the eye when I spoke to them. I guessed they were afraid we’d kill them if they didn’t prove useful. The captured keepers were another matter. They were bound hand and foot, but they still struggled, spitting and cursing at anyone who came near. I was glad I had no cause to attend them.
When we had the wounded ready to travel, I reported back to Captain Azar. “Sir, there are light injuries only, on the Guardian side. But we have a couple dozen wounded Dominians. Two will have to be carried. Rowland is making litters.”
“So, forty odd prisoners to move, two on litters, and as well, the two keepers will require particular attention. Brady, how many horses do we have?”
“We found a few Dominian horses and rearranged the pack horses to give two extra. We’ve fewer than sixty mounts, all told.”
“We’ll have to take turns riding and running alongside. Brady, assign two men to watch the keepers. We’ll tie them into the saddle and keep a tight rein on the horses. Now, as to where we’re going, I take Aidriana’s idea to go to Evergreen. Let them decide what to do with these conscripts, but we need to get as far away from here as we can tonight. Anyone know of a sheltered place out this way?”
“It’d have to be close,” Torin said, eying downward position of the sun. He pulled one of the battered parchment maps from his saddlebag and unrolled it, squinting at the faded ink. “Here is where we are…and how about this? See this lake?” He traced a calloused finger over the small body of water. “It’s nestled here in the hills. We can camp with our backs to the lake, and we’ll have plenty of water for bathing the vithon wounds. The surrounding hills may even hide us a little.”
“Anyone have a better idea?”
No one did. Azar straightened, making a quick decision. “Right. Let’s get mounted up. And don’t forget to light a fire under those vithon carcasses.”
We loaded the wounded on the horses and began our hurried march, Rowland and I taking our first turn on foot. Those Dominians well enough to run were paired with a Guardian to make sure no one disappeared into the woods. One of them, I noticed, kept looking back. I realized he was the young man who had been the first to surrender. The next time he turned his head, I acknowledged him with a nod. He nodded in return; his face was wearing an expression I could not read. I mulled over our unusual meeting earlier on the field—the look of recognition in his eyes when he first saw me, his reluctance to fight. Something seemed strangely familiar about him. I wondered that he showed none of the fear I saw on the other Blackcoat faces.
Rowland was running alongside me without showing the smallest sign of fatigue. We might have been at home sitting by the fire for all the strain he showed. “Aren’t you glad we spent so many hours training in our mail?” he asked. “It makes me look clever, doesn’t it?”
“I’ll tell you when we get there,” I said, trying not to sound like I was out of breath.
We found Torin’s lake before the blood-red sun plunged into blackness behind the western hills. The small lake was nestled in a valley, the surrounding hills offering some cover for us. The captain assigned a picket, and the rest of us took care of the wounded Dominians and our tired horses. We passed out dried meat and oatcakes, lighting no fires, as our prisoners and wounded made us more vulnerable to attack. After eating, the healthiest of the prisoners were gathered in the center of camp, their arms bound behind their backs. They would be guarded all night by a larger than usual watch.
“It’s a warm evening, at least,” Rowland said, “and we’ll have the light of a half moon.”
“Mm. Good thing it’s warm, because our bedrolls will have to go to the wounded. Several of them are already feverish, and we can’t let them catch chill.”
Brady came over to where we were sitting in the grass. “Captain wants to see both of you in his tent.”
Rowland and I ducked under the tent flap. A lantern was lit, though only a sliver of light was allowed to escape its cover. Azar was sitting on a blanket, and across from him knelt the young Dominian who had first surrendered, his hands bound behind his back.
The captain motioned for us to sit. “This prisoner has been asking to speak to ‘the lady on the golden horse.’ You may ask him whatever you will.”
I looked at Rowland and back to Azar, who added, “I’m sure he has much to tell us about the war band’s plans.”
“Very well. What is your name?” I asked the prisoner. The lantern light cast deep shadows in the hollows of his thin face. His black hair and beard were grown wild. But unlike the other prisoners, he did not look away when I spoke to him.
“I am Colm.”
“You asked to see me?”
Colm took a deep breath. “Lady, I must thank you for allowing me to surrender. No one has ever offered that before. I am in your debt. You have spared my life, and as tradition demands, I am now your slave—for as long as I live.”
I had no idea what to say. He seemed to grow anxious with my silence, stumbling over his words. “I am your slave now. I will do everything for you—clean your boots, groom your horse, serve at mealtime, burnish armor, whatever you need. All this I did for my Bezarq officers.”
Azar shifted, his shadow flickering on the side of the tent. “This is not our custom. We don’t have slaves, and we don’t just trade sides whenever we like as if we’re playing a game.”
Colm’s head dropped. “No, sir. It is no game to me.”
“It is a privilege to serve with the Guardians of Enfys—not lightly granted,” said Rowland. “You know nothing of it.”
“Please forgive me. I meant no disrespect.” Colm’s voice faltered. “I was conscripted and forced to fight for Lord Saduk, but I never wanted to serve him.” Again he dared meet my gaze. “When I saw you today, sitting on your golden warhorse, I knew I could not belong to Saduk—or serve him—ever again.”
Looking at his earnest face, I said, “The captain makes a fair point. What is loyalty to you if you can change sides in the wink of an eye?”
“With respect, my lady, loyalty has no part in it. Lord Saduk stole me from my family and forced me to raid and kill. The Bezarqs would set vithons on anyone who refused their smallest com
mand. Just like they did today. They promised to find our families and kill them if we disobeyed their orders. I have never known loyalty with Lord Saduk—only the worst kind of slavery. Since the day I was taken, I have longed for nothing more than to break free of him. I came to fear that freedom would only come in death, and I almost wished for it. But today everything changed. I will be your prisoner as long it pleases you to let me live—but I would rather be your slave. It’s what I know how to do.”
He did not look away, and even though I knew I should be skeptical, I couldn’t help but believe him. His eyes were sincere, and there was still that haunting familiarity about him.
“If it is as you say, you will tell us what you know of Saduk and the war band’s plans.” The captain’s voice was gruff, but his face relaxed a bit. “How long have you been a conscript?”
“Getting on for three years, sir.”
“And where did you go in that time?”
“First they took us to the fortress of Bal Zor, where they taught us how to fight with the sword. Then I was sent to the Northlands for two years. We were a small war band of thirty conscripts, three Bezarqs, two vithons, and two keepers. The vithons were as much for keeping us conscripts in line as for use on the Northlanders. We roamed the countryside, stealing food and whatever we could carry away. When we ran out of provisions, we moved on to the next place. The Bezarqs were satisfied with frightening people as long as they showed no resistance. But if anyone fought back, we were ordered to punish them. We were better trained and armed, of course, and sometimes…” He shrugged and looked down. “If they fought back, we killed them.”
“How old were you when you were taken?”
“I was not sixteen. My brother was taken too, and he’s a year older.”
“Do you know what Saduk is seeking to accomplish by raiding Canwyrrie?” the captain asked after a minute.
“Sir, the Bezarqs did not speak of such matters to us, but I can tell you the talk I overheard from time to time. They said he intends to rule the whole realm. That he wants to kill everyone in the bloodline of Enfys and take all power for himself. Then he will establish the House of Worrgard over one united realm.”
I made an effort to keep my voice guarded. “In your travels in the North, did you ever hear anything about King Aidan?”
“I heard that he was taken by Lord Saduk. I do not know if he is dead or alive, but some say he is a prisoner. ‘A guest of His Lordship’ is the way they put it.”
“Did they ever say where he is held?”
“No, my lady. I have heard of a dungeon dug in the rock beneath Bal Zor, but I know of no one who’s seen it.” He shuddered. “They say no one who goes there ever leaves—except feet first.” He looked at me with unblinking, dark eyes.
“After the Northlands, where did you go?”
“We were on our way south of the River Plevin when you met us. There’s a Dominian settlement in Canwyrrie, a place called Evergreen. We joined up with another war band under orders to burn it to the ground.”
“That happens to be where we’re headed,” I said, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of fear in his face.
“Saduk hates Evergreen. He will spare nothing to see it destroyed.”
“We had that one figured,” Rowland said.
“I felt that you did not want to fight me this morning,” I said, watching for Colm’s reaction.
For a moment he seemed lost in thought. “Lady, when I was a young boy, my mother used to tell us stories. She always said that a warrior queen would come to save Domaine. She would be crowned with beautiful lights from the heavens as a promise of the peaceful reign she would bring to the realm.”
I felt a familiar breathlessness. How could a story like that come from Domaine?
“Forgive me,” Colm went on, “but when I saw you this morning…it was almost as if I recognized you from her stories. I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I couldn’t fight you.”
Azar and Rowland exchanged a look that I couldn’t read. I looked back at Colm and suddenly saw the missing piece. “Tell me your mother’s name.”
“She is called Orabella.”
“Orabella Stonedale!”
It was Colm’s turn to be surprised. “But how do you know her name?”
“She lives in Canwyrrie now. In fact, she’s at Evergreen, the settlement you were on your way to destroy. She’s one of three elders there.”
His mouth dropped open. “My lord! Is that possible? Is she well?”
I smiled. “She is very well. Her greatest hope is to see her sons again.”
“And my father?”
“I am sorry…your father returned his song…several years ago.” I paused to let the unhappy tidings sink in. “Lady Stonedale told us he went with peace in his heart.”
Colm blinked, and two glistening tears rolled into his unkempt beard. “I’ve not heard from them these three long years. The only thing that’s kept me alive was the hope of seeing my family again.”
I fiddled with the chain around my neck. “Tell me, do you have knowledge of your brother’s whereabouts?”
“Devin? I don’t know.” His voice wavered, and he cleared his throat. “The Bezarqs separated us. That was their way. They broke up family and friends to keep us from having the courage to defy them. I have no idea if my brother lives or not. Conscripts are always the first to die in any battle.”
After a pause I said, “It is in our power to reunite you with your mother, and we will do so. Evergreen needs strong young men to help with farming and building. I believe we can convince them to allow you and the other conscripts to settle with them. And after you’re settled for a while, we will talk again.”
“You are most generous.”
“Keep your chin up, Colm. We will find your brother. And while we’re at it, we’ll give Saduk something to think about too.”
He managed a sad smile. “I owe you my life. I will not forget it.”
Chapter 26
Worn out and hungry, we finally made it to Evergreen. At Elder Jaron’s direction, we made a temporary prison out of one of the great storage barns. The conscripts were as tired as I was, and it was doubtful they would make any trouble once they had a hot meal and a jar of summer ale in their bellies. Those with serious wounds we carried to the River Hall, where Nieve and her apprentices went to work on them.
We put the vithon keepers into separate rooms, each guarded by three Evergreen militiamen. We told the people of Evergreen what the keepers had done, loosing vithons on unarmed, wounded men. Judging by the people’s response, there would be no misplaced sympathy for the keepers.
Rowland showed Colm where to bathe in the river and borrowed clean clothing for him so he wouldn’t worry his mother with his unkempt appearance. Colm trimmed his beard and tied his damp hair back with a leather thong, but his face showed the greatest change. With the dark trappings of the conscript gone, he looked like a different person. I was pleased that his mother would never see him in Blackcoat garb.
She was busy in the cooking shed attached to River Hall. The warm smell of baking meat pies met us as we walked in. Orabella heard our boots tread on the stone floor and glanced up from her work. Never have I seen such a look as was on her face when she saw her missing son. I left them, feeling lighter than I had in a long while, and went to find Azar.
I knew Azar was going to question the keepers before he turned them over to the Evergreen elders, and I wanted to be in the room. Azar seemed surprised when I asked to join him.
“You may, of course,” he said, “but are you sure you want to? They’re uncouth, ugly brutes. I’m not looking forward to it myself.”
“I thought I might see something that would help us with the questioning,” I said. “And the Bezarqs might know more about where the king was taken than Colm did.”
“Good point,” Azar
said. “Come along then.”
Azar and I entered one of the holding rooms, and I saw with satisfaction that the vithon keeper now had keepers of his own. His thick wrists were bound to the wrists of two annoyed-looking militiamen, one on either side of his chair, with a third one standing by for good measure. The keeper’s close-cut, raven hair stood up on end, and his beard was braided in three tight queues that stuck out from his chin. His heavy chest and arms were built like the front end of an ox, and his eyes were hard as black stones. Menace seeped out of him like the scent of a cornered animal.
His head snapped up, rattling the string of vithon teeth around his neck. It struck me that he looked eerily similar to the beasts he served. I half expected to see pink foam appear on his snarling lips.
He leered at me. “Ah, you’ve brought me a woman!”
One of the Evergreen guards slapped him hard, leaving a red splotch on the side of his face. “Mind your tongue in the presence of a lady!”
