“This path leads down into the forest. There will be no talking from here. Even the smallest noise will betray our position. We are entering the warzone. If you fall behind you will be on your own. The mission is too great to risk stopping for one Man. Understood?”
“Time’s wasting,” Boen answered for them all.
Ironfoot nodded and drew his sword. “Let’s go.”
NINETEEN
The Rebellion Splinters
Delranan was consumed by a darkness no one understood. The evil taint clinging to the air permeated the most holy of things. Most felt like a curse had fallen and was slowly devouring the ancient kingdom with madness and despair. The days grew darker. Grey clouds choked the skies in an eternal blanket. Streets were largely empty. Parents of small children refused to go outside unnecessarily for fear of reprisal. Markets shut down. Trade ground to a halt. Getting daily supplies turned into a chore. Roving patrols filled the streets now. The five-thousand-man reserve of the Wolfsreik executed Harnin’s bidding without question. Their numbers were bolstered by the hundreds of disgruntled citizens wanting to make something more for themselves. Day by day the kingdom fell apart.
The rebellion went deeper underground. They’d made their bid to take back the kingdom and failed. Now Argis was imprisoned and Joefke dead. Scores more lay in shallow graves. The war continued, however, and worsened the deeper winter became. Early successes were stymied by the gradual adaptation of their enemies. The hit-and-run tactics met with very small rewards, forcing the rebellion leadership to find new ways to continue the war.
“We can’t sit idle any longer.”
Fenning rubbed his bald head in frustration. “What do you propose we do, Inaella? We don’t have the strength to storm the Keep. Joefke’s loss hurt us more than even you imagined. Harnin is too powerful.”
“All tyrants can be stopped. The One Eye is no different,” she protested. Her dark green eyes flared hotly.
The others nodded in approval. Everyone was tired of the constant hiding, plotting, and looking over their shoulders. The toll was too much. Combined with the loss of so many good friends and patriots, many wanted to find a way out. Either out of the war or out of the kingdom. Fresh fears over traitors arose. It didn’t take much before finger pointing and accusations raged back and forth through their ranks. The council was hard pressed to stop it before their order dissolved entirely.
“What would you have us do?” asked another from the far side of the room.
Inaella folded her arms. “Continue fighting! Delranan is our kingdom. We have a civic duty and moral obligation to stand up for what is right. The people need to know they have others looking out for them. Think about your own families. Would you abandon them to Harnin’s depredation? How many children are you prepared to sacrifice on his altar of insanity? There is no other answer but none! We must continue to resist.”
“But at what cost?” Fenning argued. “Seventy-five dead already. Homes have been burned. Families ruined. We can’t continue at this pace.”
“You suggest we just lay down our arms and let Harnin do as he pleases? Delranan is already at the bursting point. All it will take is a puff of wind and this kingdom will go up in flames, whether we wish it to or not. Soldiers are now controlling the streets. We’ve lost the advantage. He no longer fears us.”
“We need that fear if we’re to survive.”
Fenning scowled at the speaker, a newer member to their council whose name he couldn’t recall. “The Wolfsreik is to fear us? You suffer from delusions if you think such a thing is possible.”
“He speaks the truth!” Inaella barked. “We held all of the advantages in the beginning. Now we flounder with indecision. A move needs to be made. One that will shake Harnin’s confidence.”
Frustrated, Fenning leaned back in his chair and drank deeply from his mug of water. “What do you suggest?”
“I don’t know,” Inaella replied sweetly. She was pleased with his sudden attitude reversal. Fenning was much easier to deal with when he couldn’t find any viable option to get his way. She decided to step back and allow him to come up with the target. “Whatever we do needs to be big enough to inspire the people again and make Harnin realize he’s not as secure as he thinks. And I am not suggesting we try to free Argis. I realize the impossibility of that, however sore his loss hurts us.”
“We could always strike the new barracks complex,” suggested Ingrid, a young woman with striking blonde hair. The scar running down the side of her face was still pink, fresh. She’d lost her husband to Harnin’s soldiers and wanted revenge. Joining the rebellion was the only logical move.
“Ingrid has a point,” Inaella reinforced. “They don’t have many guards posted. We could burn it to the ground and be gone before they manage to bring in reinforcements.”
Fenning considered the proposal. The new complex was designed to eventually become a fully operational fortress on the outskirts of Chadra city. Harnin’s designs called for it to be a permanent structure to secure his powerbase as well as repel Badron’s armies when they eventually returned. The ugly buildings rivaled the majesty of Chadra Keep. Destroying them would incite Harnin’s wrath but it would also cement the will of the people against the continued oppression. Fenning knew there was little choice in the matter. Doing nothing wasn’t an option.
“We would need to burn it to the ground,” he finally said. “That’s the only way to draw enough attention is to completely ruin it.”
“Kill everyone on site,” Ingrid said. The anger in her voice was unmistakable. “The message needs to be clear.”
Inaella frowned at her zeal. Fighting attitudes were needed but Ingrid might become a major distraction if she continued to allow her desire for vengeance to cloud her judgment. “Ingrid, we are at war but there is more to think on than the careless slaughter of life, even if it does belong to our enemy.”
“What do you mean?” Ingrid demanded.
Inaella stood and went to the middle of the room so everyone could hear her clearly. “We are all citizens of Delranan. Right, wrong, or indifferent, this is our kingdom. The men we fight against have families that live among us. We are the same people with differing ideals. How many of those pressed into Harnin’s service truly share his vision for the future? For certain the only ones that do are those miscreants who joined him after Badron left. If we casually slaughter our own people, how long will it be before we go after their families simply for being married to the enemy?
“We cannot turn against one another so easily. Not if we expect to rebuild this kingdom to what it should have been. This is not a war of attrition, Ingrid. We are fighting for the very soul of Delranan. It is their minds that need winning over. Not their bodies.” Inaella clasped her hands and scanned the room. “We should not be so casual with whom we kill. It will only come back to haunt us before the end.”
“What difference will it make if we don’t make a stand now?” Ingrid countered. “I say we strike with ruthless aggression and make them tremble in their boots. Villains only appreciate one thing: strength. We must deliver a clear show of strength and force Harnin back into the Keep. It is the only way.”
“Do you think he’s just going to lock the doors and try to wait us out? No, Harnin will scour the kingdom and kill everyone and everything in retaliation. We can’t kill our way out of this mess.”
“As much as it pains me to agree with her, Inaella is correct,” Fenning said. He longed for the days when he could be just a simple farmer again. This life didn’t suit him. Failing health combined with his rapidly diminishing ability to control the rebellion conspired to render him ineffective. “These are our citizens we’re talking about, not some random foreigners. Prudence is required. We must look to the future.”
“Even if it means losing the war?”
“I don’t have the answer you’re looking for.”
Ingrid fumed but said nothing more. Taking advantage of the momentary lapse in communication, Inaella ad
dressed the council. “Assemble a task force. We will attack the new barracks as soon as we have the necessary intelligence to support our actions. Kill only those that get in the way. We can’t afford to have the people turn against us, not now.”
Several of the council bowed and excused themselves, leaving on Inaella, Ingrid, and Fenning. The three said nothing, content with searching the others’ faces for signs of true feelings and intentions. So much effort went into secrecy they often lost focus. Fenning was a farmer. He wasn’t sure of Inaella’s background but she carried the air of aristocracy. No doubt some officer’s wife. Ingrid. Now Ingrid is a problem. She’s a complete unknown and that makes her dangerous on too many levels. Perhaps we were wrong to include her into the council so rashly.
Shouts mingled with the sudden roar of swords clashing. Inaella shot up, eyes focused on the door. Her heart leapt. They’d been discovered. The door burst open just as the others started collecting their belongings to leave. A young guard, no more than eighteen, stormed in. His face was shallow, paled from fear. His eyes wild. Blood trickled down his right arm from a small wound on the shoulder.
Breathing hard, he said, “You must get out now. The enemy has found us!”
“How did this happen?” Fenning demanded, even as he slid into his heavy jacket. “We’ve always taken great precautions not to…”
“Shut up, Fenning,” Inaella snapped. She knew none of it mattered. All that mattered was escaping Harnin’s Men before she and the others wound up prisoners like Argis. “Which way, guard?”
“The enemy is assaulting the front of the inn. They’ve already set fire to it. Too many of my friends are already dead.”
She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “What is your name?”
“Hrald, ma’am.”
Smiling, Inaella said, “Hrald, you have done us a great service. Your brothers will not be forgotten. They’ve earned their places beside their fathers in the halls of the dead. Now come, lead us to safety.”
Nodding slowly, Hrald’s back stiffened and he led them out of the room and towards the back of the inn. The sounds of battle continued behind them. Curses roared above the din, followed by screams and the wet flesh-smacking sounds of steel piercing bodies. Hrald wanted to run, to flee as fast as his already weary legs might manage but knew he couldn’t. He was all that stood between the council and certain death.
Inaella fled, but knew in her heart she needed to stay. The rebellion would go on without her. Ideals were much harder to kill than people. She was just a small part in a greater machine. The idea of sacrificing herself for the rebellion’s sake almost inspired her but the look in young Hrald’s eyes forced her to go on.
Her thoughts turned to how the enemy had discovered their position. Harnin hadn’t made a move against them for so long they had grown complacent. She frowned. The stalemate was clearly over and loyalist forces intended to cleanse the rebellion to the core. But how had Harnin known where to find them? The obvious choice was Ingrid. She’d been recently accepted to the council and little was known of her other than her intense drive to kill the Wolfsreik. Inaella briefly considered it a ruse but for the fear in Ingrid’s eyes.
The others had been on the council from the beginning, all loyal members to the opposition of Harnin’s tyranny. She’d fought alongside them, even bled with them. Everything had been in their favor until Argis’s capture and Joefke’s death. They’d lost momentum and were sent scrambling to find a way to reverse their fortunes. Inaella couldn’t imagine any of the others turning. They were her friends. The heart of the rebellion. Soldiers were expendable, but not the leadership.
“Are the horses ready?” she asked.
Hrald stopped running long enough to look back over their shoulders. “Yes ma’am. There is a squad standing by to ensure your escape. The horses are saddled and ready.”
“How can we be sure Harnin hasn’t found them?”
Hrald had no answer. Enough of his friends had already died, he didn’t want to think about more. Besides, they both knew there was every possibility that the Wolfsreik had already secured the inn and stables. Harnin’s Men were ruthless but not the seasoned professionals King Badron had taken across the Murdes Mountains. The reserves were part time soldiers who lived as farmers and tradesmen. What they lacked in extensive training and discipline was made up for by sheer brutality and unmitigated violence. Humanity was a simple creature prone to extreme fits of violence and rage. Once that inner beast was loosed it became next to impossible to re-cage. Delranan languished under that beast.
They reached the end of the small tunnel. Hrald motioned them back and slowly pulled the aging wooden door open. He poked his head out into the cool night. Small snowflakes instantly peppered his hair and face. Satisfied the enemy hadn’t yet discovered this place, Hrald led the council into the stable.
The stable was large enough for ten horses and built into the side of a small hill. Mostly underground, the rebellion knew that secrecy would keep them alive better than fighting. Dozens of similar facilities had been constructed throughout the kingdom for just this eventuality. Prudence became the teacher of great wisdom.
“Halt!” a quiet voice commanded.
A dozen guards suddenly emerged from behind trees and bushes. Crossbows were leveled, swords drawn. There was the briefest moment where Inaella thought the betrayal went deeper and that these were Harnin’s Men. That moment faded when Hrald broke into a great smile.
“It’s Hrald. I have the council. They must flee, now.”
The guard commander looked them over before ordering his Men to lower their weapons. “Quickly. Get them inside. It won’t be long before the One Eye finds us.”
Hrald escorted the council in and helped Ingrid and Inaella into their saddles. “Ride safely, ma’am.”
Confused, she asked, “Are you not coming with us?”
He shook his head. “I am needed here. You’ll require a diversion in order to escape.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Diversion meant death. Hrald and the others were going to sacrifice their lives so that the council had the chance to escape. She wanted to cry for his bravery but refused to dishonor the deed with tears. “You are a very brave young man, Hrald. Stay alive, for me. I have a feeling I will need you in the future.”
He beamed with pride and watched the council ride off into the night. The forest was dark but their guide knew the route to the next safe house. Behind him the flames started to lick above the roof of the inn. Snow melted in great pools. Burning embers floated in the night sky. The sounds of battle were all but drowned out by the roar of flames. Hrald knew they needed to leave, to save their lives while there was still time. He also knew he was given specific purpose to ensure the council survived. What remained of the guard would stay and fight. Even if it meant death.
“Prepare yourselves,” the guard captain said. “We get back into the tree line and set up an ambush if they decide to come. The council must escape.”
The guards went about their task wordlessly. Death held no fear, not anymore. They’d all seen friends die and each Man expected the same to come to them before the end. No one really thought they’d live long enough to see the rebellion end. Hrald paused to give a final glance up the trail the council had taken and went to join his brothers.
*****
Jarrik tipped his head back, enjoying the warmth of the flames on his face. The satisfaction of knowing his foes were trapped and being burned to death filled him with energy. He and the others had been forced to sit idle as Harnin dithered over his next move. Weeks of inactivity while the rebellion grew and organized. Weeks where men he knew and once trusted defected to their cause. Weeks of missing the opportunity to wipe out the rebellion while it was still pathetic, weak.
It was only through Jarrik’s own subversion that they managed to get a spy inside the rebel council. He smirked at how easy it was to turn one of their own. And all it took was the promise of a longer life and a small pile of riches
. Jarrik wanted to spit. Peasants were always so concerned with money they lost sight of the bigger picture. Their spy wouldn’t live long enough to collect his rewards. All rebel leaders were going to be captured and executed publicly in the grand finale of the war. No one would dare rise against the throne again.
Harnin, no doubt, would be incensed when he learned of Jarrik’s disobedience, but that didn’t matter. He was doing what was best for Delranan, not himself. The rebellion had gone on for far too long already. Combined with the lack of information from the real war in Rogscroft, Jarrik was left with an uncomfortable feeling. Nothing made sense of late. Harnin’s actions were becoming increasingly erratic. His designs for the future of the kingdom echoed madness.
Jarrik watched the flames and suddenly found doubt. All of this merely weakens our kingdom. Will we be able to repel the Wolfsreik when they return home? He was certain something dark and cruel inhabited Harnin’s mind, whispering to him when no one was looking. Insanity was the only logical reason for his recent decisions. Delranan was once the pride of the northern kingdoms. Now it wallowed in an unnecessary military state. The population was subjected to fear for no reason.
Delranan needed a king again, not a tyrant. Jarrik, regretting his decision to support Harnin’s coup, frowned as thoughts of betrayal formed. He wasn’t sure if the time was right to abandon the One Eye and go back to Badron, but the thought grew with every passing moment.
“My lord, there is no way of knowing if the rebels are inside or not.”
Of course not you fool. “Secure the perimeter and keep guards posted. We won’t be able to search the ruins until this fire dies out. Commander Flynn, I am riding back to the Keep. Find me, no one else, when you are ready to begin searching for bodies.”
Flynn saluted. “Yes, my lord. What should we do with these prisoners?”
Jarrik didn’t spare a glance at the six men kneeling with their hands behind their heads. “Execute them and post the bodies for the people to see. They are traitors to the kingdom.”
A Whisper After Midnight Page 16
