by D. L. Kramer
"I'm sure the scouts would have spotted any groups around that shouldn't be here," Bear pointed out.
Nahtan nodded his agreement. "You've seen the size of these three armies," he said to Mallin. "They wouldn't stand a chance."
Mallin studied Nahtan for a moment. "It isn't the army that's their objective," he said quietly. "The Archbishop made several provisions after Captain Janec left our ranks. There are these groups of soldiers about that he has no knowledge of."
"What kind of groups?" Nahtan pressed, not liking the dread creeping up his spine.
"And if you're still so loyal to the Archbishop," Bear interjected. "Why are you warning us about them?"
Mallin shifted his gaze to Bear, then back to Nahtan. "My loyalties lie elsewhere," he stated. "But I do not agree with everything the Archbishop has done. He sent our families to live with us because he was hoping as you destroyed the waystations, he could use their murders against you."
"He was going to sacrifice all your families for a little propaganda?" Bear asked, stepping forward, his eyes narrowing.
Mallin responded with a simple nod of his head to Bear, then looked to Nahtan. "I could not allow the others to feel the loss I felt at losing my son on the battlefield."
"I can understand that," Nahtan nodded, careful not to let his own emotions show. The Archbishop was trying to portray him as a monster, and the thought angered him more than he cared to admit. "What about these units of church guards?" he asked.
"I didn't find them," Mallin shook his head. "All I know is if Herridon fell under siege by your armies and allies, they were to advance on the city."
"How many of them are there?" Bear asked, his tone quiet. Nahtan noticed he was clenching his fists.
"Three units," Mallin answered. "I don't know exactly how many men in each unit, but it's no more than ten."
Nahtan looked at Bear, hoping his friend could figure out why such small groups would be considered useful. After a moment, Bear returned his look with a shrug. Nahtan turned back to Mallin.
"Thank you for the warning," he told him. "But I still don't understand how they could pose much of a threat. Their groups would be too big to try assassinating me or the others."
"As I said," Mallin nodded. "I don't know their purpose, but be warned that they are out there."
Nahtan watched him for a moment longer before turning and leaving the tent. His thoughts raced, trying to come up with a reason for groups of that size to be coming near their camps.
"Any idea?" he finally asked Bear as they walked away from the tent.
"No," Bear's tone was low.
Both Nahtan and Bear were silent as they returned to Mo'ani's camp. Rather than tell Mo'ani right away, Nahtan decided to wait, his own thoughts churning over the information. When night fell, he found himself unable to sleep and made his way to the large pavilion. Off in the distance, he could hear the steady pounding of the siege engines as they began their work on the heavy gates and walls of Herridon.
Absently flipping through the maps on the table, he collapsed into a chair. Pulling his sword over his head and arm, he leaned it against the table.
No more than thirty men. What could so few hope to accomplish against the thousands of Mo'ani and Dwellers encircling Herridon? It was too many to be assassins, but far too few to try cutting off their supplies from the stronghold and Bavol Hold. The Archbishop had used the river to transport his supplies and men, but the only people who were relying on it now were the citizens of Herridon in their makeshift camps to the north.
He paused, the same feeling of dread gripping his spine again. Three groups of ten men--if they stayed by the outer camps, there was nothing stopping them from raiding those sites. Standing up, he grabbed his sword and swung it over his head as he left the tent.
Neither Mo'ani nor Kile were in their tents, so he made his way to the corral for Tyran. Not bothering to saddle the tall horse, he reached for Nicho's mind as he pulled himself onto Tyran's back. Nicho responded immediately, directing Nahtan to Lord Bavol's camp.
With the closeness of the army, the fastest Tyran could go was a quick trot. Nahtan wished he could urge him into a gallop, but didn't want to trample anyone in his path. Before reaching Lord Bavol's camp, Nahtan reached for Chase's mind, instructing the big horse to wake Bear and bring him to Nahtan.
Pulling Tyran in outside Lord Bavol's camp, he instructed the young horse to stay there, then walked toward the Mo'ani outside. He could hear Mo'ani's voice from inside and hoped Kile was there with him.
"I need to speak with Mo'ani and Lord Bavol," Nahtan said, coming up to the young warrior.
"M-my lord?" the warrior asked, as if not sure why Nahtan was asking permission to enter.
"Nahtan?" Evaine's voice came from just inside the tent. She pushed back the flap, then motioned him inside. "What brings you out here?"
Kile, Lord Bavol, Mo'ani and Janec all sat around a burning brazier while Evaine was standing inside the entry with her longbow in one hand and a quiver of arrows in the other.
"Mallin says he told you there were three church guard units out there," Nahtan said, meeting Mo'ani's gaze. "Were they ever found?" He knew Mo'ani would have taken any precautions he thought the situation called for.
"No," Mo'ani shook his head, standing up. "We've had scouts out looking for them since Mallin was caught, but none have been found."
Nahtan nodded and turned to Janec. "You said you disagreed with one the Archbishop's advisors and tried to kill him. What did you disagree about?"
Janec glanced at Kile, then Mo'ani before clearing his throat and meeting Nahtan's gaze.
"He wanted to send the men's families out to the waystations with them," he finally said. "I agreed at first, until I found out he wanted them there for you to slaughter."
Nahtan nodded. "Well I just found out myself," he said as Kile and the others gave Janec surprised looks. Nahtan turned back to Mo'ani. "The scouts are looking in the wrong places for those men."
"What do you mean he was supposed to slaughter the families?!" Lord Bavol demanded, pinning his sharp eyes on Janec.
Janec turned to face Lord Bavol. "I never thought to mention it," he shrugged. "When I left, the Archbishop had decided against it."
"Where should the scouts be looking?" Mo'ani asked Nahtan.
"By the camps you told me the citizens had set--" Nahtan turned when the tent flap was thrown back from behind him, letting in a middle aged Mo'ani warrior.
"The camps to the east of here were just attacked," he announced, his voice a deep rumble.
"Church guards?" Mo'ani asked, nodding to Nahtan that he realized his mistake now that it was too late.
"No sir," the warrior shook his head. "By the descriptions of the attackers, it was a small group of Mo'ani warriors."
Fourteen - "I saw their cloaks and horses"
Nahtan and Bear walked slowly through what was left of the camp. Their torches revealed little, but their approach to the camp had told Nahtan everything. The people camped nearby all gave him frightened looks as he rode past, mothers hurrying their children back while the men stood their ground and gripped swords or spears.
After quite a bit of coaxing, Bear had finally gotten a girl of about twelve summers to talk to him. She hadn't seen the attackers' faces, but confirmed that their cloaks matched Bear's and they were riding Dwellers' horses.
Nahtan had suggested he and Bear come out alone, against both Mo'ani's and Kile's advice. Nahtan didn't want to scare the citizens of Herridon more, and was afraid half a dozen Mo'ani riding to their camps would only set off alarms.
"See anything?" Bear asked, rolling over a body and checking for any sign of life. The young man had been about their age, and had been run through with a heavy sword. Bear stood up after a moment, shaking his head at the destruction around them.
Nahtan studied the tracks on the ground ahead of him. "Nothing I could use to convince the people around here," he sighed. "I don't think they'd believe me that
the boot marks are from the church guards' standard boots."
"I'll take your word for it," Bear turned to another body, this one of a young girl of about ten summers. He knelt beside her for several minutes and Nahtan stepped to his side, hoping perhaps he had found something. "She's dead too," Bear said, his voice quiet. "But she went down fighting as hard as the others."
"What do you mean?" Nahtan asked.
Bear carefully uncurled the girl's fingers, revealing a tangle of hair in the light of his torch. "I think she tried to rip his scalp off with her bare hands."
Nahtan leaned down and pulled the hair from the cold hand. "It's too coarse," he said, immediately recognizing it when it touched his hand. "It's horse hair." He stood up and looked around. Three more bodies were on the other side of the camp, two older men and a middle-aged woman.
He stepped back, taking in the whole camp. There was nothing left that was salvageable, and the five bodies had been left where they fell. The attackers had taken the food and water, as well as any horses or mules. What would be so important that this girl would pursue someone to his horse and try to stop it with her bare hands?
"Did that girl you talked to say anything about them taking prisoners?" Nahtan asked, trying to sort out what he was seeing.
"No," Bear shook his head as he stood up.
"She was begging them not to kill them."
Nahtan and Bear both turned at the voice, the light from Bear's torch falling on a man a few years older than them. He was well dressed, and carried a gold-hilted longsword in one hand. Nahtan recognized the sword immediately as one that was exceptionally made; it was the kind of weapon any warrior would be proud to own but few would ever be able to afford.
"You saw the attack?" Nahtan asked.
"I saw enough," the man said. "I saw their cloaks and their horses." He walked forward, seemingly unafraid of either Nahtan or Bear as he knelt by the girl's body. He brushed her hair from her face and placed her hands on her chest with his free hand.
"That seems to be what everyone saw," Bear noted. He turned to Nahtan. "Awfully convenient, wouldn't you say?"
Nahtan nodded slowly, stopping when Jayehl's voice from nearly a decade ago drifted through his mind. Horses. Jayehl had been standing watch in the ravine because a herd of Dwellers' horses had been stolen and they were afraid the church guards would try to sneak towards the stronghold that way. But to get past the regular guards, they would need more than the horses, they would also need cloaks.
"Cloaks and horses," Nahtan repeated quietly. He turned to the well-dressed man. "Did any of them say anything?" he asked.
The man looked at them. "Nothing," he shook his head. "They massacred this family as if it were their sole purpose for existing."
Nahtan sighed. "It was," he assured the man, then looked at Bear. "Any ideas?"
"Just because you can carry on a five-way conversation while sword fighting doesn't mean everyone else can," Bear pointed out.
"Wait," the man said after a moment. "There was one--he seemed to be giving the orders. He just sounded like a pompous fool though."
"He wore a red cloak too?" Nahtan asked.
"Yes," the man nodded. "But his was different, it had gold or silver threads embroidered around the bottom."
Bells began ringing through Nahtan's head, and when he looked at Bear, he saw his friend was already on the same track.
"How many pompous fools do we know of who would go along with this?" Bear asked. "And who happened to know what our cloaks looked like--especially the captain's?"
"I can only think of one," Nahtan nodded. "Jorrin."
"You know who did this?" the man stepped towards them, showing the first signs of anger.
"Well, we have a pretty good idea," Nahtan told him. "But unless you can describe his face to us, we can't be positive, no. I can tell you this, though," he continued. "These raids are going to continue unless the people here will consent to letting Dwellers or Mo'ani warriors hide among them to stop them."
"Why should we take your word on it?" the man asked. "For all we know it was on your orders and you're just here to cover your tracks."
Nahtan nodded, understanding the man's point. He'd probably be just as skeptic if their positions were reversed.
"I don't know how to prove my sincerity to you," Nahtan responded. "I'm carrying a church pendant in my pouch right now and my friend here has a church ring in his."
"You had to mention that?" Bear asked, raising his eyebrows at Nahtan.
"I'm just being honest," Nahtan shrugged, still looking at the well-dressed man who was now staring at him with wide eyes. "But you all left Herridon because you know I'm there for a reason. I can't stop the prophecy any more than you can. If you want to deal with these attacks on your own, then it's your decision. I'll go back to Herridon and wait until we've smashed our way through the gates to start that fight."
The man continued to study Nahtan for a moment. "Would you stay here yourself, taking a position with the citizens to wait for an attack?"
Nahtan shrugged. "If I have to in order to stop them, yes."
To Nahtan's surprise, the man smiled faintly. "A king would disguise himself as a farmer to save a few lives?"
"In the first place, I'm not king," Nahtan pointed out. "In the second place, my father was a smith and I spent half my youth learning to trap. A farmer isn't all that different."
The man looked to Bear. "And what about you?"
Bear smiled. "Well, actually, I wouldn't really be very much use to anyone down here."
"You would sacrifice your friend?"
"Hell, no." Nahtan could tell Bear was insulted by his tone of voice. "I'm an archer," Bear explained. "I'd be a lot more use outside the camp."
The man continued to study them for several seconds. "How many more men would you need?"
"About five for each camp," Nahtan answered. That would put two church guards for each Mo'ani or Dweller. "They're only going to attack the isolated camps, so we could only put a few people in each one to not raise suspicions."
"All right," the man agreed. "I'll talk to the families and convince them to let your men in."
Nahtan nodded as the man turned from the camp. "I'd like your name," he said before the man disappeared into the night.
The man paused, then turned to look at him. "Calan," he said after a moment. "I own one of the inns and taverns in the city." Nodding to Nahtan and Bear, he disappeared from the camp.
While Nahtan continued to check the ruined camp for proof it was church guards behind the attack, Bear returned to tell Mo'ani what was going on and to bring back the Mo'ani or Dwellers to guard the outer camps.
Finding no clues, Nahtan turned his attention to burying the dead family. He was just digging the second grave when the approach of several horses drew his attention. He looked up to see Bear and Kile leading almost thirty warriors behind them. None of them wore their cloaks, and their horses' tack had been changed to the simpler styles of the farmers. Single lamps were tied to each horse, lighting the area around them.
"That's not good for ye're wrist," Kile said, swinging down from Nicho's back.
Nahtan shrugged and stuck the shovel in the dirt hard enough to stand it up. "Well I'm not going to leave them out here for the scavengers," he stated.
Kile turned to divide up the Mo'ani as Bear dropped from Chase's back and walked towards Nahtan.
"Lady Bavol has about a dozen archers camping around out here somewhere," he told him. "She thought you might like more than one archer watching things."
"Thanks," Nahtan nodded. "I appreciate it."
As the Mo'ani rode off in small groups, Kile led Nicho over to Nahtan. Behind him, three other Mo'ani dismounted and tied their horses.
"Mo'ani figures the gates'll hold for three days," Kile said. "Adie should be 'ere by then." He shook his head. "We can't spend any more time out 'ere than that."
"That should be plenty," Nahtan nodded. "If we're right and it's Jorrin leading one
of these units, he won't sit on his first victory long."
Kile nodded and pulled the shovel from the dirt. "Why don't ye go decide where ye want us?" he suggested.
Nahtan lifted the bale of hay down from the wagon where it was being stored. He felt strange walking around without his sword while knowing an attack could come at any time, but knew Evaine and Bear were somewhere around the camp with their longbows and crossbows ready.
The Mo'ani had been secluded in the camps for almost two days now, and there had been no sign of another attack. Nahtan was determined to stay until he knew exactly who was behind it, regardless of Kile's time limit.
Cutting the thin rope on the bale, he dropped the hay into the trough in front of the cattle. A shout from his right alerted him, and he looked up to see a red-cloaked man riding down on a young boy. Nahtan turned from his spot, dashing back to the hay wagon and his hidden sword. Within seconds, he had his sword in his hand as the boy's shouts turned to a scream, then cut off. Nahtan turned, pulling the heavy longsword from his sheath and reaching for the Dweller horse's mind.
With a thought from him, the horse responded, skidding to a halt and rearing back, tossing his rider onto the ground.
Nahtan advanced on the imposter with his sword ready. Ahead of him, several more red-cloaked riders galloped towards him. As the man struggled to get his bearings before standing, Nahtan pushed him the rest of the way down with a boot on his chest, then set the point of his sword against his throat. Behind him, the other Mo'ani appeared, some on their horses, as they rushed forward. Nahtan was barely aware of Kile and Nicho leading the charge.
When the man on the ground held his hands out, Nahtan reached over, disarmed him, then pulled him to his feet.
"Where's your leader?" he demanded.
"You're our leader," the man replied, his smile smug and his tone condescending.
Nahtan punched the man, sending him reeling back to the ground. Grabbing the front of his cloak, Nahtan pulled him up again. As nearby citizens began appearing in the camp, Nahtan turned and began dragging the man towards the crowd.
"Is this one of them?" he asked them, indicating the man.
