“A woman!” asked Goran raising his voice. “A woman killed Fodor and the rest of his men?”
“She had some help from some of the peasants, sir,” added Porta who was standing off to one side. While not making any excuses for Fodor’s failure, or the man before them, Porta saw that nothing would be gained by punishing this man further.
Goran glared at the soldier, the only one to survive. “Get out of my sight. You can live with the shame of being beaten by a woman.”
The soldier limped from the tent.
“Is there anything else I should know?” enquired Goran, shifting his steely gaze to Porta.
“It was a trap, sir. She formed the wagons into a circle with only a small entrance and hid men beneath the wagons. Then they escaped through the forest and across the swamp. I have detached a patrol to the other side of the swamp.”
“They will be in the hills by now.”
“The troops might be able to find a trail.”
“I doubt it, Porta. See what you can find out about this woman, someone must know of her.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, bowing and leaving the tent.
Goran paced the carpeted floor of his tent. The priests had all been killed, Penner had seen to that, but they had failed to find the flag. This disturbed him as is orders had been quite explicit, find the flag and burn it in front of the peasants. It was meant to be a show of strength, a sign to the peasants that there was no such thing as a Shadow Walker, and there was no hope in praying for a legend.
Yesterday, the peasants had turned on them, although they had good reason. Normally they cowered, accepted their place and did the bidding of the king’s representatives without question, but this time they had rebelled, had fought the soldiers. This was something that hadn’t happened in a long time. Was this a sign of things to come? He hoped not. Then there was the young woman. If what the soldier had told them was true she was a formidable adversary, a thinker, a woman who could wield a sword as well as any man. What he didn’t need was some leader arising from out of this, someone the people could look up too.
He sighed, poured himself a goblet of red wine. He wondered if he was getting too old for this. For the last fifteen years it had been easy. Slay a few peasants, collect the taxes and live the good life. Why was he worried now? These were minor problems, small dilemmas that should be easy to handle.
They had lost forty five men yesterday, including the eight who died at the hands of the young woman. Another forty men had been wounded, five of them seriously; they would probably die. Porta had estimated that around fifteen hundred peasants had been slain and many more wounded.
Goran had his tent erected further up the hill away from the cries of the injured and incessant wailings of mourning women. He hadn’t yet decided what to do with the town. Some of the townsfolk had turned against them as well. Penner and the local troops had seen to them. His report stated that they had killed about a hundred traitors for the loss of a further nine men.
Penner was now drinking himself into a stupor in the local inn. In fact most of the men were drunk or sleeping it off after killing, raping and pillaging. It was a failing in the army, this drunken celebration, one day they were going to be caught out. If an enemy attacked them now they would be slaughtered. Too many years with no real opposition was making them soft and vulnerable. Although, he still had his elite guard of two hundred. They were sober and at this very moment seeing to the burying of the bodies, guarding his compound, gathering information from informers, arresting dissenters and trying to keep some semblance of order.
Goran sat down in the comfort of his lounge chair and stretched his legs. He always preferred to bring his own tent on campaigns. He now wanted to wrap up this operation and retreat to the capital where he would spend the winter; he didn’t need any extensions to his time here. Snow was already falling in the mountains. He shivered slightly, reminding him of the chill in the air. He called the servants to light the brazier.
Sometime later Porta returned with two guards and a young blond-haired man with torn disheveled clothing. His wrists were bound together at his front with rope, his feet further hobbled with a short rope. His eyes reflected defiance, something that he had seen a lot of lately, especially in the young. Was this another subtle sign that things might be changing? “Sir, this is Peter Burrows, he knows something of the girl we seek.”
Goran raised his eyebrows at the name. “Are you any relation to Martin Burrows?”
“He was my father, your men killed him.”
“That is unfortunate, he was a good man.”
Peter wanted to express his anger further but he held his tongue, controlled his ire, his only thought was to somehow escape and exact his revenge on the Lothians, to insult this man would almost certainly lead to his execution.
“What do you know of the young woman who was camped on the ridge?
“All I know is that she was supposed to be a niece of Elijah’s, the storyteller.”
“She seems to know how to use a sword, eight of my men died when they went into her camp.”
Peter felt a small inner moment of triumph at the news of her deed.
“Where did she learn to use a sword?”
“I have no idea, she kept to herself, didn’t talk about her past.”
“She escaped across the marsh with some of the peasants. You wouldn’t have any idea where she might be heading?”
Peter was delighted to hear that Mica had escaped. “I believe Mica is an orphan, she has no family, no home to go to.”
“There are others who might lead her to safety though,” said Goran, more to himself rather than to Peter. “Take him away.”
As the guards grabbed him by the arms Peter spoke.
“What are your intentions in regard to my future?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” said Goran, staring directly into the young man’s eyes.
The guards dragged him from the tent.
“You should kill him, sir, he will crave revenge.”
“You are probably right, Porta. His father being killed could create a problem for us in more ways than one. We were expecting a herd of five-hundred horses from Burrows for the cavalry. His horses are the best in the land and are sorely needed.”
“Maybe we should hold the young man to make sure the herd is delivered.”
“I think it would be wise, Porta.”
“We have his sister as well.”
“See that neither of them is harmed.”
“Is there anything else you require, sir?”
“I presume you are still sifting through the peasants looking for dissidents?”
“There are really no dissidents here, sir, these are just simple pilgrims.”
“That may be so, but a lot of them took up arms, we can’t allow that to go unpunished. I want it wrapped up by tomorrow so we can leave this place. As for the men, see to it that they return to their duties, they are becoming too sloppy, too complacent. If any disobey, hang them.”
* * *
Mica led them through the trees and through the thick scrub. She pushed them, trying to gain as much distance and height as she could before they found the bodies. Even when they did it would take some time for a patrol, or search party to reach the other side of the swamp. The only thing that concerned her was that they had to leave the horses behind. It would have been impossible to get them across the swamp.
It was well after midday when they had climbed high enough to be safe. They found a huge overhang of rock that would give them protection from the elements and a good view of the surrounding area. No one could sneak up on them.
“We will stay here tonight and then move on in the morning,” said Mica, slipping the heavily laden pack off her back.
Everyone else unburdened themselves and slumped to the ground as they were worn out from the climb. Even the children who had started out eager and full of energy were now tired and all they wanted to do was sleep. Adar was the only one who seemed to
have some vigour, he was already gathering timber for the fire that they would need.
Mica sat down next to Gabriel. “Do you think they’ll come looking for us?” he asked.
“If they do it will only be a half-hearted attempt, I’m sure they won’t climb these mountains. It’s too risky; they know they could be ambushed.”
“Where are we going to go?” asked Elijah.
“Do you know of a place called Santomine?”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s supposed to be on the High Mountain Road.”
“To reach the road we will have to go through the pass. The Lothians have a fort there,” said Gabriel, stretching himself out on the ground and lying back. He closed his eyes.
“Why do you want to go to this place?” asked Elijah.
“I believe it’s a place of sanctuary, a place where we will be safe.”
“How do you know this?”
“It’s something I heard in Tursy from the priests,” said Mica. It was a small lie. “Elijah, we have to go somewhere.”
“That is true,” replied Elijah, “and before the snow starts falling in earnest.”
Mica looked to the skies that were even now swirling with puffy white clouds, a sure sign that snow was on the way. Had she done the right thing? These people were now her responsibility and were looking to her for their safety. Was this place called Santomine really a place of sanctuary? She was sure it was. All they had to do was to find it.
As darkness approached it became cold, very cold, another sign that it could snow at any time. Adar lit the fire back against the cliff where it couldn’t be seen from below. They made some hot tea and cooked some of the fresh food. Then everyone curled up to sleep as close to the fire as they could.
Mica was tired herself, but she waited until they were all asleep and then walked to the edge of the overhang and peered out into the darkness. He was out there somewhere? Would he come tonight? She needed to talk to him, to know more about this place called Santomine. She pulled her goat-skin jacket tighter about her. The cold was seeping through her clothing. She waited, but he didn’t come. She returned to the fire, threw on another log and crawled beneath her single blanket.
They all took some rousing in the morning and it wasn’t until Adar stoked the fire and had it roaring that everyone began to move about. The day was overcast and had no warmth in it. After breakfast they moved off toward the pass.
At the end of another rough day they were in a position overlooking the road that wound through the pass like a snake, the fort was further on at the highest point. No fire would be lit tonight.
“What now?” asked Gabriel.
“We wait for an opportunity,” replied Mica as she stared down at the road that was empty of travellers. “Eventually, some people must come along the road, with any luck we can mingle with them and pass through the fort.”
In the twilight of the evening Mica saw a lone rider coming along the road. This was unusual as no one travelled these roads alone. She was curious, so she made her way down ahead of the rider and waited for him to approach. The man seemed familiar to her and as he came closer she saw it was Argon. She stepped out onto the road in front of him. His hand immediately went for his sword. “You are taking a risk being on this road alone, Argon.”
“Mica, it’s you.” His hand left his sword. “Thank God you escaped. What of the others?”
They’re safe in the hills behind me. Come, you must join us and give us the news.”
“I’m afraid none of it is good, Mica.”
As Argon rode into the camp and climbed from his horse everyone gathered around. Gabriel passed him a mug of strong wine. “Thank you,” he said as he took a mouthful.
“What has happened in Tursy?” asked Elijah.
“As you know the cavalry surrounded the fields and the township. A group of soldiers came through the town to the church where they slew all the priests and burnt the church and the surrounding buildings to the ground. Some of the town folk, along with my two friends, tried to stop them but they were cut down mercilessly. I remained locked in the tavern and we were left alone.
“I found out later that the priests in the fields were slain as well. Some of the people rose up against them, many were killed and many have been taken prisoner. I managed to escape the town because I knew the guards even though half of them were too drunk to know who was coming or going. The troops have no discipline. They are drinking, pillaging and raping the women.”
Mica thought of the Burrows family, she hoped they were all safe.
Argon looked across at Mica. “What are your plans?”
Mica cast her eyes around the tiny group. “It’s time you all decided where you are going to go. I’m going to a place called Santomine, a place high in the mountains. The journey will not be without danger. Some of you have homes to go back to. I would suggest that you return to them. No decision needs to be made now, but in due course you will have to make up your minds.”
Stan, the young man recently married, spoke up. “We have nowhere to go. The Lothians burnt our village to the ground. We will be going with you Mica.”
“You will have to venture through the pass to reach the High Mountain Road,” said Argon.
“So I’ve been told. Do you want to come with us, Argon?”
“I’m not sure,” he said as he looked around at the small but pitiful group. They would not be able to defend themselves if attacked by soldiers or a group of bandits. “They will have to let the pilgrims go at some time and the roads will be crowded. We can decide then what we are to do.”
“Then all we have to do is wait,” said Mica as she peered down onto the empty road that was now being swallowed up by the night.
Slowly the people dispersed and made their way to their beds. Mica, Gabriel, Elijah and Argon sat down on some rocks.
“It’s a sad day when priests are killed,” said Elijah.
“I fear this is just the beginning. The people fought back and as the stories filter across the land there will be many who will want to take up arms,” said Argon, drinking the last of his wine.
“How many were killed, do you think?” asked Mica.
“A thousand or more at least,” replied Argon.
“What of the cavalry, what will they do now?
“They will arrest and kill some, others they’ll take back to Lothia. They will set most of the pilgrims free. Winter is coming. The soldiers will not want to be caught here in the snow.”
“Why did they do this, why kill the priests?”
“Who knows? The king probably thought they were some sort of threat; that some sort of religious fervor might accumulate from their gathering and worshipping of the Shadow Walkers.” He paused for a moment. “They were also looking for the flag, but they didn’t find it. Someone had taken it before the soldiers came to the church. Penner was in charge of the soldiers who entered the town. He was angry about that, fuming in fact; that was why he burnt the church down and would have burnt the whole town down if they had of let him. He was drinking in the inn when I left.”
“I’ve seen some of Penner’s work before; he has no heart that one,” said Gabriel.
“Probably lost it when his nose was chopped off,” added Argon with a smirk.
“That would anger any man, losing your nose.”
Mica felt a shiver traverse her body. They were talking about a man with no nose, a man who was more than likely the one she was looking for, it had to be him. She wanted to say something, ask some more questions but by now her body was shaking. She needed to be alone, needed to calm herself. Here was possibly the first of her trials, the first of her quests from the past. She rose from where she was sitting. “I’m going for a walk,” she said rather abruptly and strode off, not waiting for any comment.
“Is there something bothering her?” asked Argon.
Elijah said nothing. Yes there was something bothering Mica, he knew that she was following the path of reveng
e. At the mention of Penner having no nose Mica’s expression had changed, he saw the anger flare in her eyes. Was Penner one of the reasons for her path, if so, it would be a dangerous one.
Mica found a clearing, drew her sword and breathed in deeply. She began her exercises, the same exercises she had practiced for ten years. As she wielded the sword she let her mind go back to that very day when the world as she knew it was shattered. The sword became faster, a mere blur in the night as she drove herself, faster and faster, but all the time in control. When she was finished, her body was lathered in sweat despite the chill of the night.
“That was quite a performance.”
Mica turned sharply toward the voice behind her, the sword still in her hand, her breathing laboured and the fire still in her eyes.
“How in the hell do you do that?” she said as she peered at the dark hooded figure.
“Do what?” he said with some smugness.
“Sneak up on me like that. Normally I feel someone’s presence long before I see them, but with you I feel nothing.”
“It’s something that only Shadow Walkers possess.”
“So, you are finally admitting that you are a Shadow Walker, that they exist,” said Mica as she sheathed her sword.
“After what happened today I can no longer stand back, it is time for me to make my return.”
“It seems the soldiers were looking for the flag, it’s missing.”
“I have it, it will be given to them in time, as a warning, as a sign of their future demise.”
“There are around two thousand soldiers down there, too many for a single person to fight.”
“I will seek them in the night, slay some of them in their beds, they will fear the coming of the night. It will be enough.”
Mica suddenly had a thought. “How do you plan to deliver the flag?”
He lifted his head slightly. She could see the outline of his face. “I’m not sure, but it would have more effect if it was placed in the middle of the camp.”
“I could deliver it to them and tell them of your return. Tell them that they are all going to die.”
The Orphan and the Shadow Walker Page 13
