Light of Epertase 01: Legends Reborn

by Douglas R. Brown

  The peacefulness of the land made him wonder what life would be like if he had simply said “Damn the mission,” and lived the rest of his days with nature as his companion. But he quickly pushed those desires aside. What kind of man would he be to entertain such thoughts with any kind of seriousness?

  The trees of the Boke Forest seemed to call him; he made his way over to them. Day-old deer droppings lay at the edge of the forest. He squished them between his fingers. Fresh. The tree line was the perfect setting for his early hunt. He hoisted himself onto a sturdy branch, and then another until he was high enough to wait for the owner of the droppings to return.

  The dew hadn’t yet lifted when his prize came into sight.

  Though small, only a doe, its meat would be tasty just the same. The doe was jumpy as it emerged from the trees and cautiously sniffed the grass.

  Simcane waited.

  The doe stopped a few trees away, jerking its head up. Did it hear him? No, it couldn’t have. Simcane held his breath. When the doe felt safe again it continued its graze.

  Closer and closer. Until it was beneath Simcane’s perch.

  Almost there. A little more.

  The doe twitched its ears again and lifted its head.

  Simcane pounced from his branch. The doe flinched and then darted from beneath him. He thudded onto his hands and knees at the base of the tree, empty-handed and still hungry. No way had the doe heard him. He had been a skilled hunter since his father taught him as a young child and his stalk was perfect, he was sure. He dusted himself off, frustrated, and turned away.

  Then his questions were answered. A better, more efficient hunter had arrived. Not more than two horse-lengths away was a growling mass of teeth, claws, and hair. Simcane calculated the distance back to shelter and safety along with the speed at which he would get there and decided he wasn’t built for speed. He turned his head back to the snarling predator.

  King of beasts, huh? We shall see.

  “Come on, creature. Meat is meat.”

  The beast leaped with a fury.

  Simcane thrust his hands forward at the last possible instant, sending with them a blast of air against the creature’s chest and head. The lion yelped, more stunned than hurt, and landed on its back. Simcane dove onto it before it could roll to its feet. The beast kicked, slicing Simcane’s chest with its deadly rear claw. Simcane squeezed his powerful arms around the creature’s neck as it scrambled to its feet. The beast thrashed and bucked but could not shake the big man free. Snot and spit sprayed from its snout as Simcane squeezed with all of his strength. The fight didn’t last long. Simcane rose to his feet, victorious.

  He pressed his shirt against his wounded chest, tossed his game over his shoulder, and headed back toward camp.

  The first of his guests had already arrived. He was a strange-looking fellow who sat as tall as a normal man stood.

  As Simcane approached, mindful of making enough noise to announce his arrival, the figure rose to his feet, not the least bit concerned. It was rare that Simcane had to look up to make eye contact with another.

  “Gildonese?”

  His guest nodded.

  “I am Simcane. It is a pleasure.” Simcane took his hand, surprised at the skinny Gildonese’s strength.

  His voice was jerky as he spoke. “I am Eldon of New Arc and I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir Simcane, as I have heard many great things about you and look forward to serving under you in this mission.”

  “I did not know any Gildonese still lived, let alone in Epertasian territories. It is definitely an honor to know you. Hungry?”

  “I live a simple and private life and yes, I am always hungry.”

  “Do you have family?”

  “I do not. I have heard tale of my kind in the Lowlands but have never ventured there to find out for sure. But that may be a good thing as when more than a few Gildonese gather together in a pack it can bring on unhealthy urges – dominant urges.”

  The two prepared the night’s feast as dusk arrived. Simcane and Eldon had more in common than he would have guessed and quickly the two formed a bond. The Gildonese seemed to grow on him very quickly, almost unnaturally.

  One by one, the rest of the team made their arrival. First was Thairen, a battle-hardened warrior who over the years had earned a solid reputation. Tales have told that while in the service, he volunteered for every dirty, sneaky, dangerous mission he possibly could. His heavy scarring made him easily recognizable by anyone who’d heard his legend. That amount of scarring could only be gained from a lifetime of reckless battle along with a fabled ability to heal from any wound he had thus far endured. His v-neck blouse made it apparent that his proudest scar was a crease of poorly healed, mangled flesh that followed his neckline from ear to ear. Within moments, Simcane and Eldon’s stares prodded him to brag that the scar was the result of an amateurish stitch job. His head was tinted with patches of yellow buzzed hair that wrapped around bald streaks caused by more scars. One of the streaks stretched from his forehead to his crown.

  Simcane approached him. “Thairen, it is good to meet you. I have heard excellent things about your skills in battle.”

  “I don’t care.”

  Seeing no weapon, Simcane asked, “Where’s your sword, soldier?”

  “No swords, only knives,” he answered, as he lifted his albino tiger fur wrap and pointed to blades along either side of his waist.

  Eldon asked, “Why knives, not swords?”

  “I like to be close to my kills.”

  “Closer than a sword?”

  The closest thing to a smile that most people would ever see on Thairen’s face cracked his lips. He turned away. He walked to the uncooked portion of their feast and tore off a chunk of raw meat. He ripped away the bloody meat with his teeth before carrying the dripping flesh into the church.

  Eldon and Simcane stared at each other, not quite sure what to make of him.

  Next to arrive was an old friend of Simcane’s. Though he only stood to Simcane’s gut, his heart was twice as tall. The left side of his chocolate face and head were heavily burned, disfigured, and hairless.

  “Willum, it has been awhile. How have you been?”

  “Well, Sim. Very well.”

  “I am pleased to have you join us. How long since we last made company? Thirteen, fourteen years?”

  “I don’t know, Sim. How long has it been since you lost your taste for war and abandoned the Epertasian army?” Willum smiled an ornery smile.

  “Oh, yes. Back in the Heathen War, when you were young.” He smiled back at his old friend. “And still had your looks.”

  “I am surprised you can even see my burns. Did you anger a woodpecker?”

  Willum outstretched his hand and Simcane grabbed hold. “Good to see you.”

  A scholarly, well dressed man arrived next and said his name was B.J. the Keen, leaving little doubt of his confidence.

  Gillian, a battle-tested field doctor who prided herself more on her medic skills than her combat ability, and Joseph the Priest arrived shortly thereafter. Each warrior came highly recommended from one dignitary or another and, with his first sight of them as a group, Simcane was pleased.

  After everyone had a chance to indulge themselves in dinner, Simcane gathered them for a meeting before the night’s rest. Everyone except Thairen, as he did his own thing. Simcane figured he’d track him down later and fill him in.

  “Epertase thanks each of you for your service. We are all well fed and after tonight, well rested. We will be traveling through Lithia to the castle and the Danduke River where we will make our way behind the enemy lines.”

  Simcane explained all of the details of the plan before each of the soldiers thanked him for their feast and found their own comfortable spot of floor to sleep upon.

  Simcane sat next to the fire as it faded into ash. He thought about his suicide mission but wasn’t afraid. In fact, he was more excited than anything and feared his excitement would prevent his
sleep. He was right.

  CHAPTER 58

  THE END OF A BLOODLINE

  Simcane’s team reached Lithia, once a thriving society, now empty and dead. It saddened him. The burned bodies of Lithians who wouldn’t or were unable to flee lined the streets. The smell of decaying flesh hung in the air. Birds and scavengers pecked unforgivingly at the corpses. Looking at the devastation, he saw Epertase’s future.

  Their ride was slowed as they were forced to hide from Tek scouts at seemingly every corner. Some of the scouts rode strange metal horses. Simcane’s team watched in wonder from the remnants of once-stately buildings.

  In spite of the delays, evening closed in with the team of soldiers arriving on schedule near Lithia’s royal city. Simcane had never seen Main Street so empty and any hopes he had that it might have been spared were squashed. There were no Teks, no bodies, and short of the occasional stray dog or rat, no life at all.

  Their arrival brought on his hardest part of the mission yet. He caressed Eko’s mane and leaned into his ear. “You have been a loyal steed,” he said. “I thank you.” Then he slapped Eko’s hindquarters, sending him back from the way they had come. The others followed his lead with their own steeds.

  The team crept through dark alley after dark alley until they arrived at the castle walls. As they drew nearer to the main gates, Simcane’s heart sunk. Torches burned along the entrance and illuminated five bodies that hung from hurriedly built gallows as if on display. He didn’t have to get very close to realize the bodies were the royal family.

  As he approached, he scanned the makeshift gallows for his old friends, but King Logan and Queen Lona were not among the dead. A tiny bit of hope replaced some of his sorrow until he spun one of the bodies and saw Logan’s eldest son, Prince Galvin.

  Damn.

  Logan’s daughter and other son were not far away. He didn’t recognize the other two bodies – he had been away for a long time and imagined by their dress that they were likely servants. For a moment, he allowed images of the royal children’s early birthday parties to flash through his mind and wondered if he should have stayed with Logan all those years before.

  Maybe, just maybe, he would have been there to save them if he hadn’t left Lithia to join the fight against the heathens.

  Thairen plowed through the hanging bodies, more focused on the challenge ahead than mourning what had already been done.

  Simcane stopped him. “We will take a moment here and cut them down.” This is no way for royalty to die.

  B.J. asked, “Should we bury them properly? You know, keep them from rotting and drawing scavengers?”

  Simcane lowered his head. He wanted to more than anything, but he looked at the others and said, “We haven’t the time.” Then he walked away with his head held low. He felt alone in his sorrow. He told himself the others would have been sad as well if only they had an opportunity to meet the family.

  Gillian rushed to him. “Sir, a lot of activity in the castle.”

  He lifted his eyes to her. “I know. I hear it.” Simcane hoped his voice didn’t show his sadness, but was sure it did. “Those bastards are celebrating with the rightful owners hanging from these ropes. I’ll enjoy the battles ahead.”

  The soldiers entered an abandoned shop for final preparations.

  “Piece of sweet food?” B.J. asked as he unwrapped a browntreat and shoved it into his mouth.

  “I’m not much in the mood for anything enjoyable right now.” Simcane looked up with clenched teeth. “Unless it’s enemy blood.”

  CHAPTER 59

  BEHIND THE ENEMY

  The sky was moonless and black.

  Simcane gathered his team. “We need to advance to the rear of the castle. If any of you are discovered, you are on your own.”

  “How do we know the boats haven’t been destroyed?” B.J. asked.

  “We don’t. It’s a gamble. They think they are untouchable here and that is their mistake.”

  Each of the team members stealthily moved from the shop and into the dead streets.

  With no sign of guards, Eldon sauntered over the two-man-high perimeter wall with grace and elegance. Thairen raced to the southern gate a lot less gracefully. B.J., Gillian, and Joseph sprinted toward the northeasternmost gate, leaving Simcane and Willum to slip through the main entrance, past the makeshift gallows.

  Simcane and Willum crept across the deserted main yard under the cloak of night. An occasional intoxicated Tek could be seen staggering along the walkway but each one of them seemed more concerned with the king’s ale and balance than guarding anything. Simcane and Willum hugged the castle wall.

  Though their mission had been easy thus far, it wasn’t likely to remain so. Guards were posted at each castle entrance but their small numbers told Simcane their orders were alerting the others rather than stopping a threat.

  Along the side of the castle wall between Simcane and his goal sat a sleepy guard with a bobbing head. Simcane pointed and whispered, “We need to get past that soldier but there is too much space to cover.” He looked back in the direction from which they came. “There is no other easy way around.”

  Willum tapped his shoulder and pointed. “I don’t think it’ll be much of a problem. Look.” Simcane turned back.

  Eldon’s long, gangly arms quietly squeezed the life from the guard’s throat before he dragged the dead body into the shadows. Simcane and Willum hustled to him.

  “Bring him with us,” Simcane said. “We can’t risk him being seen.”

  They made their way past the rear of the castle, north of the Lithian battlefield to the docks of the Danduke River.

  Thairen was there already, leaning against a pier beneath a torch in plain sight. Simcane glanced at his teammate as he hurried past but stopped and backed up for a second look. Fresh blood was smeared across Thairen’s mouth and cheeks; Simcane shook his head.

  “I don’t even want to know,” he whispered.

  “That’s probably best,” Thairen replied. “What are you going to do with him?”

  Oh yeah, the guard.

  Eldon leaned over, put his mouth against the guard’s dead lips, and began to suck. His face turned bright red and his neck veins bulged, threatening to burst. The guard’s chest sunk until his ribcage popped and his sternum collapsed. Eldon sat up, wobbled, and then righted his balance. He lowered the dead body into the water and with quiet calmness the guard sunk like a bag of gold.

  The gods seemed to be with the soldiers as three empty vessels floated nearby in the bay, tied to the piers.

  Simcane and Thairen climbed into the nearest one. Eldon, B.J., Gillian, Joseph and Willum filled the other two. The soldiers lay along the bottoms of the boats and pulled cowhide boat tarps over their heads. With the ropes cut, the vessels floated unnoticed out of the bay and into the slow-moving river.

  The river flowed opposite of the direction his team needed to travel, but luckily, the current wasn’t strong. Their paddling used little energy or effort as they kept close to the river’s edge, less than 30 horse-lengths from the southern banks. In the distance they saw at least a thousand warming fires littering the shores as far as they could see. The glow of the early suns in the southern horizon told Simcane that they hadn’t made it far enough yet.

  He shook his head and whispered loudly to his team, “The early suns have complicated things. I had hoped we would be past their rear before dawn, but it is what it is.” He pointed to the shores. “See how the campfires follow a line from the banks into the wastelands? That must be where they’ve dug their water supply from the river. There will be a lot of activity up ahead. Our cover of night will not conceal us for long. The boats have taken us as far as they can. Stretch the covers over and everyone into the water.”

  Each member straddled the sides of their teetering boats before lowering into the brisk, calm river with hardly a ripple. They were professionals, there was no doubt. They pushed away from their boats and floated toward the banks just short of where the
Tek fires began.

  Simcane barely breathed for fear that his breath would be too loud.

  The peeking twin sunslight glimmered across his lone piece of armor, his chest plate, like a mirror, and he cursed it. A high embankment along the shore proved to be the team’s only cover and Simcane thanked the gods for his luck.

  The team drifted closer to the high embankment. Simcane heard Tek chatter from above and motioned for the others to be as quiet as they could. His team silently floated on the water edge like the experts he knew they were. He prayed they could be quiet long enough, knowing that if they were, they’d maybe just make it.

  Their luck ran out with a misguided root protruding from the embankment and snagging Thairen’s clothes. As Simcane floated past, he grabbed Thairen’s arm and pulled himself closer to his teammate. The others stared helplessly as they rode the current farther downstream.

  The volume of foreign chatter increased, not angry or excited, just more of it and closer. The enemy was directly above them, oblivious to their presence. If a single Tek peeked over the edge, even briefly, the mission would be violently over.

  “Aarchh, thuoaa!” From above, a thick wad of green phlegm splashed into the water next to Simcane’s ear and rode the current past. But still the enemy did not see. After what seemed like an eternity, the chatter faded until it was gone.

  Simcane reached beneath Thairen’s back to untangle his clothing from the root. Free of its snag, the root snapped against the mud with a water splashing thud. Simcane winced at the noise, hoping any Teks that remained above disregarded the noise as an overly enthusiastic fish.

  An excited scurry of feet revealed they hadn’t. He and Thairen pulled themselves tight against the mud bank.

  “Carpe, quianpe,” one of the Teks shouted, sending chills up Simcane’s spine. Then, just as quickly as they had come, the shuffle of feet ran away.

  Simcane sighed. What could they have seen? They didn’t see us. I … He trailed off in mid-thought. His shoulders slouched. “By the gods,” he whispered.