by Sandra Kopp
“’Tis hard to believe,” Benno murmured. “He did us such good at the hollow.”
“Yes, but even better men than he have gone bad. Keep sharp watch. If you see him, put an arrow through his heart, for in so doing you will put out one of Ryadok’s eyes.” Arronmyl cast a careful look around. “Do the same to his brother when you find opportunity, for I believe the two are in league.” He stared hard at Benno, who looked down, lips taut as he mulled the matter.
Finally Benno nodded. “I‘ll do it.”
PART IV
THE MARCH
TO WAR
THE FIRST BATTALION
Davon peered into the tangle of trunks and undergrowth. “You sure the horses can pass through this? I find barely space enough for a man to squeeze through.”
“It’s the only way.” Arronmyl smiled wryly as he bobbed his head toward the scabbard at Davon’s waist. “You’ll have to use that pretty sword for other than gentlemen’s sport, young Nimbian. These aren’t the paved streets of Nimbia. Here we carve our own path.”
Arronmyl exchanged derisive glances with Benno, who snickered and turned away. Tight-lipped, Davon reddened.
Charles touched his arm. “Arronmyl means no disrespect. He’s a son of the wilderness and well-schooled in its ways.” He sighed. “We have no choice but to trust him, for none of us knows the way through these wilds.”
“I take no offense,” Davon answered. “But I sense his demeanor changed toward me.”
“He lost many men to Baugonril, and those he thought his friends betrayed him. He feels heartsick and weary—and the real fighting has not begun.”
“True,” Davon conceded.
Trudging, slashing and chopping they penetrated ever deeper into the forest. Occasionally the trees thinned, raising the companions’ hope for easier passage. But treacherous, plunging inclines strewn with rock and fallen logs dashed those hopes, and they cautiously inched down, praying the debris would spare their horses’ legs, along with their own. Even on level terrain they walked much of the way, for the grudging trees huddled together so tightly a horse could not pass through with a rider astride.
Finally the forest opened into a wide sun-splashed glade. Arronmyl pointed ahead. “A path.”
“But to where?” Hans muttered.
“I don’t know.” Arronmyl glanced around. “Any horses injured?”
Those with horses inspected their mounts and reported them sound.
“Good,” Arronmyl said. “We’ll rest a bit. Afterward, the fittest among us will ride a way and see what we find.”
“We three will go.” Charles indicated himself, Hans, and Davon.
“As will Nedra and myself,” Arronmyl returned.
Twenty minutes later they departed, Charles and Arronmyl to the right, and Davon, Hans, and Nedra to the left.
They had not gone far when Nedra quietly drew Hans’ attention to something in the woods. “I feel a strangeness here. Go on, Davon. I require only Hans. Stay on the path. You’re more help there. We’ll rejoin you later.” She turned her horse and, with Hans close behind, disappeared into the trees.
Davon stared after them. Nedra’s secretiveness disturbed him. Nevertheless, he urged his horse forward. “Come, Trevor. Let’s see what we find.” But with every step his apprehension grew. He rode but a short distance and stopped. Leaning forward, he squinted through the foliage at the winding path ahead. Under him, Trevor pawed the black earth.
Davon drew a nervous breath. Arronmyl and that other fellow, Benno, had begun watching him with more than a little suspicion. How sad—and dangerous—if his allies now considered him an enemy.
The sun stood at almost noon. Feeling thirsty, Davon opened his waterskin and drank. “Umm. Fresh and sweet. At least some things in Barren-Fel remain untainted.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then took another swig and swirled it around in his mouth before spitting it out.
Soft footsteps padded up behind him. Trevor nervously champed his bit and turned sideways across the path to look behind him. Davon shot a quick glance out the corner of his eye as he tied the waterskin to the saddle. Whoever approached stayed hidden. Hans would not hide. Neither would any of the woodsmen—save perhaps one.
“The way is clear, Benno, unless you have some quarry in your sights.”
He heard a muffled shoop—the sound of an arrow returned to the quiver?—and then the footsteps padded away.
Davon took his bow as he caught a movement in some nearby trees. A moment later, Hans, riding Parsius, emerged.
“Did you see anyone leave me just now? He would not be on the path, but slipping through the woods.”
Hans shook his head. “I saw not so much as a shadow.”
“Where’s Nedra?”
Hans scowled. “The lass led me on a merry chase, after what I don’t know. Now she’s gone.”
“What’s going on?” Davon chewed his lip.
“Why do I feel that something here is not right?” Hans asked quietly.
“Because something here is not right,” Davon whispered back. “Someone—Benno, I believe—stole up behind me through the trees. I bade him come out, but he slipped away without revealing himself.”
“Why would he do that?”
“They deem Arris a traitor, and me as well. I’ve felt Benno’s eye on me for some time now. Why else would Nedra draw you away and then leave you?”
Hans planted a hand on his hip. “I don’t know, but it troubles me.”
“What did she seek?”
“She never said.” Hans clicked his tongue. “Let’s discuss this with Charles. Maybe he’ll know what to do.”
“The lads are right. You shouldn’t have gone off alone.” Arronmyl scowled at his daughter, now standing demurely before him. Benno stood a few feet away, refusing to meet Davon’s eyes.
“I heard voices which I believed—” Nedra’s eyes darted from Arronmyl’s face to Davon’s and dropped.
Astride Vitimihovna, Charles regarded her silently. How she loves to tease and tantalize! Arris did well to go his way.
Nedra caught her breath and turned to look at him, her eyes wide.
Charles coolly retained his composure.
Arronmyl ignored their exchange. “Come, girl, out with it!” he commanded.
Nedra fixed Charles a scathing stare before stepping closer to her father, who bent his head to listen as she whispered something to him.
Charles rubbed the back of his head and exchanged glances with Hans, who appeared as disgusted as Charles felt.
Hans rode up beside him. “Her secrecy annoys me.”
Charles nodded shortly. “Me, too. Arris may have been right. Perhaps she is bewitched.” Charles watched keenly for any response to their words. Nedra made none. “Hans, guard well what you say to her. Until we know what transpires I think it best we give nothing away.”
“Aye.” Hans jerked his head toward Benno, who appeared to inspect his bowstring a few feet away. “Right now there are two I don’t trust.”
“Ah, yes. Davon expressed his concern, and what just occurred distresses indeed. You and I must discover the cause, for I fear for him.”
Arronmyl straightened and announced, “We will not follow the trail but will turn north through the trees.”
“What?” Charles raised an incredulous eyebrow.
Arronmyl strode to him. “Come down off that horse and talk to me.”
Charles swung out of his saddle and met Arronmyl’s stare through narrowed eyes.
Arronmyl moved closer. “We will follow it,” he told Charles in a raspy whisper. “Nedra senses it leads to a breeding ground.”
“Forgive me, but I don’t agree. There would be no path to such a place.”
In a carefully controlled tone, Arronmyl said, “Nedra knows Ryadok believes you would think this and stumble aimlessly through the forest until his beasts mature enough to hunt you down.”
“How does she know?” Charles pressed.
Arronmyl gla
red at him a moment, then sighed and looked askance. Charles watched him intently. “I don’t know,” Arronmyl said finally.
“We need to know,” Charles returned. “His subtlety has led many astray.”
“Like your Arganian friend.”
Charles fought to control himself. “Neither he nor his brother acts the traitor. Don’t you see what is happening? We’re allies, yet we distrust one another and quarrel constantly. Our proximity to our goal makes—”
“Quiet!” Davon whispered hoarsely. “Someone’s coming!”
Swiftly they darted into the trees, concealing themselves as the first soldiers came into view. Charles squinted through the foliage. Armed guards approached, preceding a string of heavily laden horses. Charles caught his breath. A supply train!
“Hail, Ryadok, master and imperial ruler of Epthelion!” The leader’s shout boomed as if from an inhuman throat.
The battalion chorused, “Hail, Ryadok, master of all!”
“Hail, Ryadok, benevolent ruler of Barren-Fel, liberator of the oppressed, avenger of the wronged!”
“Hail, Ryadok, master of all, imperial lord of Epthelion!”
“Hail, Ryadok—”
Arronmyl’s arrow silenced the leader. The woodsmen loosed a cloud of arrows into the line of soldiers. Over a dozen fell instantly, but the battalion quickly recovered and, after diving into the trees on the other side of the path, answered with a volley of their own. Three of Arronmyl’s men fell. The woodsmen retreated into denser cover.
Keeping low, Nedra ran to her wounded comrades. On the way she spied the glint of sunlight on armor as a soldier slipped through the woods after her. Swiftly and smoothly, she whipped an arrow from her quiver, fitted it to her bowstring, and sent the missile straight into her pursuer’s eye before hurrying on.
Charles and Hans dodged from tree to tree as Davon covered their advance. Benno and three of his band circled around the imperial force to attack from behind, while others shinnied up the trees and fired down through the foliage. Unless badly wounded, no woodsman on the ground remained in any spot longer than it took to shoot an arrow or two, making it difficult for their enemy to establish anyone’s location.
The armor of Barren-Fel, though well designed, presented two weak points: one at the eyes, the other a tiny spot on the left side of the neck where, when the head turned right, two rings separated enough for a well-aimed arrow to penetrate. The woodsmen of San-Leyon possessed keen eyes and steady hands and Nedra, finding her comrades’ wounds to be minor, charmed enemy heads into turning the direction necessary to effect their demise.
The fray ended quickly. Thirty-eight soldiers lay dead. Three woodsmen sustained injuries. Nedra tended their wounds while the rest of the company walked among the dead, taking any items deemed useful.
Somewhere behind them a rasping voice barked an order. A cloud of arrows sang through the trees. The woodsmen scrambled for cover, but many of the deadly missiles found their mark. The three companions shimmied to the top of a tree and gaped at the carnage below.
“They took almost half of us,” Hans cried.
“We’ve no time to mourn.” Charles fitted an arrow to his bowstring and drove it into the neck of an enemy soldier. Davon and Hans followed suit, but managed to hit only a few.
Davon shouldered his bow. “I can’t do anything from here. I’ve got to get to the ground.” He descended through the branches before either of his comrades could respond.
Charles also shouldered his bow. “I’m afraid he’s right. Let’s go.”
Hans nodded grimly as Charles climbed down.
Just then a woman screamed. Hans jerked his head around. Nedra struggled between two soldiers dragging her into the trees. Arronmyl, racing to her aid, reeled and fell as a hatchet glanced off his shoulder. A soldier raced to retrieve the weapon but Davon’s arrow killed him before he could throw it again.
By now Hans had hit the ground and, darting and dodging, raced through the melee toward Nedra. He heard the thwwwt, thwwwt of arrows streaking past and then felt piercing pain as one lodged in his thigh. Gritting his teeth, Hans raised his sword. A bestial soldier nearly twice his height leapt before him, swinging an axe. Hans parried with his sword, lunging forward between blows as he sought a lethal strike. The foe matched his every move. Another arrow pierced Hans’ right arm. Groaning, he lurched forward, ducking just as the axe swung overhead.
More soldiers swarmed around Nedra. Raina ran toward them, wielding an axe she had grabbed from the hand of a dead soldier. She knocked one unconscious and wounded another before three soldiers seized and pinned her to the ground.
Davon took aim at Hans’ opponent. An arrow zipped past, grazing his neck. Davon swung around and froze, horrified at the hatred on Arronmyl’s face.
“Traitorous spy!” Arronmyl bellowed. “Ryadok’s eyes, you are!”
“Fool! Don’t you know I just saved your life?” Davon shouted.
Arronmyl aimed again, but as he released the arrow, Hans’ opponent stumbled backward. The missile struck his buttock, distracting the giant enough to enable Hans to drive his sword into the massive stomach. Roaring, the giant sank to his knees.
Hans jerked his sword free and half-ran, half-limped to join Charles and the woodsmen engaging Nedra’s captors. Davon shot Arronmyl an incredulous stare before dashing after Hans.
A woodsman caught Davon’s arm. “Something monstrous approaches.”
“Where—” Davon began, but stopped at the sound of snapping wood and drumming hoofbeats. Otherworldly shrieks crescendoed to a deafening cacophony that shook the ground.
Ryadok’s forces looked around in confusion. “Om sollabo!” one of them shouted, and the entire company dropped everything and fled.
Hans rushed to Nedra and helped her to her feet.
Charles gaped at Davon. “What is that?”
Davon shook his head. “I don’t know, but we’ve got to get out of—”
Branches splintered and trees crashed to the ground as two massive beasts burst through. Resembling bears, they possessed a horse’s legs and hooves and stood twice a horse’s height. Six-inch fangs protruded from slavering jaws. Red eyes glared from their shaggy heads. Without slowing they tore through the company, leaving a wake of twisted trees and trampled bodies.
The company froze, holding their collective breath as they gaped at the wreckage.
“Heaven above,” Hans whispered. “What other devilry has this king of reprobates concocted?”
Davon shook his head. “He possesses no conscience. We must expect anything.” He peered into the forest. “It’s grown quiet. I hope that means they won’t return. Does anyone else hear anything?”
Everyone listened, slowly shaking their heads as they exchanged glances.
“It appears safe, but let’s get bandaged and out of here before those soldiers come back,” Hans growled. “You can bet they won’t forget us.”
Charles glanced around and then hung his head. “We were too few to begin with. Now we’re even fewer.”
Davon retrieved his satchel, pulled out a pouch and stepped to Hans. “Put a pinch of this on your tongue. Let it dissolve and then drink some water. If you have none I will bring you some.”
Hans bobbed his head toward the waterskin strapped to his waist. “I have water.”
“Good.” Davon placed a pinch of yellowish powder on Hans’ tongue. Charles unstrapped the waterskin and held it to Hans’ lips while Davon turned his attention to the arrow protruding from Hans’ thigh.
Hans finished drinking and nodded shortly. “Get to it, lad.”
Davon grasped the shaft and pulled. Hans raised his head, groaning through gritted teeth as the barbed head slowly emerged. “Sorry,” Davon told him. “There’s no gentle way to do this.”
“I’ve got this one.” Charles set down the waterskin and deftly pulled the arrow from Hans’ arm. Hans’ chest heaved. Sweat poured from his brow.
“There.” Charles wiped the arrow on some ferns
and laid it aside. “Raina and I will tend to the bandaging while you distribute your medicine,” he told Davon.
“Right.” Davon rose, picked up his satchel, and walked toward Benno and Nedra, who attended Arronmyl nearby.
Benno stopped him with a glare. “We have our own medicine, Nimbian.”
“I wish only to help. I carry no poison.”
“Away!”
“As you wish,” Davon replied quietly and proceeded to the other wounded.
Charles, Hans, and the more able-bodied woodsmen rummaged through the baggage and bodies strewn about the ground, gathering food, armor and weaponry. Benno and Nedra tied the makeshift sling supporting Arronmyl’s arm and helped him to his feet.
Arronmyl motioned them away. “I can walk. Gather whatever supplies you can, and quickly. We’ve not much time.”
Hans and Charles knelt to strip the armor off two soldiers who had fallen near the front of the battalion. Davon, his powder distribution complete, had circled back and now stood nearby.
Charles nodded toward a nearby corpse. “You’d better get yourself some armor, Davon. You’ll need it yet.”
“Or one of these swords.” Hans admired the blade he had pulled from the scabbard of its fallen owner.
Davon approached and knelt beside them. “I must go.”
Charles hesitated. “Because you think Arronmyl means to kill you?”
“Because I think Arris needs me.”
Charles finished removing the tasset from his soldier’s body and rose. “Where is he?” he whispered.
“I believe he has entered the castle.”
Charles drew a deep breath and carefully let it out. Benno had knelt beside a nearby corpse to pry a dagger from the lifeless hand. Although he kept his eyes on the body, Charles knew he focused his attention entirely on them. He put his hand on Davon’s arm and drew him aside.
“Go,” he said in a low voice, “for if you can pierce the heart of this evil, you will spare Epthelion more bloodshed than anything we can hope to do.”
“Aye.” Hans stepped up beside them. “But don’t ye think it best the two of us went with him?” he asked Charles.
