The Power Within: The Chronicles of Hollyglade Wayrender

by Steve Barker

  “Sprout, are you going to be able to run, if we have to?” he asked, glancing to her injured leg.

  “I out ran you, didn’t I, Stilt? Besides, I plan on us using a little stealth, rather than speed. Remember the Central Market? It’ll just have to be like old times, stealing coin purses and loaves of bread.”

  “Sprout, this is different. Neither of us know this town, so there won’t be any familiar doors or corners to disappear through. You may have to run, and I doubt I can carry you.”

  “We’ll have to do what we can do. If we can make it to the trees by sundown, then I can lead us through in the dark. It’s only a few days until the new moon, so there won’t be a lot of light. For me, that’s going to be our advantage. No lantern for them to home in on, and their lanterns will be easy to spot and avoid. Once we get to the trees, it’s going to be better than doors and corners.” She turned and leaned her head out from the edge of the building to check the next alleyway. Seeing no sign of troops, she waved for dGerrie to follow, and stepped into the back street. Taking her cue, he followed quickly, glancing along the alley in each direction to make sure they could make the crossing unnoticed.

  As Hollyglade made her way to the edge of the buildings on the far side of the alleyway, she turned to look for acknowledgement from dGerrie before continuing between the houses. He was looking down the street, when something appeared to catch his eye. He looked at Hollyglade and pushed her forward as he whispered

  “Move. Now”.

  She didn’t wait to find out what he saw. A moment later, she didn’t have to, as shouts could be heard coming from down the alley.

  “Oi! You! Stop there”.

  “Gods Dammit!” hissed dGerrie as they began to run between the buildings. “How did they see us so quickly?”

  Hollyglade did not respond, but moved as fast as she could through the narrow gaps between the houses. Looking ahead, she could see that there was an end to the buildings after a few more streets.

  “We’ve got to get out of these streets. We’re too slow in here.” breathed Hollyglade.

  “You’re right. It looks like we don’t have many more alleys to cross, so let’s pick up the pace,” replied dGerrie as he looked back over his shoulder to see the two garrison troops turn into the gap between the buildings where he and Hollyglade has stood moments earlier.

  Crossing the next alley, more shouts came for either direction. With a quick glance to one another, Hollyglade and dGerrie rushed across the alley and between the next set of buildings. The distance between the edge of this building and the next road was greater than the previous two, but the pair made it to the edge of the buildings as quickly as the confined space would allow them to. As they approached the alley, dGerrie put a hand on Hollyglade’s back and urged her onward.

  “We can’t slow now.”

  She looked out from the edge of the alley to see a pair of troops coming from each direction.

  “They’re going to block us!”

  “Run Holly,” he urged her as he drew both swords.

  She sprang across the alleyway with surprising speed despite the limping caused by her injured leg and damaged feet. As he followed, dGerrie gauged the approach of the men on either side, and determined that he would not make it across the alley in time to put them behind him. He made his decision with dispassionate efficiency.

  Moving with near lightning quickness, dGerrie made for the gap between the building where Hollyglade had gone. Keeping an eye on the men to his left, who were slightly closer than the two coming from the right, he made for the buildings as though he expected to outrun them. Watching carefully out of the corner of his eye, dGerrie slowed slightly as the nearest man raised his sword to deliver a slash from above.

  With all the dexterity he could direct into the maneuver, dGerrie planted his right foot, stopped and bent backward letting the slash sail past him and into the ground. With his left hand he brought his short sword around from back to front, in a delicate move that took no more than the flick of his wrist, aiming the tip of the blade for the man’s throat.

  The strike found its mark with immaculate precision, as only the first inch of the blade swept through the flesh below the trooper’s chin. As the man stumbled past dGerrie, he made a quick half pirouette to dodge the stabbing thrust aimed at him from the second man. With a graceful follow through, dGerrie made a backhanded slash with the long sword in his right hand as the man passed him, slicing the calf muscle to the bone. The man fell on top of his partner as dGerrie looked up to see the second set of troops close to a within couple of paces.

  With a quick glance to his right, dGerrie noted that the two men following the path he had taken with Hollyglade were still a minute away. With another split second decision, dGerrie decided there was not enough time to allow the two men next to him to make the first move.

  With a half step backward, dGerrie lowered his left hand and swung his right hand behind his head to make a backhand slash from the left at the closer man’s head. The soldier moved his two handed sword up to easily block the relatively simple attack, and as he did so, felt the end of dGerrie’s short sword pierce his neck from front to back.

  With a swift kick, the man was sent to the ground as dGerrie lunged forward over the falling soldier, into a full pirouette. One sword went high, and one went low. Both found flesh, and the last soldier stepped backward, dropping his sword and clutching both his left thigh and his forehead.

  dGerrie resheathed both swords and bolted into the gap between the houses in pursuit of Hollyglade. Upon reaching the now dark space separating one house from the next, he stopped in the shadows, and turned back toward the alley, pulling his bow over his head and into his left hand. With one fluid motion, he drew two arrows simultaneously, knocked them, and fired at the men who were almost into the alley. The man in front saw the flight of the arrows just in time to duck. The second was not so lucky, as one arrow lodged in his shoulder. The first man turned for a moment, in an instinctive response to his comrade’s scream of pain. As he turned back, the next arrow found its mark in his chest.

  “dGerrie!” rasped Hollyglade from several paces behind him. He turned and continued to run, seeing her with her hand over her mouth in a look of shock.

  “It’s us or them. And I want it to be them. I’m not in the mood to die today, Sprout. Get moving.” His tone was demanding, but carried a certain level of assurance that Hollyglade could not deny. Maybe it was that it came from her friend, and maybe it was that it came from a man who obviously knew how to instantly calculate his odds. Either way, Hollyglade knew that now was not the time to debate the moral implications of the violence that had just been apportioned to their would be captors.

  She turned back in the direction of the outskirts of town and moved to the edge of the gap. There she halted abruptly, and held her hand up behind her to stop dGerrie from running into her. She crept backward in fear at what her eyes beheld, turning to look past dGerrie and into the alley from which they had come. She stopped again. Both exits were blocked, and there was no other direction to turn.

  dGerrie put his hand on Hollyglade’s arm, looked her in the eye

  “Stay behind me, Sprout. And let them make the first move.” Then, he nodded as he stepped past her and out into the alley.

  “Mr. Theurbeault! How exciting this is! I must admit, I have yet seen you fire but one arrow with my own eyes, but the demonstration was so inspiring, I must say that I secretly hoped that you and I may have the chance to spar. I see, that tonight, in this lovely setting sun, that my wish shall indeed be granted” Var Toran dropped from his horse, and stepped forward to face dGerrie. Both men drew their swords.

  V : Combat

  Lord Renald Birk preferred to attend to his own equipment. While other officers, knights, and even some regular infantry would leave their swords, pikes, lances, and sometimes even daggers with the smiths for cleaning and sharpening, Lord Birk took pride in maintaining an expert and elite level of sharpn
ess to his blades. He gained a certain focus through the routine of polishing his armour and weapons. The ritual was something he had performed on the morning of every battle he had ever taken part in since he had first held a blade.

  This morning would hold great significance in his military career, and more importantly, the future of the kingdoms of Demaria and Loria. His troops had marched for five days to reach the narrowest point of the Narrowlands and were now assembled and prepared for battle, only a mile from the Lorian border.

  The previous day, Lord Birk had sent several of his most accomplished scouts to infiltrate the far side of the border with the mission of covertly gaining intelligence on the state of the Lorian army’s readiness for battle. The reports had returned an hour ago. They had stated that there was only a small force stationed at the fork of the Capital trail, which ran from Magnaville across the border and all the way to Rivershore, and the Coast to Coast road, which forked off from the Capital trail near where the border began at the eastern sea, and travelled all the way to Westport. There the Western mountains of Loria met the south side of the Western Sea’s Bay of Cliffs, directly south across that bay from Rivershore.

  Lord Birk finished his ritual preparations, donned the last few pieces of his armour, and headed for the assembly of commanders. Once there, the seasoned and battle tested leader bowed to the King, and gave nods to his commanders.

  “Your Grace, your forces are ready to begin the march into war. We await your command, and yearn to find honour in battle with our enemies,” declared Lord Birk, giving the traditional proclamation of readiness for battle.

  “Thank you, Lord Birk. I am confident much glory shall be gained in the triumph that awaits us.” The King replied with an air of surety befitting such an accomplished ruler and soldier as he was. “Friends. We have ridden long and hard to reach this battlefield with the element of surprise in our favour. Our scouts report only a small detachment of soldiers at the Capital and Coast roads fork. Yet we must not be overconfident, as this new King, or perhaps his Sorcerer, may have some surprises of their own.

  “We come with a force of over twenty thousand men, and expect to meet only five hundred, so let us execute our plans carefully, and to the letter so that we may swiftly move to our full objective in Magnaville and Whiterock. Lord Birk, have you chosen which battalion shall lead the charge once we arrive at the fork?”

  “Yes, your Grace. I have given the honour to War Marshall Yerin Greln. He is most experienced and first fought in battle with your Grace as an infantryman in the early days of the Ellendor conflicts.”

  The War Marshall stepped forward, brought his right fist to his chest in the soldier’s hail, and bowed.

  “Your Grace, I hunger for the moment that I may bring glory to our Kingdom and to your name.”

  “Very good” replied the king with a nod of acknowledgement to the War Marshall. “Let us move. I tire of the waiting and riding. I too hunger to wet my blade.” With that, the King turned and waved to his squire to bring his horse.

  Lord Birk nodded to each of the assembled commanders, and the War Marshall, and left to join the King.

  “Your Grace, may I ride into battle at your side? You would do me much honour to allow me to fight next to you.”

  The King looked at the Lord, and smiled.

  “If you can keep up, my friend.” With the energy and dexterity of a man half his age, the King swung himself into the saddle and spurred his horse to a canter. Renald Birk grinned widely, climbed quickly into the saddle and triggered his mount to a run.

  ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆

  To have called what happened at the Coast and Capital fork a battle would have been a gross overstatement. The Demarian army barely slowed its pace as the small contingent of Lorian forces were wiped out in less than twenty minutes. Though a few riders had managed to escape, the battle hungry Demarian army rode over their enemies mercilessly, leaving no other survivors. Now, the three day march to Magnaville would begin with the army having lost but a dozen men, spurred on by the ease of an overwhelming victory.

  Demaria had a long history of greatness in battle. All Demarian men must serve at least a year in the Royal Army, once they come of age. There were no men in the whole of the kingdom who could not be called upon to fight, and the Lord of the King’s Royal Armies, could count on them knowing their role, and craving to earn honour in battle.

  War was entrenched in the Demarian culture. From a young age, boys learned to fight with fists, sticks used like swords, staffs like spears, and anything else they put in their hands. There was not a person in the kingdom, neither man nor woman, who could not use a bow to hunt, and therefore, also to fight. A Demarian soldier, earned his rank and colours only after proving proficient in at least three disciplines of weaponry. A Demarian soldier was a fighter to be feared, and respected. A Demarian army, was a force to be reckoned with.

  “Lord Birk,” called the King, “send dispatches via war pigeons now. Prince Dertron and Prince Dornian will want to know that we are ahead of schedule. Our plans rely heavily on timing, and I do not want any part of our coordinated strategy to miss the hour of our strike. Let them know that we start the siege of Magnaville on the morning of the eve of the new moon. I wish to strike before dawn while the lazy slouches slumber in their beds.”

  “As you wish, Your Grace. Shall we also give the order to send the second legion toward Westport? Their commander is set to depart.”

  “Yes, my Lord. Now is the time. Send them onward, and let us endeavour to reach and make camp within a league of the fork of the Capital road and the West road this evening.”

  “As you command, Your Grace”

  Lord Birk called several pages, and issued the orders to be distributed among the commanders, and then resumed the march toward Magnaville. The day was unseasonably hot, and without there having been any rain for nearly ten days, the road was extremely dry and dusty. He was looking forward to making camp, and enjoying a fireside meal with his troops. This was what he lived for. Battle was what he trained for. Now, he was truly in his element.

  ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆

  “Holly, step back and stay close to the buildings. That way they can’t get at you from behind” dGerrie said in as hushed a voice as could manage, while still being heard. “Remember what I told you. Let them make the first move, use your speed and length. We’ll get through this.”

  She bit her bottom lip and nodded, drawing her sword and taking a couple of steps back toward one of the houses they had come between moments earlier. She scanned the area to see a few more men arrive and take up positions around dGerrie and The Dancer. She took a moment to count them. Nine soldiers, one of which appeared to be their commander, and the bounty hunter. As she counted, the bounty hunter spoke up again.

  “My dear,” he said, looking directly at Hollyglade, “I have no desire to see you injured in any way. My contract is to deliver you intact and unharmed to my contractor in Whiterock. These men are instructed not to hurt you, and I assure you that once your friend and I have finished our bout of calisthenics, I shall be glad to escort you to Magnaville in comfort and with respect and dignity.” He bowed to her as he finished speaking, watched as she made no hint of a reply, and then turned his attention back to dGerrie.

  “Now, Mr. Theurbeault, as I must maintain my moral code, I am compelled to offer us both a little exercise to balance our playing field. As you recall, when I dealt with our friends Mr. Brooker and Mr. Webb, I gained a warm up, and you gained some insight. So, in order that you gain a warm up and I gain some insight, I will allow our good troops here the chance to make a name for themselves by capturing the talented Mr. dGerrie Theurbeault. But, first I have a curiosity I must satisfy, Mr. Theurbeault. Tell me, when was it that you decided that my good graces and high wages were something to toss aside?”

  dGerrie’s eyes had been scanning the circle of men, gauging distances, finding gaps in armour, evaluating stances, and calculating strategy. As he did so, another pair of
soldiers arrived, and joined the others. It was clear to dGerrie that the notion that he would be someone the soldiers would have to deal with was a surprise to them. Now he turned his attention to the bounty hunter, and made the same observations as he delivered his response.

  “The Dancer. That’s what they call you. A bit misleading, I must say. Something more sinister would be more apt. Say, The Slicer, perhaps. But really, I think The Bore, or Mister Overly Verbose, might do better. You do love the sound of your own voice. You take pleasure in the fluster you evoke from those you interrogate, giving your overly elaborate homilies the credit for the work your knife, and my presence have done. Your blatant disregard for the sanctity of innocent life does create a reputation of ruthlessness that many fear, but it has also served to entrench those who do not fear you, and who do hold respect for the life of the innocent, against you.” dGerrie stepped back and raised a sword to one soldier who had taken a step closer from his right.

  “How very eloquent, my dear Mr. Theurbeault, yet you avoid the central question. When did you throw away your honour, honour that would have been deepened by fulfilling commitments, to side with our quarry?” he asked again as he pointed to Hollyglade with the tip of his sword, and his voice gave hint of a budding annoyance.

  “If you must know, it was your own fault. You are so proud of the effectiveness of your methods. So self-gratified by the brutishness with which you extract information. Yet you are blind to how sadly ineffective your methods truly are. You had several chances to find her. You were in the same village, at the same moment, three times including today. Yet you could not find her. And I, with one simple line of polite questioning, found her in less than an hour of being in the same town.” dGerrie noticed the smile, usually so deeply fixed to the bounty hunter’s face, was beginning to decrease as his eyes narrowed and hardened, and his mouth began to form a hard line. As he watched the slight change in the bounty hunter’s expression, dGerrie noticed another pair of soldiers round a corner and join their troop.