Banner Lord

by Jason L. McWhirter

  Everyone stared on in silence before Cat spoke. “What are we going to do?”

  “Nothing,” Jarak answered. “It was a sizable force who killed them. We would not stand a chance.” Then he turned to face Kay’il. “Lead us around the mining camp. In time we will avenge our brothers.”

  Kay’il nodded and led the group south through the gully. Soon it would empty them onto the foothills and in another day and a half they would reach the fork of the Pelm River. They were one step closer to Elwyn.

  ***

  Lyra and her group had ridden hard all day. Finally reaching the small town of Amorsit, they decided to rest for the night, the sun already sunk below the horizon. They were moving northwest at a very fast pace, heading for central Dy’ain where they would then turn further north and follow the main trading road to Tanwen.

  From Cythera there were really only two main routes to Tanwen. There was the coastal road, which meandered through a number of small fishing villages before reaching the city perched high on the hills overlooking the Sar’am River, which emptied into the Bitlis Sea. That route was picturesque but much longer, with hundreds of twists and turns that added as much as three days to their journey. The other route was closer to the foothills of the Devlin Mountains and was a straight shot to the city. They would save nearly three days by taking it.

  The main entrance to the city was flanked on either side by large wood buildings with stone foundations. Huge steel braziers as tall as a man had been erected on either side of the road, the fires burning inside shedding light upon the main road. Imbedded into the road on either side was four long lances, and on each one the impaled head of a Legionnaire. Flapping in the wind underneath them were white flags embroidered with Heln’s red helm, though they were now no longer white. Blood from the heads had long ago dripped down the shaft to drench them. For over a month now the Saricons had been methodically killing the Legionnaires from the outlying outposts, gradually taking control of the many small towns and villages. Amorsit had been taken over a week ago.

  After they tied up the horses Lyra led the group inside the inn that was located just within the main entrance to the city. Self-conscious of her strange looks, a testament of using too much negative energy, she had pulled her hood over her head to avoid curious eyes. As she entered the establishment she noticed it was pretty quiet, especially for a tavern. But that was to be expected she thought, considering the Saricons had recently taken the town. Most people were too frightened to leave their homes if they didn’t have to. There were three men talking and drinking quietly by one of the fires as well as four Saricons who sat eating by another fire on the opposite side of the room. One other group of men sat at the bar at the rear of the big vaulted room. She led them to where the Saricons were sitting and they spread out over several tables adjacent to the warriors.

  The ten private guards to Kahn Taruk were all warriors of high lineage, each man strong in the Fury, wearing banded mail and carrying swords, axes, and their deadly javelins. Laying their weapons aside, they immediately began to speak with the other Saricons in Drak, their native tongue. The two Soothers kept to themselves, sitting together at a small table near the fire. Lyra, Kedrick, Lonas, and Golgi, their Schulg tracker, sat together.

  Meanwhile, Borgan quickly entered the kitchen from the bar. “Listen, everyone,” he said to his wife, Marin, and Jana, who were both working the fire in the oven located on the far side of the room. The kitchen was filled with tables, shelves, supplies and cooking utensils, but the heart of it was a stone oven on the far side along with an open fire topped by a grill that was used to cook soups and stews. He paused, looking around for Thea. “Where is Thea?” he asked.

  “I’m here,” she said, stepping through the doorway against the wall. The door led outside to the small barn and shed where they kept the wood. Thea did not look the same. In order to hide her beauty, Borgan had recommended that she cut her hair and dress less provocatively, which before had generally helped her earn more tips. When the Saricons arrived, and they did, just as Brant said they would, she did not want to stand out. After they had killed the Legionnaires stationed there, as well as a few of the townsfolk who had fought back, they had dragged the most beautiful young women away. They eventually returned, but the bruises, vacant stares, and slack shoulders were testament to the brutality they had endured. Thea would have no part of that so she had readily agreed to Borgan’s suggestion. Instead of cutting her hair, they had completely shaved her head, exposing her bald and white scalp. She no longer wore any rouge on her lips or any shadows around her eyes, and her clothes were baggy and simple, hiding all of her feminine curves. When the Saricons had asked her why her head was shaved, she had told them that she was sick which caused her hair to fall out, which was enough to keep them away. So far her ruse had been successful. Even Jana, who was much younger than Thea, had cut her hair short like a boy to attract less attention.

  “Twelve Saricons and a few other suspicious looking characters had just entered. I want you to stay in the back,” Borgan said. “I will handle them.”

  They all nodded and he went back out to wait on them. He walked over to their table and gave them his most sincere smile. “Welcome to my inn. What can I get for you?”

  The group quieted momentarily as Lyra spoke. “We would like to procure rooms for the night. How many are available?”

  Borgan suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to help them and he smiled warmly. “All of them. I would gladly allow you to stay this night at no charge.”

  Lyra, her expression hidden under her hood, looked at the two Soothers. They smiled at her. They were manipulating his feelings. Just the idea of it made her sick. She didn’t know much about their strange power, but she had learned that they could control the emotions of others, and in some cases, a Soother with great power could infuse one person with a particular emotion. It seems they were doing that now. “We will take them all,” she said, looking back at Borgan. “And bring us five pitchers of your best ale and enough warm food to feed us all.” Lyra knew that he would bring plenty of food and drink.

  Borgan smiled broadly. “You will not be disappointed. I will bring you the best food and drink we have.” Then he stepped away and made his way to the kitchen, his head dancing with warm and positive thoughts. He knew he shouldn’t be feeling what he was feeling, but he couldn’t stop himself. He rationalized that giving them good service would protect him and his family, but the reality was he was being coaxed to do it, to bring them what they wanted at minimal or no cost.

  He returned shortly with trays of food and pitchers of ale. Once he had delivered the food and drink, he stepped back but did not leave. For some reason he wanted to cater to their every need, to make sure they were happy.

  Lyra glanced at the Soothers and then to Borgan. “You may leave us.”

  Borgan bowed slightly. Why did I do that, he thought. But it was a fleeting thought as he walked away, a warm feeling about the group surrounding him like a soft blanket. For some reason he felt a strong affinity toward these people, although he had no idea why.

  Several hours later and Lyra was in her room. Kedrick had left a few moments before her. He wasn’t a very social man and after eating and drinking a few cups of ale he left for the solitude of his room. The others were still talking and drinking but she had had her fill and wanted to keep her head clear. The inn had provided enough rooms for their group, but some had to share, except for her of course.

  Taking off her leather armor until she was wearing nothing but her cotton underclothes, she sat on the edge of her bed. She had tasked a small amount of energy from everyone and when she was ready she brought it forth from her tarnum. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and concentrated on her seeking stone. She had done this once or twice daily, reaching out to the stone but not really expecting to feel anything…that is until they reached the mountain pass, King Jarak’s last known location. From there they were hoping Golgi, their tracker, could get them cl
ose enough for her to find the stone.

  This time the stone pulsed strongly, nearly startling her off the edge of her bed. Her stone was close, just west of their current location. Its pulsing signature indicated it was about three days travel away. Mage work was difficult to explain to someone who was not an Aura Mage. Energy was malleable, and a mage who had the strength of mind could manipulate it many ways, thus creating spells. Spells were like mental steps, each one a mage’s manipulation of the energy stored in his or her tarnum. Spells could be created and their steps taught. Her energy had created the epicenter of the seeking stone, its layers dense and overlapping to form a pulsing core of magic. The stones do not last indefinitely, their strength decreases over time as their magic is gradually depleted. But high quality stones maintain their energy much longer, and the stone Lyra had used for the Tongra was the best she could find. He would have it no other way. The pulsing core was still strong, and sending out waves of energy that was uniquely connected to her. In her mind’s eye she could see it west of them, but the exact distance and location was impossible to determine accurately. However, it would point them in the right direction.

  Shutting the energy off she opened her eyes. “Looks like a change of plans,” she said out loud.

  Chapter 6

  The wind was howling and snow was coming at them sideways, making it hard for them to see the cart path before them, its travel worn ruts now covered with a layer of snow. It was cold, but bearable, their heavy cloaks and fur lined tunics doing an adequate job of keeping the harsh weather at bay.

  Kay’il had lead them from the gully and up onto the rolling hills that surrounded the base of the Devlin Mountains. The colossal snow covered peaks rose above them, a constant reminder of their insignificance.

  Stopping, Kay’il turned to address Jarak, as the others came up behind them, leading the three mules laden with Kul-brite and supplies. “My King!” he yelled over the wind. “We are still a half day’s ride to the village I spoke of but I’m afraid we will run out of light before we reach it! This snow and wind is slowing us down!”

  “What options do we have!” he shouted back. “We can’t get stuck out here at night!”

  “I know of a cave a few hours away! It might be our best bet to wait out the weather there!”

  Jarak nodded his head. “Do it! Get us there!”

  Kay’il, using the big stones that blanketed the landscape around them as markers, got them to the cave after several hours of trekking through the deep snow. The hills surrounding them had been eroded in places, exposing tall cliff faces of rock that had been carved by countless years of wind and rain into a variety of stone sculptures. There were some rock outcroppings as tall as castle towers, the bases of them having been slowly worn away by the elements, now precariously holding up the huge monoliths above them. Other stone formations were more round, and some had been hollowed out by the wind leaving an empty hole in the middle. Kay'il, familiar with these stone formations, was able to follow them and lead the group, after several hours of trekking through the deep snow, to their shelter.

  As they neared their destination they could see the cave opening against the rock face, appearing like a great open maw. Kay’il suddenly pulled up short and motioned for everyone to come closer. When they did, they saw what he saw. Inside the dark opening they could make out the faint orange glow of a campfire.

  “Looks like it’s occupied,” he said, trying to keep his voice low but loud enough so everyone could hear. The wind and snow was blowing at them so it was unlikely that anyone inside could see or hear them.

  “Well, let’s go knock,” Brant quipped as he gripped his sword hilt.

  No one said anything for a few moments but they were all looking at Jarak.

  “The way I figure it is they are either travelers who got stuck in the storm, or, they are brigands using the cave as a hideout.”

  “Why don’t my sister and I go see if we can find out who they are,” Orin suggested. “They won’t be able to see us,” he added as he saw Jarak frown.

  “I think that is a sound idea,” Horst agreed.

  “Fine. We will wait here,” Jarak said. “See if you can at least find out how many there are. And Orin, don’t get caught.”

  Orin grinned and disappeared into the snow, his sister close behind him. They got maybe three paces away before they vanished in the snow, their fur cloaks of mottled gray and white camouflaging them against the white backdrop.

  They were not gone long before they reappeared, their hunched over forms moving stealthily over the snowy ground.

  Everyone gathered closely around them so they would not have to yell. Orin was frowning. “It’s a Saricon patrol.”

  “How many?” Jarak asked.

  “We counted fifteen,” Ardra replied. “They are heavily armed. The cave is huge inside and they even have horses in the back.”

  “We could use those horses,” Serix said. Now that they were out of the mountains the horses would speed up their trip, getting them to the river much quicker.

  Jarak looked at Aldgar. “What do you think?”

  “Sounds like a scouting party. There will likely be one war leader who possesses the Fury.” He said nothing more.

  “Will you fight against your own people?” Jarak asked the Saricon.

  “I cannot go back. I do not belong with them. I will fight.”

  Serix, despite his earlier suggestion that Aldgar carry a weapon, looked skeptical. If the Saricon were to betray them, this would be the time to do it, during battle when they would be least expecting a sword in their back.

  “We have eleven fighters to their fifteen,” Cat said.

  Jarak nodded, thinking to himself as he began to formulate a plan. “Orin, Ardra, how many arrows do you have left?” The two Gyths were able to salvage most of the arrows that they had used against the gullicks, ripping them from the beast’s dead bodies.

  “I have twelve,” Orin said.

  “And I fifteen,” Ardra answered.

  Jarak thought for a few more moments. Then he laid out his plan.

  Kay’il agreed to Jarak’s plan and had taken off his fur tunic, exposing his Dygon Guard armor. Then Aldgar had loosely tied his hands behind his back. The knot was done in such a way that it looked tight, but all Kay’il had to do was pull his arms hard and it would unravel easily enough.

  The plan was simple. Aldgar would enter the cave entrance with Kay’il as an apparent prisoner. He would tell the Saricons that he was part of the group that had taken the nearby mining camp and that they had been hunting down a few stragglers that had gotten away during the initial attack. He would try to get them outside by asking them to help him get their other prisoners. He would sweeten the pot by telling them that they had captured a beautiful woman.

  When they came outside, which he hoped they would, the group would be huddled in the snow with Cat in the front, her arms behind her back. In the heavy snow they hoped they would not be visible enough for the Saricons to realize that Serix, Cat, and Endler were not Saricons. And once they all exited the cave, they would spring the trap. Orin and Ardra would attack from the sides with their bows, while Brant, Jarak, Horst, and Dayd would leap up from the snow and flank them. All the while, Cat, Serix, and Endler would attack from the front.

  “You ready?” Aldgar grunted.

  Kay’il took a deep breath. “Yes. But, Saricon, if you betray us, I will gut you like a pig and make you eat your liver. Do you understand?”

  Aldgar said nothing, pushing the Dygon Guard forward. As soon as they entered the cave Aldgar greeted the warriors in Drak. “Greetings, brothers!” he bellowed.

  His sudden presence startled them into action and more than half of them drew their blades. Seeing who it was, however, they sheathed them, while their commander, large even for a Saricon, strode towards them, his long blonde hair glowing in the light of the fire. Aldgar glanced around quickly and saw that the Gyths had estimated correctly. There were fifteen men sittin
g around several fires. And in the distance towards the back of the cave he could hear their horses and see their shadows as the fire’s light cast its glow into the darkness beyond.

  “Greetings,” the Saricon said, his appraising eyes taking in Aldgar and his prisoner. “I am Goral, first axe.”

  He was a high lord. That was not good. He would be strong in the Fury. “I am Aldgar, scout to the garrison at the mine south of here.”

  “How did you get this Dygon Guard as a captive?”

  “Several ran like dogs when we took the mine.” Aldgar hoped that Goral’s party was not part of the garrison at the mine. If that were the case their plan would unravel quickly. “My party went after them, killing two and taking this one prisoner.”

  “Where is your party?”

  “Outside. May we share your cave? We have a female prisoner that we could loan to you in exchange. And would you mind helping us? These dogs,” Aldgar said as he shoved Kay’il in the shoulder, “managed to take with them chests full of Kul-brite and other gems. We have them outside and could use some help getting the treasure inside.”

  The Saricons perked up at the mention of the words female and treasure. Goral’s skeptical attitude changed as well. “Leave the prisoner.” Then he motioned for six Saricon’s to stand up and help Aldgar. “Lead the way,” he said, his six warriors behind him.

  Aldgar was unsure what to do. If he left Kay’il then he would be trapped with eight Saricons when they sprung their attack outside. It was unlikely he would survive. But what could he do. If they attacked now, they were both sure to die. Doing the only thing he could, he left Kay’il behind and escorted Goral and his six warriors out into the snow.