by H. M. Clarke
“Then you trust us to be out by ourselves? I thought after what happened at The Wicked Wo-”
“That happened because you were not expecting it. Now you are. And you both have more options to escape being out here in the woods and not trapped in a strange man’s boudoir.”
“You make it sound so smutty when you say it like that.” Ashe heard Ryn mutter. Dagan did not respond. He either didn’t hear it or was ignoring her. Probably the latter.
“Bron, once we come through the city gates, you and Vannik can head to where you both need to go. I will expedite Vannik’s check in at the Tribunal. Once your business in the city is complete, make your way back to the abandoned farmhouse. The rest of us will meet up with you there.”
“Very well.”
“I’ll update Banar and Lily when they come off shift. Kathryn and Ashe, you will need to be packed and as soon as we’re through the city gates I want you to go to the Barracks and I don’t want your leaving noticed by the rest of the caravan.”
“Yes, Dagan,” Ashe said. Ryn stayed silent.
“My group will come back to the cabin three days from now. If you need to contact us, go to the Blackwatch Barracks, which is where we will all be staying. If we do not show up or you hear no word from us, you are to go back to Brookhaven and report to the Knight’s Commander and Knight Sergeant Kimba. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Dagan.”
“Excellent. Now, everyone go get some breakfast. And I’ll pray quietly to Bellus that this will all turn out to be just fluff and feathers.”
CHAPTER TWO
“Here, I got you some breakfast,” Ryn told Dagan as she sat next to him on the fallen tree he was using as a seat, a metal bowl in each hand.
He looked up at her with those golden eyes of his and tucked his pencil within the book he was scribbling in and locked the covers tight with the book latch. As he tucked the book away into one of the many pockets of his coat, Ryn caught sight of an intricate dragon design embossed into the brown leather.
“Thank you,” he said, holding out a hand.
Ryn smiled and gave him the bowl. “It’s only porridge. The Brookhaven cook’s not here to make up those scones you like so much.”
“Porridge will do.” He picked up the spoon and started stirring it.
They sat in silence as they ate, watching the camp bustle about them. Ryn and Dagan had already packed their bedrolls and saddled their mounts. They were only waiting for the order to ride. Her friends were in the process of eating breakfast and packing. As she finished what was in her bowl, Ryn looked again at Dagan.
He was a strange fish this one, she thought. Tall, … and those golden eyes of his… like looking at the colors of a summers dawning just before the sun broke cover from the mountains.
“Do I have porridge on my face?”
“Huh? What?” the words broke Ryn of her train of thought and her face began to flush with embarrassment as she realized he had been staring.
“Porridge… on my face…” Dagan repeated, pointing a long slender finger in the direction of his cheek.
“Ah, no.” Ryn inwardly cursed herself, she should have said yes and given herself an excuse for staring. She glanced wildly behind him and caught sight of one of the Tribunal men moving toward the horse picket. “I want to ask you a question.”
“Don’t you always?” he replied with a smile. He placed his bowl down by his feet. “Go ahead. If you don’t ask now, you’ll just badger me all the way to Kaldor.”
“I know that some of these men are Magisters like you, but I’ve heard you call some of them something different. A Pilus? Is that right?”
“That’s correct. We have a mix of Magisters and Pilus here. A Pilus is just a Magister in training, so to speak. Much like a Blackwatch Constable being trained to become a Knight Corporal.”
“A Magister is the same rank as a Knight Corporal?” Ryn asked, confused as she had never heard of a Magister being treated like a Corporal.
“No,” Dagan laughed. “Ranks within the Aequitas Tribunal are a little more complicated than that.”
“Then, what are the ranks?”
“Do you really want to know?” he asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
Ryn quickly nodded. She could feel a little amusement coming through their Pairing bond.
“Very well. In the Tribunal, you start at the rank of signifier–very like a Blackwatch cadet. You then graduate to Optio-a Blackwatch Constable- it’s at this time that a choice must be made for your career path-or it’s chosen for you. If you want to become a Magister, you then become a Pilus and stay at that rank until you are deemed experienced enough to attain the rank of Magister.”
“So, you went through all that training?”
Dagan shook his head. “I’m a Wilder Mage, remember?”
“So how-”
“I’m a special case, and we’ll leave it at that.”
“But you said you would tell me later.”
“And later is not now,” he replied.
Ryn’s eyes widened as she realized that he still didn’t trust her. And for some strange reason, that hurt. “Fine,” was all she said as she got up and stepped away from the fallen tree. “I’m going to help the others with their packing.” She turned on her heel and stalked away.
“Kathryn-”
She heard him call out to her, but she did not stop.
Peck perched on the pommel of her saddle, and Ryn could feel the bird’s beady eye on her as she checked the tightness of the girth straps. Heaving a sigh, she straightened and flipped the flap and stirrup back down, causing the bird to fluff his feathers.
“Give it a rest, Peck. It’s going to be just you, me and Ashe by the end of the day. Just be thankful that we were not stuck with Banar for company.”
The crow rustled his iridescent black feathers and looked down the line of horses toward Dagan who was leading his black horse, Coal, out from the picket line. A clack of the bird’s beak gave warning so when Ryn looked back over her shoulder was not surprised to see Dagan and his horse standing behind her.
“We’re ready to go,” she said, turning to look up at him.
“Yes, I can see that,” he replied keeping a wary eye on Peck who was now eyeing him in a ‘should I go for the eyes now?’ sort of way.
Ryn turned back to her horse and made a show of checking her stirrup leather as she waited for him to either go or say what was on his mind.
“I need you to hold something for me and keep it safe.”
Those words were unexpected and Ryn turned sharply to look at Dagan. Golden eyes gazed back at her from under dark brows and his lips twitched as if wanting to smile but unsure if they should.
“What is it?” she asked.
Dagan held out to her a long, thin object wrapped in an old gray blanket bound around it with rope. She took it in her hands and was surprised at the weight of it. It was just over five feet long and was only a little thicker than Dagan’s rune staff, which she could see stung over his back.
“It is the staff that Henly had. It is special and I think it wise if it doesn’t return with me to the Tribunal.”
“In other words, you think the staff useful and you don’t want it taken from you?”
“Not quite. I want whoever gave it to him to wonder where it is at the moment. This staff is a relic. It should not have been allowed outside of the Hall of Justice.”
Ryn took her eyes from the staff and focused back on Dagan’s golden gaze. “Is this the real reason you didn’t want me to come with you to the Hall of Justice?”
“One of them. I don’t want it known that you have this.”
Ryn closed her eyes and gave him a tight smile as she tried not to sigh. This is as close as she was going to get to an apology from the man. He was trusting her with the staff now. Maybe later he will trust her with his past. She opened her eyes and slipped the carry loop of the blanket wrapped staff over her shoulder.
“I’ll keep it safe.”
“Thank you,” he said laying a warm hand on her shoulder, she could feel the heat of it through the scale she wore.
A shout drew both their attention up the line. Williams, the trail leader, was calling for them to line up and move out.
Dagan removed his hand from her shoulder and gathered up the reins of his horse. “Time to go,” he said as he put his foot in the stirrup and mounted Coal.
“Yes it is.” Her quiet words were lost in the sudden noise of horses and voices that rose from the lines and Peck’s squawk as he launched himself into the sky. She quickly mounted and followed Dagan into their place in line.
CHAPTER THREE
Dagan rode alongside Ryn and Donal, each keeping the other company during the morning ride. Ashe rode behind them, alert to the surrounding forest.
As the morning sun ascended over the forest, the scouts reported a clearing ahead suitable for the group to stop for a rest break. Ryn looked back at Ashe. The stop for the break was when they had decided that they would drop back to the end of the caravan to make it easier for them to leave unseen. The company traveled quickly, trying to reach the clearing.
Ryn was telling Dagan and Donal about a practical joke that she had played on Banar when a shout erupted from the back of the column.
“We’re being hunted!” Bron’s voice called from the rear.
Suddenly the horsemen and the prison wagons were charging forward, oblivious to the surrounding undergrowth, dodging low-hanging branches by instinct.
Ryn, Dagan, Donal and Ashe spurred their horses after the others. Soon the surrounds became a blur of brown and green as large, ancient trees seemed to fly past. Ryn looked over her shoulder and saw Ashe falling behind. Branches and twigs caught at Ryn’s hair as she crashed through the forest into a clearing.
The sounds of battle assaulted her ears, and she pulled hard on her reins to stop the mare charging into the fighting. Ryn could only vaguely make out the forms of combatants, dark cloaked shapes slashing upward with wicked swords at the milling horsemen. She could not see Dagan or Donal.
A figure broke away from the general melee and came running towards her, avoiding the blow of a Tribunal man a few metres ahead of Ryn.
The dark warrior grinned at Ryn. Raising the hilt of his sword for a blow, the man screamed and clawed at his face as blood ran between his fingers. Bron had reined in next to Ryn, a second dagger ready in his hand.
“Stay close to me,” he shouted. Bron spurred his horse forward and rode over the fallen fighter. Ryn sat stunned for a moment, then spurred her own horse forward.
Suddenly Ryn and Bron was in a place of calm in the fighting. Around her were figures in black cloaks and black leather armor swarming out from the trees. Each of them bore on their black painted forehead a marking in red, that of an upside down triangle surrounded by a circle. Lying about them were bodies of both bandits and soldiers.
A black cloaked warrior charged Ryn as she stared at the dead, aghast at the surrounding carnage. Suddenly Ashe rode between them and swung his broadsword in a deadly strike to the throat. As the figure crumpled to the ground, he let out a piercing cry that turned every face of the enemy towards them. Ashe caught Ryn’s reins and headed towards the nearest knot of guards. Swarms of Blackcoats came after them and Ryn gasped as she felt something jab into her thigh. She looked down to see a man with Bron's dagger jutting from his throat, clinging to her stirrup. Kicking the man away, she buried her head in the mare’s mane and clung on tightly.
Dagan’s voice rang out over the fray. “To me, to me!”
Ryn looked to Ashe as she frantically kicked her mount towards the Mage and the gathering men. Behind them, the screams of dying men and women echoed in the glade.
Dagan shouted “This way” and the survivors and the prison wagons followed him. They rushed into the forest, riding through or over attacking swordsmen. Shouts followed them while they galloped down the road away from the clearing.
Strange cries were heard from behind them and other voices answered to the left of them. Ryn’s sweaty hands started to lose their grip on her reins and she wished she had remembered her gloves.
The company sped through the forest, shouts and cries echoing around them. In the shadows and the fear, Ryn lost track of the distance they must have covered.
Still the strange cries shouted in the forest, calling to pursuers the course of their flight. Their attackers must have spotters up in the trees.
Suddenly Ryn was crashing through the thick underbrush to enable the wagons to pass them, forcing her lathered, panting, mare up a steep rise. All around her was a gloom of grays and greens as the canopy was thick enough to block out the sky.
Atop the rise the Dagan waited on his horse, his runestaff drawn as the others pulled up around him. Banar sat by the Magister, his face covered with perspiration.
When the last guard approached, Dagan asked, “How many?”
Williams, the Ranking Tribunal member from Kaldor surveyed those around her and said, “We’ve lost thirty eight, have ten wounded, and all the supplies and baggage were taken. We still have the prisoner wagons.”
“That’s something at least,” Ashe muttered as he looked back over his shoulder.
Banar asked, “Are we to stand and fight?”
Dagan shook his head.
“There are too many of them. At least a hundred struck the clearing. We rode straight into that ambush.” He glanced about. “We’ve lost over half our company.”
Williams shook her head, “We cannot stand against them, they would overrun us with sheer numbers.”
“Who were they?” Ryn asked and started to shiver uncontrollably, her hands twisting in the mare’s dark mane. “Are they part of Henly’s group?”
“Most likely. Don’t worry, we will be coming into the city’s patrol area soon and they won’t dare attack us then.” Dagan brushed the tips of his fingers against Ryn’s cheek, collecting the tears that now flowed freely from her eyes.
“You are hot to the touch.” Dagan moved his hand to cup her forehead, a worried look on his face.
“I am fine,” she said pulling away from his touch which seemed to make her head throb. “You should be more concerned with your own skin. How can I protect you if you get away from me?”
“We must be away from here,” Magister Williams called as the sound of pursuit came closer toward them.
The rest of that ride became a blur to Ryn. Her skin felt like it was on fire and her leg started to ache, and the hooves of her horse seemed to keep tempo with the throbbing in her head.
The rest of the company raced through the trees and underbrush, and always behind them they heard the sound of pursuit. The fleeing column continued on its exhausted flight until they entered another clearing and only halted as Magister Williams gave the signal for silence. Shouts from the enemy were still heard, but from far away.
“Have we lost them?” Banar asked.
Magister Williams nodded, still listening to the distant shouts.
Just before they stopped, the pain and throbbing in her leg abruptly disappeared. Surreptitiously she flicked her cloak back over her shoulder and moved the torn part of her trouser away to reveal the open dagger wound in her thigh. It was gone. The only sign that it had existed was an angry red scar.
“You can pay me back later,” Donal grinned at her and the purple glow receded from his runestaff. “Payment in cake and biscuits, remember?”
“I remember. I give you some meringues if you can get rid of the scar tonight after dinner.”
◆◆◆
The man waited patiently in the clearing, standing quietly in the shadows of the forest. Next to him he could hear the quiet shuffling of Idulki, her impatience apparent. In the distance, muffled shouting was heard.
Sounds of movement brought the man’s attention to the opposite side of the clearing where a black coated figure emerged from the undergrowth. The newcomer looked quickly around before coming towards them.
&
nbsp; “Report,” the man softly said.
The newcomer bowed low before saying, “It is done.”
“Good, go now and inform the others to return.”
“Yes Master.”
The newcomer backed silently out of the clearing and disappeared into the forest.
“We had made our gambit by providing the catalyst, let us see what our enemy will do now.” The man then said to his companion.
“Master, why do we not simply take her?” Idulki replied.
“It pays to play the game Idulki, our enemy needs to know that we have had access to the girl. We will wait for their next move.” The man smiled a cruel smile. “After that, we will have her.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Tradition and memory have dictated the way that towns, wilderness, rivers and the landscape in general are named. This has been shown more in Myrcea’s capital than in any other place.
Kaldor itself started as a border fort, guarding the only fordable part of the river Akella from Tervarra, a nation that then shared its borders along the mighty river. After numerous wars, the borders were extended south to the Blue Mountains and the border fort became Myrcea’s best general’s Headquarters. The general’s name was Aileach, and the encampment became known as Aileach’s place. He was here for several years before the Tervarran’s decided not to fight anymore as they were losing more ground than they gained. The new border was set at the Blue Mountains and Aileach decided to claim the area around the encampment as his own. The river mouth ended not far away and emptied into the Grotto Sea, so he claimed from the coast to the deep forests in the west as his territory. He built a comfortable, but defensible keep and a small community began to form around its walls.
