“Rheq’s gone.” Pendr drew his short sword.
The rest of the young men readied their weapons as well, aside from Lunz.
“I told you we shouldn’t have trusted him,” Lunz said. “He brought us to this spot because it would be easier to lose us here. He’s probably headed back to his home—and laughing at us for being so stupid as to follow him.”
“Quiet down,” Rilam said harshly. The injured young man had not said much since being shot. Pendr was not sure who was more surprised about Rilam speaking out, Lunz, himself, or the other two boys: Ayab and Eladrel.
“Now look who decides to speak up,” Lunz said. “Had you not been hit while we were trying to escape, we could have made better time. You lost any say when—”
Lunz’s next words never left his throat. A spear, its thick wooden shaft stained dark and adorned with feathers, sprouted from his chest, embedded right above his breastbone. Confusion flitted over Lunz’s face, and he tried to speak, though only deep-red spittle escaped his mouth.
Ayab got to his feet in an attempt to help Lunz but promptly fell face-first to the ground. Two arrows were in his back, one of which caught him in the spine.
Out of the corner of Pendr’s eye, he saw movement between the trees. Another ambush! Rheq must have led them to this trap. Once again, a cool sensation seemed to spring from the center of Pendr’s mind. With it came the odd weariness. It was the same feeling experienced when he had saved Rilam from the battlefield.
“We surrender!” Rilam shouted. He threw his short sword into the underbrush. “Just stop! I beg you! We surrender!”
By now, Eladrel laid prone, though Pendr noticed he still held a tight grip on his sword. Already on his knees, Pendr considered his options. They were few. He did not know what would happen if the enemy captured them, but the dead bodies of Lunz and Ayab made it clear what results to expect if they tried to fight.
“Your hands!” a voice shouted from the wood. “Let’s see them!”
Rilam immediately stood, empty hands raised. Pendr glanced at Eladrel. The other man reluctantly dropped his sword and got to his knees, displaying that his hands, too, were empty.
“You! The big one! Your turn!” the voice said.
Pendr realized that his choices were to die now, or perhaps live to fight another day. He chose the latter by letting go of his sword and lifting his hands.
“Smart, very smart,” the voice said.
From the wood came four men wearing dark blue tunics with a crescent moon emblazed on their chests. Two held bows, arrows still nocked. The third held a spear, like the one which ended Lunz’s life.
“By order of Master Wyjec,” the spear-wielding man said, “I declare you prisoners of war.”
Chapter 13
Wyjec peered over what would be the battlefield. From his position in the guard tower, which loomed over the town of Iredell, he could see clearly in the direction where King Viskum’s troops were approaching—at least according to the latest scouting reports. Captain Avadi stood next to Wyjec, unmoving aside from a few hairs fluttering in the breeze.
“By mid-day, correct?” Wyjec said.
“If the scouts’ reports prove to be true.” Avadi pointed toward the road which led from Iredell’s main gate to the dense forest which lay beyond. “The trees will prevent any full-on assault. They have to come by way of the road.”
“And the archers?”
“The trees are far enough away that the archers cannot take shelter while firing upon the city. No doubt that is why the forest was cleared away from the town at its current distance.”
Running in either direction was the town’s stone walls. At three times the height of a man, it offered protection from a wide-spread attack. His archers lined the tops of the wall, with hundreds of pikemen and townsfolk pressed into the militia waiting in the courtyard behind the city gate. It was only for show, however. Wyjec had a plan which would certainly inspire those who would witness today’s events.
Wyjec walked three steps to the other side of the tower. Those gathered below, those pressed into service, would be able to see and hear him from this vantage point.
“People of Iredell and subjects of my land,” Wyjec called out. “We see no sign of the enemy as of yet. Take this time to rest, to sup, and most of all, prepare the words you will choose to describe our victory this day!”
The men cried out in support. Some smacked each other on the back, motioning to Wyjec and smiling. Others offered a respectful salute. Wyjec paid close attention to those whose amber glows focused toward their hearts. There were only a few. They are those who I will make my leaders.
“A wise move,” Avadi said, siding up next to Wyjec. “As the saying goes, ‘hunger adds a second enemy in battle.’”
“And thirst? Is that yet another foe?” Wyjec asked.
Avadi nodded. “Fatigue adds a fourth. Your men will be well rested compared to those who march on the town.”
“Then our enemy has many foes this day.” Wyjec leaned against the stone wall and watched as women and children came out from the houses and shops to serve those armed for battle.
Baked bread and roasted meat not only filled the bellies of the men, but the aromas also filled the air. Somewhere in the crowd, two men were playing a jaunty tune—one on a lute, the other a recorder. The scene almost felt more like a celebration than a preparation for battle. And why not? Wyjec had promised them victory, and victory he would provide.
Two serving girls, not much younger than Wyjec, brought up spiced sausages, buttered bread, sliced pears, and cool water. Both of the young women kept their gazes lowered, as a sign of respect, though Wyjec could see that both would sneak glances at him when they thought he was not looking. Let them look. Let them tell all they encounter how they served me the day I conquered Viskum’s army.
Mid-day came and left, yet no sign of the enemy appeared. By late afternoon, many of Wyjec’s army were dozing, playing dice, or laughing at jokes swapped back and forth.
“Where is the enemy?” Wyjec asked Avadi.
His second-in-command shrugged almost imperceptibly. “War is more often a guessing game than not. Viskum’s troops could have spotted one of the scouts and elected to slow their approach.”
“Scouts or no, they know we would be watching for them this close to Iredell.”
Avadi gazed at Wyjec, bringing a hand up to his mouth. His eyes searched piercingly.
“What is it then?” Wyjec asked. “Something wrong?”
“Forgive me,” Avadi said. He took a more formal stance. “You continue to surprise me. I would not expect someone raised as a chardi to have such drive and insight.”
This was not the first time Wyjec had heard someone question his background. One night while traveling to Iredell, the guards outside his tent were speaking in hushed tones, but Wyjec was able to sneak close to hear what they were saying—a skill learned as a chardi. One guard claimed that Wyjec was one of the previous Masters, trained by them to lead their people to a new glorious future. The other guard expressed his doubts but had seen what had happened to Captain Kishul when he had tried to attack Wyjec. That event caused enough fear to keep the other guards in line. In truth, the Masters had trained Wyjec—though not by intent. Wyjec learned to listen, to watch the Masters’ actions. Yes, they were excellent teachers.
To respond to Avadi, Wyjec said, “I am more than I appear, and will become more than I am now.”
The older man took the statement and appeared to ponder it. Wyjec noticed the captain’s amber glow flow inwards, toward his heart, and brighter than before. His respect grows deeper.
“There!” a guard from another tower called out. “The enemy approaches!”
Wyjec and Avadi went to the outer edge of the watchtower. In the road that split the tree line, a single bannerman on horseback trotted toward Iredell. A large green and silver flag ruffled in the breeze. The man showed no sign of fear. That will soon change.
When the bannerm
an came closer, Wyjec could see the red myelur flow through him. An amber glow showed fifty or so paces from the castle’s main gate. That’s where he’ll stop. He’s here to talk, nothing else.
The sound of bowstrings pulled taut indicated that Iredell’s archers were at the ready. Twenty men with longbows lined the wall, and at the moment, each had their focus on their singular foe.
“Tell the archers to stand down,” Wyjec commanded Avadi.
His captain complied. The archers did as instructed, though many shared confused expressions.
“He’s here to ask for terms,” Wyjec said.
Avadi leaned over the wall a little, hands resting on the edge. “What terms could they hope for? We will not give up Iredell. They should know that.”
The captain made a good point. It would take a huge army with massive weapons of war to take the town. Trebuchets could cause some damage, but Wyjec doubted the enemy would use large machines which could fling fiery projectiles. The damage to Iredell would be significant, and King Viskum would lose a valuable fortress in the process. No, the bannerman would want something else.
“It will be interesting to hear what he says,” Wyjec agreed.
They did not have to wait long. Once the bannerman arrived at the spot where Wyjec had foreseen, he indeed stopped. Without any formal greeting, the man holding the green and silver banner called out. “In the name of King Viskum, I declare Iredell under siege. No supplies will be allowed to enter or leave the town. The king’s men have taken control of all the roads roundabout. We do not wish the women or the young to starve, so we will allow them to flee before nightfall. They will be allowed safe passage. The only way to avoid the siege is to surrender Iredell now. King Viskum will grant amnesty to the soldiers, but the leaders will meet the king’s justice. These are the only terms you will be given.”
For a drawn-out moment, no one spoke. Wyjec was not sure if the people inside the town heard the words, but he was sure the archers on the wall had. Word would spread throughout the town in short order. If Wyjec did not answer forcefully, the battle could be lost before it even began. Fortunately, he had considered such a scenario and had already formulated a plan.
“I categorically reject your terms,” Wyjec said as loudly as he could. “Instead, return to the men with you. Tell them they will be treated well if they lay down their arms and join me. If they do not, they will face the same fate as your horse.”
The bannerman shifted uneasily in his saddle. It would be easy for Wyjec to tell his archers to shoot the horse, but that would not invoke the type of fear needed for men to switch sides. A show of force is needed.
Wyjec sharpened his focus on the horse’s red myelur. Surrounding the base of Iredell’s walls were large, sharpened wooden pikes, the ends buried at an angle to ward off a full-on assault. As with the situation with Captain Kishul, Wyjec first caused the horse to buck the bannerman from his saddle. However, instead of forcing the beast to turn on the man, Wyjec instead pushed the amber glow on the wooden pikes. Within a heartbeat, the horse rushed toward the town. It let out a cry of pain when it impaled itself, yet Wyjec continued pushing with the amber glow, the forceful intention, until the horse cried out no more.
From his back, the bannerman watched in horror. Once the horse ceased living, the king’s man stood, and then began to back away.
“You have until the sun dips below the tree line in the west to surrender,” Wyjec shouted. “But the longer you make me wait, the less pleased I will become.”
Chapter 14
“Have you ever heard of a Master named Wyjec?” Eladrel asked in a voice just loud enough for Pendr and Rilam to hear.
Instead of answering verbally, and possibly catching the attention of their captors, Pendr shook his head. It was one of the few places of his body that he could move. After he, Eladrel, and Rilam had been taken captive, they were marched south for the rest of the day to a camp. Fifty or so men, dressed in blue with crescent moons displayed on their banners, had set up tents next to a slow moving stream.
Pendr and his companions, at least those who were still alive, were tied securely to broad oak trees with thick hemp rope as the sun was setting. Lunz and Ayab’s bodies were left to rot where the enemy killed them. No, not rot. The wolves will get them first. The thought should have bothered Pendr more, but from what he had experienced the last few days, the most present feeling was that of numbness.
“I’ve heard of the Masters before,” Pendr answered. He, too, kept his voice low. “A few winters back a merchant came to Logs Pond. He told of how Masters ruled Sothcar, but he never mentioned any of their names.”
“It seems this Master, this Wyjec, is their leader,” Eladrel said.
“That’s enough!” a voice called out from the camp. One of the spear-wielding men stood from his place by their campfire and approached where they were tied. Looming over Eladrel, the man said, “You will be talking enough tomorrow when we find out what you know. But for tonight, you will remain silent!” To emphasize the point, the enemy soldier used the blunt end of his spear and smacked Eladrel across the face. Blood oozed from a cut on Eladrel’s cheek.
Facing Pendr and Rilam, the man with the spear asked, “Understand?”
Whereas Rilam nodded vigorously, Pendr avoided the man’s gaze and bowed his head. Seeming satisfied, the spear-wielding man went back to the camp.
Darkness soon set in once the sun dipped behind the tree line. Pendr’s stomach growled, a noise he could not prevent. Fortunately, it was not loud enough to get the guards’ attention. Once the enemy soldiers began falling asleep, Pendr tested the strength of the rope that bound him to the tree. Four, thick cords wrapped around his chest. Even with the strength earned working in the forge, Pendr knew there was no way he could free himself.
A nearly-new moon, hanging in the sky among wispy clouds, soon bathed the campsite in faint bluish-silvery light. As Pendr expected, the enemy kept a guard on duty. The man walked around the camp, not following any type of pattern—at least not one which Pendr could discover. Even if he was following a pattern, so what? There was nothing Pendr could do. Or could he?
Memories of the cool sensation in Pendr’s mind, followed by fatigue, once again bubbled to the surface. Is it possible? Can I wield the myelur? Perhaps this power was something Pendr could use. While he could recall the experience, he had no idea how to access the myelur. At times during his life, he would try to remember a word, and could almost get it, but for whatever reason, it remained just out of reach. That feeling was not unlike what he was experiencing now.
The guard had said that tomorrow Pendr and his friends would tell them what they knew. With how casually they had killed Lunz and Ayab, torture was a realistic possibility. Perhaps during that moment, Pendr could access the power to protect himself. If so, he would need his rest.
Closing his eyes, Pendr tried to relax. Unsure why, the image of the last time he saw Danla came to his mind. Her waning smile reminded Pendr of a person saying goodbye for the last time while trying to be brave. I should have asked her to dance.
How long after that moment Pendr had fallen asleep, he could not say. Though within a short period, which could be deceiving when the land of dreams is concerned, Pendr felt the ropes loosen from around his chest. Prying one eye open, the darkness surprised him, though the moon had traveled to the other side of the night sky. He did not think the enemy would be up before dawn. Fighting to focus his eyes on the campsite, Pendr realized that the soldiers who served Master Wyjec were still asleep. Scanning around the area, Pendr could not see the soldier who was on patrol. What’s happening? Slowly, as not to make noise, Pendr leaned forward and was able to pull himself away from the tree.
“Shhh!” a voice whispered from behind him. The sound was too fast and quiet for Pendr to recognize it.
Eladrel and Rilam were still tied to their respective trees and seemed to be sleeping. Within his peripheral vision, Pendr noticed a small shape silently move behind Eladrel’s
tree. The form was dark and moved quickly. Who knows we are here?
Pendr realized he was not even sure where here was. It was possible that King Viskum’s men were in the area. If that was the case, why would they not attack the sleeping camp? Eladrel slumped forward with his bonds cut. The same whisper to be quiet came again from their liberator, and Eladrel appeared to heed the direction.
Shortly, Rilam was freed as well. He moaned a bit when he woke, but not enough to catch the attention of the men in camp. Once again, Pendr looked for the enemy who should be on guard duty, but he could not see him.
The person who freed them remained quiet. He remained shadowed behind a tree, but Pendr could still see him motioning for them to follow.
The three captives exchanged looks before agreeing with an unspoken understanding to leave with the person who released them. As quietly as they could, Pendr and his companions followed the shadowed form away from the camp. There was something familiar with the way the man moved, though Pendr could not quite nail it down.
After traveling a significant distance from the enemy camp, the figure stopped. The sun began to rise, giving a little more light, but not enough for Pendr to identify their liberator, hidden in a dark cloak with a hood pulled over his head. Slowly, he turned around and lowered the hood. Pendr could think of only one person who could have known where they were and could have saved them.
He was wrong.
Chapter 15
Wyjec frowned while watching the sun rise above the treetops. “They didn’t come,” he said, just above a whisper. “Why didn’t they come?”
His second-in-command, Captain Avadi, did not respond. The older man had not left Wyjec’s side all night, but at this moment, he offered no counsel.
It did not make sense. Wyjec had shown the enemy what he could do. That alone should have had them coming to Iredell before the previous sunset, begging to join his forces. But the road from the town’s main gates to the forest remained quiet. Perhaps the messenger King Viskum had sent lacked the intelligence to explain what had transpired when Wyjec killed his horse. Or perhaps no one believed him, and therefore, they decided to continue with the siege. Yes, that must be it. People doubt what they have not seen with their own eyes.
Darker the Shadow (The Howler King Trilogy Book 1) Page 6
