“Avadi, what if they fail to follow my instructions and try to put Iredell under siege?”
Though the captain stood up straight, weariness shone in his eyes. “Siege tactics are effective, Master. We will run out of food while they can supply their troops with whatever is needed. But there is more than that.”
Wyjec knew about the food concern, but the way Avadi uttered the last phrase caused him alarm. “What else?”
“Them, Master,” Avadi said, pointing to the armed men within the town’s walls. “For the majority of them, this is their home. Yes, we have the troops we brought with us, but we are outnumbered. Chances are they would mutiny before food became a serious concern.”
“Mutiny? After what I have shown them of my power? They wouldn’t dare!”
The lines on Avadi’s well-worn face deepened. “Hunger and thirst can lead a man to do many things, Master.”
Wyjec began to retort, but then stopped. It was not long ago that he, Wyjec, was a chardi. He often went more than a day without food or water, based on what the Masters allowed. In the end, Wyjec had done just as Avadi suggested the townspeople could, and most probably would, do.
But what of the myelur? Could Wyjec force them all to do his will? At that moment, understanding came: a moment of clarity which Wyjec had not experienced before. The red myelur flowed through all living creatures and with it the amber glow which tied to the individual’s focus, or intention. Yet, not all creatures were the same. Animals—like horses and vermin—were easy to manipulate. People were much harder; their sense of will was stronger. When Wyjec killed the Masters, it was one at a time, quickly, yes, but he did not direct the amber glow on two of them at once. There had been seven Masters. The town contained thousands.
“What are our options?” Wyjec asked.
The surprise Avadi displayed was something uncharacteristic of the man. Wyjec understood why. Rarely had Wyjec shown uncertainty—uncertainty was a sign of weakness, but right now, Wyjec needed the experienced captain’s advice.
Avadi only paused a moment before answering, “Our scouts should be back soon. If the town is truly under siege, they should know. While we wait, we could let the men rest in proper beds until word arrives. Keep several lookouts and archers on the tower in rotating shifts. The town walls will hold off any assault until we could rouse the rest of the troops.”
Wyjec nodded. “See to it that happens. But first, if the town is truly under siege, what can we do?”
“Truthfully, that is not a battle we can win, Master.”
Since Wyjec had killed the Masters who had treated him so poorly, he had felt like nothing could be out of his reach. He did not care for the idea that he could lose. Certainly, there is something I can do!
“See to the men, and get some rest yourself, Avadi. We will speak again when the scouts return.”
His captain saluted. “As you say, Master.”
As almost an afterthought, Wyjec peered at Avadi’s red myelur as the older man walked away. It was fleeting, but for a moment, Wyjec thought Avadi’s amber glow no longer focused on his heart—something which Wyjec took as a sign of wavering devotion.
I’m tired. I must have misread him. Instead of leaving the watch tower, Wyjec sat down on the gray stone. The coolness of the aged material seeped through his clothes. Drawing upon the blue myelur, he covered his body in a thin layer to keep off the morning chill. He closed his eyes, trying to think of what his next step may be. In the process, he fell into a deep sleep.
The sun had reached its zenith when Wyjec opened his eyes once again. He was still sitting in the tower. A young soldier, dressed in chainmail with a blue, padded tunic ornamented with a crescent moon, stood over him.
“Master, good. You’re awake,” the soldier said. He sounded relieved.
“What has happened? Have the scouts returned?” Wyjec asked as he stood. The brief rest had done wonders. His whole body felt reinvigorated.
“They returned some time ago, Master.”
“And no one woke me?” Wyjec felt anger begin to build inside him. What happened in Iredell next was dependent upon the information the scouts provided.
“Begging your pardon, Master,” the soldier said, obviously frightened, “we tried. You would not wake. We even tried to shake you, gently of course, but there was no response.”
The claim concerned Wyjec. Had I slept so deeply that I was unaware of my surroundings? If that was so, he was vulnerable when asleep. However, when the vermin gnawed on his foot back when he was a chardi, that experience had woken him. What has changed? Ah, I hadn’t shielded myself before sleeping in the palace.
Not willing to show feebleness in front of the soldier, Wyjec responded, “I am awake now. What is the report?”
The soldier licked his lips. “Perhaps Captain Avadi should update you, Master.”
“I am asking you.” Wyjec put an edge on his voice to make certain this was not a request.
Lowering his eyes, the soldier said, “The scouts have confirmed that King Viskum’s forces have placed Iredell under siege.”
Chapter 16
“Danla?” Pendr asked to the young woman who had freed him, Eladrel, and Rilam.
She smiled at him, her white teeth as pretty as he remembered.
“How did—”
She shushed him by putting a finger to his lips. “First, let’s get you safe. Then I’ll explain.”
Danla led Pendr, Eladrel, and Rilam through the woods, appearing to know exactly where she was going.
Bewilderment was one of the many emotions Pendr felt as they traveled. In the last few days, he had been attacked, seen friends (both new and old) die, had been captured, and then freed by the person he least expected. Underlying everything was the lingering uneasiness about the myelur he may or may not be able to wield.
They traveled until the sun shone overhead through the thick forest. Hunger and fatigue caused Pendr to ache, but the drive to escape was greater. Neither Eladrel nor Rilam spoke much while they traveled, though Rilam would grumble time and again about being hungry. Pendr imagined they must be tired as well. Eladrel was especially sluggish in his movements. Though, ever since the night Pendr first met him after they escaped from the slaughter, Eladrel had been slow when he moved. Perhaps that’s just his way.
At last, they came upon a camp. Green and silver banners fluttered in the morning breeze above several canvas tents. A campfire built in the middle had several spits over it, roasting and cooking the mid-day meal—rabbit by the looks of it.
“That smells delicious,” Eladrel said. He placed a hand on his stomach.
Danla looked over her shoulder. “You’re probably near to starving. We’ll feed you as soon as possible. First, we must see Mistress Halima.”
Pendr had never heard of her before, and from his companions’ expressions, neither had they—though he doubted Rilam would have known her. His life on the sheep farm kept the boy fairly isolated in an already remote part of the kingdom.
When Danla spoke Mistress Halima’s name, she did so with a certain reverence. Upon walking through the camp, Pendr noticed that all of those he could see were women—about ten to twelve of them. They looked at Pendr and his companions, varied emotions on their faces. Why aren’t there men here? It was one more question he added to the rest.
No guards were posted outside of the biggest tent in camp, the location which Danla headed. The tent flaps were open, tied off to each side with thick, hemp rope. Pendr could see a lantern upon a table inside the tent, but not much more than that.
Before entering the tent, Danla said, “I can’t fully comprehend what each of you has been through. It may sound odd, but I have as many questions as you. Mistress Halima will be able to explain. At least that’s my hope.”
Pendr wanted to pull Danla aside, to tell her … he was not sure what he wanted to tell her. He never thought he would see her again, and when he felt as if they would be apart forever, pangs of regret came to him. But regrets of w
hat? What do I feel for her?
“Come now,” Danla said and entered the tent.
Rilam followed first, then Eladrel. Though there was no noticeable change in temperature inside the tent, a cool sensation washed over Pendr as he entered—one that reminded him of the sense he felt when he rushed to save Rilam.
Eladrel stepped aside allowing Pendr to get his first good look at who he assumed was Mistress Halima. When he first heard her name, he imagined a tall, regal figure of a woman. Instead, she was diminutive in stature. At first glance, she looked like she might be a child, but the long, silver hair which reached her waist countered that notion.
Halima smiled at each of them, her eyes nearly as silver in color as her hair. “Ah, wonderful. It worked. Well done, Initiate Danla.”
Initiate? What is that? Some sort of title? Pendr had heard the word before but was unsure of its meaning.
“It did, Mistress. Would you like the charm back?” Danla reached around her neck. She wore a necklace, of sorts. Hanging from the end of the silver chain, which hid under her thick, brown blouse, was a green stone, roughly the size of an acorn. Perhaps it was Pendr’s imagination, but he thought the stone glowed faintly.
“Yes, please. I need to study it to verify why you were able to find them.”
Danla removed the necklace, pulling it up and over her head, and handed it to Halima.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Eladrel said. His tone was that of respect. “I don’t understand. Who are you? How did you find us? What is going on with the rest—”
Mistress Halima hushed him by holding up her hand. “Certainly you have questions. We have our own, such as how you were separated from the rest of the troops and were captured.” She did not speak in an accusatory manner, at least not from Pendr’s perception. “I’ve yet to eat our mid-day meal, and I’m sure all of you are hungry as well. Please, let us go outside to eat. We can answer the questions lingering around us. Danla, please see that they are attended to. I will join you shortly.”
Pendr caught Danla’s eye, enough to convey his concern. She smiled reassuringly, and then said, “Follow me.”
The cool sensation once again washed over Pendr as he left the tent. It was not unpleasant, just … odd.
Felled trees surrounded the campfire. They had been dragged from the nearby forest as a place to sit. A few women, most of an age with Danla, were already sitting and eating. In short order, Pendr, Eladrel, and Rilam were given portions of rabbit stew and tankards of water. While the food was delicious, Pendr found he hungered more for answers.
None of the women in the camp spoke as they ate, and they appeared tense, even Danla. An uncomfortable silence surrounded the campfire. It was not until Mistress Halima exited her tent that the women visibly relaxed.
“My young initiates,” the older woman said upon reaching the campfire. “Thank you for preparing this meal. As you can see, Danla was the first to return of those we sent out. It is as we hoped. She was able to find some of those who were missing.” She turned her attention to Pendr, Eladrel, and Rilam. “Now, please tell us what you’ve experienced.”
The other two young men faced Pendr, indicating they wanted him to do the talking. It made sense; he was still their leader, after a fashion. “Yes, of course,” Pendr said. “After we arrived in camp, we were assigned…” For the next several moments, he told the basics of what had transpired. Unsure why, even to himself, he elected to leave out any mention of possible powers which he experienced. Each time he told of some of the young men from Logs Pond dying, he noticed Danla’s shocked reaction. By the time he finished, she was crying softly to herself. Pendr could not blame her—these were young men with whom she had grown up.
“And that is when Danla found you? Correct?” Mistress Halima asked when Pendr finished.
Pendr nodded.
“And you say she freed you?”
“She did, though I didn’t know it was her until we were away from our captors. It was a very brave action.”
Halima walked over to where Danla sat and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Aye, she is brave.”
“Now please,” Pendr said, “tell us. How did she find us? Why did you send her? Where are the rest of the—”
Again, Halima stopped the conversation by holding up her hand. “I will answer your questions, the best I can. But first, I must warn you. You may find what I am going to tell you hard to believe.”
Chapter 17
Wyjec felt helpless for the first time since he initially grabbed the blue myelur, back when one of the Masters had stepped on his hand. Since then, he had discovered he could do more with the power. With that, his confidence grew, yet now, that feeling of supremacy had dimmed, not unlike how light fades with the setting sun.
During the course of the afternoon, Wyjec had remained in his watchtower and considered his options. With the town of Iredell under siege, he was trapped. But it was not just him—Wyjec’s soldiers were imprisoned amongst the town’s denizens.
Less than a season previous, the people of Iredell were subjects to King Viskum. When Wyjec’s former Masters seized the town, the townspeople had offered little resistance. Thinking back to one of the many dinners where Wyjec had served the Masters, he recalled a conversation about the town’s capture.
“They were not expecting an invasion,” Glutton had said. “Our troops entered the town under the guise of merchants and travelers. The battle was quick and decisive. Iredell had little in the way of weapons or armor.”
What was true back then was much the same now. Those of Iredell pressed into service used crude weapons—pitchforks, wooden clubs, swords constructed from cheap metal. Their armor was not much better: mainly thickly padded tunics and leather caps. However, what they lacked in weapons of war, they made up for in numbers. Wyjec’s troops were outnumbered over five-to-one when considering those who called Iredell home.
Captain Avadi had not returned to the tower, nor had Wyjec sent for him. Why is that? Am I afraid to admit I was wrong? Showing weakness to the captain would only lead to— Wyjec did not get to complete the thought. Something hit him, hard. The blow struck just underneath his rib cage. It had been strong enough to make him stumble two steps to his left. Confusion was the first emotion: he was the only one in the tower. A quick glance to his side replaced the confusion with clarity. An arrow protruded from his body. At that moment, the yellow myelur, something he had not felt since killing the vermin back in the palace, pulsed forcefully in his mind. However, this time, no thread from him to anything, or anyone, was noticeable. No enemy soldiers were visible. Who had shot him? It was puzzling, yes, but there were more pressing matters at the moment.
Foolishness! Wyjec had released the blue myelur after he had woken that morning and with it, the protection it offered. Believing the tower offered enough defense, Wyjec thought it best not to overuse the blue myelur. Although grasping the power did not drain him like at first, it still slowly sapped energy from his body. He wanted to be able to use the power when needed. Now was exactly one of those moments.
Quickly reaching for the blue myelur, Wyjec encased his body in an invisible shield—and just in time. Several more arrows struck him heartbeats later. My men are firing at me! These potentially fatal darts bounced off him, yet the archers continued to fire. Why? They cannot hurt me now! Part of his mind also recognized he did not feel any pain from the wound. Perhaps the blue myelur was blocking the pain as well. However, the arrow would need to come out, and soon. The yellow myelur still pulsated brightly in his mind, but without any living thing close to him, he could not use it.
From the two front watch towers, archers—dressed in blue with crescent moons on their chests—continued to fire. There were four in each tower. It did not make sense. Surely those firing at him could see it was futile. Anger bubbled up from deep within Wyjec. He had shown the men the cost of betrayal before. It seemed some men never learned.
Focusing on one of the archers in the west tower, Wyjec isolated
the amber glow flowing from the man. Not surprisingly, it was focused on Wyjec. Glancing over his shoulder, Wyjec located an archer from the east tower. With minimal effort, he pushed the glow from the western archer toward one of the eastern soldiers. As expected, the next arrow loosed from the subject flew passed Wyjec and connected solidly into the breastbone of the other man.
Instead of the remaining archers stopping, they increased their efforts. This is madness! What do they hope to achieve? Wyjec turned back toward the west, and in doing so, bumped the arrow in his side against the half wall of the watchtower. Though the shielding protected him from pain, Wyjec felt the tip from the arrow move inside his body. It was an unsettling sensation—unlike anything he had felt before. The yellow myelur flared again. The arrow in his side was too strong of a sensation to ignore.
He reached down to pull out the arrow when he noticed movement from the stairway which led to the tower. At that moment, realization struck. The archers knew they could not hurt him once he called on the power within him, but that was not their goal. They were a distraction.
Several large men, each wearing solid metal breastplates, raced up the stairs. They wielded no swords. Instead, they held large shields with the emblem of a crescent moon emblazoned upon them. These were the fighters which accompanied Wyjec to Iredell. Betrayal!
Wyjec tried to locate the amber glow from the lead man, but the soldier came on too quickly. Unable to do much of anything else, Wyjec reached for the blue myelur to draw upon as much protection as possible.
When the lead soldier crashed into Wyjec, he was startled when he felt the blow. It did not hurt, yet he could sense the pressure of the shield as it rammed into him. This was followed by a second blow, then another. With each subsequent attack, Wyjec was forced backward—toward the tower wall.
Darker the Shadow (The Howler King Trilogy Book 1) Page 7
