Sheric spoke up before Nestov could admit he did not know. “First, it couldn’t just happen to anyone. Someone would have to be born with the latent talent. Even then, from historical texts, and what we understand, it would take time—many, many seasons—to wear a person down far enough, to have them experience extreme stress, for the yellow to open up to them.”
“And that is my task,” Nestov said. “To seek your help. We need to find who is using it and stop them. We must hurry.”
“I disagree. One person cannot have that much of an impact,” Sheric countered. “As I said, the myelur will heal itself. Charging through the land on a witch hunt during a war is a terrible idea. People are unnerved enough as it is.”
“That’s not what Abbot Aydomus believes,” Nestov said. “And, it is more than that.”
“Oh?” Cason said.
Nestov stood and placed both hands on the table before him. “My leader says that once the yellow myelur is active again in the land, those born with the power will be able to access it without experiencing the same pain and trauma as the person who started to use it again.”
“We know nothing of that,” Sheric said. This revelation appeared to disturb her more than anything else to this point.
Nestov squared his shoulders. “That is why I am here.”
Chapter 61
The closer Pendr’s squad drew to Blythewood, the more palatable the tension became. If Avadi was there, and he truly was the leader of the forces which had been attacking Nothcar, this could put an end to the war.
What troubled Pendr was not knowing what they would face once they reached their destination. Sothcar’s attacks came from smaller groups, not large armies. However, if one were to gather enough small groups together, it would form an army.
The king’s main forces continued to travel toward Blythewood down the road which connected the two kingdoms. As of yet, they had not encountered the enemy—at least not that Pendr had heard. This was a bit troubling since they were less than a day away. Certainly, Avadi would know of their approach. Does that mean he is running? Or perhaps, he is leading us into a trap. Neither of these options was attractive.
Over the last several days, Pendr was able to formulate a guess on Captain Mux’s plan, or so he thought. From what he was able to piece together, the original rulers of Sothcar were killed, though how was up to some debate. Avadi took over to fill the void of power. Since the army of Sothcar already answered to Avadi, they followed his directions to attack and pillage. Mux’s belief, or so Pendr gathered, is that if Sothcar’s current leader were removed, there would not be anyone in Sothcar powerful enough to take over. King Viskum would instead assign someone to rule over Sothcar, thereby ending the war.
The point, then, was to find and remove Avadi. That was the goal of the squad with which Pendr traveled. With their power to wield the blue myelur, they could, in essence, ignore everyone else attacking them and go straight at the enemy’s leader.
But all of this hinges on many assumptions. There was part of the plan Pendr lacked, something Mux had yet to reveal. Pendr puzzled on that as they traveled.
Not long after their mid-day break, Mux abruptly spurred the men into a gallop. The forest here was thinning, giving way to open meadows of tall, green grass. None of the men in the squad questioned the action—they simply did as instructed.
For most of the afternoon, Mux drove the men hard—cutting more to the west and south than before. In the early twilight, they came upon the king’s road. There were not any signs of the king’s main army, but Pendr imagined that the throng would be quite the distance behind them due to the heavy riding of his squad.
Captain Mux did not stop at the king’s road. Instead, he continued to direct them west towards a rising hill dotted with tall conifer trees. These were different than those from where Pendr grew up. They lacked branches except for the very top of the trees which were higher up than a man could reach on horseback. The floor around the trees consisted of brown, dried pine straw. Traveling through such a wooded area should be easy, which perhaps was precisely what Mux had in mind. Once entering the sparsely spaced trees, Mux continued west and slightly to the south.
Only when the sun’s light dimmed to the point where traveling would be dangerous did Mux motion for them to stop. Gathering the squad around him, he spoke to them for the first time since they had stopped at mid-day.
“Blythewood is just over the ridge to the south,” he said, motioning with his hands which held the reins of his horse. “But that isn’t our destination.”
The shocked reactions of the soldiers matched Pendr’s. If we aren’t going to Blythewood, then where? Mux answered Pendr’s unspoken question quickly enough.
“Avadi knows our army is coming. He wants them to come,” Mux said. “Blythewood is a trap. The town is deserted. He has his forces lying in wait just outside the town and round about.”
“How do you know this?” Dosfogal asked. “How can you be sure?”
Mux leaned forward, his stare meeting the other man’s eyes. “Lines on maps and names given to towns do not define people as a whole. This is a concept Avadi has seemed to miss.”
“Meaning?” Sadem asked.
Clarity came to Pendr in that moment. “Calling a hammer a nail does not make it so,” he said. “It’s something my father taught me while we were working in the smithy.”
“I don’t understand,” Dosfogal said.
“Things are what they are,” Pendr said. “Evil actions, such as those done by Avadi’s forces, will be recognized by those who understand what they are—no matter what they are called, or why they are done. Good people cannot stand by and do nothing forever.”
Mux nodded. “Pendr is correct. Morally right actions are independent of labels,” he said. “There are those in Sothcar who want to see Avadi removed from power.”
“Spies!” Dosfogal said. “You’ve been getting information from someone in Sothcar.”
“Spies and others, like those we’ve captured, as a point of fact,” Mux said. “It would be foolish for us to believe only one source. But we received enough information to put together an actionable plan.”
“But if there are spies in Sothcar, wouldn’t there be spies in Nothcar as well?” Pendr asked.
“That’s why no one in our army’s main forces knows of our true plan,” Mux said. “No one knows where we are going aside from my sources and myself.”
“And where is that?” one of the other men in the squad asked.
Mux looked at each of his men before he spoke. “You will see at first light tomorrow.”
Chapter 62
Wyjec wished a bear would attack him. Using the power of the blue myelur, he could fend off the attack easily enough; using the red myelur, he could wound the bear; using the yellow myelur, he could drain the animal and replenish his waning strength.
His wolves brought him rabbits and squirrels, but they were too small to satisfy Wyjec fully. The pack was moving along quickly, following the map Wyjec had acquired several days previous which would take them to Blythewood. This path took them away from the mountains, and also the bears. Wyjec would have to find other options.
Thus far, the map had been accurate. If it continued to be so, by Wyjec’s best guess, he would arrive at Blythewood tomorrow. What happened then depended on several factors. Would Avadi even be there? If so, how many men were with him? What kind of fight would he put up? The single most important thing for Wyjec was that Avadi was aware who was going to kill him. That moment is one which Wyjec fantasized about. He even picked the words: “Avadi, there is a price for everything, and your betrayal will cost you everything.”
The words were poetic, after a fashion. Addressing him with the absence of his title was important. Wyjec would not honor the man—he did not deserve it.
Through the trees, Wyjec and the wolves ran. None of his family gave off even an indication of complaint of how hard Wyjec pushed them. Each of them was strong, quick, and
deadly. Their mere appearance would scare most men into inaction—something which Wyjec needed. That moment of panic would be when his wolves would attack, using surprise to their advantage.
The victory would be ominous and complete. Everyone would know that Wyjec was not to be trifled with. After the battle, he would . . . he would . . . What will I do? For the first time, Wyjec realized he had not thought beyond killing Avadi. Revenge had driven his actions for so long he had not considered what he would do once he achieved his goal.
Momentary doubt was replaced with an epiphany: he could do whatever he wanted. Yes, he had grown accustomed to living in the mountains, sleeping in a cave, and eating raw meat, but he also remembered living in the Master’s palace. It was a life of luxury. Chardi kept him fed, warm, and comfortable. Yet, man cannot be controlled as my wolves are, and wolves cannot serve me in the same way as man. It was a problem. Or was it?
No one would dare challenge him or hurt him with wolves at his side. That was the answer. The men would serve; the wolves would protect. Working together, they would give Wyjec the life he deserved.
Buoyed by the possibility of the future, Wyjec ran on, excited.
He stopped only when the light of the sun disappeared enough from view to make traveling more challenging. The wolves also needed to hunt before the light completely faded. It took more effort to find prey and not kill it—Wyjec needed several of the smaller animals to drain to prepare for the battle which would hopefully take place the following morning.
Within a relatively short period, the moon had just begun to rise. Wyjec had three squirrels and five rabbits placed before him. Each of the smaller animal’s legs had been broken—they were alive, but unable to run away.
One-by-one, Wyjec picked up the gifts from his wolves and then reached out with the yellow myelur to drain them. After the animals were truly dead, Wyjec offered them back to the wolves for their evening meal—all aside from the last rabbit. He kept that one for himself.
Satiated, Wyjec curled up next to Alpha and let sleep begin to take him. His last waking thoughts were of how he would be standing over Avadi tomorrow. I will make the man beg before I kill him.
Chapter 63
At first, Danla did not trust Rheq. The more she learned about his story, the more suspicious she became. Yes, it was believable—to a point. The young man acted like everything that he had experienced was not his fault; he was only doing what he had to do at the time to survive.
As they traveled over the last few days, she got to know him a little better. He had not run away and even proved himself quite helpful when the army stopped to set up camp. Perhaps he’s trying too hard. If he was working for the forces in Sothcar, would he not try to do all he could to earn their trust? At the same time, if his story was true, and he was trying to show the king’s forces that he was no deserter, would he not also try hard to impress them? This quandary bothered her as she traveled along with the healers.
“Tomorrow?” she heard someone ask ahead of her.
“Yes, tomorrow!” came a reply from another person she could hear, but not see, in the crowd of soldiers ahead of her.
Whispers trickled back through the ranks until finally, Mistress Halima spoke loud enough for all the healers to hear her.
“I don’t know which is worse,” she said. “Trying to feed an army or keeping them from gossiping.”
“Then soon our talents will be needed,” Eladrel said. He walked to Danla’s right.
“You’re correct,” Halima said. “We will arrive in Blythewood. I know this from meeting with Vice-Captain Becir every night.”
“Why wait to tell us?” Danla asked.
Halima gestured around her in response. Danla inspected her fellow healers, as well as the soldiers tasked with protecting them. Everyone stood a little more rigidly. They’ve tensed up now that we are closer to possible attack.
One of the elements Danla had learned from her training with Mistress Halima was that while tension before battle was a sign of sharper focus, it also drained people of their energy. It required effort to keep a person’s muscles tightened, effort which, over time, would be tiring.
“I want you to focus on your breathing,” Halima instructed. “Keep it even and steady. Be alert, but relaxed.”
“Yes, mistress,” each of the healers said.
Danla did as instructed. It was not easy. Her mind reflected on the previous battles she had encountered. They were chaos. In each case, a group was trying to kill another set of people. Her job was to heal those with whom she sided—to heal them enough to be able to kill the others before they could kill her.
While she found new purpose and drive to increase her ability to heal, it bothered her that her skill was used to indirectly hurt others. Back in Logs Pond, people were getting hurt or sick regularly. Her mother had come down with an illness one winter which made her bedridden for nearly half a moon cycle. Had Danla known then what she knew now, she could have eased her mother’s suffering. Yes, healers would be valuable to towns like the one in which she grew up.
Though the thought of returning to Logs Pond did not appeal to her—she had seen too much of the world to want to return to her previous life—she could not deny that her new talents would help those for whom she cared.
If this attack works, as Captain Mux insisted it would, then the war between Nothcar and Sothcar would come to an end. Pendr had made it clear that his intention was to return home after the fighting ended. That’s if he is given a choice. Danla realized she was making the assumption that she, too, would have a say in what she did after the war concluded. There was one way to find out.
She sidled up next to Mistress Halima. Speaking in soft tones, she asked her teacher and leader, “When this war is over, what will I be allowed to do?”
Halima continued to look straight ahead when she answered. “You will be allowed to further your training. You are quite skilled, Danla.”
“And if I wanted to return to Logs Pond?”
The question grabbed the mistress’s attention enough for her to face Danla. “Why would you want to do such a thing? You’ve seen what you can do. You’ve seen how you are needed. Do you honestly believe you could be happy back in that small village?”
“Most likely not,” Danla said. “Though, I thought I was happy before.”
“Don’t mistake ignorance for true, fulfilling happiness,” Halima said. “You have a great talent. It needs to be used to help a great number of people, not just a select few in a remote village.”
Danla said nothing, though she clutched sides of her cloak and wrapped it around her.
“Don’t be troubled by this now, Danla,” Halima said. “Focus on your breathing. Focus on the task at hand. We will need you if we are to win tomorrow.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Danla said. She stepped back and fell in line next to Eladrel.
“Your private conversation with Mistress Halima seems to have disturbed you,” he said when she returned.
Danla paused a moment before responding, “It’s nothing. We just need to focus on preparing ourselves.”
“If your expression is what nothing looks like, I can only imagine what something might do to your features,” Eladrel said. “Will you be alright?”
No, not in the smallest amount. “Yes,” Danla lied.
Chapter 64
The crescent moon reminded Rheq of a man squinting, trying to see beyond his normal abilities. It was somewhat coincidental because that was his task this night—the eve before King Viskum’s forces would arrive at the town of Blythewood.
Rheq had worked hard to earn back the trust of the king’s men, and he was rewarded—if being assigned to the night watch could be considered a prize.
Unlike the other soldiers who patrolled the perimeter of the camp, Rheq wore studded leather armor and was armed with a bow, arrows, and several throwing knives. The chainmail armor which most soldiers wore, with accompanying swords and shields, were too cumbersome for his smalle
r frame. He had asked for permission to choose what he would wear for battle and, with some persuasion, had achieved his goal.
The camp normally settled quickly after the evening meal, but this night was different. Rheq sensed the uneasiness among his comrades—a feeling he shared. He did not want to die. However, all it took to regain his courage was to think back on what the men of Sothcar had done to the people of his village of Umstead. His friends, his family, his neighbors—all burned to death as if they were unwanted leaves at the end of autumn.
During the trip since he had rejoined the army, he had been able to gather roots and plants which allowed him to create different types of poisons. This skill learned from the Gymads would be put to use in the battle ahead. Each of his arrow tips and throwing knives, save one, were laced with a poison which acted quickly to paralyze a person’s muscles. While an arrow may or may not stop an enemy by itself, the poisoned ones certainly would.
There was one throwing knife which was different. Instead of quick acting poison, its coating glimmered of a slow-acting toxin, the kind which inflicted him when he escaped from the Gymads. If given a chance, that knife would be used on whoever ordered the attacks on his home. It would be a painful way to die without the remedy.
Rheq’s watch consisted of the first half of the night. Based on his best guess, the time to change guards would be soon. Normally he relished getting a chance to sleep, but he doubted that it would be easy to do tonight.
A glimmer of red caught Rheq’s peripheral vision. Whipping his head to the side, he scanned the forest beyond. As quickly as it appeared, it vanished. Most likely a nocturnal animal looking for an evening meal. Rheq had not told any of the king’s men about his ability to see the red glimmer of living things. The Gymads tried to kill him once they learned, and the skill was not something Rheq wanted to share with anyone for risk of a similar result.
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