It was for two of the scouts that Salic now scanned the distant horizon.
They should be returning soon, he thought to himself as he gauged the sun’s position. Looking back over his men, he nodded with a frown. They were a fine company, neat, orderly, and well disciplined. Salic never smiled, even when he was pleased. Therefore, the men had given him the nickname Grim. He was in his early fifties with black hair, graying at the temples, and a sweeping moustache that contained more gray than black. Salic had dark green eyes set deep below a prominent brow and a thin white scar that ran from his left temple, over the left eye, across his nose and down his right cheek almost to the jawbone. The scar was a trophy from a campaign in his youth.
He heard the deep resonance of an ox horn and scanned the horizon once more
"Damned eyes, not what they used to be. Dale, what see you?"
"’Tis a scout returning, General. Can’t tell which one at this distance. Single blast, all’s well," Dale, a small gray haired man with brown eyes and a weather-wrinkled face replied.
"Aye. Keep ‘em moving. We’ll have our report soon enough."
The column kept marching for the next five minutes, until Salic could discern the incoming scout. He was approaching fast, so Salic held up his hand and called a halt. Without turning, he could tell that the column stopped, almost in unison, by the cessation of the sound of marching feet. The commander brought his horse, Smoke, a dark gray roan with a small wavy patch of white running the length of his nose, to a halt. He sat straight-backed with both hands on the reigns and waited as the scout drew closer. A few minutes later the scout reigned in his lathered horse directly in front of Salic. I should have known it was Rand, Salic thought to himself. He’s the farthest sighted of us all.
Rand moved his horse around slowly to cool the animal down. The scout was a tall, lanky, blonde man, wearing mostly greens and browns. His skin was so browned by the sun that it came close to matching portions of his attire. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties. Salic could never see enough of his eyes to determine what color they were. Rand’s eyes were always squinted to such a degree that it appeared they were closed. The man had the gift of sight though. The men joked that Rand could see a field mouse cross a meadow in the dead of a moonless night. Salic was inclined to agree.
Since Rand first joined his regiment of scouts, he had proven himself time and again. He could see objects no one else could detect, and at much greater distances. After their first campaign together, Salic had taken him on as his personal scout.
Rand smiled at Salic and thumped a fist over his heart.
"Grim, I have ridden the length of The Slot and can find no evidence of living Weres."
"Here now! Show some respect, lad. In the field, it’s Commander or General." Dale, a veteran of more campaigns than Salic cared to count, roared at Rand.
"That’s quite alright, Dale. Rand here has earned the familiar. What do you mean no sign of living Weres?"
"Well, when I got to The Slot, I noticed two sets of tracks leading in, but none coming out. So Fire and I," he patted his horse's neck, a barrel-chested roan, "continued into The Slot. I found nothing except those two sets of tracks until I reached the other end. When I arrived, there were two men camped just inside the mouth of the pass. They were just lying there around their fire like they were on holiday. I watched them for a while, and then I approached them openly. They both rose as if they were made of smoke and drew their swords. Turns out, they are Avari. They were sent by their Lord to guard The Slot. I asked how many they were, but the big one just smiled and said that they two were all that was required, for now. I told them who I was and of my mission, and they welcomed me to their fire. I spoke with them for about an hour before returning to deliver my report. Their names are Branik and Reek. Apparently, Lord Micah sent them into The Slot with orders to stop any attempted Were advancement into Branna. They told me they had been hold up there for almost a week and had engaged in multiple skirmishes. By their count, they had slain almost eighty Weres trying to gain passage through The Slot," Rand reported.
Dale whistled at the number reported. Salic merely nodded.
"So the King’s information was correct. The Weres are trying to move into Branna. Knowing the Avari reputation, I don’t doubt their reported numbers, but just the two of them?"
"Aye, Commander." Rand shot a fierce grin at Dale and received a scowl in return.
"Well, rest Fire and grab some food. We are going to continue the march. I want to be in The Slot before nightfall tomorrow."
"Aye, Commander." Rand thumped his fist over his heart, trotted his horse around the column, and headed for the supply wagons.
"Scouts!" Dale spat on the ground.
"Think the rules don’t apply to them."
"For the most part, they don’t. Those boys are out there all alone, far from any help, and they must be able to think for themselves. As long as they do their jobs and return safely, I don’t care a whit whether they follow strict military protocol. Besides, Rand’s as good as kin to me, and he would never say anything untoward where it could be overheard by the men." Salic raised his hand and motioned the column forward once again. Turning again to Dale, Salic continued.
"Since the Avari are guarding the far end of The Slot, I think we should leave half of the men at the entrance and take the rest to assist the Avari. What think you?"
"Makes sense to me. With those two Avari, we could hold our ground for quite a while and, if need be, fall back to our main force," Dale replied.
"Aye, that was my thinking as well. I’ve only ever met two Avari, but I’ve seen them fight, and I can tell you, I am glad they are on our side."
"Aye, Commander, they’re as fierce as cornered badgers, they are. I once saw a company of ten take out almost three hundred ogres during the Border Wars, and one of them fought bare-handed. He broke his sword against an ogre war hammer just as the battle started. You would have never known it if you hadn’t seen it happen, what with the way those monsters fell around him."
Salic raised an eyebrow at Dale.
"Bare-handed, Dale? Come now. Ogres are hard enough to kill under the best of circumstances."
"On my sainted wife’s soul, God rest her. He accounted for at least ten, that I saw, and all without a weapon to his name."
"Then I’m doubly glad they are on our side. I remember my father telling me stories of the Border Wars. You must have been just a lad to have seen them firsthand."
"Oh, aye, I was maybe twelve at the time, a messenger for the army. I remember how awed I was when I saw the Avari come running up to join us. They trotted up out of the southwest; must have been running for days to catch us. They ran on up passed our line, straight to the Commander. It didn’t even look like they were winded. Stouter men than me, I can tell ya. They spoke to the Commander and then fell in behind him, ahead of the cavalry, trotting along like it wasn’t anything. I remember getting to talk to one of them, a pleasant, soft spoken fellow. I don’t remember why I was sent to them. I merely remember being so excited just to meet one of the legendary Avari. His name was Jas. I mean, here were the men I had heard stories about since I was a young lad, the fighters without equal, masters of the sword; and I was getting to meet them in person. I thought to myself how odd it seemed that they wore no armor, just light flowing shirts and pants, and all they carried were swords."
Salic nodded.
"A childhood dream come true."
"Aye, come true and turned to ash just as quickly. Jas was one of the two Avari killed in those battles. I never got to talk to him again. I guess I thought they were indestructible or something. It never occurred to me then that any of them would die," Dale said.
"Was he the one that broke his sword?"
"Nah, that one lived and claimed Jas’s sword after the battle. I asked him later why they didn’t bury the sword with Jas. He told me that by carrying Jas’s sword into battle, Jas continued to fight the enemy through him. The sword would be giv
en to a novice upon his return home so that it would continue to serve the Avari. It seems they don’t believe in burying their dead with anything; something about the dead not needing any weapons where they were headed or some such thing." As Dale finished the story, they heard the sound of another horn and could make out the form of a rider off in the distance.
"That would be the last scout."
"Aye. All back safely now," Salic confirmed.
They continued to march forward waiting for the scout to reach them. Salic noticed he was moving at a trot, rather than thundering in as Rand had. Must not have much to report, Salic thought to himself. After about ten minutes, the scout swung in alongside Salic and matched his pace. It was Pete, one of the younger scouts. He was dressed the same as Rand and had the same blonde hair, but he was smaller and quieter than Rand. Pete had been training under Rand for almost three years and was shaping up to be a very good scout.
"Commander, I rode with Rand until we hit the desert and then headed south and west along Spanning Ridge. I found no sign of anyone passing that way," Pete reported.
"Very good, lad. Get some food and rest a bit. We are going to continue marching until nightfall then, at first light, we continue on. We should be in The Slot by late afternoon tomorrow. Find Rand and tell him I want you two to ride out in the morning and return to The Slot. Wait there for us to arrive unless there is something that needs reporting," Salic instructed the young scout.
"Yes, Commander," Pete said, thumping his right first over his heart before he swung his horse around and trotted off toward the supply wagons.
The company marched for the rest of the day. At dusk, Salic called a halt and ordered camp to be set. The air was getting cold, and he was looking forward to a hot meal and a warm fire. Dale moved off and singled out two men to erect Salic’s tent. Salic hated having the men do something that he obviously could do for himself, but Dale wouldn’t hear of it. Instead, he spat on the ground and said, "You’re the Commander. You have more important matters to think on than raising your tent." So Salic had thrown his hands up in surrender and moved off to check on the men. He knew that if he went to the wagons to get some food, he would never hear the end of it from Dale. Therefore, Salic walked among the men and greeted them. He asked how they were holding up, all the while thinking of dinner. Most of the men had only bed rolls, no tents, so they tended to congregate around the fires.
Salic disliked moving about them like this. His presence always caused them to come to their feet and salute. They had been on their feet enough for one day and needed their rest, but he also knew that his walking among them and talking to them gave them a strong sense of connection to him. It made them feel more like a part of a team instead of just another man in a unit. It showed how much he truly cared about what happened to them and that, even though he was their Commander and General, he was also a man the same as each of them.
His rounds made, Salic headed back to the spot where he left Dale earlier, his stomach talking to him the whole way. When he arrived, his tent was up, and there was a fire burning out front with a spit standing empty above it. He moved inside the tent and found Dale setting out a plate of roasted rabbit on a small field table.
The tent wasn’t very large, only big enough to accommodate his field cot, foot locker, and a small table with four chairs. In the field, his tent doubled as the command center, so it had to be of sufficient size to house himself and his officers.
Dale looked up as Salic walked in and grinned at him. He knew how much Salic hated being waited on, and he derived a perverse sense of pleasure from doing just that. Besides, a Field Commander was above such menial tasks, and Dale enjoyed arguing the point with Salic. He’d been a Commander’s aid for almost twenty five years and knew what he was about. Salic was different from others Dale had served in that Salic didn’t see himself above anything. He figured that if he was capable, he should do it, like any common soldier. It was one of Salic’s more stubborn ideals, one that Dale was trying to break him of.
"Commander, your dinner is ready, your bed has been made, and I have taken the liberty of summoning your officers. They should be here in half an hour, so you have time to eat and clean up before they arrive."
"Dale, you make me feel infirm with all your ministrations. The men will think me incapable of taking care of myself, let alone of leading them," Salic said with a huge sigh.
"Nonsense. The men know you are capable. They also know you have more important duties to attend to than cooking and setting up camp. Now, eat, while it’s still hot. It’s going to be a cold night." Dale flashed him another impish grin and walked out of the tent.
Heaving another enormous sigh, Salic walked over and sat down at the table. He mumbled something about a nursemaid under his breath as the tent flap fell closed behind Dale. Salic was about halfway through his meal when he heard Dale outside the tent arguing with Rand. Shaking his head, Salic called out.
"Dale, let Rand in."
Dale’s head popped into the tent and scowled at him, then vanished again as he lifted the tent flap to admit Rand. Salic could see Dale glaring at Rand, but true to form, Rand merely smiled and bowed slightly to Dale before entering. Rand sauntered over to the table and sat down in the chair directly across from Salic. He glanced back to see if Dale was still watching, which he was, and Salic saw his face go crimson. Salic merely waved him away, nodding that everything was fine. The tent flap was thrust back into place so violently that the lantern on the center pole swayed.
"You really shouldn’t torment old Dale that way, Rand. He means well," Salic said around a mouthful of rabbit.
"I know he means well, Grim, but, damn it, man, it is so much fun to watch his face turn red like that. And you can’t sit there and tell me he doesn’t stroke your fur the wrong way on occasion."
"No. I can’t tell you he doesn’t, but he knows his job, and he is good at it. His age should at least garner a small amount of respect."
"Granted. I know you like him. Hell, I like him, too, or I wouldn’t tease him so," Rand relented as he reached over to pluck a carrot from Salic’s plate. Salic feigned stabbing his hand with his fork, and Rand withdrew his hand quickly, smiling all the while.
"You always get grouchy when supper is late," Rand continued.
"Boy, if you weren’t such a good scout, I’d have you hung for interfering with a General’s digestion," Salic said loud enough for Dale’s benefit.
Rand laughed and slapped his knee. He leaned forward so he could whisper and not be overheard.
"And, if you weren’t such a good friend, I wouldn’t have remembered that today is your birthday." Reaching into his tunic, he pulled out a small object wrapped in cloth and set it on the table in front of Salic. Salic set his utensils down and looked up at Rand.
"Well go ahead. It’s not going to bite you."
"I’m not so sure," Salic quipped.
Rand feigned indignance.
"Since when have I ever tried to trick you?"
"Since about four days before we met I would imagine." Salic picked up the small bundle and carefully removed the cloth. It contained a small, silver, cloak clasp, intricately wrought and woven into some kind of ancient design. He was so shocked by the gift that the frown left his face almost making him look at peace.
"Rand, I could never accept something like this. It must be a family heirloom."
"Aye, it is. It belonged to my father and his father before him. I’m not exactly sure how far back it goes, but since you have been like my father, I want you to have it."
"You should keep this and wear it, lad. This should be something you pass on to your own son. It should stay in your family."
"It is. You are all the family I have left. I remember my father telling me it was good luck, and he wore it on every campaign…except for the last one. Maybe it will bring you some luck in the days ahead. Besides, I don’t need luck. I have skill." Rand shot him a grin.
"Are you sure about this, lad?" Salic sai
d, ignoring Rand’s boast.
"I still think you should wear it. I think your father would have wanted that."
"I have never worn it. It just didn’t seem right. My father was a warrior, like you. I think he would have been honored, as I would be, if you would wear it. It should be with a warrior, not a scout," Rand said with sincerity.
"No lad, it is I who am honored. Thank you." Salic unfastened the clasp and pinned it to his cloak.
Rand smiled at him and nodded, and then quickly snatched the carrot he had been eyeing from Salic’s plate and popped it into his mouth.
"May it keep you safe. Now, what’s this I hear from Pete about going back to The Slot?"
"I would like both of you to ride out in the morning ahead of the men. I know the Avari hold The Slot, but I don’t want any surprises. Leave Pete at the entrance and go to the Avari at the other end. Let them know we are coming and will be joining them soon. If anything seems out of place, report back as usual."
"You got it. You want me to see you before we leave?" Rand asked.
"Not necessary; you know what to do."
"Then I’m off to catch what sleep I can. Pete and I will leave before dawn. I’ll see you in The Slot."
"Night, lad."
"Night, Grim," Rand said loud enough for Dale to hear, "and happy birthday," he whispered. Then he rose and walked out of the tent.
"Safe journey, lad," Salic whispered after Rand left.
Dale poked his head in after Rand was gone.
"Commander, the officers are here." Salic waved him in. Dale moved to the table and set down three more cups and a large pitcher of ale. He took the mostly eaten plate of food and asked.
"Shall I send them in?"
"Thank you, Dale. Yes, please send them in."
Dale left with the remains of Salic's dinner and held the tent flap open to admit the officers. Salic reflected on his visit with Rand as the officers filed in and saluted him. Salic rose as they entered and gestured for them to have a seat. He had to fill them in on Rand’s report and tell them what his plans were. It shouldn’t take very long, and then he could get some sleep. Each of the three men moved to a chair while Salic poured ale into the cups. After filling each of the cups, including his own, he took his seat again. The three Captains sat only after Salic was seated. The Commander regarded one after the other.
The Chronicles of the Myrkron: Book 01 - The Nine Keys of Magic Page 19
