by Neil Breault
Mikol noticed their uniforms as they came closer. From this distance he could not tell if he knew these soldiers but felt relief as they were wearing Ternian blues. Mikol started forward to intercept the horsemen. Bayle motioned for him to stop.
“We have to find out what they know. Those are Ternian soldiers.”
Bayle sighed but did not move forward. Mikol watched Bayle ready a bolt in his crossbow. He lowered the crossbow behind his horse. Looking at Bayle, Mikol only saw a man on a horse and could not see the weapon. Mikol shrugged and moved forward. Mikol broke the edge of the forest and turned to the horsemen. He waved at the men but they were riding away from Mikol. When Mikol yelled at them they perked up and turned to him. They did not call back and instead spurned their horses to a gallop. Mikol watched them and stopped his horse, preferring they ride up to him. Mikol heard Bayle behind him and looked back to see he had moved to the edge of the forest but stayed and watched from afar.
Mikol hailed the men again but did not receive a response. With each hoofbeat, Mikol became more uneasy. He questioned whether it was because he did not want to risk being sent home. Then Mikol noticed tears in the uniforms of the men riding at him. Perim would never allow any one under his command to walk around with a uniform in such disrepair. These were not his people.
Mikol’s horse responded quickly and broke into a run. Only a few steps later, Mikol heard a swoosh as he was thrown from the saddle and landed on the ground. The air was forced from his lungs for several excruciating seconds. He tried to move but found his arms were tightly bound against him. He looked down to see a bola had been thrown around him. He tried to roll around and escape but two of the riders jumped off their horsed with swords pointed at him. The third rider rushed towards Bayle.
Mikol turned his head to watch. Bayle rode out halfway with his sword drawn. He screamed out a challenge to the approaching rider and raised his sword high in the air. This had the desired effect, as the rider spurned his horse faster. Bayle kept his sword raised and waited. When the rider was within a couple of horse lengths he raised his sword to strike. Bayle made his move. He shifted in his saddle to quickly bring up and fire the crossbow at the man. Mikol could see the bolt had taken the man dead center as he tumbled off the horse.
The two men near Mikol raised their blades towards Bayle, who pointed his own sword at them. Mikol could see the hatred and determination in Bayle’s eyes. His horse took a step towards them before Bayle lowered his sword. Bayle’s horse suddenly became uneasy, and he looked at Mikol before heading back in to the forest. Mikol turned to see more soldiers coming from the camp.
“We’ll get that one soon enough,” said one of the riders. “Not like he can hide very long.” Mikol could not place the accent but knew for certain this man was not Ternian.
“Looks like I found me a shiny new sword. You won’t be needing it any longer,” said the other rider.
“Touch it and you die.”
“Tough words for a man on the ground.”
Before Mikol said anything else he felt a heavy blow to the side of his head and his world went dark.
Chapter 10
Captured
Mikol slowly woke up in a confused haze. He blinked a few times but the world was still a muted haze. He thought something was wrong with his eyes until he understood the flickering light was coming from outside of the tent he was in. He turned his attention to his throbbing head. He lifted his right hand. It felt heavy. He also felt a tugging on his left hand. Both of his hands were tied together. He lifted his head slowly to look at his feet and could see they were bound as well. Looking around the rest of the tent, he hoped to find something that would give him an idea of where he was or some manner of escape. The tent was barren.
He struggled for a moment and eventually got himself in to an upright position. He stopped moving when he heard voices. Closing his eyes, he tried to concentrate on listening, but the voices were too muted to make out any words. The voices did not seem to be getting closer at the moment. He looked over himself. The restraints did not seem like they would be hard to escape from, as his hands were in front of him. But as he reached down to find the knot around his feet, he just found the rope whole and unbroken. He tried to slide it off but the rope was too tight and felt like it was getting tighter.
He did not have much time to plan as the tent flap opened and two men walked in. They were wearing Ternian uniforms, but Mikol could not identify them in the low light. The first man grabbed him by the shoulders, while the second man muttered to the rope. To Mikol’s surprise the rope uncoiled around his feet and fell off. The two men hauled him upright and pushed him out of the tent. They led him by pushing him forward, pushing left or right when they wanted him to turn. Eventually, they ended up in front of what Mikol recognized as the Ternian Commander’s tent. He had tried to understand the situation and gather intelligence about the camp. The meager lighting and his headache made it very difficult to concentrate on anything besides his footing.
With one last push, Mikol was forced inside the tent. The brightly burning lanterns made his eyes hurt and he had to look away until they adjusted. He became aware of two men standing to either side of him. He immediately noticed the scars covering every inch of their arms. The scars seemed to have a pattern to them. When he recognized distinct shapes in the scars it dawned on him he was standing next to two blood mages. His heart beat faster. He looked around quickly for an escape and saw there was a third man standing with his back to Mikol at the far side of the tent. He inhaled quickly. The uniform and sword belonged to Perim. When the man turned around and Mikol could see the scars disfiguring every uncovered inch of skin, his hopes dried to ash in his mouth.
“Who are you?” asked the man.
Mikol stood up straight. He tried to broadcast a stoic visage and did not say anything.
“Who sent you?”
Mikol stayed silent.
“What is your mission?”
Mikol stayed silent.
The man laughed.
“Well, you don’t need to tell me now. You will eventually.” The man walked around to the far side of command table.
“Who are you?” said Mikol.
The immediate response was a fist to the midsection. Mikol collapsed to the floor and had trouble breathing. He was lifted to his feet before he had regained his breath.
“I’m sorry. Where are my manners?” With a flourish, he bowed to Mikol. “I am General Trokan of the Anglantaean army.”
“Anglantaean army?”
Trokan waved away the guard. This was the only indication Mikol had that he would have been punched again.
“I suppose if I am asking questions I should allow you to talk, at least a little.” Trokan smiled at Mikol. “Yes, the Anglantaean Army, lead by the Warmaster Kagarin. We are uniting all of Anglantaea under one banner again.”
Trokan picked up a sword from the table and Mikol inhaled quickly. All of his belongings were laid out on table. His eyes darted around the table until he saw the pendant was there as well. It had been tossed on top of his things as a piece of jewelry.
“Now, perhaps you will be more open to telling me who you are?”
Mikol was silent again.
“This is a very nice sword.” Trokan gave the sword a swing though the air. He darted forward and performed a few complex maneuvers. Mikol could tell Trokan knew how to fight. “Who did you steal this from?”
“I did not steal it.”
It took Mikol several attempts to breathe before he was able to get air. He guessed he had not given the right answer. Trokan gave him a smug look and motioned for his men to stand him up.
“Well, I guess the person you stole it from,” Trokan raised an eyebrow at Mikol, “doesn’t matter now. I should thank you for the weapon though. It really is beautiful. Perhaps I will use it on you later to see how sharp it is. But only once we have what we need. Besides, I don’t like to start with blood, well, my blood. Take him to the pen. Maybe he w
ill be more willing to talk after a couple of days without food.”
The guards dragged him out of the tent through the camp again. It did not feel like they went the same way as they had come. They stopped not quite at the edge of camp, in front of a large, crude metal cage. The metal appeared to be an assortment of anything that could have been salvaged and thrown together. He was thrust through the only opening that could be considered a door.
“I hope your last meal was real good, ‘cause unless you like dirt, you aren’t getting any food.”
Both men laughed and walked away. Mikol thought only briefly of the paltry breakfast he had shared with Bayle. He pushed his hunger and fear down; he could not afford those distractions now. At least there were enough torches close that he could see around the cage. He saw bodies scattered about the cage floor. He recognized some of the bodies as officers in the Ternian army. After making sure he was not being watched closely, he stood up and waited for reprisal or cruelty. Nothing happened. It seemed after he had been thrown in he was forgotten. At least for now.
Now he had the time to fully assess his situation. He had not seen Bayle, which meant Bayle still had a chance. Or he had been caught and killed already. Mikol quickly banished the thought. He did not have any trouble walking and, other than a few sore spots, he was uninjured. His hand restraints took time to remove. It was only once he began to slide the rope off his wrists that he noticed he was still wearing his gloves. Once he moved the rope on the to the glove instead of his skin it stopped constricting. He slid the gloves off of his hands. The rope fell away easily, and he put the gloves back on. When his hands were free he looked over himself and saw all of his runes were still covered. Unless they had undressed him and redressed him, they had not discovered his secret. Now he knew why Trokan had not been more interested in him. Thinking of his situation, this was the only positive.
Mikol looked around the cage again. He was tempted to search the bodies for anything of use, but he figured if they had anything, they would have used it before dying. He was examining a few of the bodies when he noticed one of the bodies propped up in the corner. He shuddered to think he would be sleeping in the cage as he carefully stepped over the bodies. The first thing he saw was the brutality of torture. The man was missing both hands: They were cut, or possibly torn off, at the wrists. One leg was severed around the knee. The other leg was not much better: The foot was visibly broken and only had one toe left. There was no clothing left on the man and the rest of his body was covered in cuts. Mikol saw a pattern to the cuts. He looked closer and finally grasped the meaning to all of the cuts. He had to turn away, too terrified of who this man was. He forced himself to look at the man’s swollen, distended face. He was hardly recognizable. Mikol knew this body had once been Perim. He turned away again, feeling tears streaming down his face. He rushed to the opposite corner of the cage near the door and sagged down on the floor, feeling utterly defeated.
***
When Mikol awoke, he could not remember falling asleep. It seemed like it had gotten darker, but the few fires that had been close were now embers and only one of the torches was still lit. He tried to find what had woken him but he could see nothing but shadows. He began to think he had just woken by himself when he heard voices. He waited silently. The voices were coming closer. When the voices cleared the tent line, Mikol could see it was the same two men as before. He stood up to face whatever they were going to do. One of the men laughed at a joke the other man had said. They both were laughing until they saw Mikol standing in the cage.
“What do you think you’re doing, little man?”
Mikol only started at them, looking slowly between the two.
“Maybe he is too scared to move. Let’s make him dance.”
The taller of the two stepped closer to the cage. He grabbed one of the unlit torch poles in the ground and lifted it up. He discarded the unlit torch and thrust the pole in to the cage with a roar. The pole entered the cage easily, but Mikol sidestepped the thrust just as easily. The man withdrew the pole and thrust again. Mikol dodged it just as easily. This only infuriated the man and he tried harder to hit Mikol. He could not do it. The second man laughed and slapped the first man on the back.
“Come on, hit’m.”
Enraged, the man thrust the pole faster and faster. Eventually, he started to flail the pole around inside the cage, just trying to hit Mikol. Mikol was able to dodge out of the way of the pole for a while but he knew he could not continue long. He braced himself, dodged into a swing and caught the pole in his hands. Both men yelped. The first man frantically pulled at the pole but Mikol held fast. The second man unsheathed his sword and thrust it in the cage. Mikol had to drop the pole to avoid the blade. The pole was quickly removed and tossed aside. The second man shook his head and sheathed his sword.
“That could have gone better,” said the second man.
The first man gave his partner a rude gesture and spat at Mikol. The second man grabbed the door of the cage to make sure it was still locked and jerked his head at his partner to leave. Breathing heavy at the slight embarrassment, the first man straightened his torn Ternian uniform and looked at Mikol.
“I am going to enjoy watching you squirm for the General.”
He took a step toward Mikol to spit on him again but fell onto the wall of the cage and slid down. The second man had unsheathed his sword again. Mikol could see the man looking around frantically. There was nothing to see. Mikol smiled big as he saw the crossbow bolt sticking out of the head of the man on the ground. Mikol reached down through the cage to grab at the dead man’s weapon. His partner wheeled on Mikol and swung his sword. Mikol jumped out of the way of the sword. The man rushed forward to look at his dead partner.
The man looked between Mikol and the bolt in the man’s head. The terror was obvious on the man’s face. He growled at Mikol and turned to face his unknown attacker. Knowing what to listen for, Mikol heard the twang of Bayle’s crossbow a second before the man hit the cage, falling on top of his partner.
“What took you so long?” said Mikol.
“I had to scout the camp. Do you know how many guards and soldiers I had to kill?”
“Uh, no, how many?”
“Actually, only those two. I think this whole camp is a decoy. The only active soldiers I saw were the patrols. After avoiding them I wasn’t stopped or seen at all. I even checked in a couple of the tents too. Nothing in them.”
Bayle made a big show of searching the bodies for the key. When Mikol sighed, Bayle snickered and held up the keys. Mikol rolled his eyes at him.
“Great, now can you open this gate.”
“Any of them still alive?” Bayle nodded to the bodies behind Mikol.
“No, and I’m not sure how long ago they died.”
Bayle unlocked the door but Mikol did not leave the cage immediately. He looked back at Perim’s body. Bayle looked confusedly at Mikol for a moment before looking at the body too. Bayle placed a hand on Mikol’s shoulder.
“Perim?”
Mikol nodded. They both stood in the doorway. Neither of them spoke. Mikol felt like he should say something, but nothing he thought of seemed good enough. It was all he could do to not break down and cry again. Mikol heard Bayle sniffle before he spoke.
“Do you know where they are keeping the pendant?”
The question brought Mikol back to himself. He nodded once and then again confidently. He picked up one of the swords of the dead men. He pointed with a sword and moved forward.
“This General Trokan is keeping my things in Perim’s command tent.”
“We should be able to make it there without any difficulty. There are only two other patrols and they should be on the other side of the camp by now.”
They were able to walk almost directly to the command tent. They heard heavy snoring coming from one of the tents and walked around to avoid it. Mikol guessed the two dead men at the cage were the general’s guards. No one stood outside the general’s ten
t. Mikol walked through the front flap of the tent with his sword ready to strike. Bayle held the tent flap aside to let in some of the torchlight. He had reloaded a bolt and was aiming his crossbow at the unmoving body of the general. Certain the general was sleeping, Mikol made his way around the table. Laying down the borrowed blade, he first picked up the pendant. He let out the breath he had been holding when he saw the red arrow pointing east. He slipped the pendant over his head. He caressed Raythrael’s scabbard before buckling it on to his waist.
He heard a low whistle coming from the front of the tent. He looked up to see Bayle nodding toward the general. Trokan lay still but his eyes were open. The man sat up in his cot slowly while staring at Mikol. The hatred was evident in his gaze. Mikol gathered the rest of his items and last threw his cloak over his shoulders.
“You don’t think you will escape, do you?” asked Trokan.
“I’m not here to escape. I came here to get answers from a dead man.” Mikol drew Raythrael and leveled it at Trokan. Even with the limited torchlight entering the tent, Raythrael glowed in the darkness. “What are you doing here?”
Trokan stayed silent while slowly looking between Mikol and Bayle.
“What did you to the men in my army?”
This elicited a response from the General as he raised both eyebrows.
“Your army? Who are you?”
“It doesn’t matter who I am. All that matters right now is you tell me what I want to know. What happened to my men?” Mikol walked closer, bringing Raythrael within inches of the General’s throat.
“Mikol, kill him. We don’t have time for this. He is not going to tell us anything.”
As Mikol turned away, the general took advantage of the momentary lapse of concentration and leapt at Mikol. Bayle fired his crossbow a moment too late and the bolt ripped through the tent side. Trokan pushed aside Mikol’s arm and forced him to drop Raythrael. Mikol’s training kicked in and he grabbed the general’s arm to stop the dagger aimed at his heart. The momentum of the leap pushed Mikol off his feet. Trokan landed on top of him. Mikol did not know how he had been able to keep the dagger from stabbing him. He saw Bayle rush over and wrap his arm around the general’s neck. Mikol had a momentary reprieve as Bayle pulled the general up. Trokan grunted and pushed his head backward, catching Bayle on the chin. Mikol had no time to see if Bayle was conscious as Trokan attempted to stab him again.
