Bloodletting Part 2

by Peter J. Wacks

  If anything, their attitudes clinched it for him. They didn’t act like savvy hunters, respecting the forest they lived in and the bounty it provided. Most acted like brutes, exchanging a constant barrage of coarse jests which often devolved to brief blows. Sibyl joined in their revelries, often offering the bawdiest jokes of them all or striking a man to the ground when he dared question her orders. Malec wondered exactly what she’d done to become the leader of such a rabble. Then he watched her spar, and knew the answer.

  On their second night, as the two sat on the edge of the camp, Malec whispered his suspicions to Pavil, and the other boy went round-eyed and gazed about as if seeing the camp for the first time. Shadows clung to the spaces between the trees and smoke from the fires hung low in the air. The men and women moving around the camp did so in the flickering orange light of natural fires striving to push back the darkness. Malec thought it made them look menacing, killers lurking, waiting for a chance to strike.

  But Pavil saw it completely differently. “Do you think they rescue kidnapped ladies and hold corrupt lords for ransom?”

  Malec groaned and scooted back a bit, pressing his back firmly against the tree. “Not those kinds of bandits, idiot. Not like stories. This is real. Can’t you see them for what they really are?”

  Pavil shoved him lightly. “Stop calling me an idiot. Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you’re that much smarter. I’m the one who got us free, didn’t I? You’re the one who got us lost.”

  “I didn’t get us—” Malec took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. “Pavil, these people could be dangerous.”

  “Even Sibyl?” Pavil looked heartbroken.

  Malec considered this, eyeing the woman across the bonfire as she honed a dagger. Then he nodded. “Especially Sibyl. Look, I’m not saying we don’t open up to them eventually. Just don’t go blabbing everything about who we are and how we got here until we get to know them better.”

  “I don’t blab.” Pavil shifted away from Malec and picked at some leaves on the ground.

  “The moment they found us, you were ready to tell them all about the orocs and the other kids we left behind. I’m not saying you did wrong, I’m just asking you to be careful.”

  “Isn’t that what we escaped to do?” Pavil turned back to Malec, confusion written across his features. “Tell people and get them to help?”

  Malec lowered his voice. “What if they’re more than just bandits? What if they’re slavers? They could rescue the rest, only to sell us all off to the highest bidder or something. That’s why we have to be careful. Do you want to end up in Flowhaven?”

  Pavil looked doubtful. “I don’t think they’re slavers. Where would they keep any prisoners here?”

  Malec glanced around and conceded the point, as the only structures in the hidden glade were earthen huts, a few tents, and lone cots—plus the odd stone dome several people meditated under. There really wasn’t anywhere to keep captives.

  “Either way, Malec,” Pavil pushed lightly at his friend’s shoulder, “it couldn’t be worse than leaving the rest with the orocs, could it?

  “What’s this about orocs?”

  The boys jumped as Sibyl appeared behind Pavil. Malec looked to the spot where she’d been just a minute before. Aspects save him, the woman slunk along like a cat. He looked down at his feet and drew in a breath to steady his nerves. She may slink like a cat, but he startled like a mouse.

  Her grin had a feral look to it. “Look, boys, I know plenty about keeping secrets and I’m not going to strap you down and cut deep until you scream all yours out.” She twiddled the dagger between her fingers and the blade glittered as it caught the firelight. “Though I could. But I get the feeling at least some of your business is my trouble, and I don’t like trouble. In fact, I get downright testy with people who cause me and my men problems. So the question is, are you troublemakers, or are you going to help me help you so we all get along?”

  She scooted them both to either side and dropped to sit on the ground between them. Her curly, short-cropped hair turned the color of rich, spun gold before the campfire, and her face had a devilish look.

  “Now then, where would you like to begin?” When Malec opened his mouth, the tip of her dagger tapped him under the chin. “Just remember, I don’t like liars, and I’ve got a keen nose for them. Got to, in this pack of rascals.”

  Keeping his gaze steady with hers, Malec considered using his Magnus affinity to fling the dagger away. A show of strength to demonstrate she didn’t hold them entirely powerless. But doing this would no doubt set the boys at direct odds with the bandit leader, and even with her “friendly” exterior, he guessed her threats of torture might not be as empty as he wished. He heaved a sigh of frustration. It seemed that anything other than complete honesty was going to land them in deep trouble.

  So, despite his better judgment, he told her of Jaegen’s destruction by the orocs and the children being held prisoner these many months. Pavil had a sour look on his face, listening as Malec told Sibyl everything that he had just said they were supposed to keep secret.

  He relayed their escape and hopes of finding anyone who’d brave the orocs to get the others freed. As he laid it all out, Sibyl’s expression darkened until a deep scowl marred her features.

  Once he finished, she looked between the two boys. “That is a pretty tall tale. I’m not sure I believe it.”

  Pavil frowned. “Um, can I try something? I think I can prove it.”

  Flipping her dagger over and planting it in the ground, she crossed her arms over her knees and stared at Pavil. “No tricks. Do whatever you are going to.”

  Malec stared at his friend inquiringly. Pavil gulped and nodded, closing his eyes. “Malec, tell the story again. I’m going to remember it as we go. Um, I think this should work.” He held out his hands, still keeping his eyes closed. “Hold our hands, I’m going to try to let you feel what I feel while Malec talks about it.”

  Sibyl raised an eyebrow and eyed the boys’ hands as they reached out to her. Pavil’s hand felt rough and thin. A delicate, soft hand closed over Malec’s other hand and he began to talk.

  Pavil opened his heart, letting the magic flow, carrying what he was feeling with it. In his mind’s eye, Malec relived each memory as he talked. Tuning in to Pavil’s magic and letting down the walls wasn’t easy. As Malec finished, Pavil let go of their hands and turned away from them to hide his tears. Almost on cue, his stomach grumbled.

  After a moment of silence, Sibyl spoke. “I’m still not sure I believe your story, but I can tell you do. That is enough for me to at least talk to the band about it.”

  She rose and addressed the camp. “Admired, we have a problem that needs sorting.” When she told of Jaegen’s fate, a chorus of shouts flew up and men waved their weapons, calling for the orocs to be slain.

  Sibyl gestured to Malec. “How many orocs do you reckon we’re talking about?”

  Malec tumbled the numbers through his mind. “They’ve gathered with the snows, and I’d guess hundreds, at least. Maybe even a thousand, depending on the day.” He shrugged uncomfortably. “It’s a whole clan. That’s all I know for sure.”

  Silence rose, and all Malec heard in response was nocturnal wildlife outside the camp, and the crackle of the fire. Sibyl frowned. “A thousand? That’s going to be a smidge trickier than I thought.”

  “You’re going to rescue the others?” Pavil looked back to the assembled group, wiping at his cheeks.

  She chucked him under the chin and he beamed up at her. “I swear it, no orocs are going to keep human prisoners for long once we hear of it. Not in our forest.”

  Malec started to point out it actually was the orocs’ forest by royal treaty, but clamped his mouth shut.

  Sibyl made a circuit around the fire. “We’ll need to pinpoint their location. Despite our roving, it’s unfamiliar to us. Plus we’ll need to scout it for a while to figure out the best ways, and whens, of sneaking in and out.” She turned to t
he boys. “Since that’ll cost me a few pairs of hands around here, what say you two make yourselves useful in the meantime?”

  “Useful?” Malec echoed, suspiciously.

  “Of course. Everyone here pitches their share. Life in the Rocmire doesn’t come easy, especially in winter.” Malec’s eyes narrowed. Right now she reminded him of nothing so much as one of the travelling merchants that would set up just off the village green.

  “We’ll help,” Pavil said, before Malec could argue any conditions. “Just tell us what to do.”

  A few of the men nudged and winked at one another, but Pavil remained so focused on Sibyl, only Malec noticed. Disquiet stirred in him, but he kept his worries contained. Maybe the bandits would come through after all, inspired by loyalty to their own kind rather than whatever greed had brought them all to this point.

  Yet, he couldn’t quite rid himself of the memory of Sibyl’s dagger poking at his throat, just shy of piercing.

  ***

  Chapter Nine

  Tetra Bicks

  The mess hall in the Drayston barracks rang with guardsmen’s laughter. Volamps lit the room, pushing back the evening outside. Normally the hall could only seat a third of the garrison, which meant that everyone not in the infirmary or on wall duty was there. The stone room was packed full and warm with body heat. Even Lord Drayston was taking his supper in the hall tonight.

  The guards cajoled one another over their portions of honeyed sweetbread, a promised and long overdue reward for the victory over the orocs. Many of them still wore bandages and slings from the attack. With the field finally cleared of corpses and the major repairs completed on the castle, the officers had allowed for this celebratory dinner at last. They’d even joined the men in the common barracks, though they usually ate in their own dining room. Only Lord Major Illamer remained absent.

  Tetra nibbled at his sweetbread at a long table with Reynolds, Mikkels, Faulk, and several other guardsmen. They’d taken to inviting him there for meals after he’d moved out of the infirmary.

  Tetra had been surprised to discover that Faulk was only a year older than him. She had been recruited for the Academy at age nine, joining the ranks of the kingdom’s guards at sixteen. He was impressed by her feats, and even a little jealous.

  “Want my sweetbread, Tetra?” Faulk held her dessert out. “I’ve never been fond of sweets.” She gave an ornery wink. “Though I think I could eat you up.”

  Tetra’s cheeks heated and he coughed, trying to not choke on the piece of bread he had been eating. He looked at Reynolds, whose eyebrows rose in amusement while Mikkels nudged him with an elbow. Though he’d never admitted it to anyone, Tetra couldn’t stop thinking about Faulk’s fiery red hair and emerald green eyes. She normally kept her hair balled up under her helmet, but now it cascaded down around her shoulders in messy curls.

  “Careful, git,” Bealdred said from the next table. “I ain’t sure she’s jokin’.”

  “My, my …” Lieutenant Heiml joined them, a mug in hand. Her dark hair almost mimicked the Drayston helms, with her bangs cropped straight above her eyes and the rest at her chin. “Careful, Alleen. Even without your affinity, I think you’re close to setting him on fire.”

  The corporal tried to hide her own blush with a scowl, and the guardsmen erupted with more laughter.

  “Tetra!” Oltarian shouted from another table. Tetra had tried calling him “my lord” after they’d been properly introduced, but the young man threatened to wallop him if he didn’t drop the honorific. “Keep an eye on the lieutenant. If she has too much ale, she might need you to drag her to the infirmary.”

  “Is that a challenge?” Heiml asked. “You really don’t want to hear what happened to the last person who tried to drink me under the table.”

  Oltarian raised his own mug to Heiml and then downed the contents.

  “I think you’d be better off dragging her to bed if she drank that much,” Tetra said.

  The tables around him went quiet and everyone focused on their food again, or took a drink. Realization of what he’d said hit Tetra, and he went wide-eyed, the others at the table staring at him. Tetra glanced guiltily at Alleen. Reynolds’ shoulders shook as he covered his mouth. Heiml kept her back stiff for a moment, but then burst out in riotous laughing, sloshing ale over the rim of her mug. The rest joined in with raucous guffaws, some wiping away tears. Kellian smacked Tetra on the back, and he took the well-meant mirth with a pained smile. The slap had pushed the brace into his spine, and pain flared along his back. It was an unwelcome reminder in the midst of the joviality that he had a mission, and a reason he couldn’t fulfill it. It also hurt.

  “Soldiers at the ready,” a voice shouted from the hall entrance. The guardsmen shot to their feet, backs straight, facing the door. Tetra quickly mimicked them. A captain’s adjunct stood there, the gold shield of his rank emblazoned on his silver tunic. “Show your respects to Captain Andros Bicks of the king’s First Army.”

  The guardsmen saluted as a giant man, even bigger than Bealdred, ducked through the doorway into the mess hall. He had the same wavy brown hair and square jaw that Tetra did, but was built to a larger scale. Despite his size, Andros moved with obvious grace. He searched their faces.

  “Uncle?” Tetra stepped out from behind his friends to get a better look.

  Andros’ dark eyes found him and a smile split his face. “Tetra. Aspects be praised, it’s good to see you!”

  “Uncle!” Tetra shot through the room, dodging through the soldiers of the garrison, and barreled into Andros, gripping him as hard as he could. The larger man had such a large chest that Tetra’s fingers barely touched each other. His uncle accepted the embrace with dignity.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” Andros said, easing him away after a moment.

  “It’s all right.” Tetra fought to regain his poise in front of everyone else. “You’re here now. We can go after Halli and the others. We can rescue them.”

  Andros’ gaze shifted to the guardsmen behind Tetra and then back to him. “It isn’t so simple, Tetra.”

  “Let’s give them some privacy,” Reynolds said.

  “Indeed, Major,” The captain’s adjunct circled a fist in the air. “Clear the room.”

  Andros raised a hand. “No. We’ll step outside and let the troops finish enjoying their meal. As you were.”

  The room remained quiet as they left. Andros led Tetra to the small yard outside the mess.

  “What do you mean it isn’t simple?” Tetra asked once they stood alone. He felt his jaw clench.

  Andros took a seat on a nearby bench. The large man leaned forward, letting his forearms rest on his thighs. Staring at the ground, he collected his thoughts before answering. “This won’t be easy for you, Tetra, but you need to hear me out. I’m here to deliver the king’s orders. He’s decided to enter talks with the orocs in the hopes of finding a peaceful solution that—”

  “Talks!” Tetra interrupted. He rubbed his arm distractedly, searching for an answer. “They still have Halli.” Tetra tried to be brave, but he could hear the pleading in his voice. Save her …

  Andros shifted his hands, propping them on his knees, and looked up, meeting Tetra’s gaze. “I know but—”

  Tetra spat, interrupting his uncle again. “They still have all the children. At least the ones they didn’t slaughter with the rest of Jaegen.”

  “Tetra. I understand. Believe me, I want nothing so much as to go into that cursed forest and rescue them. I really do. But I have a duty to the king, obligations I must fulfill. It is not so simple.”

  Tetra stared down at his hands. His fingers were reflexively curling into fists. “They murdered my parents, Uncle Andros. Your brother! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  Andros shoved up to tower over him. “Of course it does. It sickened me to hear what happened. I grieve for your parents just as you do, but we can’t start a war with the orocs over one village. Tens of thousands of lives would be lost during a war. O
ur position with the other nations could be put in peril. You weren’t born yet, but those of us that remember it know that the Scaladrin war was one of the bloodiest and worst times for our kingdom. Trust me, Tetra, you don’t want that again.”

  “They started it.” He stepped forward and pushed at his uncle’s chest, shoving as hard as he could. “You think it’ll stop at just one village? They wiped out a patrol of thirty men. They attacked the castle. If we don’t go save my sister soon, this is just going to get worse and worse, and we’ll never be able to save her.”

  Andros clamped his hands around Tetra’s arms, immobilizing him. “Promencia has known peace far too long to escalate a conflict when there’s no proof anyone survived except you. I’m sorry, Tetra.”

  “I know Halli lives. I can feel her. She’s out there, in the Rocmire, waiting for me to rescue her. Why won’t anyone believe me?” He could feel tears starting to run down his cheeks.

  Andros frowned. “It isn’t that no one believes you. Don’t think of it that way. It’s just that the king can’t rely on your testimony alone. It risks too much. Too many lives.”

  Tetra slumped against his uncle’s chest. “So the king’s just gonna let them die? Are you?” Despair washed over him, along with the knowledge that his uncle wasn’t here to help. Veins popped in his arms as his hands squeezed into fists. That little voice at the back of his mind was there. He would save Halli. There was no question about it. That steel he had felt when he forced himself to walk the first time was back. With or without help, he was going to the Rocmire. And soon. He didn’t have any more time to let his back heal more, to wait for help, or any other excuse.

  “There’s more at stake here, Tetra. Peace often comes through great sacrifice.”