by Martin Ash
Issul woke abruptly late in the night to feel a hand on her shoulder.
"Ssh, it's me. Kol. I think we've got three men we can trust to work with us on an escape. Alippo, Mondam and Phisusandra. Plus Herbin. I would have said maybe Jerum too, but he was taken away tonight."
Issul weighed this. She had still formulated no plan. "Is it possible to break away from your work gang?"
"Never. Too many guards, and we're chained so we can't run."
The only possibilities were across the stream or through the main gate, then. Both were immensely dangerous, and certainly could only be attempted after dark. But she was certain the Karai would be no less vigilant at night, most especially now, with the threat from the mysterious bowman. Moreover, Karai were believed to possess superior night-vision to humans.
Issul felt helpless. How were they to break free of the hut without rousing the guards? She had already inspected the hut walls, seeking a weakness, a fault, a loose beam. But the hut was solidly built and revealed nothing that could be prised or forced without tools. She had considered tunneling out underneath one of the walls, but her investigations had revealed that less than a finger's depth into the soil was a bed of solid rock. Kol and Herbin had later confirmed that their own explorations had brought the same result. Parts of the huts foundations, it appeared, had been sunk into the rock itself.
And then there was the forest, a mass of lethal traps and who knew what else? Despondency began to settle upon Issul again. "We have an ally out there, at least."
"A single fighter can hardly hope to kill over thirty Karai," whispered Kol. "More if the others return. And the Karai will surely kill us all if his actions continue."
"We must let him know, somehow, that he can trust us to work with him," said Issul. But she was not to be given that opportunity.
As dusk came and she ended her work the following day, she was brought from the sewing-hut and marched away. Not towards her dormitory but across the compound, past the frames where the two prisoners still hung, and away towards the far side of the camp in the direction she had seen so many others led before her.
Her heart was in her mouth as she walked. No explanation was offered or required. She knew this was her time. From the corner of her eye she saw her companions grouped outside the hut, watching her as the chains were unfastened from their ankles. She wanted to call to them, illogically some word of reassurance, but her throat had suddenly constricted. Two guards now gripped her arms to ensure she did not run away. Ahead of her a young prisoner from the other hut was being similarly guided. She saw his legs going rubbery beneath him and from time to time heard his terrified sobs.
Does he know more than I?
They passed behind the Karai tents and huts into an area of the camp she had not seen before. Close beside a watchtower a small gate led into a narrow passage flanked on each side by a wall of sharpened stakes. The passage turned at a right angle, led away towards the trees which rose beyond. At the end was another guardtower, larger than the others and manned by several Karai. At its base was a sturdy gate. Three more guards fell in with the little party. A wooden portcullis was winched high and the gate opened.
They passed through onto a grassy causeway which twisted between the trees and opened into another large clearing. A putrid odour reached Issul's nostrils, almost making her retch. In the middled of the clearing two heavy wooden posts, set about fifteen paces apart, were sunk into the ground, standing free by about the height of a tall man. All around, sentinel trees rose tall and dark.
Issul was led to one of the posts, the young prisoner to the other. As she approached she saw bones – human bones - tatters of dry flesh and scraps of clothing strewn across the ground. She was ordered to sit, her back to the post, as was the other captive. Five of the guards had drawn their swords as if to caution against resisting. Issul's arms were pulled behind the posts and bound tightly at the wrists. Then her ankles were also tied. The Karai guards stood back. One of them spoke words in a language Issul did not understand. To her ears it sounded like an invocation or prayer of some kind.
"Be brave," he then said. "You serve a higher cause."
All seven Karai bowed their heads, first towards Issul, then to the other prisoner. They turned upon their heels and marched back across the clearing to the camp.
Issul sat in bewildered silence. The other prisoner was weeping, his eyes tight shut, limbs trembling violently. At first Issul felt pity for him through her own fear, then gradually impatience. She gazed edgily about her, at the trees, silent and sombre in the dying light. She flexed her muscles against the bonds that held her, but they were tight and did not give. The charnel evidence scattered about the clearing, and the sickly sweet stink that it exuded heightened her fear and made her nauseous. She found the sweat, cold and clammy, pouring down her back, glueing her hair to her skin.
And then she saw the face.
She almost screamed. The head was turned towards her, resting at a slight tilt just a few paces away upon a clump of grass. The flesh was spoiled, half torn from the skull; the eyes were gone, just black sockets staring emptily at her. Strands of grey hair lifted and fell in the light breeze that played across the grass. Issul, having closed her eyes, now stared, unable to take her eyes off it. Despite its terrible mutilation she believed she recognized the face. It was Miseon, Herbin's father, with whom she had been brought to the camp. It was what remained of him.
Her breath came hard, in shallow, racing gasps as she fought to control her shock and terror. Now she saw, nearer to her, a finger, part of a foot, white bones sticking from what remained of the flesh. Her mouth was dry; she strained against her bonds.
The young prisoner was bawling loudly now. "Mama, help me! Mama, Mama, please! Oh help me! Don't let me die!"
"Shut up!" Issul yelled. His screams were driving her mad. "Shut up and do something! Test your ropes. You may be able to free yourself."
She suspected it was hopeless, but anything to stop his maddening noise. He stopped yelling and stared at her for a moment through his tears.
"Test the ropes!" she shouted again.
He tried, struggling, straining. "It's no good!"
He began to blubber again. Issul stared about her, waiting for whatever horror might come.
But nothing happened.
Above the high wall of the trees, which were now softly merging into the deepening dusk, the sky showed stains of fiery red and vibrant orange, deepest purple and myriad shades of violet. It was becoming chill. The camp was invisible behind the narrow belt of forest that separated it from the dying ground. The young prisoner's crying began to ebb. A terrible silence fell across the clearing.
Issul rested her head against the post behind her and felt tears start to her own eyes. Leth, my babies, will I never see you again?
So afraid, and not knowing what it was that she had to be afraid of.
She turned her head from one side to the other, strained to see behind her. But still there was nothing. It was the waiting, the terrible suspense, that drained her and threatened to pummel her into submission.
Then she heard a sound.
It was in the trees, off to her left. Issul strained her eyes, all her senses pared, penetrating the crepuscular gloom. The leaves upon a heavy branch of an oak were shaking. The branch gave a shudder. She thought she saw, for an instant, the glimmer of yellow eyes. But it was a distance away, hard to make out. Maybe there were no eyes. Maybe the movement had been a gust of breeze.
But she dared not take her eyes away. And the other prisoner had heard it too. His gaze was fixed rigid upon the same spot. He was wheezing and jabbering with terror.
The branch shifted again, as though borne down by a great weight. Now! A movement! Something of bulk, dark in the shadow, swaying. A monk-like form, hunched and shrouded.
Issul's heart hammered. She struggled desperately against her ropes. And the thing she was watching seemed abruptly to expand, its form stretching impossibly to either si
de. The limb of the oak shook again, rose suddenly as with the release of some unknown pressure. And the creature grew yet larger.
Suddenly Issul realized what it was she was seeing. The thing had stretched and spread its broad wings, launched itself from the tree. It was gliding rapidly across the glade towards her now, talons stretched, beak wide, just a cubit above the grass. She had seen its like twice before: in the sky above the road outside Enchantment's Reach, and again, returning, just above the treetops as she was brought to the Karai camp.
They are creatures of the Karai! This is their feeding pen!
She wrenched herself back against her bindings, closing her eyes in sheer horror as the thing rammed through the air towards her. A harsh grating cry reverberated through her skull. She braced herself against the strike. A wind rushed about her and a stale, fleshy odour assaulted her nostrils. But the expected strike, the claws and hooked bill tearing into her flesh, did not come.
Issul opened her eyes. The thing had flown past her to alight upon the ground close to the other prisoner. The leathery membranes of its great wings were folding. The broad flat head was held high. It seemed to be inspecting its prey, who sat rigid, eyes squeezed shut.
"No!" screamed Issul. "No! No! No!"
The thing strutted forward and struck suddenly, its beak hammering down with precision and plucking out an eye.
As the prisoner's screams rang across the wood the creature jerked back its head and swallowed, then went for the second eye. There was rustling in the trees. Issul glanced around. Another bulking shape upon a limb. And another. As if they had been roosting, sleeping, and were waking one by one.
The young prisoner's agony rent the air, the winged thing tearing and gulping. Issul raged hopelessly against her bonds. She cursed, she strained, hopelessly.
Quite suddenly she was aware of something breaking from the undergrowth across the clearing. She made out a human figure, a man, bent and sprinting, a sword in his hands.
Almost at the same moment another of the flying creatures had launched itself from the trees and was bearing directly towards Issul. Surprised by the appearance of the swordsman it swerved, then veered towards him. He maintained his pace; the creature extended its claws to pluck him from the earth. At the last instant he dived, rolled, came up and swung hard with his sword. The bladed sheared into a wing. The flying beast emitted an ear-splitting shriek and careered to the ground. The swordsman sped on towards Issul.
The thing, flightless, bounded after him with long flapping leaps. But its movements were uncoordinated, the wing bloody and virtually useless. He arrived at Issul's side, breathing hard, drew a knife from his belt and sawed at the ropes that bound her wrists. As her hands came free he thrust the knife at her. "Free your legs!"
"Look out!" she cried, for the flapping creature was almost upon him. He spun around, rolling onto his back and stabbed upwards with his sword into the creature's breast. A spray of warm blood showered the side of Issul's face as she sawed at the rope around her ankles. Her rescuer was on his feet, hacking at the beast. He glanced around, saw that she had freed herself. The wounded creature screamed its agony and rage. The fighter struck once more and it slumped, not quite dead, to the ground.
The first creature had turned from the meal it was making of the young prisoner. Issul's rescuer took her hand. "Come, this way. They can’t fly under the trees."
"What about him?" she pointed at the tormented figure slumped before the other post, but even as she spoke she could see that there was nothing to be done. She began to run, following her rescuer. Another dark shape came from the high branches across the clearing. Her rescuer took hold of her arm, propelled her forward. They reached the edge of the glade and he pushed her into the brush and dived after her. Issul heard the heavy beat of wings, glimpsed a dark shadow shoot past. She scrambled further beneath the branches, felt a hand grasp her ankle.
"Not too far. There are traps." He helped her to the trunk of a grand oak, where she sat down, breathless. In the middle of the clearing the first flyer had returned to its meal. Its wounded companion lay upon its side nearby. The third creature glided once around the glade then came to land and began pecking at the ravaged cadaver of the prisoner.
Issul rested herself against the tree-trunk, recovering her breath. Her rescuer, sheathing his word, stood looking up into the dense branches. He was a young man, tall and rangily built. He had stained his face with soil or dark juice, and wore leathers with a lightly padded jupon and a steel helmet. A short tabard, torn and dirty, bore the emblem of Orbia. He glanced at Issul and pointed upwards. Perched upon a high limb she saw one of the flying creatures, its yellow eyes blinking minatorily down at her.
"Don't worry," said the stranger. "It can’t attack unless we are in the open."
Despite his assurance Issul was loath to let her eyes wander from the thing for more than a moment.
"Your appearance was timely," she said. "Though a few instants earlier would have saved two lives rather than the one."
The young man looked ruefully towards the clearing. "I take it that is your way of saying thank you, Majesty."
Majesty! He knows me. But of course, he would if he wears the uniform of Orbia.
"I do thank you. You have certainly saved me from a fate too horrible to contemplate. Yet that same fate has befallen my companion, and too many before him."
The young man nodded. "I didn’t know of this place until yesterday. The woods are lethally trapped, and movement within them is difficult. But when I saw you being led here I could only act at my greatest speed, even a little recklessly. Regretfully my greatest speed was insufficient to save any other."
"How are you here? Are you alone?"
"Presently, yes. I am one of a platoon of the King's Cavalry, 1st Light Battalion. My name is Shenwolf."
Shenwolf. The name seemed distantly familiar, but she could not think why.
"Where are the others of your platoon?"
"Lost, or killed, or returned to Orbia. I don’t know. We were sent by King Leth to find you. You were reported to have gone to the village of Lastmeadow. Our task was to escort you back. We came across your party some way west of Crosswood. You were under attack, several of your men had already been killed. We arrived too late to do anything more than force the Karai to retreat."
The moments of her frantic dash into the forest to locate Moscul came back to Issul now. She recalled becoming aware, momentarily, of a noise of a greater clash at her back, as though the fighting had suddenly escalated. Then she had come upon the old woman with the bleeding face; then all was darkness.
"You came after me alone?" she enquired.
"Not at first. I had glimpsed you disappear into the woods, and several of us took chase. But the Karai came at us out of the trees, then vanished again leaving two more dead and three wounded. Still we came on. We were attacked again, and again - a few flights of arrows, then they melt away before we can fully respond. My group was down to five. An arrow struck my helmet and I stumbled, fell into a low ravine. When I came around I was alone. I knew by the light that several hours had passed. Was I to try to pursue you or to return in the hope of finding survivors of my platoon? Some, surely, must have survived."
"But you chose to come for me?"
"That was the mission I had been assigned by the King."
Issul nodded to herself. "It is you, then, who has been killing Karai from the fringes of the forest these past days."
"It is. I hoped to impel them into some rash action by slowly attriting their numbers. But my resources were limited. I had but nine bolts, and five I have now used up."
"Five? I witnessed but three strikes, and heard another."
"One missed. I am not perfect."
"But you are very brave. I shall commend your actions upon our return, Shenwolf. It took extraordinary courage to do what you have done, most especially this." She nodded towards the clearing.
"No, Majesty. It took only devotion to my country, my
King and his young Queen."
"How difficult was it to follow me here?"
"Not easy. I have followed tracks before, generally those of animals who have strayed or been stolen from the farm where I grew up. Following fifteen Karai and their captives should have been simpler, but they took pains to cover their tracks. I also had to avoid the squads they sent back to deter pursuers."
"But you made it, so others of the King's troops can follow, may already be doing so."
Shenwolf shook his head. "We are deep in the forest, and there has been heavy rain. It did not reach this area, but I watched dark sheets swamping the region at my back. I think there will be no tracks now. What’s more, a strong Karai squad has gone north again from the camp. I don’t doubt that King Leth will send forth a small army to find you, but the chances of his discovering this camp, so remote and well-hidden, are almost nil."
"Then we must find our way back."
Two more of the dark flyers had alighted in the centre of the clearing and were squabbling over the flesh of the young prisoner whose fate she had so nearly shared. "These foul creatures. They are truly the stuff of nightmares. I’ve seen their like only in books. How is it they are with the Karai?"
"They are called slooths," said Shenwolf. "So I heard when we fought them in Enchantment's Reach. As to their association with the Karai, I have no answer."
"They were at Enchantment's Reach?" demanded Issul with sudden alarm.
"A flight struck into the heart of the city, caused panic and disruption and took several lives."
"Leth? My children?"
"The slooths did not enter Orbia or its environs. I can tell you little more, for my platoon was on its way to find you when they struck. It must be from here that they were dispatched. Some days ago I saw them fly north again for an unknown destination, and return a day later."
Issul nodded. Three evenings ago the Karai had not led any prisoners away towards this terrible glade.
