Shades of the Past: The Morcyth Saga Book Six

by Brian S. Pratt

  “As a matter of fact,” Scar says, “we did. It was several years ago during…” As Scar continues on with his narration, Illan glances to James and asks, “Have you heard this one before?”

  Giving him a grin, he shakes his head and says, “No. But knowing those two, I figured they would have a tale of some sort to go along with it. Besides, this will give everyone something to think about other than Orry.”

  Nodding, Illan says, “Good thinking.”

  “No, no you got it wrong,” Potbelly interjects. “We weren’t hired by the Baron of Falsberg, it was the Duchess of Twyst.”

  “That’s right, now that you remind me,” Scar says. “We were on our way through…” For the next hour or so, they regal everyone with their tale of daring do and for a brief time, the death of their friend is forgotten.

  Not to be outdone, Uther and Jorry begin a tale once they’re through of how they single handedly slew some giant that had taken an entire village captive. After listening to the narrative for several minutes, James turns to Illan and asks, “Are there giants here?”

  “Not that I’ve heard,” he says. Despite the improbability of their story, it is rather entertaining.

  They continue following the road for the rest of the day. The scouts would return periodically to give a report then would switch to a fresh mount and ride off again. During one such time when a scout returns, the scout tells of a caravan approaching from the south. “Looks to be supplies for the army that was at Lythylla,” the scout says. “It is but an hour away.”

  “How many soldiers accompany it?” Illan asks.

  “Three score,” the scout replies.

  “Keep an eye on it,” Illan says. The scout salutes before changing to a fresh horse and gallops back down the road.

  “Ceadric!” he hollers.

  “Yes, sir,” Ceadric replies as he brings his horse closer.

  “We have an approaching caravan,” he tells him. “Three score guards. Take your riders and capture it.”

  “Yes, sir!” he says.

  Before he rides away, James says, “Don’t kill the drivers.”

  “What about the soldiers?” he asks.

  “Do what you have to,” he states.

  Turning to his Raiders, he says, “We got a caravan to liberate!”

  A cheer erupts as he and his men break into a gallop and race down the road.

  “So it begins,” James says under his breath as he watches Ceadric and his Raiders disappear down the road.

  “Indeed,” comments Illan from beside him.

  It isn’t long before they arrive at the captured caravan. Off to one side, a pile of dead Empire soldiers riddled with arrows stands testament to the battle which raged here. Many of Hedry’s archers still have arrows to string as they keep the drivers from attempting to escape. Several wagons are without drivers and the bloodstains on the benches show they didn’t give up easily.

  The wagons are filled with food, weapons and supplies needed by an army on the move. A string of horses were also captured, spare mounts for their cavalry.

  Ceadric meets them as they arrive and says, “All secured. No losses.”

  “Good,” states Illan. “Have some of the men escort the caravan back to Lythylla.”

  “Yes, sir,” he says and then begins assigning those new to their force to escort the caravan. Some grumbling arises from those who believe they’ll miss out on the glory of accompanying Black Hawk, but do as they are told.

  As the wagons begin rolling back to Lythylla, their force once again resumes their advance on the Empire.

  Over the course of the next several days, that scene is repeated three more times as they capture caravans and send them back to Lythylla. After the first day, James was sufficiently recovered from his fight with the creatures that he could again use his mirror to locate enemy patrols. If they weren’t very large, Ceadric and his riders were dispatched to take them out.

  During their third day from Lythylla, James locates a force of at least five thousand men heading north, most likely to reinforce the force that used to be at Lythylla.

  “Should we take them on?” Jiron asks.

  Shaking his head, James says, “That’s not the idea. We are to draw them after us and out of Lythylla, avoiding any direct confrontation with large forces for as long as possible.”

  “Besides,” adds Illan, “the force remaining at Lythylla will be able to handle them.”

  By the fourth day, any caravans they raid are no longer sent back. Instead, what they need is transferred to their pack animals and the rest is destroyed. Axes are used to chop the wagons apart, the supplies they aren’t taking are destroyed in one manner or another. Nothing is to be left that will be able to aid the Empire. Any civilians with the caravans who aren’t killed in the initial assault are allowed to go free. James simply can’t bring himself to slay innocents. Plus, they’ll begin to spread the word of what they’re doing which is precisely what he wants.

  James is surprised at the lack of response from the Empire. He thought there should have been something by now. The only thing he can figure is that the word has yet to reach local officials. Those who they’ve left alive have been on the fringe of the Empire and communications in this world being as they are, it may take awhile before they get word to the powers that be.

  On the fifth day as they approach where the old border used to be between Madoc and the Empire, patrols and troops become more frequent. Still they continue as they have, either taking out the enemy should the force prove small, evading it should it prove large. Anything they come across from this point on, if it can be used by the Empire in the war effort, gets destroyed.

  During the midafternoon of the fifth day while using his mirror to find enemy patrols, James discovers a fortress to the southwest sitting along the main road running north and south.

  “That has to be Al-Ziron,” Illan explains when he informs him what he found. “It’s been guarding the Empire’s border for centuries.”

  “I take it that it will have a sizable garrison?” asks James.

  “Perhaps,” he replies. “With this no longer being the border, they may not feel it requires many men.” After riding a few more moments in silence, he asks “Do you plan to take it?”

  Shaking his head, James replies, “No. It would be too risky. Let Madoc’s soldiers take on the enemy, we’re primarily interested in the country’s infrastructure and its war industry.”

  “Then I suggest we skirt more to the east to avoid any possible patrols which may be in the area,” offers Illan.

  “Good idea,” he replies.

  Later that day when he again checks his mirror for enemies in the surrounding countryside, he spies what looks to be a long supply caravan escorted by several hundred soldiers heading eastward. When he informs Illan, Illan says, “Most likely heading toward the army fighting with the Kirken Federation. How far away are they?”

  “A couple miles,” James tells him.

  “One last fight before nightfall?” Illan asks.

  “We do have numbers and the element of surprise on our side,” replies James.

  “I concur,” he agrees then hollers for Ceadric. After a couple minutes for James to show them the supply caravan in his mirror and to work out the battle plan, they alter their course and move to intercept.

  Ceadric and most of the riders take off to the north in an attempt to get around them while Illan, James and his people move directly toward them.

  “We’re finally going to get in on the fighting?” Jiron asks.

  “Yes. There are too many for Ceadric and the Raiders to take by themselves.”

  “About time,” Scar says from where he overheard his reply. “Hate just riding along while others get to have all the fun.”

  From up ahead one of the scouts they sent to keep an eye on the caravan appears riding quickly toward them. “They’re not much further ahead,” the scout reports as he comes abreast of Illan.

  “Does it loo
k like they are aware of our approach?” he asks.

  Shaking his head, the scout replies, “No. They’re strung out in a line over a mile long. Most of the accompanying soldiers are at the head of the column, the rest are bringing up the rear.”

  “Excellent,” Illan states. To Delia he asks, “How are your slingers on horseback?”

  “We’ve done some practice while mounted but they’re not very accurate unless on the ground,” she admits.

  He nods his head and wishes he hadn’t sent all of Hedry’s archers with Ceadric, the only ones left are Errin and Aleya. “Who is fairly accurate?” he asks.

  “Other than myself, probably Devin, Caleb and Nerrin,” she replies. “The others simply can’t do it.”

  “Alright, here’s what we do…”

  Jiron and his riders are riding guard on Delia and the other three slingers who are accurate on horseback as they ride quickly toward the enemy caravan. Errin and Aleya ride with them as well, as do Moyil and Terrance, each of whom is bearing a lit torch. They plan to target the center of the caravan where there are the fewest number of soldiers.

  The drivers of the enemy wagons take note of their approach as soon as they appear on the horizon. Several draw crossbows and one sounds a horn which summons the riders on either end to their aid.

  When Delia comes within sling range of the wagons, she brings the group to a halt. The four slingers wind up their slings and let fly a single oil bomb each. Simultaneously, Errin and Aleya set one of their treated arrows to string, then wait as Moyil and Terrance light them from the torches they’re carrying before sending it after the oil bombs.

  Just as the first oil bomb strikes one wagon, Errin’s flaming arrow follows and the wagon erupts in flame. A second later another wagon is struck by Aleya’s arrow and is soon being engulfed by fire. They quickly ready two more arrows and let fly at the remaining two wagons hit by the oil bombs. Crossbow bolts fly toward them but miss their mark, they just aren’t that accurate over long distance.

  Once the wagons are burning, Jiron hollers, “Time to go!” From either end of the caravan, riders ride hard to close with the attackers. As one, Jiron and the others turn to race back to where James and the others wait.

  Not many were left behind when the raiding party set out. James, Illan, Miko, and the Hand of Asran, as well as the few slingers whose accuracy from horseback was less than desirable, were all that remained.

  As they flee from the approaching riders, Jiron and the others see their comrades already in position to ward off the attackers with James and the Hand of Asran stationed in front. As he and the others race around to their rear, a greenish glow surrounds the brothers.

  Hundreds of green sprouts rise from the earth before the oncoming horsemen. Growing quickly, they rise three feet or more from the ground, large thorns appear and soon a wall of thorns impedes the path of their pursuers. Some of the horses leap over the barrier, others go around, but the majority comes to an abrupt halt.

  Crumph! Crumph!

  The ground erupts beneath the riders swinging around the ends of the thorn wall throwing riders and horses into air. Arrows and slugs fly toward those riders who had jumped the wall, felling them rapidly.

  Of the dozen or more who had jumped over the barrier, only four continue toward them. Illan and Jiron move to the fore to stop them. Suddenly, a massive apparition appears before the riders. Seven feet tall, green and looking for all the world like a man made of leaves, it spreads its arms wide and lets out with a roar.

  The charging horses roll their eyes in fear and rear backward, knocking their riders to the ground. Before the riders even hit the ground, the apparition disappears and Illan and Jiron move forward to engage them.

  Over their heads, arrows and slugs continue to fly into the riders moving around the barrier to attack with deadly accuracy. Jiron reaches a rider who’s dazed from his fall and quickly strikes out with a knife, taking him through the throat.

  As the dead man falls, he moves on to the next who is already up and in position. Next to him he hears another rider fall from the death blow Illan dealt him as he engages the rider.

  The rider strikes out with his sword as Jiron approaches. Sidestepping, he allows the blade to pass next to him. Lashing out with one knife, he catches the rider along one side, leaving a six inch trail of blood across his swordarm.

  Jumping back, the rider looks at Jiron in anger. With a cry, he takes his sword in both hands and hacks down with all his might. As the blade descends toward Jiron, he dodges to the side and strikes the descending blade with a knife. At the same time, he lashes out with a foot and knocks the rider off balance. Before the man has a chance to regain his balance, he thrusts with his other knife and slips it through a gap in the armor beneath the ribcage, sinking the blade to the hilt.

  With a cry of pain, the rider staggers a couple of steps before dropping to his knees as blood flows from his side. His sword falls from his hand as he topples over and hits the ground where he lies still.

  Retrieving his dagger from the fallen man, Jiron looks to find Illan having already dispatched his two.

  Horns sound behind the attacking riders announcing the arrival of Ceadric and his bunch. With the odds so much against them, the enemy riders break off the attack and flee.

  Hedry’s archers fire at the fleeing riders while riding at a full gallop. Some of their arrows find their marks, but the majority go wide. He divides his men in half, sending each half after the two groups of fleeing riders.

  “Wagons secured,” Ceadric reports as he nears.

  “Any survivors?” James asks.

  “Most of the drivers and about a dozen soldiers,” he replies.

  James glances to Illan and nods. “Good,” he says.

  To Ceadric, Illan says, “Keep them at the wagons. We’ll wish to interrogate them.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ceadric says as he salutes and turns around to head back to the captured wagons.

  “Went pretty well,” comments Jiron.

  “Yeah it did,” agrees James. “Let’s move to the caravan and see about the prisoners. We need to get out of here before too much longer.”

  Illan nods as he says, “I agree.”

  As everyone gets under way, James glances to Brother Willim and then nods to the thorn barrier. “Is that going to last awhile?” he asks.

  “Maybe,” he replies. “It’s real so it could thrive here if it’s the will of Asran. Though I doubt it, too dry.”

  Working their way around the thorn hedge, James, Illan and the rest make their way across the recent field of battle to where a score of Ceadric’s riders guard those who survived their assault. When they arrive, Illan directs Ceadric to have his men gather what supplies they require before destroying the wagons.

  Ceadric gives him a ‘Yes, sir,’ then orders two of his junior officers to take care of it.

  “Take what rest you can,” Illan announces to the others. “We leave in under an hour.”

  While the group from The Ranch dismounts and begins distributing rations among themselves for a quick meal Illan, Ceadric, Jiron and James go to where the prisoners are being held.

  The men being guarded are a sad, dejected looking lot. A dozen civilian drivers plus over a score of soldiers sit in a group off to one side. “Sergeant!” Illan barks upon approaching.

  One of the soldiers guarding the prisoners steps forward and asks, “Yes, sir?”

  “Release the drivers,” he tells him. “Get them out of here and moving on the road north.”

  “Yes, sir!” the sergeant replies with a salute and with the help of two other Raiders soon has the drivers free of their bonds and heading down the road. When they don’t move along fast enough, some of the Raiders decide to hurry them a bit with the broad side of their swords.

  Illan turns to the remaining soldiers and asks, “Who here understands me?”

  The prisoners return blank expressions, all that is except one. A soldier in the center of the group hesita
ntly says in heavily accented northern, “I can.”

  “You know who I am?” he asks.

  “You are the Death Hawk,” he replies, venom dripping from his words.

  “Death Hawk?” James asks as he turns to Illan.

  “That’s the name they gave me,” he says then turns back to their prisoner. A look of stony defiance is set in his face as he stares back to him. “What can you tell me of the defenses at Al-Zynn?” At this time one of the two bands of riders that had set out after the fleeing riders returns.

  The soldier simply stares back in silence.

  The leader of the band comes to a stop before Illan, snaps him a salute then says, “Got ‘em all.”

  “Excellent,” Illan tells him. “Have your men stand down until we leave.”

  “Yes, sir,” the rider replies. He gives Illan another salute before he and his riders move to the pack horses to retrieve some food and drink.

  Turning back to the prisoner, he asks, “Now, what do you know of Al-Zynn?”

  “I’m not telling you anything!” the soldier states defiantly. “Though it’s sure to mean my death, I will never help one who so ravaged the Empire.”

  “Al-Zynn?” Jiron asks Ceadric.

  “Al-Zynn is a major city that holds the Empire’s stockpile of weapons and supplies for its northern armies,” he explains. “During our last campaign here, we planned on razing it to the ground. But before we could get close enough, the Empire brought in too many forces to defend it and we had to go elsewhere. At the time we didn’t realize it but that marked the beginning of our retreat from the Empire.”

  Nodding over to Illan, he adds, “The fact that he wasn’t able to take it has gnawed at him since then. He means to head there and take it before they’re able to bring in sufficient forces to stop us.”

  Jiron glances over to James who nods in agreement.

  At this time the second band of Raiders shows up from their pursuit of the fleeing Empire riders. The lead rider comes forward at a gallop and says, “Black Hawk! A force of over four score riders may be on the way.”