“But Steram used the distraction to break free of his captors. I never saw how he did it, for I too was watching Dahle and Steram’s wife, but suddenly he was free and one of his captors had an arm that bent the wrong way.
“With speed that would make the fastest Uranthian proud, he pulled a scimitar out of the scabbard of his surprised captor, slashed him across the chest, slit the other’s neck open, and killed about two or three other gromja-rin before being overwhelmed. During the melee, he had even managed to slice Kurich Dahle across the arm. ‘For that, you will live a long and tortured existence,’ Dahle told him.
“We were joined on the wall by one of the engineers who told us the rear wall was ready to come down. The castle had been built such that the rear wall could be pulled down fairly easily from within. We had been waiting for all the preparations to be done before we could send the transports out.
“The problem now was there were too many forces around the back of the castle for the transports to get clear. We decided we needed to send a strike force out the side to draw them away. The gromja, utterly loyal but not exceedingly bright, would come running to defend Dahle and the uruks, neither nearly as loyal nor bright, would follow.
“We asked for volunteers for the mission and almost every soldier there volunteered. We split them amongst the strike group and the guard group. Prairhorn was to lead the strike and I would lead the escape.
“Just before we put our plan into action, Prairhorn screamed an anguished ‘No!’ He jumped back to the edge of the wall to look into the courtyard. He said Dahle was bleeding Steram’s soul and that there was no greater anguish and no greater crime to an Elf.
“I then made one of the toughest of my, then, young career. I decided we would have to kill Captain Steram since we could not possibly rescue him. I pulled out an enchanted arrow Balderon had given me. It shot straight and true and usually caused death. Most of the officers had them. As I said, most of Malustreure’s hordes were not too intelligent. If you could take out their officers, they became a lot less effective.
“Unfortunately, in this case, the officer was Kurich Dahle. Earlier in the war, an archer had managed to get one of the enchanted arrows through his nearly impregnable armor. Though it caused him great anguish, it hadn’t killed him.
“But it didn’t matter, since this arrow was not for Dahle. It was for Steram. Prairhorn asked to take the shot, saying he was the better archer. But this was one duty I could not let him take for me. And I needed him to hit the gromja-rin captor with an arrow just prior to my shot, for we could barely see Steram.
“I drew the deadly arrow across my chest, the bow string cutting into my fingers. I said a quick prayer for Steram’s soul and told Prairhorn to fire. True to his Elven heritage, he hit the gromja-rin in his right shoulder, exposing Steram for an instant. I let the arrow fly. It streaked through the air, going straighter than an arrow should. It hit Steram in the lower back and his body instantly went rigid. Then his back arched and he fell against the gromja-rin Prairhorn had hit.
“A shout went up from the courtyard. ‘Attack now,’ I said to Prairhorn. We slid down the ladders to join the respective forces. ‘Terescin,’ he said to me, grabbing my arm. It means ‘eternal life’ or something like that. He hopped on his horse and led the attack. I ran to the back wall and ran up one of the stairwells. As we had expected, the vast majority of gromja and uruks rushed forward to help head off the strike. I signaled the engineers to bring the wall down and ran down to mount my horse.
“We took the transports out, killing off the gromja and uruks that had remained. We rode hard east and then north to try to avoid confrontation. It was there we encountered the Sorenthians, riding to our assistance. I sent the transports further north, to the Sorenthian base camp, and then led the Sorenthian attack groups back south, into battle. We passed around our fallen castle to avoid Kurich Dahle and his gromja-rin. We managed to free most of the castles before Dahle caught up to us.
“I never saw Prairhorn again. Well, not alive. That bastard Dahle catapulted his decapitated head, as well as Steram’s and many others, into the castle Bracconius was in.
“As I am sure you know, Lorbak’s clans turned the tide and we eventually broke the siege before Malustreure’s additional forces could reach us from the south. As we freed each castle, we sent the women, children and injured north in transports to rendezvous at the Sorenthian base camp. Once all the castles had been freed, we joined them.
“Then, Bracconius led us west in a brilliant move to avoid the forces of Malustreure that were descending on the region from the south and west. Malustreure never expected us to head west, into the teeth of his own forces. He expected us to flee east or north.
“But we skirted the Silver Mountains as closely as possible, working hard to avoid the army that we knew we had to pass to survive. Only two of his flying manticore ever spotted us and Balderon and his mage teams were able to bring them down before they could inform Malustreure of our location. We managed to slip past his army and head west over four hundred miles, eventually taking refuge in the Valley of Pelikan.”
A solemn silence hung in the air after Landir finished his story. It was eventually broken by Reston.
“What ever happened to Kurich Dahle?”
“No one knows. The bastard escaped us somehow. No one ever reported killing him and he wasn’t in the Black Tower when we toppled it into the lake. Neither he nor his hellsteed were ever found. He’s probably out there somewhere, licking his wounds. Waiting for a chance for revenge upon Bracconius and Ostar. I’m sure it enters in the reasoning for the continued war readiness Bracconius maintains in the Legions.”
Esselles shook his head lightly, unable to imagine having to kill a compatriot and friend. “If I am ever called upon to do what you had to do for Steram, I hope I have the courage and ability to see it through.”
“So do I, young man. However, I hope you are never put in that situation. I would not wish that upon my enemy.”
It was well into night by the time they reached the base of the cabin’s mountain. The horses had trouble pulling the transport up the steep road that led to the cabin so they were forced to stop a couple hundred yards shy of the cabin. They grabbed their gear and carried it the rest of the way on foot while Clawson and Landir untethered the horses and led them to the barn.
Carrel immediately set about starting a fire and by the time everything was carried in from the transport, he had a roaring blaze going. True to his word, Landir helped prepare a hot meal.
After eating, they unpacked their bedrolls and set them about the room. Rashel laid hers fairly close to Esselles’ and as everyone began dropping off to sleep, she moved a little closer to talk to him.
“So, what were we doing in your dream?” she whispered.
“You really want me to answer that?” he answered with a mischievous smile. “Actually, we were horseback riding. We were racing through the wheat fields of my home.”
“Sounds like fun,” she said. “We’ll have to do it some time. I’d like to meet your family.”
“That doesn’t sound exactly fair. I don’t even get to know your father’s name and you want to go and meet my entire family.”
“Who said life was fair?” she said, smiling. “Besides. You’ve met one of my brothers. So I think it is plenty fair.”
“When did I meet your brother?”
“If I told you, then you’d know who my family is.”
“Yeah. So?”
“So, I told you. I like being somewhat anonymous.”
“Baron Rensa?” Esselles asked.
“Excuse me?”
“Is your father Baron Rensa?”
“No,” Rashel said, laughing. “He is not Baron Rensa.”
“I figured it might be. He was fairly high ranking in the Legions and I’ve met his son.”
“What do the rankings have to do with it?”
“Well, Walket said you had plenty of pull in the Legions, so I ask
ed if he was a high ranking officer and he said yes.”
“Well, Walket is right,” she said. “My father is a high ranking officer.”
“If I guess right, will you tell me?”
“Yes. I promise.”
“How about Baron Cadre? Or Duke Lichen?” Esselles asked.
“Knowing you, you could probably recite every baron or duke in the court. I’ll give you three more guesses. You don’t have to make them now. But they have to be real guesses and not just whipping off the name of every baron you can think of that held a position in the Legions.”
“I guess that’s fair. But even if it weren’t…” Esselles said, trailing off with a smile.
“You’re learning,” she said, and then propped herself up on her elbows. “I’m curious. What makes you think my father is a baron or duke?”
“A number of things. You seem to have plenty of money. You have a personal guard. The way you carry yourself. The way you are used to giving orders. It just shows in the way you interact.”
“You don’t think I’m autocratic, do you?”
“No, not at all,” he answered with a chuckle. “It’s nothing like that. Were I not in the military, I probably would never have noticed it. But people who are used to giving commands or orders do so in a slightly different manner. A good soldier can spot a green officer the first time he opens his mouth. The officer will give the order with a slight question in his own mind as to whether the order will be obeyed. When you and Landir first found me after the grishmagi attack, I noted that both of you were used to giving orders. There was no self-doubt in your voice when you asked someone to do something.”
“That’s funny, because I am full of self-doubt.”
“Why?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbow so he could look her in the face. “You are incredible. You are intelligent, fun, athletic, beautiful. What reason do you have to doubt yourself?”
“Thanks,” she said, blushing. “I come from a big family. My oldest sister is amazing. I pale in comparison to her. And all my brothers and sisters seem to know what they are doing with their lives. I still don’t know. I’ve had some of the best training available and I really shouldn’t doubt myself, but I do. I don’t know.”
“Well, don’t. And as for not knowing where you are going in your life, that’s common. I was in the same boat until the grishmagi attack. I still consider myself lucky that the attack happened. Getting in the Legion, meeting you, being here, it’s all because of that attack.”
“That’s true. Maybe I need to get attacked by one,” she said as she rolled back onto her side.
“I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“I don’t know. I’ve had a lot of martial training. I think I could take it.”
“For some reason,” Esselles said. “I don’t find that hard to believe. I think that’s something I like about you.”
“Well, you have definitely adopted the eastern way of thinking.”
“I’ve always had it. Even back west. I wouldn’t want a wife who was just the traditional western wife. Who couldn’t just hop on a horse and ride with the wind. Who couldn’t take care of herself. I want to be able to do things with her.”
“So you have a pretty good picture of what your wife is going to be like?” she asked, propping herself back up again.
“No, not really. In some ways, I suppose I do. I guess I have a lot of ideas of what I don’t want her to be like. But I don’t really think about marriage a whole lot. Not right now. I’m not ready for it.”
“I agree. I’m too young to get married. So are you.”
“You’ve got that right,” he said. “A lot of people marry their daughters off as soon as they’re old enough. That’s not fair to the daughter.” He paused to laugh. “I know…life’s not fair. But, still. I guess I get it from my father. He was always seen as a progressive thinker at the village council meetings. Or as some put it, a subversive thinker.”
“That’s good. It’s always good to have some subversives in the crowd. But right now, I think it’d be best if we got some sleep. Especially if we want to keep up with the hunt tomorrow.”
“Good night,” Esselles said, lying back down on his bedroll.
“And to you.”
Though he was quite tired, Esselles had difficulty falling asleep. His dream from the night before kept running through his mind, as did snippets of conversations with Rashel. He could see her clearly in his mind’s eye, sitting on the wagon seat beside him, her black hair shining in the sun. Knowing she was so close did not help either. It was quite late before he finally fell asleep.
*
Half a mile outside the cabin, his demonic double was also lying awake beside the small wagon they had ridden from Point Blank. For him, it wasn’t thoughts that kept him awake. He simply never slept.
Chapter Eleven
Esselles woke bright and early, but unlike in the barracks, he awoke alert and ready to go. Carrel was attending the fire and Kyell was sitting, polishing his sword. Rashel, Reston, Landir, and Clawson were all still asleep. Esselles nodded to Kyell and then made his way over to Carrel to see if he needed any assistance. Carrel asked him to help him bring in more firewood.
The morning air outside was crisp. A light snow had fallen in the night and everything had that glistening, magical look. A whinny from the barn was the only sound that disturbed the mountainside and even it seemed muffled by the blanket of white. Esselles and Carrel each grabbed an armful of wood and carried it back into the cabin. The blast of cold air from the open door woke up Landir and Reston. They stretched their backs and threw off their blankets. Esselles set the logs down on the pile next to the fireplace and headed back to the door.
“I’m going to check on the horses,” he whispered back to Landir. The barn door was not actually a door, but rather a large panel held in place by pegs. Esselles removed the pegs and moved the heavy panel aside. The air inside the barn was warm and musky, heated by the bodies and breaths of the eight horses stabled inside. They had had to move the wagons and equipment out of the barn in order to fit all eight horses as it only had four stalls.
Esselles grabbed a bucket and filled it with grain and carried it around to the stalls, pouring it into the feed bins. He scratched each horse behind the ears as he came to the front of their stalls. Once done with the feed, he took some of the straw chaff and went about the business of cleaning up. He carried the manure outside and put new straw down where necessary. By the time the straw was in place, the horses had completed eating, so Esselles got out the brush and one by one, began brushing all the horses down.
He was about halfway through when he was startled by the feel of arms grabbing him about the stomach. He instinctively spun about, but fortunately, did not react with any combat maneuver. Rashel let go and jumped back.
“My, jumpy, aren’t we?” she said, a devilish smile on her face.
“Well, I guess I am trained to be,” he said. Then, in a stilted voice, he added, “A Legionnaire must always be prepared for embraces from strange women.”
“Strange women?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. “Is that strange as in ‘unknown’ or strange as in ‘unusual’?”
“Perhaps a little of both,” he said, smiling back. “Hey, it is a dangerous occupation, but if my emperor calls upon me, then I must serve.”
“Well, it is very reassuring to hear that you are blindly faithful to your emperor,” she said, picking up one of the other brushes off the wall. “Breakfast is almost ready, by the way. That is what I came out to tell you. I’ll help you finish up out here so you can eat some breakfast before Kyell and Reston finish it all off.”
“Did you have a good sleep?” Esselles asked as he resumed brushing the horse.
“Not bad. My feet were a little cold, but other than that it was okay. How about you?”
“Once I fell asleep, quite well, actually. The floor isn’t all that different than our bunks.”
They were brushing the horses in sil
ence for a minute or two before Rashel asked, “So, tell me about your father.”
“He was Kilian Hawkblood, of the village of Sammel’s Pass, in the land of Arator,” he began, formally. “As I mentioned yesterday, he was in the militia during the wars. Of course, just about everyone in Arator was. After the war, he settled in Sammel’s Pass, where he met my mother. He received a small parcel of land in the dowry, and they set up a vegetable farm there.
“He was also, before the war, apprenticed to a master tradesman, a stone mason. Unfortunately, the mason was killed in the war and my father was never able to take up his own practice. Years later, when the empire began building the bridge across the Mandrake, my father hired on. They were looking for anyone and everyone with masonry skills.
“It turned out to be what got him killed. He was supervising the extraction of stone from one of the quarries when his unit was overrun by gromja. They were all killed. It happened while I was in training for the guard.”
“That must have been horrible,” she said.
“More than I’d have imagined. I had lost an aunt to a plague, but she lived in southern Arator, so I really didn’t know her that well. My father was the first person who I was close to that died. I can’t fathom what it must have been like to be alive during the war, when that type of death was common place.”
“Me either,” Rashel agreed.
They finished brushing the last horse and put the brushes away. Esselles replaced the barn door and pegged it in place. When he turned around, he was hit in the face with a handful of snow.
Rashel took off running toward the cabin, but Esselles caught her first. He picked her up and carried her to the nearest snow bank, threatening to drop her. But he acquiesced to her pleas and instead, let her legs swing to the ground.
“Thanks,” she said. And with an impish smile, she pushed him backwards into the snow bank.
Demonified (Hawkblood Chronicles Book 1) Page 12
