Six
First Blood
Tuvallis continued to absently stroke his newly shaven face as the two thousand men and women marched toward the Gildren Garrison. This garrison, with its massive bridge, was the gateway to the Finarthian Kingdom, and the only place within hundreds of miles where an army could cross the turbulent river into Finarthian lands. It had been four days since he had shaved his long unruly beard, and his smooth skin still felt strange to his touch and unaccustomed to the embrace of the cold winter air. It had been many years since that skin had felt the elements without the protection of his long black beard. One thing he hadn’t considered was the cold. The other was how odd he would look. Years of wilderness living had tanned and weathered the skin around his eyes and cheeks, while the skin that was buried under the protection of his beard was as pale and smooth as a baby’s. He looked like a raccoon, and he caught more than a few smiles and fingers pointing his way.
Seli was smiling at him as he rubbed his velvety skin. “Regretting that shave?” she asked.
“Maybe,” Tuvallis grunted. “It be feelin’ strange. Been a long time.”
“Well I like it. You look almost human now,” she said smiling. Seli was healing well. She had several cracked ribs but luckily they had caused little damage. She had also suffered a concussion, as well as heavy bruising still visible around her eyes and on her arms. But most of her wounds were superficial and would in time heal completely.
They had spent the last few days travelling hard and talking a lot. At least it seemed like a lot to Tuvallis, who was still getting used to the idea of communication. He was surprised at how good it felt to actually talk to someone. They talked about their time as soldiers and what it was like growing up in Tarsis and Cuthaine. They talked a little about their childhoods and Seli even got Tuvallis to talk a bit more about his family and his children. She was slowly breaking down the walls that he had built up for so many years. Tuvallis was aware of this, but he didn’t stop her. It felt good to bring his family into the light again, to let their memories flow freely, to acknowledge their existence.
Tuvallis had also become something of a hero. Word had spread quickly about how he single handedly killed ten orcs and rescued Seli. The Free Legion soldiers respected his courage and greeted him wherever he went. The refugees, especially the children, looked at him with wonder as the story spread throughout the camp. He was not accustomed to so much attention, but he had to admit that it felt good at some level.
“So you’re pretty good with that sword,” she said, tapping the long sword at his hip.
“Aye, a natural they say,” he said unabashedly.
“Who says?”
“Kernan, the weapon’s master at Tarsis. A few more years and I coulda got me mark.”
“Really? Well we’ll have to see about that,” she said as she tapped the pommel of her infantry sword. Tuvallis just smiled back at her. Then he shook his head and chuckled slightly under his breath.
“What? You don’t think I can beat you?”
“Nah, wasn’t laughin’ ‘bout that. Was laughin’ ’bout how much I been laughin’. Seems odd, eh?”
“A little. But it suits you, especially now that everyone can see your face.”
They laughed together and continued on silently for a few minutes, taking in the beautiful morning. The sky was clear and the sun was shining brightly, but its warm rays could not penetrate the cold brisk air. Patches of snow still covered most of the ground. Winter still held its tenuous grip on the land, and it would be another full cycle of the moon before the coming of spring would melt all the snow.
“Is he really as good as they say?” Seli asked Tuvallis.
“Who?”
“King Kromm. I saw him once when I was younger. He was a giant, a good head taller than you, with arms as big as my thighs. Is he really the fighter they say he is?”
“Aye, and more. He was a battle king in all rights. He marched with us, fought with us, and bled with us. I had the privilege of fighting beside him on one occasion,” Tuvallis said, recalling the memory.
“Tell me about it.”
“Well, we was havin’ some difficulties with some giants.”
“Giants? Really!?”
“Yup…they were comin’ down from de Vanguard Mountains and raiding some villages. It was a bad winter and food was scarce for dem.”
“I have never seen a giant before,” Seli admitted.
“And ya wouldn’t. Day tend to live in de mountains far from people. Dese giants were mountain giants that were rarely seen. Anyway, de king was restless and he led a group of men to dere villages to hunt ‘em down.”
“And you were part of this group?”
“Yes, and we found ‘em. It was a large group, much larger den we expected. We lost fifteen men in dat fight. I saw de king kill two giants on his own,” Tuvallis continued. “Let’s just say that it was impressive.”
“You said earlier that he was a battle king. You do know, don’t you, that he is still alive?” Seli asked.
Tuvallis looked at her with surprise. “He is? I assumed that he died when his city was destroyed. How do you know this?”
“He came to Cuthaine several weeks after Tarsis was destroyed, with a cavalier by the name of Jonas. I never saw him myself but many of the soldiers were talking about it. There was fighting in the streets with Blackhearts, and an entire gaming house was destroyed by orcs. I was away with a scouting party so I missed it. But Captain Hadrick was there, and he fought alongside the king. You can talk to him if you want to learn more,” Seli suggested.
Tuvallis had stopped in the road, forcing Seli to turn around and look back at him. “What is it?”
“The cavalier’s name was Jonas? Are you sure?”
“Yes, I never saw him but the men talked about him a lot when I returned. Very young, they said, for one with such power. They said he had been captured and tortured by Dykreel agents.” Seli tapped her chest four times in the pattern of Ulren’s star. “But they found him and he somehow survived.”
Tuvallis shook his head in wonder and continued walking with Seli. “I met a young man over four years ago by dat name. He was one of two survivors from de town of Manson that was destroyed by boargs. It be a long story but he had been a cripple, and den he was miraculously healed. I don’t know much more, but I always wondered what happened to him. Could it be de same person?”
“How could it be? I thought a cavalier's training took at least five years.”
“I thought that as well. But I guess it shouldn't surprise me da king is alive, de man is hard to kill,” Tuvallis said. “Where did they go?”
“To Finarth.”
Tuvallis looked at her, shaking his head. “Looks like me past will catch up wid me after all.”
“It will be a good place to face it,” Seli reassured him.
“Aye, I think you're right there,” was all Tuvallis said as his mind drifted back, recalling old memories.
* * *
Hagar’s sensitive nose had brought him to the deer carcass easily enough, though the smell of the dead orcs laying nearby nearly overpowered the scent of the venison. He could smell the familiar smell of humans in the clearing as well. It looked to Hagar that there had been some sort of fight. Luckily for him the wolves and other scavengers had not yet found the carcasses. Though the deer meat was old he ravenously tore into its cold flesh, consuming it all with relish. He had certainly had worse fare before. He had only slept a few hours that night, driven by a relentless urge to keep traveling south.
Hagar's appearance would have stunned anyone who saw him. Huge and heavily muscled, he was a combination of his orc and ogre ancestry. His facial features were relatively human-like, but much more prominent, with deep set yellowish eyes, a large flat nose with nostrils like caves, and a large mouth filled with long sharp teeth. His course black hair ran down his neck like a horse’s mane. And his thick ogrillion skin, greenish-gray in color, was as tough as hardened leather
armor, providing significant protection against most weapons.
But if an observer could have seen Hagar as he sat on a large rock eating the venison, there would have been even more surprises regarding his appearance. His entire chest, back, and shoulders were covered with a stunning cuirass, as bright as polished chrome, brilliantly reflecting the sun's light. The incongruous beauty of the cuirass contrasted sharply with the dirty furs that the beast wore around his waist. But that was not all. Leaning on the rock next to him was a weapon that had obviously been created just for him. As large as a small tree, it had a mace-like head covered in spikes as long as daggers. The silver metal shaft was as thick as a human arm and the handle was wrapped in brilliant silver wire. The deadly looking weapon appeared unmarred, perfect in appearance, the type of weapon worthy of a knight, not something an ogrillion would possess. But nonetheless they were his, and his new purpose was somehow linked to these weapons, although he knew not how.
Hagar consumed the last of the meat, grabbed the long mace at his side, and moved south towards his destiny.
* * *
Captain Hadrick was riding at the front of his column when one of his scouts, Orin, returned in a flurry of hoof beats. The scout was dressed in dark clothing and he carried a short sword and long hunting bow sheathed alongside his saddle. He was sweating and his eyes were wide with excitement.
“Sir, I spotted a small army paralleling us!” he reported.
“What! How many?” Hadrick asked, pulling back on the reins on his own horse and slowing the column to a halt.
“Around five thousand. I don’t think they know we are here.”
“How far away?”
“Quarter of a day on foot at the most. They are mostly orcs but I spotted some goblins and a handful of ogres. They are hauling siege machines, Captain,” Orin added.
“How many machines?”
“I saw four catapults and three towers,” Orin said quickly.
“Damn! They must be going to the Gildren Garrison,” Hadrick muttered, “hoping to capture the Garrison in preparation for Malbeck’s main army. You sure they didn’t see you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good work, Orin. Did you spot any of their own scouts?”
“No, sir.”
Hadrick knew that orcs didn’t generally use scouts. And an army that size would feel pretty safe. If they used any scouts at all they would probably not roam too far. But he had no idea who was leading this group. They had to get to the Gildren Garrison first and warn them. And those siege engines were a problem.
“You say they were paralleling us?” Hadrick asked.
“Yes, sir. They might even be a bit behind us since they are not traveling the roads. I could get to the Garrison a full day ahead of them if I leave now,” Orin suggested, coming to the same conclusion as Hadrick.
“Do it,” Hadrick ordered. “Take Anthony with you and another horse. Make haste, my friend.”
“Will do, Captain,” Orin replied as he pivoted his horse and rode to the back of the column for provisions and to find Anthony, another of their scouts.
“Stephy, order a quick break, water only. I want you, Bositch, Groban, and Sury. And find that new guy, Tuvallis, then meet me back here as soon as you can,” Hadrick ordered.
“Yes, Captain,” Stephy answered as he spun his horse around and rode down the column to carry out the orders.
It didn’t take long for everyone to convene, while the refugees relaxed briefly under the vigilant supervision of the Free Legion soldiers. They were standing together at the front of the column as Captain Hadrick briefed them.
“My concern is the siege engines. A force that size with siege engines will easily be able to take control of the garrison,” the captain explained.
“What do you suggest?” Bositch asked. Bositch was a Free Legion scout, short and thin, but quick as lightning. With his dark tanned skin and short black hair he could almost pass for a Sithgarin desert nomad.
“We need to take those engines out,” Hadrick said vehemently.
“How?” Sury asked, “They are five thousand strong and we have only fifty.”
“Ya be wantin' to sneak in and burn em down,” Tuvallis suggested, though he felt a bit out of place with these men who knew each other, had fought together, and trusted one another implicitly. It was the type of bond that could only be forged through years of shared combat and camaraderie. Tuvallis guessed that this might be the captain’s idea as well, since nothing else seemed plausible, though he thought even that seemed far-fetched.
Everyone looked at Tuvallis, and when Captain Hadrick didn’t say anything, they looked back at him questioningly.
“Is that your plan?” Stephy asked the captain, unsure if he really wanted to know the answer.
“It is,” the captain confirmed. “I’m asking each one of you to go with me, but I won’t order it. Tuvallis, I have no rank over you, but by all accounts you have the skills that may help us. I’m asking you all for help, but I won’t hold any grudge if you refuse. It will obviously be dangerous, but I feel that the results will be worth it. If we can burn the machines, even some of them, it will greatly improve the chance of the garrison holding out. If not, the garrison will fall in a night.”
“No doubt de garrison will fall anyway,” Tuvallis added, “At de most they have several hundred soldiers there. Even if dis lead group don't take it, Malbeck’s army will walk over de garrison like it wasn’t even there. What be da point in riskin' our lives for the inevitable?”
“Ya scared, mountain man?” Groban chided with a playful smile.
Tuvallis almost reached out and grabbed Groban by the throat, but he subdued the urge. “Watch it, boy. I know I look passive, but my bite hurts.” The other soldiers laughed at the jest, as it was obvious that Tuvallis looked anything but passive.
“Don’t be stupid, Grobin, the question is valid,” Stephy said.
“I agree,” Hadrick interjected. “But, if we can give the garrison more time, then that means that Finarth will have more time to prepare and plan for a siege, more time to collect food and water, bring soldiers in from the fields, assemble allies, produce more weapons, reinforce fortifications, and train the many refugees that I’m sure are pouring into Finarth even as we speak. The list of tasks is endless, and the more time Finarth has to prepare, the better chance we'll all have in defeating the Dark One. Besides, Finarth must know that they will eventually have to destroy the bridge and that will take some time to prepare for and accomplish. Dropping a bridge of that size is no easy feat. But destroying those engines will give them the time they need,” Hadrick concluded.
Tuvallis just grunted, and everyone looked at him wondering what that meant. He smiled back. “I’m in. Ya got a plan on how to destroy dem engines?” The others shook their heads but smiled back. They were beginning to like this mountain man.
“A hasty one, but yes, I have a plan.”
* * *
Jonas had risen early the morning the small group was to depart. He was restless, and despite his tiring ordeal he could not sleep well. The attack on Kiln had left him nervous and he had spent several waking hours with the swordsman as he rested from his wounds. In addition to his worries about his friend, nightmares plagued him and anxiety from the upcoming mission had his nerves strung tight. He was no longer a cavalier, and although Shyann had given him some new powerful weapons, he knew that he would be venturing into a dangerous mission without her direct guidance.
It was very early and it was still dark outside. He slipped out of bed, donned his new clothes and armor, buckled on his sword belt and strapped his quiver and bow onto his back. The clothes and armor felt good, almost warm, as if they were welcoming him. The clothing was so soft that it literally made no noise as he moved. And the armor was equally light and it didn’t hamper his movement. His garments, including his boots and gloves, felt warm and almost alive when he first put them on. It was as if some sort of living force stirred within them. Everyth
ing felt warm and alive, and he had never worn anything so comfortable and welcoming. He decided that a good workout was in order to calm his mind.
He made his way through the quiet halls until he found himself standing on the flat stone pavers of the inner courtyard. The outdoor space was large, capable of holding a pandar of cavalry if need be. Jonas could see several guards standing at the two main entrances, as well as a few others standing guard at the single door entrances that led to various parts of the inner castle. There was a guard flanking the entrance from which he came, holding a spear and standing alert. Many torches stuck into sconces lit the entrances and several large braziers filled with burning wood cast an orange light around the large space.
The guard clearly recognized him. “Good evening, Cavalier,” the man said in a deep baritone voice.
Jonas did not correct him as the explanation would take too long. He simply nodded his head in acknowledgement. “And to you. Do you mind if I practice some sword maneuvers? I am having trouble sleeping.”
“Of course. As you can see, you have the space to yourself.”
“Thank you.” Jonas moved to the center of the courtyard and drew both of his blades. He wanted to get a feel for his new weapons and armor, eager to test the gifts that Shyann had bestowed upon him. He took a deep breath and dropped into the state of Ty’erm. Once there, he began the positions slowly, gracefully moving across the pavers as his body and swords worked in unison. The swords felt exactly the same, and Jonas smiled as he relished in their weight and balance. But something didn’t exactly feel right, and Jonas could not place his finger on it. As he picked up the speed, the problem presented itself quickly.
He actually tripped, stumbling and nearly falling to the ground. He had never tripped before, and he stopped to check the ground for any abruptions or raised stone edges that he might have hit with his foot. But there wasn’t any.
The Cavalier Trilogy: Book 03 - Glimmer in the Shadow Page 16
