by Adams, David
“That they are,” the man replied. “For everyone. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask for those weapons for now, and your packs, and we’ll escort you to our camp. The Captain will want to know what you’re doing here. If you’re true you’ll get a tent and a meal and be on your way at sunrise. I assume that’s acceptable?”
Silas stepped forward and handed the man his staff. “Doesn’t look like we have much of a choice.” As he turned back to his companions he saw the question on Adrianna’s face: “Should I act now?” He gave one quick shake of head indicating they’d see how this played out. He didn’t want to attack these men, who didn’t feel like the enemy, and if one escaped to rouse the camp…
Thirty minutes later they were herded into the Dalusian war camp. Even though it was past midnight the camp had not settled completely to rest, whispered conversations around small fires and the occasional clink of a spoon in a cooking pot providing a steady, gentle undercurrent of noise. The gathered force was large, their densely-packed tents stretching beyond sight into the night. The leader of the scouting party gave details about his “guests” to a sergeant of the camp guards, while their weapons were turned over to two other guards for safekeeping. The leader of the scouting party left without further comment, while the sergeant addressed the travelers.
“I’ll need to see if the Captain wants to talk to you now or in the morning. Wait here and keep silent. Give us no trouble and we’ll give you none.” He made a few gestures, and guards took up positions around them, then he turned and vanished in the sprawling camp.
The wait was a short one. Less than twenty minutes after they had arrived at the camp they were escorted into the Captain’s tent. He was busy working over some papers, his pen scratching furiously. He finished his work, folded the paper, and gave it to an aide, who left immediately, apparently knowing what he was to do with it. After he had gone, the Captain took notice of the newcomers. He rubbed his face wearily and sighed.
“I hope you’ll forgive my inability to offer you much in the way of hospitality,” he said, indicating the inside of his tent with a slow wave of his hand. Other than his chair, a small desk, a cot, and a chest for a few belongings, the tent was empty. Apparently it was larger than the other tents to allow several people to talk, rather than to provide the Captain with excess comforts. “My name is Faine. You are?”
The travelers each introduced themselves, and the Captain went on. “I’m told you’re looking for better land to farm.”
“We are,” said Silas. “Though your man told us we’d likely have little luck.”
Captain Faine nodded. “Unfortunately, for all of us, he’s probably correct. Sort of late to be out traveling, isn’t it?”
“The moon gives ample light, and it’s cooler than the day. And time presses. We have little food and drink and need to finish our journey as swiftly as we can.”
“Well said,” the Captain replied, with a smile that could be interpreted many different ways. Something caught his eye at the door of the tent, and he waved another man in.
The newcomer was carrying Barlow’s sword and the Blood Book. “Other weapons and gear seemed fairly ordinary,” the man reported. He offered both items to Faine.
The Captain took Gabriel and unsheathed it. He studied the blade and the markings on it. “An excellent weapon,” he commented. “Yours?” he asked Silas.
“It belongs to me,” Barlow answered.
“Are you of the holy order?”
The question was a dangerous one, especially of late, but Barlow would never answer it with anything other than the truth. “I follow that path, as best I can.”
Captain Faine nodded and re-sheathed the weapon. The group would have let out a silent sigh of relief, but he was already reaching for the book. He hesitated when he first touched it, recoiling just a bit, then picked it up. He turned it over, pulled at the clasp, turned it over again, then laid it on the table, seeming relieved to release his hold on it. “How does this open?”
“We wish we knew,” said Silas. “It’s passed down through generations of my family, but whatever spell was used to ward its opening has yet to be defeated.”
“Indeed,” the Captain said with raised eyebrows. “And what does it contain?”
“I do not know.”
The Captain locked eyes with Silas for a moment, seeing if he could cause the bigger man to look away, to indicate he was hiding something. Getting nothing in return but Silas’s steady, implacable gaze, he said, “In this, at least, you speak the truth.”
Silas remained quiet, refusing to take the bait.
Captain Faine looked to his own man and said, “Place these items with the rest of their gear.” Instead of watching the man leave he watched his guests, seeing the signs of relief they were trying to hide. He resumed his questioning by addressing Luke. “What happened to your arm?”
“Arrow in the shoulder,” Luke replied without missing a beat. “My brother caused a bit of an accident while practicing his bowmanship.”
“I can only apologize so many times,” Darius said, playing along.
“One more time wouldn’t hurt, at least not as much as that arrow did.”
“Fine. I’m so sorry.”
“You two look of age to be of service in the army,” Faine commented.
“I have a brief leave,” Darius said, unsure whether such was granted in Dalusia, but needing a quick reply. “My brother is only seventeen.”
“That’s well,” Faine said. “It will give his shoulder some time to heal.”
Faine turned next to Adrianna, but before he could address her an aide opened the flap of the tent. “Your pardon, Captain, but there are reports of unusual activity to the north. Your immediate presence is respectfully requested by the Sergeants of the Watch.”
“Very well. Guards, take our visitors to their tents, and see they are given food and water.” Addressing the travelers once more he said by way of farewell, “We’ll talk more in the morning.”
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Silas said with a nod of his head.
After they had left Faine took another guard aside and said, “Make sure they are well-guarded, but treat them well. I do not think they are spies, but they are not from Dalusia, and they are lying about their reason for being here.”
“Yes, sir,” the guard said. He knew the strangers had been lying as well. Dalusian boys now entered the army at fourteen, a brutal necessity due to the length and losses of the war, his own son, only fifteen, serving in the east. And the concept of leave was now only a distant dream. He left to carry out his orders.
Captain Faine was right behind him, eying the visitors from a distance one last time as they were led away, wondering what secret they might be hiding, what mission they might be on—and for whom. The sword and the book—especially the book—troubled him. He let out a tired sigh and let it go mentally. It would have to wait until morning. He signaled his readiness to the aide who had requested his presence on behalf of the Watch Sergeants, then started off to find out what this latest in a never-ending stream of problems might be.
The tents the companions were given were standard fare for an army on the go, small structures capable of sleeping two at most. A row of tents were lined up such that the guards could easily keep watch over all of them, and three were now indicated for the newcomers. The guard ordered them in and told them food and water would be brought to them shortly. The companions whispered quick goodnights, not daring anything else under the watchful eyes and listening ears of the guards, and then divided up in the way that came most naturally to them—Darius and Luke, Silas and Barlow, and Adrianna having a tent to herself. While they waited for their food, Darius and Luke talked in hushed tones.
“Think we did okay?” Luke asked.
“As well as we could hope,” Darius replied. “That was a nice bit about me shooting you by accident. A little brotherly bickering probably made it seem pretty genuine.”
“Thanks.”
&nbs
p; Darius gave his brother a smile and a nod, paused, then decided to go on. Luke deserved to hear everything, whether good or bad. He wasn’t a little kid that needed constant shielding from the cruel ways of the world. “Like I said, I think we did the best we could, but men like Captain Faine do not get to positions of responsibility, especially in times of war, by not being observant. He clearly saw several things that might be amiss…and he asked the right questions. I doubt he believes our story. Probably just needs to sort out the lies from the truth.”
“Great. So where does that leave us?”
“I wish I knew. I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”
The guard returned before they could say more, and they dined in silence on small pieces of hard cheese and harder bread, washing it down with a half-mug of warm water. They took hope from the meal, meager though it was, and the tent. At least they weren’t being treated as suspected spies, not yet anyway. When they had finished they settled down and tried to get what sleep they could, their racing minds wondering what the morning would bring.
Chapter 14: The Battle of the Dalusian Plains
The camp was brought fully awake by the blare of horns, a sound that was repeated three times. As the last notes died away, the camp was a chaos of shouts and people running to and fro.
Silas popped his head out of the tent, but before he could even form a question a guard ordered him back inside, doing so loudly so that the others could hear as well.
The sun was minutes from rising when the first horn sounded, and now its first rays flicked dull red over the Dalusian plains. The shouting in the camp had grown in intensity, orders being barked out and responded to, the tumult mainly to the north. Soldiers raced in that direction. In a few minutes the noise started to die down, at least near the tents where the companions waited. A quick discussion took place just outside the tents, orders given in a harsh whisper, and the reply in the same shielded tone. Several pairs of feet pounded away, and then a guard ordered the visitors out of their tents.
The man was years older than Silas, perhaps even as old as Barlow. He twitched nervously, his eyes flicking from the backs of his fellow soldiers racing north to the people he was responsible to guard. He needed to steady himself before he spoke, barely able to control his anxiety.
“Look,” he said, “everyone’s been ordered up to the front. No one can be spared to watch you. I expect you’ll be here when I return.”
They nodded compliance and the man, after one last brief hesitation, tore off for the battle he was sure would soon begin.
“Now what?” asked Luke, voicing what everyone was thinking.
“We can’t leave without the book and our weapons,” Barlow stated.
“I don’t think we should leave at all,” said Darius. “Even if we found our things, the battle—if that’s what it is—is north of here, the direction we want to go. And they’d pursue us on horseback. We couldn’t hope to outrun them.”
“And those tasked with watching us might be punished severely if we depart,” Silas added.
“Good points, all," Adrianna said, “but I think Captain Faine is on to us, suspects we aren’t telling the whole truth. This might be our best chance to escape.”
“He’ll be sure we were lying if we flee,” Darius countered.
“Either way, it’d be nice to know where our things are, and what’s happening,” Adrianna said, reshaping the discussion. “Maybe when we know more we can make a better decision.”
They started to search the area, hoping to find their belongings collected together nearby. They had just gotten started when a horn sounded from the north, a deep, rumbling note that made their limbs tremble as a tremor from deep in the ground might. After the horn blast faded, a great shout went up—the raised, mingled voices of two armies ready to go to war.
Barlow craned his neck but couldn't get a clear view over some of the larger tents. “They’re close,” he commented.
“Let’s keep looking for our weapons,” Darius said. “I’m not sure we need to go looking for the battle. It may come to us.”
The gruesome music of battle provided a backdrop to their search, the sounds of ringing metal, thundering hooves, and the screams of the wounded and dying an oppressive weight that hurried them in their task. Except for Adrianna they felt naked without their weapons, especially with the fighting so near. And unlike regular prisoners of war, who might hope the newly arrived army might deliver them, the companions knew neither of the combatants would give them aid.
Silas was going from tent to tent, peering inside. Most were the smaller variety to sleep in, although any of these could easily have held their gear and therefore needed to be checked. The occasional larger tent tended to hold supplies of one sort or another. It was in the third of these larger tents that he found their belongings. The tent was otherwise empty, except for the soldier—no more than a boy—who had been left to guard the objects.
The young soldier gave such a start when Silas pulled open the tent flap that he almost tumbled over backwards. He recovered as best he could, the sword he held and the helm on his head too big for him, such that he would look out of sorts even if he was completely composed. His face relaxed for an instant, seeing what appeared to be a friendly face, then tightened again almost instantly. He held the sword out before him, struggling with its weight as he tried to point it at Silas. “You can’t be in here. Move along.”
Silas stepped into the tent with his arms spread wide and his palms open and visible. “I’ve just come for our weapons. The battle is too near for us to remain unarmed.”
“No doubt,” the boy replied, inching back as Silas slowly advanced. “But I’m to guard these things, not give them up.”
Silas checked his own progress, not wanting to close with the boy too quickly. He had little doubt he could disarm him if it came to that, but the boy was scared and he was holding a sword, which made him dangerous. He could see his staff, but reaching for it would put him inside the reach of the boy’s sword arm. “What’s your name?”
“Don’t play games. I’ll not be distracted.” Finding some courage, he came forward a half step, thrusting the sword before him, although not too near to Silas. “I’ve got my orders. Get out.”
Silas started to move to the right, forcing the boy to counter, keeping the companions’ weapons and gear between them. “Shouldn’t you be in the battle? I thought everyone was called forward.”
“I have my orders!” the boy shouted, his pride clearly wounded, as Silas had intended.
“We just want our weapons, then we’ll go see what’s happening. You can come with us.”
The boy paused, unsure whether he could trust Silas, unsure what to do. Before he could speak, Adrianna called out Silas’ name.
“In here,” he replied, maneuvering back to the open tent flap so the boy would move away from it. He didn’t want any of the others to be struck while coming into the tent. And if the boy suddenly felt surrounded, he might overcome his fear and lash out.
Adrianna only spared the boy a quick glance when she peered into the tent. When she saw the weapons she gave an audible sigh of relief. “Better take a look,” she said to Silas, then eyeing the boy, added, “Both of you.”
Something in her tone—stern but sincere—caused the young Dalusian to follow her and Silas outside. His curiosity had overcome his fear that this might be some sort of trap.
The sounds reaching them had already indicated that the battle had been joined, but now two pieces of new information were revealed: the fighting had moved dangerously close to the camp, and the Dalusians’ foes were not the armies of either Longvale or Westphalia, but rather giants from the Far North. The giants’ heads and shoulders were visible over the larger tents, their great arms rising and falling as they swung their war clubs.
Silas turned to the young soldier again, his tone more stern. “We need to take our weapons now. Those are the enemy, not us.”
The boy, gazing in silent awe at the rampag
ing giants, simply nodded.
Silas led the way into the tent, and the companions resumed ownership of their chosen weapons. “What about the book?” Luke asked.
“Leave it,” Darius said. “We can’t hold it while we fight.”
“But what if one of those little demons is about?” Luke protested.
“Stay and guard it then!” Darius replied. “We don’t have time for this.”
Luke took his brother’s words as a rebuke, but before he could answer back, Adrianna grabbed the pack with the Blood Book in it. “I will keep it close,” she said. “I need to keep my distance to help in this fight anyway.”
They went outside, and saw the remnants of an uprooted tent go fluttering by. A pair of giants were moving in their direction, flailing at anything in their path. Silas saw the young soldier would soon be in grave danger. “Go back to your guard duty,” Silas told him, hoping the giants would miss that particular tent.
The words snapped the boy out of his stupor. “I can fight.”
“And you will if you must. But let the fight come to you, rather than looking for it by standing here in the open.”
“But, I—”
“I can’t fight and watch over you. No more talk. Go!” This last was said with such command that the boy flinched, then dropped his head and went back to the tent to guard the rest of their gear.
“And should we let the fight come to us as well?” Barlow asked. “This is not our battle.”
“It is now,” Adrianna said. “Look out!”
One of the giants had spotted them and charged forward, knocking everything in his path aside and creating a wave of assorted projectiles before himself as he charged. He stood over fourteen feet tall, and every inch of him seemed to be muscle. His brow was low and his charge direct and reckless, as if nature took away intelligence and cunning to make up for the excess size and strength it had provided him. He wore simple clothes, some leather on the forearms and lower legs the only added protection for battle. His club was rough-hewn and far larger than anything any of the companions could lift.
