by Daniel Casey
“Most likely.”
Kira and Fery were just through the woods behind them camped not three hillsides away. If they road well and didn’t run into any further difficulties, Declan and Goshen would arrive within about a half hour. The four of them had left the ternary headwaters weeks ago. They’d moved slowly at first allowing Declan to heal more from the wound he had endured at the battle at the Cruor. Their trek had been a quiet up until this point. The current drama was due to Declan’s own impatience.
The two moved out of the glade into the next thicket of woods. They had taken drays with the belief that two workhorses would better carry the four of them. Goshen refused to let Declan steal four riding ponies, reasoning two would be an easier loss for the rancher. Declan had conceded simply because he was sick of walking, something being better than nothing. The pair made their way through the forest without any subtlety. Goshen was dreadful on horseback and the dense understory made egging on the thick, heavy steads less than easy.
“What do you reckon? A day with these two?”
Declan scoffed at Goshen’s suggestion, “Well, we won’t be galloping. I’d hate to see you fall and crack your head open.”
“I’m not so bad,” Goshen’s grip on his horses mane tightened and horse winced as his legs dug in, “At least, I can get better.”
Declan halted raising his fist up to signal Goshen to stop and be silent. Goshen scanned the woods, looking for movement. Declan turned to him and gestured up ahead to the right. In a fluid motion, Declan dismounted and tied this horse to nearby tree. Goshen watched as Declan disappeared into the thick woods crouched and moving with astonishing silent speed. Goshen still couldn’t see or hear anything.
A few interminable moments passed as he tried to spy through the trees. He heard birds, and for an instant, he thought he heard movement but it was just a couple of squirrels leaping about. Suddenly, Declan was at his side. It startled him so much he almost fell off the horse.
Grabbing him and keeping him upright, Declan whispered, “There are three men just ahead; they’re on a rise a bit above us.”
“How do you know?”
“C’mon,” Declan scowled, “Stay here and keep the horses as still and quiet as you can.” Before Goshen could reply, Declan was off again.
His footfalls were shockingly silent. Goshen debated staying on the mount or not. Getting back on would be a headache but it’d be easier for him to keep the animals at heel if he were on the ground. Or maybe not, he thought, as the two drays simply stood bored and unmoving.
Declan moved with pace as the woods thinned. He stopped short before a long ravine dipping maybe two yards down to a stony creek bed with silently moving sad trickle of water. Just next to him was a thick fallen tree, which he used to cross, and began to move up the gentle slope. Near the crest of the hill, he heard voices. He slowed crouching lower still, moved forward, and then laid down near a shattered stump to spy the group. Declan’s worry was that the rancher they had robbed had somehow not just found where they were but had assembled a hunting party. His concerns were unfounded; it was much worse.
Five foot soldiers were in a semicircle around an oxcart helmed by two peasants. There were two mounted troops as well. The foot soldiers were inspecting the oxcart, armed with queer looking glaives that had blue ribbons dangling from them and wearing stiff looking leathers dyed a similar azure. The horsemen were well-armored sporting blue sashes around their waist and directing the actions of the soldiers. The peasants were arguing but weren’t interfering. In fact, Declan got the impression they were bartering.
“What might you be doin’?” A mocking voice came from behind Declan. He froze cursing himself.
“So why don’t you get up. Slowly.” Another voice added. Declan rose with his arms open out at his sides and turned around toward the second voice. Two soldiers stood facing him, one with a crossbow fixed on him and the other casually tapping the hilt of the sword at his side.
“Yer name then.” The first soldier demanded.
“Rainway.” Declan said bitterly.
“Kinda pissy, ain’t ya.” The soldier chuckled.
“Just shoulda done a better job of hearing you two come up on me.” Declan shrugged.
The soldier with the crossbow gestured with it at him, “Your sword.”
“Yeah, right.” The first added, “And any other blades you might have on ya.” He stepped toward Declan as his face squinted up in a threat, “If you try anything you’ll die with an arrow through your skull. So don’t fuck with us.” Declan closed his eyes and nodded; the soldier took his sword, boot knife, and the knife he had sheathed at the small of his back.
“Just having a peek about? Looking to rob these folks once we’re gone?” The soldier held Declan’s weapons in one hand as he unsheathed his own sword gesturing with it for him to start heading down the hillside to the rest of the troop.
“Hold on,” the bowman said, “You alone?”
Declan was silent for a beat too long, “Speak up, son.”
“Yeah, jus’ me.”
“I doubt tha’,” the soldier nodded to the bowman, “Go have a look in the wood, right.” The bowman pulled up his weapon, then disappeared into the forest more quickly and silently than Declan had seen from someone in a long time. The first soldier could tell he was impressed; he cocked his head toward his departed comrade, “Was a warden in Elixem before he was drafted.”
“Well, he caught me sure enough.” Declan spat.
“Oh, yeah, wit ease. Go on now, to the wagon.”
They made their way down the hill and joined the party around the oxcart. One of the mounted men trotted over to inspect Declan. Looking him over, the horsemen betrayed no emotion then looked passed him to the soldier prodding Declan on.
“Who have you found, Reeves?” The horseman’s voice had bite to it infected with annoyance.
“Calls himself Rainway, Master Kees.” Reeves handed up to the horseman Declan’s weapons, “I think he may have some friends in the woods though he don’t say so.”
“Arcite checking it out?” Kees asked, and Reeves nodded. “Bind him; I’ll deal with it in a moment.” Kees turned his horse trotting over to the other horseman.
“Right then,” Reeves spoke to Declan, “cross your wrists behind your back.” Declan obeyed and he felt cool leather strips wrap around his hands. Reeves twisted the strips tight, then patted Declan on the shoulder, “No worries, son, we’ll have you along your way soon enough. Assuming everything goes smoothly.”
Declan nodded to the oxcart, “So what’s this about?”
“Master Kees and Oswold are confiscating these folk’s wagon and stock for the legion but it seems they’re rather resistant to let it go.”
“Confiscating?”
“Aye,” Reeves nodded, “legion’s growing every day, so we’ve been tasked with collecting from the locals. Not many too keen on it though.”
“The legion is…Novosar?” Declan fished.
Reeves laughed, “Hardly, though t’ere are quite a few of us in the ranks. And more are supposed to be coming.”
“So then…”
Reeves raised an eyebrow, “Where ‘ave you been, son? We’re the Silvincian army looking to be sanctioned by The Cathedral.”
“To do what exactly?”
“Well, the line is ta intervene in Essia to protect the Cassubian and Silvincian enclaves.”
“Intervene? Protect the enclaves?”
“I know, right? Such rubbish. But the Spires and Cathedral, they like to keep their hands clean.”
“At least on paper.” Declan sneered.
“Right you are.”
“How many of you are there?”
“Oh, I dunno if you need to be told tha.” Reeves winked.
Just then, there came a whistle from the hillside behind them. It was Arcite, the bowman, leading the two drays while pushing a bound Goshen along. Reeves held up a hand to Arcite, then turned to Declan with his eyes narrow, “Frie
nd of yours, then.”
Declan nodded, “Yeah is.”
“Kees is gonna want to know what you’re about then. No quick send off today, son.”
Arcite shoved Goshen to stand next to Declan, “This one fell off his horse when he saw me.”
Reeves laughed but Arcite never seemed to lighten, “He’s hardly a fool. Bounced right up again and into a hard stance. If I hadn’t a bolt aimed at his head, chances are I’d have lost mine.”
“A proper soldier then, eh?” Reeves looked hard at Goshen who stared right back with an obvious contempt.
“No,” Goshen said flatly, “I’m a bit better than common fodder.”
There was a moment of tension then Reeves gave a wide, toothy smile, “Certainly showed us dinna ya?” He turned away to help Arcite tend to the horses.
“Don’t press them,” Declan whispered out the corner of his mouth, “these are Spires’s men.”
Goshen turned his head sharply in surprise, “Why are they here?”
“Part of an army making its way overland to Essia.”
“By the Light.” Goshen mumbled.
“Yes, exactly, seems they’re looking for your Cathedral’s blessing for this gambit.”
“It makes no sense, though; Cathedral wouldn’t bother to sanction the Spires after all this time.” Goshen muttered.
Kees road over and barked at Goshen, “And who are you?”
“A Cathedral paladin.”
“Funny.” Kees rolled his eyes, and then looked at Declan, “Your friend thinks he’s rather droll.”
“Oh, he certainly is not that in the least.” Declan shook his head, “But he doesn’t lie.”
“Are you two imbeciles or simply rogues longing to be hurt?” Kees snapped.
“I’d rather think neither.” Declan shrugged.
Goshen cut in, “I am Caleb Ambrose of the Eder Chapel, The Cathedral of Amaranthine Light’s paladin.” He turned slightly, “I’ve my chapel’s seal brand on my hip, if you need proof.”
Kees grimaced flushing with anger, he looked about to leap down from his horse and check. Goshen never broke his gaze with Kees.
His look softened into one of bafflement. “A paladin?” Kees asked more to himself than to them. “If you were on your way to join with the legion, then why were you hiding out in the woods?”
Before Goshen could reply, Declan broke in, “We’d already encountered some bandits out in the wild, sire. I was able to track down two of our horses. Got them back, though striped.” He nodded towards the drays, “Thought you all might be them with the rest of our gear.”
Kees looked skeptical. Goshen didn’t miss a beat, “The Eder Chapel sent me to act as an observer in the legion.” He gestured to Declan, “My squire here and two nursing alms round out my company.”
“Where are these alms?”
“Just beyond,” Goshen nodded in a vague direction, “We were hoping to get back as many of our provisions as possible before we entered the legion’s encampment.” There was quiet as Kees mulled over their story.
“Reeves,” Kees called out and the soldier appeared, “You can untie these men, they’ll be riding with us.” Reeves moved to unbind Declan, “No, this one first. He’s a Cathedral crusader.”
“Thank you…” Goshen turned to allow Reeves to untie him.
“Leftenant Teran Kees, my men and I are charged with acquiring supplies from the surrounding countryside for as long as the legion is camped in the region.”
“Thank you, leftenant Kees.” Goshen looked after Reeves as he unbound Declan, “We’ll need our arms returned.”
“Aye, and the horses.” Declan added.
Kees began to turn his stead away, “You shall as soon as you lead us to your camp, which you’ll do once we’re finished here.”
Reeves slapped Declan on the upper arm and bowed slightly to Goshen, then went back to the group near the oxcart. Rubbing his wrists, Declan moved closer to Goshen then cuffed him with the back of his hand.
“What were you thinking?” He growled.
“Watch it with that,” Goshen pointed a figure in Declan’s face, “They all think you’re my squire.”
Declan gnashed his teeth, “Now we’re gonna lead them right to Kira and Fery and then all be herded into this army’s camp. None of this sounds good.”
“What else could we do?” Goshen asked. Declan just shook his head. “Besides, we need to find out what the hell is going on with this army. And didn’t you say your contract was with the Spires?”
“What does that matter?”
“Maybe things have changed. Maybe your employers…”
Declan waved him off, “I don’t need to hear your speculation.”
“Point is, we can find out more in the midst of the Silvincians. Besides, we can fight our way out of this one.”
“Fight our way out of an army camp?” Declan stared at Goshen as though he were mad. “And if they find out who you really are? Or Kira? Or that we’re responsible for killing a cadre of Silvincian marines?”
“What do you want me to say?” Goshen snapped.
“Sorry,” Declan sighed, “I’m just uneasy being this close to these people. I’ve done a lot of…”
Goshen raised his hand to silence Declan as Reeves approached them with their weapons in one hand and a rope pulling their horses behind him.
“Here you are,” Reeves handed the horse rope to Declan, but kept the blades. He turned to Goshen, “My apologies master Ambrose. You both’ll want to mount up, we’re heading out directly.”
Declan nodded towards his weapons but Reeves just shook his head. Kees trotted up, “Lead the way to your camp, squire, so we can secure the alms.”
“Certainly so, sire.” Declan climbed on one of the drays and for once Goshen didn’t embarrass himself doing the same.
“Lead the way,” Goshen commanded as he rode up next to Kees. Declan’s face got cloudy with annoyance but he obeyed as he and Goshen lead Kees, Arcite, and a new mounted Reeves towards the camp where Kira and Fery awaited unsuspecting. The rest of the troop loaded themselves into the oxcart and made their way along the rutted road in the opposite direction.
“Be there less than an hour.” Goshen said.
“Let’s try to be a bit quicker about it.” Kees said assertively. “Be mindful, Arcite, apparently there are thieves about.” Goshen and Declan exchanged a quick anxious glance as Kees tone sounded more than a bit suspect. They rode off in silence perpendicular to the rutted road and into the far woods.
Spires Army
Matis was slouched over the map table. His head listed to one side resting on his arm as his free hand played absent-mindedly with the figurines littering the map. He was flanked by his two lieutenants, who were exchanging weary glances as their Grand General languished over the map.
“So, as you can see sir, we’ll need to continue to allow our forces to build for at least another fortnight.” Evness spoke without emotion, he was an older man and long experienced with the small military the Spires kept. He had been little more than a boy, a toy soldier they called those like himself, when the last war had happened. Not really even a war, Carlisle’s Campaign was merely a series of skirmishes though it had set the northern boundaries of Silvincia, Novosy, and Cassubia. It had been ages since Evness had been in the forests around Midhalm.
Matis flicked a soldier figurine across the map, and then rolled his eyes, “I’ve waited long enough. Do we have enough troops to do what must be done?”
“Well, general, though we have…” Vikram was roughly Matis’s age and had been part of the general’s inner circle back in Ardavass.
“Do we,” Matis growled, “have enough?”
“We have as many troops here now as we have at The Blockade.” Evness broke in.
“And that was enough to choke Rikonen to death.” Matis said satisfied, “So we certainly have enough troops to take Heveonen, especially once we get our crusaders.”
Evness nodded but looked u
nconvinced, “Perhaps but that assumes…”
“That The Cathedral will obey.” Matis smirked and whispered, “I’ll make sure it obeys.”
Vikram walked around the table to pick up the figurine Matis had flicked. He held it gingerly, and then placed it firmly in front of the general’s still lounging face. Matis shot a sharp look at him and raised himself up.
“We can’t depend on those men; we need to wait for the Novosar reinforcements that we know for certain are coming.” Vikram was adamant.
“River pirates, cheese mongers, and sad fat sausage eaters.” Matis grumbled.
“When I fought the Novosar, they were hardly the sort to brush off. These will be good troops.” Evness nodded at Vikram.
“Why are these fools taking so long to assemble, then?”
“The Novosar don’t have a standing army, they have vol…”
Matis waved Vikram off, “I know what they are. I know they can’t afford to not send the soldiers we’ve ‘requested.’”
“The sensible move is to wait, general.” Evness felt the discussion was in danger of veering off from the task.
“Waiting will only allow Heveonen to fortify itself. We need to advance,” Matis sat up and drilled his finger into the map.
Both Evness and Vikram said nothing but their faces betrayed their lack of enthusiasm. Seeing their reaction, Matis stood up with such force that his chair fell back on the ground and in a sweeping gesture cleared the map of all the figurines. He took off one of his bracers and slapped it down violently in the center of the map.
“I will have my will done.” Matis tried to sound assertive but it couldn’t help but come across as brattish. He pointed at Vikram, “You will begin mobilizing our forces, we are moving tomorrow morning. And you, Evness, will stay here with your coterie and follow behind once the rest of the Novosar arrive.”
Just then, a messenger entered the pavilion, “Grand General Matis, the Kyrios demand a word.”
“Oh, for fuckssake,” Matis turned away throwing his hands up in the air. Vikram reached over and righted the general’s chair, and almost immediately, Matis flung himself down into it. He waved the messenger on.
