The glow from the burning buildings illuminated the village enough for him to see the soldiers’ elongated shadows as they made their way from door to door. They had to make a run for it. There was no way to know who those soldiers were or why they had come here, but it didn’t matter. Their intent was obvious. The invaders were systematically executing everyone.
Glem looked out the back of the house, eyeing the wood line. Only a few hundred yards to the safety of the forest, so the wood was their only hope. They would surely be safe if they could escape the village without being spotted.
"We’ve no choice; we have to make a run for it!' whispered Glem. "Out the back window, the both of you. Rues first."
"My family! I have to warn my…!" shouted Rues.
"Quiet, girl!" Glem said, clapping a hand tightly over her mouth. “Your father knows how to handle himself, and they will kill you or worse if you try to cross the village right now. No, there is no helping anyone but ourselves. We go now, or we die," Glem said, grabbing the three heavy cloaks that hung on the pegs right by the door. He threw them over his arm.
"Please…" squeaked Rues.
"No. No arguments now, it is time to go. Rues, you are going to be first. Out the window. Alyra, you follow her out as fast as you can. Crouch down next to the house and wait for my orders," said Glem. Out the window, the three climbed, Rues helping to pull the other two out the small opening from the bedroom. Once out, Glem, sobered by fear and adrenaline, crawled to the edge of the house, leaning down low. He looked to ensure that no soldiers were watching.
His first instinct was to have the girls run as fast as possible toward the forest, but he knew that stealth was more important than speed. Rues, sure-footed and graceful in her movements, would not be the problem. Alyra, on the other hand, would likely trip, fall, and cry out, alerting any nearby soldiers. Their best chance was to walk to safety.
"Alright. We are going to walk toward the woods. Walk, don’t run, crouch down, and be as quiet as possible," whispered Glem as if every tree, every blade of grass, were listening in. He took up a posture of stealth, crouched low, back hunched, surveying everything.
"We cannot make a sound. It’s dark, and a storm is coming in. It will be near impossible to spot us—no sudden movements. Stay low, and if I say stop, ease onto the ground. If I say run, you run. When you hear my voice, you can be sure your life depends on following protocol."
The three began their terrifying walk toward the woods, Glem bringing up the rear and keeping watch for any signs of being spotted. Fifty yards out, they heard the door to their home being kicked in, presumably by a soldier. Glem brought them to a halt and ducked down.
Rues and Alyra quickly followed his lead, moving like shadows, every twist or turn a synchronous, almost silent action. Now, Glem could just about make out a soldier standing in their home with his back to the window, but the figure left the premises almost as soon as he entered. That the house was empty was evident at a glance. Nothing to see or report here.
The three fugitives knelt in the tall grass and waited a few long moments more before they resumed their retreat to the forest.
On the north end of town, the sergeant saw the wall of flames erupt in the town. It was his signal, and it was time to deploy his men, so he moved his archers and the mage into their respective positions. The mage, a skinny, weak-looking fellow, carried with him a canvas bag full of small stones. As he took his position, he emptied the rocks into a neat pile in front of him. Like the archers staging their arrows beside him, the mage had readied his ammunition.
Unlike the other mage, this one did not sit; he simply stood, waiting, a smile on his weasel-like face. This battle was why he had been granted powers that the mere mortals around him could never understand. He had been born a weakling, ill from the very beginning.
His parents had abandoned him, afraid that he would drag down the family name.
His was a family known for their military service and feared for their brute strength and undying loyalty. His smile cracked wider. This was but his first opportunity to show his former family the mistake they had made. He was no longer the pathetically weak boy that he had been. Thanks to these gifts, he believed he was now one of the most potent weapons in the King's arsenal. Soon, his former family would be on their knees, begging him to return.
Tyrup’s plan worked perfectly. Villagers scrambled from their homes and ran from the fire and soldiers that heralded their deaths. The advancing foot soldiers cut some down, but many could outrun the advancing troops, burdened by heavy armor and all the heavy paraphernalia of war. The sergeant ordered his men to ready their weapons, looking on intently as the archers nocked their arrows, and the mage levitated his stones.
Taking aim at the villagers, the first volley was loosed.
Chapter 3
The three fugitives from the small out-of-the-way village sat shivering under the scant protection of two trees that had fallen across one another sometime recently, hidden from the cold rain and the biting wind.
The inadequate shelter offered by the trees was the best they could find.
At least the rain will help put down the fires in the village, Glem thought.
Near their shelter, Glem used the heavy knife that always hung from his belt to quietly cut some of the low boughs from the pines to improve their temporary accommodation and make it harder to see in the dense forest.
"Girls, gather these up and toss them over the top as I cut them," Glem said as he handed them the first of the boughs he had cut.
"They'll help with the rain and keep off some of the wind. Hurry now."
Glem had felt better the last few weeks than he had in years.
He took off his heavy cloak and threw it over the shelter before the boughs went on, offering a layer of additional protection for the girls.
I'm glad I was able to grab the cloaks before we ran; it was a near thing, though.
"Can't have you get sick on me… Then who would take care of me?" Glem muttered.
"I'm cold, and I wanna go home. The soldiers have gotta be gone by now," Alyra complained all too loudly.
"Hush, girl, don't be foolish. In the morning, we'll scout around and see if it's safe. I'm afraid that there won't be much to go home to," said Glem softly as he stared up at the warm glow in the distant sky. The reflection of the fires burning in the town is the only thing warm tonight, and the last warmth we'll be finding for a while, Glem thought.
"Alyra, Rues, come, get under the cover and out of the rain. Try to get what sleep you can. I will sit the watch tonight," Glem said gently to them.
Rues, her back against the downed tree, shivered in the rain, sick with worry for her little brothers and mother, and the boys were tall but young.
They didn't have her father's strength yet. He was a tank of a man, with hands harder than the iron he worked in his forge, seemingly indestructible.
He will be fine, even if he must beat all the soldiers himself. They will be alright. They have to be alright! Rues thought. "They will be alright," Rues said softly into the black night, as if speaking the words aloud made it more true.
"Of course, they will," Alyra said fiercely as she pulled Rues against her to help warm them both. But Rues said nothing more; her words had been uttered for herself.
Glem stood near the edge of the shelter while the night dragged slowly on toward dawn. The rain continued to fall steadily in the hours to come, with clouds hiding both the stars and moon. The blanketed darkness provided some small measure of cold safety against the patrols sweeping out from the village all night, looking out for anyone who may have escaped. The girl’s fear of the patrols and fear for their friends and families made their sleep run from them.
They rubbed at their eyes and yawned relentlessly, but it didn’t make rest any more attainable. A deep feeling of despair threatened to overwhelm each one of them.
This is a bad night to be back out in the world after so long removed from it, thought Glem as he sto
od quietly half a dozen yards from where the girls tried to rest.
Worry for them roiled in his stomach and made him uncomfortable. No thought for his own comfort, since he had long ago come to terms with the more unpleasant aspects of men.
In the wet, heavy night, Glem’s mind was in overdrive.
How will the girls deal with the carnage that’s sure to be scattered through the village?
If we're lucky, the soldiers will have thrown all the townsfolks’ bodies into the last building before they fired it.
But somehow, I doubt these are the type of soldiers to show that kind of respect to an enemy. Poor girls. In the morning, we'll go back to town and see if anyone else made it away safely.
We can gather supplies and any weapons we can find and put the town to our backs.
Glem worried about a particular board in the floor under the small table that served in the kitchen. He resigned himself to the need to pry it up. The two oilcloth-wrapped bundles below it had long since seen their time but in the twilight of his years, no man should have to take back the remnants of his youth and look too closely at them.
"It'll be necessary, I'm afraid," whispered Glem to the darkness.
Glem felt his years as he moved softly through the forest to the creek to fill a water skin. He searched the forest carefully as he went, looking for any sign that the soldiers were still there or that any of the others from the village might have survived.
He slowly circled the hiding place where the girls had fallen asleep, in an ever-widening spiral out from that point. He searched. Old habits, long forgotten, came back without thought as he looked for the small signs of something out of place, man’s passage through an unknown wood. On the edge of a small meadow a few hundred yards away, Glem paused to watch where the path from the village crossed it on the far end.
Crouched in the woods with the sun that had just begun to rise behind him, he knew he was invisible to anyone from the other side of the meadow.
Glem heard the faint creak of wagons just after dawn, going completely still in his spot like a rabbit freezing in the undergrowth at the sight or sound of a hunting party. He hunkered down under a bramble of wild blackberries.
"There they are," he whispered. "One, two, three wagons."
They're loaded heavy too. They are even taking the oxen.
They moved slowly forward, noticing the oxen team that pulled the last wagon in line. Nearly fifty soldiers with them, more than a dozen well-mounted and armored. Cavalry? This isn't some poorly trained group of bandits; those are professional soldiers, Glem thought.
"Hmm, no way to tell whose men they are. We are a long way from anything strategic in this little backwater," Glem mumbled, noting there was no wind to float the pennant, and the soldiers on foot weren't wearing surcoats.
The standard-bearer leaned down to speak with one of the foot soldiers walking next to him. He kicked his horse to a trot, moving up to the front of the line to talk with another soldier. The movement of the trot causing the pennant to unfurl for a moment. Just long enough for Glem to make out the sign of the house of Gan'nar.
The king of the south had invaded Laterius.
"War," whispered Glem. "The fool has to know that a raid this deep into Laterius is a declaration of war."
Glem waited quietly until the troop had passed, and the sound of wagons faded to nothing before he began to move again. He heard the birds' songs, that had died off in fear, start again.
Glem quietly gathered some of the early blackberries from his cover, stuffing them into his pockets. He knew that there might not be any food left to find in the village, and the girls would be hungry from having slept rough for the night.
As softly as he had come, he moved back into the forest.
This didn't used to be nearly this unpleasant, Glem thought.
"Alyra, Rues, wake up. We have to get moving," Glem said as he shook them gently awake. "Breakfast is thin this morning, I’m afraid. I was able to gather some blackberries. Careful though as some'll be before their time yet." He emptied his pockets.
Alyra and Rues began to shove the berries into their mouths; both made a face whenever they got an unripe one. Glem watched them with amusement despite the situation. The faces were funny but he passed them both the waterskin to wash down the berries.
“Steel yourselves, girls, we are going to sneak back to town and look around, but I’m afraid that what we are going to find won’t be pleasant,” Glem told them.
✽✽✽
Tyrup studied the carnage wrought by the blacksmith and his family. From experience, he knew that fighting commoners in their own homes could turn out to be a nasty affair but it had been a lesson that these unbloodied soldiers had needed to learn. The cocksure soldier selected for the demonstration had done so admirably and died horribly in the process.
Tyrup, however, was unprepared for the enormous price this instruction would cost. Six men in total fell to the blacksmith family, a kill ratio of 2:1 in favor of the blacksmith. These were unacceptable losses when facing a trained army, much less when eradicating civilians.
With a deep breath, Tyrup savored the metallic smell of spilled blood and charred remains present in the forge. The blackened and still burning body of a soldier, thrown alive into the forge fire, smoked and sizzled as the remaining fat in his body cooked off.
Four more had fallen to hammer strikes to the head and face, an easy death in comparison. The final soldier lay broken over the anvil in the center of the room, the horn of the anvil having pierced through his armor and become embedded into his spine.
The blacksmith’s wife was pulled roughly from the house and thrown next to her dead family. She sobbed, kneeling over her two sons in fear of what was to come. Her anguish pleased Tyrup and soothed some of his rage over the loss of so many of his men.
“See what their overconfidence earned them? Death! Killed by commoners! There is no glory here, only failure,” he screamed to the soldiers. “Now, watch what happens to those that oppose us.”
Tyrup grabbed the now screaming mother by the hair and dragged her to a small anvil at the side of the room. He pulled her head onto the anvil, face up, and grinned maniacally.
The woman’s eyes were wide with fear as she struggled to get free, knowing the fate about to befall her.
“This is what happens…”
The mother screamed as the hammer swung down onto her face, and she was silenced.
An expensive lesson, the Captain knew, but one that had obviously been driven home to those standing outside the partially burned forge.
“Burn this place to the ground,” he ordered angrily. “Start searching the village, make sure there are no survivors. Scavenge what you can and load it into the wagons. Bring the girl with us. Go! We leave in thirty minutes.”
✽✽✽
Glem and the girls moved as quietly as possible through the soggy forest, the sound of water dripping from the trees and heavy undergrowth of ferns, a palpable weight that pressed down on them. The girls each clutched at the small ubiquitous belt knives used for day-to-day chores as if they were real weapons.
The gray, acidic smell of smoke and wet char hung thick in the air as they crept slowly toward the town. Glem paused their small group near the tree line to study the edges of the village as they began to come into sight.
The roofs look wrong, thought Rues.
"Stop," Glem said softly. "Let me take a look before we go in, just to make sure they are all gone."
"Why is it so quiet, Grandpa? Is everyone still hiding?" Alyra asked Glem.
"I hope so, girl, but I am afraid," Glem said as he glanced at the girls.
Alyra wore her fear openly like a badge, the knuckles of her hand white on her knife, her eyes wide as she swung her head around and looked for others.
Rues, silent, stared straight ahead, looking right through the walls of the closest small houses to where her family's home and her father's forge stood near the far edge of their tiny villa
ge. She lifted her eyes only to watch smoke streamers drifting up into the gray morning.
They could see from the edge of the forest that the roofs of the village houses had mostly collapsed in on themselves and taken the walls down with them in places.
The thatch had burned on the few remaining roofs, leaving the rafters looking like the rib bones of some long-dead beast.
"Come on, let's move closer into the first row of houses for a better look. Rues, Alyra, stay behind me and against the walls when we get to them. We are going to move from building to building, together, while we look for others," Glem directed in a voice that was deeper and more commanding than Alyra had heard before.
Glem took one last hard look at the town from their cover and glanced over at the girls. "Let's move," he said before leading the way as they moved up to the first house; the biting smell of something copper and fetid got more robust as they approached, reminding him of the past. The outer stone wall of the first house was still warm, radiating the heat leftover from the fire that had destroyed it, an unpleasant comfort after the cold night.
Glem looked through the houses at the bodies of many of the animals that had belonged to the village. They lay where they had fallen during the fight the night before.
Bodies not yet beginning to smell, Glem thought.
Glem listened for any sound from the village as they crouched next to the wall; only the birds had started to recover from the destruction becoming more evident.
"Only animals," Glem said.
"That's good, right?" Alyra said. "It means they all got away?"
"I hope you're right, girl,” Glem whispers.
Rues stared silently in the direction of the smithy again. "I … I have to..." she said as she darted around them, quickly slipping past Glem’s clumsy grab at her.
"Goat dung," Glem said.
He stood up from his crouch and stepped out from their cover to chase after her.
Glem came around the edge of the burned house after her and stopped short; he saw Rues on her knees, most of the way across the muddy, torn-up former town green. Glem and Alyra moved quickly across the muddy green to Rues, where she knelt motionless, staring again at the smithy door. The roof to both her childhood home and her father's forge had collapsed entirely. One wall had fallen into the forge, and it left only the massive stone uprights and the cross piece on top of them that once surrounded the door still standing.
Reciprocity : Volume 1 of The Fledgegate Cycle Page 4
