Ferral's Deathmarch Army

by Tod Langley

19

  The Kutodahk

  Early the next morning, Balhir came for them. They sensed his serious mood and kept silent. “My father requests your presence. It is time for the Ruling. Your companion’s fate is to be decided.”

  Kristian and his friends followed Balhir back down the halls without saying a word. The Holtsman took them back to the chamber where the cougars stood before the flame. Once there, Balhir turned to Kristian, “to be here and witness this is no small thing. I have lost some respect in my father’s eyes.” Balhir hesitated, but then added, “I felt I owed you an opportunity to defend your friend, no matter who he is. You,” Balhir pointed at Kristian, “and your friends have more nobility than I have been taught to expect of those from beyond the forests.”

  Balhir looked around with caution before adding, “My father would never want me to say this, but … they penetrated the outer wall last night.” The companions looked at each other in alarm. “We quickly blocked them from rushing in, but this early defeat means that our defenses are beginning to waiver. There must be over twenty five thousand of the creatures now, and I don’t know how long we can hold out.”

  Balhir looked up at the dark ceiling taking in a deep breath before continuing. “We also received word this morning from the Bear Holt. They will not be coming to our aid. Nor will the Ram. They were ambushed by the demon and some of the creatures as they tried to reach us last night. The damned monster knew where and when to strike, and it was merciless.”

  Balhir was so full of emotion that he could barely restrain himself. The Holtsman clenched his fists tightly, his voice trembling as he tried to continue. “I have never seen anything like this. My father is proud and will not leave the holt. It is only a matter of time before they breach the outer wall again. And then there is only the inner wall to protect us. We will be trapped inside the mountain.”

  “How long? How long can you hold?” Kristian asked.

  Balhir shrugged. “A month, maybe two.” He looked at Mikhal reaching out to him. “I know how much Hin’cabo means to you, but my father is in a sour mood. I don’t think anything you say will change his mind.” Mikhal’s lips tightened as he forced himself to remain silent. “Vortah will follow the Ruling according to the Kutodahk. He will state the charges and allow the Atlunam to speak on his own behalf. You will also be allowed to speak. He then will ask the council to decide his fate. Regardless of what the council decides, my father can overrule them.” Balhir waited to see their responses.

  Kristian nodded that they understood.

  Balhir nodded back, and then he guided them down the steps to the Chieftain’s council chamber. Vortah sat on his stone chair, a twisted staff covered in gold, resting on his lap. The old chieftain scowled, and his eyes narrowed as he focused on Kristian. Vortah watched his son lead the Erandians, and their companions, to the center of the chamber before stepping to the side. Vortah did not hide his feelings of disgust at having to preside over this affair.

  The chieftain’s son moved further to one side of the chamber and bowed his head. At a nod from Vortah, guards brought in Hin’cabo.

  The Atlunam was barely able to stand. His chest was bare. Strips of cloth bandaged his wounds, dark bruises covered his torso. He limped to the center of the chamber, struggling to stand erect, defiant.

  Vortah waved his hand before him, “Clansmen of the Cougar Holt, I call upon you to stand in council. You are to listen to the charges presented against this man, his defense, and then decide his fate according to the Kutodahk. Remember, the Laws. Times have changed, but we stand as a testament to the wrongs brought upon us by our eternal enemies.”

  The council stood. Kristian surveyed them. They were older men, battle hardened and surely supportive of Vortah. Things did not look good for Hin’cabo.

  “Hin’cabo duk Shuru Kaithep duk Atlunam, tuk moot moi kensan. Hin’cabo of Shuru Kaithep of the Atlunam, you have killed my son. I charge you with the murder of my son, Delihn, and his patrol. They did not cross the border and did not threaten your village as has been agreed upon by the Pact of Rulers. Your attack upon them was vicious and unwarranted and simply proves that there can be no trusting the Atlunam.” Vortah pointed a finger at the woodsman, “Speak now in your own defense.”

  There was silence. Hin’cabo raised his head to stare into the eyes of the chieftain, but he refused to say a word. Kristian waited impatiently, trying to force Hin’cabo through sheer will to say something, but the man would say nothing.

  Kristian stepped toward the middle of the floor. “Chief Vortah, may I speak on his behalf.” The old man looked from the Atlunam hunter to the Erandian before reluctantly nodding.

  “Hin’cabo could not have done this. He and his men were protecting us. We were being chased by the Belarnians, and we were still north of the forest when this must have happened. Hin’cabo fought valiantly to save our lives even though he didn’t know us. He planned to take us to his village where we could speak to his elders about the army of dead. He didn’t know what happened to his own family, and Hin’cabo didn’t know about the death of your son until days later. I stand before you as a witness to his innocence.” Maurin and Mikhal nodded, adding validity to Kristian’s claim.

  Vortah waved his hand again. “It does not matter whether he was present at the massacre. Hin’cabo is a member of the village that is closest to the border. The cuts on the bodies of those thrown into the pit, thrown out like trash, and the fact that they were bound—all of this evidence indicates they were not killed by Ferral’s Deathmarch Army, but by humans. The Atlunam do not stray far from their lair. Clearly, the Atlunam saw the opportunity to ambush our men, since they were so close to the forest, and attacked.

  “You are ignorant of our laws, and I am not going to take the time to explain our ways to you, young king. It is acknowledged by both our peoples that the territory between the Holts and the forest are neutral. My son was,” Vortah paused, obviously upset at having to talk of his loss, “simply doing his duty. Delihn was patrolling our borders.”

  The chieftain’s angry stare turned to Hin’cabo, “By the Laws of Kutodahk, Hin’cabo is guilty because he supported the decisions of his own village elders. He is an accomplice by virtue of his association to the village.”

  “But,” Kristian tried to add.

  “Enough. King Kristian of Erand, you do not know or understand our ways. We are far older and nobler than any of the new kingdoms. We have been here since before there was an Erand and have always had the Laws as our guide. A pact was made a few generations ago between the leaders of the Atlunam and the Ten Holts. This agreement was meant to prevent another war between us. Both sides understand that to violate this pact means death. There were to be no more raids.”

  Vortah looked to his council. “I now charge you to decide. You have heard both sides, now give me your decision.” It did not take long. One by one the older clansmen held out a thumb turned down. All but one of the seven had decided that Hin’cabo should die.

  As Vortah turned his gaze back toward Hin’cabo to deliver the sentence, Mikhal quickly stepped forward.

  “I will take his place,” Mikhal declared. Kristian turned to look at him in disbelief. He opened his mouth to argue with Mikhal but was cut short by Vortah.

  “A noble gesture, young man, but unnecessary. Do not be so hasty to waste your life on something like this. Hin’cabo’s fate has been decided, the decision stands. Hin’cabo duk Shuru Kaithep duk …”

  “How much longer do you think you can hold out?” Mikhal challenged Vortah.

  “What?”

  “How much longer do you think you can hold out?” Mikhal repeated. “Your outer walls have been penetrated. It is only a matter of time before your stronghold is destroyed.”

  Vortah glared at Balhir, knowing the dire news could only have been shared with the outsiders through his son. He then turned his anger on the Erandian. Vortah stood, full of rage, and pointed his staff at Mikhal. “These ar
e separate issues. This man’s guilt has nothing to do with our situation. How dare you challenge me in my own Holt?”

  “It has everything to do with your current situation. As you sit here and deliberate the fate of one man, the fate of your people hangs in the balance.” Mikhal approached Vortah. “When we were captured by your son we were on our way to the capital of the Atlunam. We were searching for help. We were searching for a way to destroy Ferral’s demon and his army. We know that the other Holts are also besieged. No one is coming to help you.”

  Vortah sat grumpily back into his chair. “With this man’s aid,” Mikhal pointed at Hin’cabo, “we may find the key to the destruction of this army.”

  “I would never accept the help of those betrayers! They are the cause of all our suffering. They are the ones that brought death and destruction to us all,” Vortah shouted. “The Atlunam are arrogant, greedy, and corrupt. Those poor qualities led to the destruction of everything we held dear. When it became obvious that we could no longer suffer under their rule, we left. They could not accept that and attacked us, trying to force us back under their control. The Atlunam wanted us as their workforce and treated us little better than slaves.”

  Vortah pointed at Hin’cabo. “If you do not look like one of the pure bloods of the Atlunam, then your birthrights are not the same. You’re treated like a second-class citizen. Our people fought them to gain freedom and independence. We fought to establish our own way of life. And we won. Their nature worship is a farce. An ill-conceived notion of how to make amends for the past.”

  Vortah shouted, leaning forward on his hard throne. “It is another sign of their arrogance and folly. We are glad to be rid of the Atlunam and do not want their help.”

  Mikhal desperate, turned to face the council. “The answer to your survival may be hidden within the strongholds of the Atlunam. How long do you think you can keep the dead from getting inside your mountain? Every day hundreds more join Ferral’s army. Soon there will be too many even for the brave warriors of your Holt.”

  Vortah looked nervously around at his council members. “You do not have to go to your enemies begging them for help,” Mikhal pressed. “I promise to find the answer you need and, once I have it, I also promise to return and aid you in destroying the dead.”

  Mikhal turned back to face Vortah, his voice lower. “If you kill Hin’cabo, you may also destroy your one chance to save your people. Without him, we will never be able to get into the Atlunam capital.” Kristian was dumbfounded, his eyes opening wide in alarm. The young king could say nothing.

  “Let him go, Father,” Balhir said, stepping forward to stand with Kristian and Mikhal.

  The Chieftain of the Cougar Holt looked from his son, to his council members, to Mikhal, then Kristian, and finally to Hin’cabo. Vortah challenged Mikhal, “How can one man, this one hunter, or even his entire people have the power to destroy the dead? What magic do they have that could do anything to save us that we cannot do on our own?”

  Cairn stepped forward then and said, “Not magic, Chieftain, but knowledge. The Atlunam have amassed a great collection of knowledge from across the world, throughout the centuries. If anyone knows how to stop this evil, it is your old enemy. The answer is hidden in the forest with the Atlunam.”

  Mikhal added, “We aren’t asking you to accept the help of your enemy, Vortah. We only ask that you allow us to find the answer to destroying the dead and the demon. I will bring that knowledge back to you.” No one spoke. Kristian could see the tension between Vortah and Mikhal.

  “I ask you the same question then, Mikhal Jurander of the Cavaliers of Erand. How long? How long will it take for you to find this answer and bring it back to me?”

  Kristian looked at Mikhal waiting to see what damning answer he would give Vortah. Mikhal raised his hands in supplication.

  “I cannot give you an answer, Vortah. I only promise to move as quickly as possible to find the answer and return.” Mikhal licked his lips as they waited for an answer.

  “You have been amazingly silent, King Kristian,” Vortah observed with some amusement. “Are you willing to help me in return for the life of this one man?”

  Kristian’s heart pounded. He looked with doubt at Mikhal and then said, “I can’t speak for Mikhal’s pledge. I have my own people to look after. I’m searching for a way to destroy these creatures so that I can save my country.” And save Allisia, Kristian reminded himself. “But it’s obvious we share a common enemy. Finding the answer will help both of our kingdoms. Let Hin’cabo go and we will do everything we can to fight back.”

  Vortah was silent for a moment then nodded in agreement.

  Outside the chamber, Kristian pulled Mikhal aside. “What are you doing? What about our own problems?” Kristian threw up his hands, exasperated. “You volunteered to help them when we can’t even help ourselves!”

  “I didn’t volunteer us,” Mikhal replied, defensively. “I volunteered myself. Besides, I haven’t forgotten about Allisia. I will help you get her back, and once that is done, I will help them.”

  “What about our people, Mikhal? Even if we can rescue Allisia, we must still save them from Ferral.” Kristian saw the pain on Mikhal’s face. He struggled to answer but could not find the right words. “What about your family, Mikhal?”

  “Stop it,” Mikhal hissed. “Stop it! Don’t council me, I am not the one …”

  Kristian finished the sentence for him, “You’re not the one that ordered thousands to their deaths.”

  “What do you expect of me?” Mikhal shouted loud enough that the others turned in alarm to stare at him.

  “I’m not some great knight. I’m not a hero, Kristian. I’m just one man,” Mikhal said, trying to calm down. “Why do you expect me to protect you and help save our people when I can barely save myself?”

  Kristian did not understand. “You’ve been through more than anyone I know, Mikhal. You’ve survived when no one else possibly could have. You stood before the demon and defied it. You saved my life when you didn’t have to.” Mikhal tried to look away, but Kristian would not let him.

  “I know what I’ve done, but I told you that I would do everything possible to make amends,” Kristian said. “I swore that I would save Allisia and our people. I will continue to do everything I can to fulfill those promises, which includes keeping the best people with me that I can. I need people that are not afraid to tell me when I am doing something wrong. I also need people that will not hesitate to fight along with me to see the wrong made right.

  “I need your help, Mikhal,” Kristian reminded him. “I want you to stay with me.”

  Mikhal breathed heavily. Kristian realized Mikhal had convinced himself that hating his king was the only way for Mikhal to continue, the only way to fight through the painful memories of their defeat and loss.

  But I’ve changed, Kristian thought.

  “I’m not a perfect man … there is no such thing as a perfect man, but I’m trying to change my ways. I’m trying to make a difference,” Kristian said.

  “Why are you trying to save Allisia?” Mikhal asked in a soft, defeated voice.

  Kristian stood a little straighter, surprised by the question. He paused for several moments before answering. “When I first saw Allisia, I was immediately drawn to her. It was as though there were a shimmering light surrounding her.”

  Kristian smiled, adding, “I sometimes think of her as an angel, an angel that God sent to help me change.

  “I knew, even back in Duellr, that I wasn’t the man or prince that people hoped I would be … a part of me wanted to be better than I was. Allisia challenged me to be better. She expected it and encouraged me to try harder. I knew that I could be a different person with her help.”

  Kristian looked away for a moment, remembering all of the horrible details of her capture. “As soon as she was gone, I felt empty inside. That light that I had felt when I was around Allisia was no longer there.

>   “I don’t know if Allisia loves me, but I love her … I need her. I am not complete without her. In fact, I think I will be lost without her.”

  Kristian looked back at Mikhal, forcing the cavalier to look him in the eye. “Someone as special as that deserves better … don’t you think? Wouldn’t you do anything for someone if you felt that way about them?”

  Mikhal looked down, his face reddening. He clenched his hands tightly, digging his fingernails into his palms.

  “I don’t know what I feel about the monster,” Mikhal said.

  Kristian did not understand and leaned closer.

  “She haunts me … she has haunted me ever since that night in Duellr,” Mikhal slowly admitted.

  Kristian looked at him, puzzled. “I don’t understand.”

  Mikhal lifted his head and took a deep breath. He looked around to make sure the others could not hear. “At first, I thought I started having the nightmares because of all the men lost during the battle, or maybe, because I feared my family was dead. She keeps coming back for me in my dreams.”

  “Who?” Kristian asked.

  “The demon … the woman. I mean the woman that becomes the demon. I have dreams about her.”

  “They will pass. We’re all under a great amount of stress. I have nightmares, too. Look at what I have done to our kingdom. I may fight for the rest of my life and never be able to fix what I did,” Kristian assured him.

  Mikhal stepped away from his king in frustration. “You don’t understand. These are not just nightmares. These are more like visions, but not of what is to come, but of what already happened. It’s hard to explain. I think I love her … no … I mean, I know I despise her, but I think I used to love her.”

  “You knew this woman?” Kristian asked, incredulously.

  Mikhal shook his head. “No, but somehow we’re connected. I saw it in her eyes when we were in the ballroom. She was there before the demon came, and she looked at me and smiled. She didn’t look at anyone else, just me. The demon could have easily killed me, but it did not. She singled me out.”

  Mikhal turned to look at Kristian. “She knows me, somehow, and I know her. In my dreams, she is my lover and we are so close that it’s almost like we’re one person, but something terrible happens. We have an argument, and I leave her. And she doesn’t forgive me … she has never forgiven me.”

  “You’re right, Mikhal, I don’t understand,” Kristian admitted. “All I know is that you’re becoming more and more withdrawn. I thought it was because you could not forgive me for what happened in Belarn, but I always thought you would stay and help me avenge our countrymen.”

  Mikhal laughed. “Sometimes you worry too much. I haven’t been able to think that much about what happened. Hell, I can barely remember what happened yesterday. In fact, the more I think about that night, the more I wonder if I wouldn’t have made the same choices that you did, if Ferral had my love.” His eyes started to glaze over as Mikhal thought of the demon-woman again.

  Mikhal sighed as his anxiety resurfaced. “But, I swear that she haunts me continuously. I can’t stop thinking of her.” Mikhal turned to look at Kristian. “If you want me to swear fealty to you, then I will, but I will never be rid of her. I must find out why she is in my dreams and find a way to make it all go away. I must find a way to destroy her. To me, this is even more important than going back to Erand.”

  Kristian let out a deep sigh. “I won’t push any man to follow me that doesn’t want it for himself. Those days are gone.” Kristian sighed and said, “Do what you feel you must.”

  Mikhal nodded. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

  “I told you to stop calling me that. It makes me feel uncomfortable when you say it like that.”

  “This time I meant it,” Mikhal replied.

  Kristian had finally earned Mikhal’s trust. He felt a sense of accomplishment but was still anxious about losing the cavalier. Kristian realized he had relied upon Mikhal ever since the initial battle at Ferral’s citadel.

  Can I do this without him, he wondered.

  Kristian offered his hand to Mikhal, and they understood each other a little better.

  “Cairn tells me that Hin’cabo will be ready to travel tonight, though I don’t know how. The hunter promised to take us to his capital and meet the king. We’ll pack soon and then rest a while before we make our break,” Kristian said.

  Mikhal nodded. “I’ll be ready.”

  “And I am coming with you also,” a voice called out from behind them. Balhir strode up the stairs from between the stone cougars and joined them. Before Kristian could object Balhir added, “I have lost some of my father’s respect. I have not been banished, but you could say my … presence is no longer welcome here.” The Holtsman shrugged. “Hell’s Palace, you could use me … nine of my guards want to come with me.”

  “What makes you think that your welcome in Atlunam will be any different than what Hin’cabo received here?” Mikhal challenged.

  Balhir laughed loudly. “True, friend, true, but Hin’cabo lives does he not? I will risk the same fate to ensure the answer you have promised my father is found, as long as you can guarantee our safety.”

  “We would never make such an agreement,” Mikhal replied. “We can’t vouch for your safe passage into a place we’ve never been before.”

  “I will speak for him,” Cairn stated. The swordsman appeared from the shadows near a column. “Balhir knows more of this region than any of us, and their swords will be needed.”

  Kristian did not like it. What am I supposed to do the first time Balhir confronts an Atlunam and demands justice for his brother’s death? Kristian wondered.

  Balhir also seemed to understand the situation. The Holtsman nodded. “I ask none of you to protect me from the Atlunam, and I vow to act as an emissary for my people. I will not mention Delihn’s death or allow my men to start a fight.” Balhir raised his hands in an offering of peace. “Perhaps our common need to destroy the Deathmarch Army will temporarily prevent them from wanting to take my head off.”

  “What does Hin’cabo think about this?” Kristian asked. They all turned to the Atlunam hunter. Supported by Maurin, the hunter looked too weak for the journey. Cairn asked him in his native language what Kristian wanted to know. His response was terse, even in the sing-song language of the Atlunam; Hin’cabo’s answer could not have been good.

  “Hin’cabo says that nothing can stop one of his people from cutting off the mountain goat’s head if they choose. However, Hin’cabo vows not do it himself and will speak on Balhir’s behalf … since Balhir helped save Hin’cabo from his father’s wrath.”

  Balhir grinned, appreciatively.

  “But,” Cairn continued, “once this quest is over Hin’cabo wants first rights to duel Balhir.”

  Balhir laughed even louder. “Even after cheating death, the Atlunam hunter pushes himself closer toward the precipice. I accept the challenge and promise not to die before that day, wood sprite,” Balhir roared.

  Hin’cabo nodded, understanding the meaning of the words, if not the details.

  “My men and I will be ready and we will pack extra supplies, clothes, and weapons for you. We will go the way we came … when you are ready.” Balhir turned to leave but stopped to say something, a large grin on his face. “And might I suggest a hot bath before we go? You may be the King of Erand, but you smell like something at the bottom of an animal pen.”

  After Balhir left, Maurin stepped closer to Kristian and whispered, “Did any of you understand that? First they try to kill each other, offering no mercy to the other. Hin’cabo is then taken prisoner by Holtsmen to stand trial when it is certain they will kill him anyway. The person that took him prisoner speaks out to save Hin’cabo’s life and promises to go back into the woods to help people he definitely hates, but doesn’t even know. Balhir’s putting his own life at risk … I definitely don’t get it.”

  “We need all the support we c
an get, Maurin. Poor kings can’t be picky kings. Besides, maybe this can work to our benefit. Maybe a new alliance can be forged from this.” Kristian’s situation was dire; he needed help and he would take it from whoever offered.

  “Yes, but what type of wall can be built if the foundation has so many cracks in it,” Cairn offered.

  “He’s right,” Mikhal added. “I don’t trust Vortah or his son. I think they have their own agenda and recommend we all watch them closely.”

  “It will take great skill and diplomacy to get these two kingdoms to put aside their anger and fight side by side, even against Ferral’s creatures,” Cairn said. They all stopped to look at the Erandian king. Kristian could see the expectation in their eyes.

  Vortah was there to see them off despite his misgivings. He had not said a word to his son since the council meeting and stood just inside the guardroom at the bottom of the stairs. Balhir checked his men one last time before ordering the boulder removed. He had chosen nine of his best warriors. Each carried a long sword, as well as a war hammer or axe. Their helms covered most of their heads making it difficult to see their personal features, though most wore a long beard and mustache as was the custom of the Holtsmen. Chest plates, bracers, and grieves protected them. They wore padded tunics of brown, gray, or black with cloaks of similar colors hanging loosely from their shoulders. They did not dress too warm, knowing they would have to travel fast to cross the plains and get into the forest without being detected by the demon.

  When there was nothing left to check, Balhir approached his father.

  Vortah still did not look at Balhir and pretended to inspect the preparations of his clansmen. “You will be less welcomed there than the hunter was in our Holt.”

  “I know, Father.”

  “Yet, you go anyway. To aid foreigners,” Vortah replied, tersely.

  Balhir had to sigh deep to keep his anger down. “I go to find help for our people. Can’t you see that we are losing this fight?”

  Vortah stepped closer so that no one else would hear. He looked deep into his son’s eyes. “Yes, I see it!” Vortah hissed.

  The chieftain placed his hands on top of Balhir’s broad shoulders and whispered. “The Atlunam bear us no good will, Son. They may take you prisoner just to prevent us from ever crossing back into the woods. They may just as quickly decide to kill you. The only one that is going to watch out for you and your men is you. Do not go into the woods unless you have to. The treaty may still hold enough to protect you on the plains, but if you enter their domain again the Atlunam will show no mercy.”

  “What about Delihn? What was my brother really doing on the plains? We have not patrolled that area in years,” Balhir whispered.

  Vortah shook his head in despair, “I don’t know.” Balhir would not accept the answer and stared his father down. Finally, Vortah sighed, “You know your brother, Balhir. Delihn never believed in the pact. Ever since the Atlunam killed his son he has wanted revenge.”

  “There would be no revenge to seek had his son not tried to enter the woods,” Balhir responded.

  Vortah nodded, “You made it into the woods. I’m proud of you. You are brave and cunning.” The chieftain looked suspiciously at Kristian then whispered, “Don’t expect this young king to have any more power in the woods than you. Do you understand?” Balhir looked down at the stone floor slowly nodding that he did.

  “Then go … if we can no longer hold Cougar Holt, we will join the Ram’s. None have ever penetrated the walls of that strong mountain Holt. We shall wait there for you.” Balhir hugged his father fiercely then motioned for his men to move the boulder aside.

  The king whispered in his son’s ear. “Remember, the Kutodahk and your heritage, Balhir. They may save your life. Many of the Atlunam want peace, but many more are too used to the wars to understand any other way of life. Watch the king and his children closely, they cannot be trusted. Remember the code.” Balhir simply nodded, promising his father that he would be on guard.

  The stone rolled away grinding against the grooves that prevented it from falling over. Kristian and his comrades watched as Balhir’s men prepared for what might await them on the other side. The Cougar Holt’s prince came over to ensure Kristian and his friends were ready. Kristian nodded that they were.

  “We have horses standing by about five miles from here. We shall run as much of that distance as we can in order to keep the dead away. Let us know if anyone has trouble keeping up.”

  Maurin snickered. “I won’t be ready to stop until we reach the forest, I assure you.”

  Balhir looked at him with a stern face. “More ill awaits us in the woods than you know. Keep a close watch because Atlunam arrows may decorate our corpses before the end of this quest.”

  The rest of the companions drew their weapons unsure of what would greet them on the other side of the doorway. They doused their torches and moved out.