by Alex Janaway
‘Plan?’
‘Or position, if you’d rather call it that,’ said Issar.
Position. That sounded like a politician’s word. Cade chewed her lip, then leaned out, lifted her head up and spat over the edge of the cliff. She could have sworn she heard someone tut. She took another drink. What did these two want from her? A decision? Why was she always making the decisions?
‘Devlin, what do you think. You want to go back to war?’ she asked.
He looked into the sky and closed his eyes. She watched his chest rise and fall. This man had been a soldier, had turned his back on it and now he was right back in the thick of it. If it hadn’t been for Devlin, taking charge of fighting, none of them would have made it. Surely, he’d had enough?
Devlin opened his eyes and turned to look at her. ‘We can’t ignore what’s going on, Cade. If there is a war coming, we have to be part of it.’
That was unexpected.
‘Really? You want to charge back east and pick up where we left off. Remind me but didn’t we get away with our arses properly bit?’
‘Just saying, Cade. Believe me, I don’t want to. But I made a choice to protect everyone here. By my actions, and by those who ride with me, we want to keep our community safe. To see it grow. To see peace.’
‘And you get that by fighting?’
Devlin smiled. ‘I never said it was simple. I’ve been down this road before. And I made a different choice then. But things have changed.’
‘Talk me through it.’
Devlin took a deep breath and expelled it noisily through his nose.
‘Alright. Let’s look at the facts. There are more of us than we thought. Many more. Not just the thousands that crossed the river with us and made it here. If we believe Owen, he has a community down south. Who knows if there are more? The fact of the matter is, events have overtaken us. Owen has started something. He has poked a hornet’s nest.’
‘Sounds like his problem, then,’ grumped Cade.
‘I wish we had the luxury of thinking that. But Cade, work it through. We hoped we had broken clean of the dwarves. The Emperor knows we made them bleed. But dwarves are stubborn bastards and they have long memories. If they come again, where do we go?’
‘We take to the sea, sail west and get ahead of them,’ said Cade.
‘But will they ever stop?’ asked Issar.
‘And more importantly, will they be alone?’ replied Devlin. He raised a clenched fist and extended two fingers. ‘Now we know the wood elves are looking for blood. That’s two races.’ He extended a third, ‘and let’s throw the elves of the Heartlands in for good measure.’
‘We’re fucked then,’ said Cade. If their breakout hadn’t done it, then this fool Owen’s pointless war had surely condemned them all. How long could they hide out here for?
‘Maybe we are. Maybe we should start running, maybe go to the coast of Erebesh, or back to Scotia. It might buy us more time.’
Cade sighed.
‘But I like it here.’
‘Me too,’ said Issar. ‘We can make a real go of it.’
‘Then I’ll tell you what I think we should do,’ said Devlin. ‘We face the fight we have. And we worry about war later. Owen has asked us for help against the wood elves. We could do that. Then, when we’ve fought them, we worry about the dwarves, if they come. Or the elves, if they come. But we won’t be alone. We’ll have allies.’
‘I’m no student of war, Devlin, and correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t our entire fucking Imperial army get taken apart?’ asked Cade, waving the bottle in the air to punctuate the point.
Devlin placed his hands against his face and rubbed, pulling the skin taught and causing his features to take on an almost elf-like smoothness.
‘Not arguing that point, Cade. Just saying. We got a whole bunch of Tissans who have asked for our help. We should at least try.’
‘Hmmm,’ was the best response Cade could muster. Devlin was appealing to her sense of fair play and public spirit. They were not the most well-developed aspects of her personality. And certainly not ones she really ever felt the need to cultivate.
‘You’ve left out another option,’ she said.
‘Go on,’ Devlin offered.
‘What happens if we leave them to it?’
‘Cade really–’
She put up a hand. ‘Hold up, we’re chewing this over, ain’t we?’
Devlin closed his eyes and nodded, though Cade could see his jaw line was tensed.
‘As I was saying. We leave them to it. Right now, we have no part in his war. And the wood elves have no idea we are here.’
‘That’s supposing they haven’t spoken to the dwarves,’ Issar interjected.
‘Whatever,’ Cade snapped back. ‘Let’s say they haven’t. The wood elves and the Highlanders have at it, and Owen and his crew are taken out. Wood elves are happy, they trot off home and get drunk. We are happy because no fucker thought to check we are here. Problem solved.’
‘Gods Below, Cade,’ muttered Devlin. ‘But if we help him, maybe it makes the difference and the Highlanders win.’
Cade ignored him. ‘Now, if Owen wins …’ She paused, allowing them to keep up. ‘Then he’s just going to keep on causing mischief. And him and his people will really piss the other races off. And, if that happens, then we’ll all be in the shit.’
Both her companions were silent for a moment. The Issar leaned forward and gestured for the bottle. Cade passed it over and he took a long drink.
‘What you are saying, Cade, is that it is actually in our interest to see Owen lose.’
‘Nail on the head, Issar. Nail on the head.’
Devlin took the bottle from Issar.
‘That’s really shit, Cade. Really fucking shit.’
‘I thought you said you wanted to protect everyone in this community. Here’s your answer. This way we get to keep on getting on.’
‘It doesn’t sit right, Cade,’ said Devlin forcefully. He took a drink. ‘Not right at all.’
Cade frowned and shrugged. Since when was that a factor? It was pretty clear to her. And so what if Owen won without them? He was hardly going to declare war on the only other Tissan settlement left standing, was he?
‘Either way, we’ll have to debate this at the council tomorrow morning,’ said Issar.
‘Already looking forward to it,’ Cade muttered.
She slapped Devlin on the arm and he passed her back the bottle. She shook it and it sloshed weakly in response. It was almost empty. She drained it, leaned back into the bench and gazed out across the water. Devlin and Issar remained next to her, neither of them appearing any more interested in moving than she did.
CHAPTER 11 – KILLEN
Killen stretched in his saddle, then settled back into the swaying rhythm of the camel’s plodding gait as the beast made its way up a long, densely wooded trail. He turned his head and looked back along the line of scouts. All was well, and he reflected on what had been a successful if unexpected journey south. Taking out the dwarves with no casualties was the perfect outcome and one to take satisfaction from, but finding the survivors, well, that infected all of them will a degree of optimism that they’d not had for a long time. It felt good. And incredibly, he could admit to feeling contented about life. He let out a sigh and then smiled at his own behaviour.
‘Major? Are you well?’ called Hassan.
‘Yes, quite well, thank you.’
‘Very good, Major. I feared you were starting to lose your mind.’
Killen laughed. ‘I didn’t say I wasn’t!’
‘Oh. Perhaps I should take command?’
Killen barked a laugh. ‘There’s no need for that! Not yet. But thank you for the vote of confidence. It is much appreciated.’
‘It is my pleasure, Major!’
A shadowed form appeared at the top of the hill. Sadad.
‘Major. You must come and look. Quickly!’
Frowning, Killen urged his camel up the
slope. Of course, the blasted thing refused to move any faster than its normal plod.
‘What is it?’
‘Look, Major.’ He pointed at the ground.
Killen squinted. The slope ahead led down to a lightly wooded valley flattening out to the east. Their trail joined another going west.
‘What I am I looking at?’
‘Hoof prints.’
He examined the ground again and now knowing what he was looking for, he could see markings amidst the churned soil and detritus of the forest floor.
‘Yes, I see them. And?’
‘They are not ours.’
Killen felt his good humour drain away like water on desert sands.
‘How can you tell?’
‘The wood elves do not shoe the hooves like Tissans do. I saw this when we attacked that first village.’
‘And I suppose it’s not just a wandering herd?’
Sadad turned, spat out a gob of phlegm and smiled his gap-toothed smile.
‘Shit!’ Killen thought fast. ‘Scouting party?’
A shrug. ‘A dozen riders.’
‘Heading directly west?’
A nod. ‘Shall we track them?’
‘Major?’ asked Hassan, as he and the others started to bunch up behind.
Killen screwed his mouth. ‘Where is the nearest beacon?’
Sadad was quiet, looking at the ground and at the land ahead.
‘Three miles northwest,’ prompted another scout, Fatima.
Sadad scowled. ‘She is right.’
‘You are getting old.’ Fatima grinned at him.
‘And our camp is what? Two hours away?’
‘Give or take,’ agreed Sadad.
Killen slapped the pommel of his saddle. He hated to do this, but he had to be sure.
‘Sadad, take everyone and follow the elves. If you can, engage them, but make sure you don’t let any get away. We’ll meet up back at the forward base, all being well. Fatima, Abbas, Hassan, you are with me.’
His scouts readied weapons and nocked arrows. Hassan, ever watchful for the fate of his commander, drew his camel up to Killen’s, his face full of purpose. Sadad took the larger group westward. They angled their mounts to ride along the ridge and skirt the valley, the camels picking up speed as the slope eased. Killen gave them a couple of minutes to get ahead, and then ordered his remaining command on. ‘Fatima, you lead us, see if we run across anyone else.’ She urged her camel forward and led them around the top of the valley. As the trees thinned out a little, Fatima widened the distance, giving her the space to survey the ground. He leaned down and spoke quietly into his camel’s ears. ‘Listen, you bastard, don’t muck me about today.’
‘Major, why do you name your camel so?’ asked Hassan, as he rode next to him.
‘Huh?’
‘You call him “you bastard”. That is an offensive name.’
Killen cocked his head. Hassan had a point. He had never gotten around to naming his camel. The Erebeshi had a whole lexicon dedicated to describing their creatures. He supposed he just never wanted to admit that the pair of them were stuck with each other.
‘Bajin!’ Abbas announced, smiling at nothing. The heavyset scout was their best archer; Killen felt better having him along. But what did bajin mean?
They continued uphill, moving from one slope to another. Killen looked for any sign of wood elves but his tracking skills were pretty terrible, truth be told. He had no excuse other than laziness; he had the perfect teachers all around him.
It took them another twenty minutes of steady travel before Fatima turned around to rejoin them. She had a hard set to her face.
‘The beacon is just over the next rise, a cleared hill top. I can hear nothing but there is a … smell.’
‘Smell?’ Killen asked, knowing full well what was coming.
‘It smells of shit.’
Killen’s remaining good humour evaporated.
‘Alright, let’s head in. Abbas, circle around to the left, Hassan you go right. Fatima, I’m right behind you. Let’s take it slow.’
They group broke apart and Fatima took point once more, as Killen fell in behind her. He’d yet to draw his weapon, but he now remedied that, sliding his cavalry sabre free from its baldric. They topped the rise and passed by a thin screen of trees before entering the small, circular area of open ground. At the centre was a large pile of wood, resembling a large campfire, it was covered with pine branches, the needles guaranteeing plenty of smoke when it was finally lit.
The smell hit him. The odour of voided bowels and of blood and bile. ‘Oh Gods Below.’ He never got used to that. On the far side of the clearing a crude shelter had been constructed. Its occupant was hanging from a tree not far away. Fatima had climbed off her camel and was examining the ground around the shelter, paying the body no mind. He guided his camel and studied the dead sentinel. At his elevated height he was able look directly into the face. It was a woman. He tried to place her, but perhaps mercifully he couldn’t. Her eyes were open wide, bulging a little because of the noose, gazing sightlessly away into some far distance. He forced himself to cast his own gaze downwards. She had been drawn. Her innards were gathered in a stinking red pile beneath her feet. He closed his eyes and turned away. Even his camel took a few steps backward.
He felt revulsion and anger. It was an act of savagery that had no place in war. Damned animals, that’s what they were. Yet, there was a part of Killen, a rational voice, which always wanted to whisper what he didn’t want to hear. It asked how it was any different from what they had done to the wood elves? He could try and justify it as justice for past wrongs, but that voice would keep saying there was no good, no right, in such acts of violence. It just begot more violence, more suffering.
‘Major?’
He shook his head and opened his eyes. ‘Fatima?’
She pointed at the body. ‘She is not long dead. And there are plenty of tracks here. I looked behind the shelter, they came up from behind.’
‘How many?’
‘Maybe six or seven on foot? If you want I can do a proper search?’
‘No need,’ said Abbas, riding into clearing. ‘I found their tracks, plenty of spoor too. A dozen or so. Looks like they came in from the west.’
‘The same ones we found earlier?’ asked Killen.
‘Maybe.’
Killen hoped so. If this was just a single search party that had gotten lucky. They could deal with it and stop the risk of discovery. At least for a time.
Hassan’s camel burst through a screen of younger trees. The lad looked worried. What now?
‘Major, someone is coming! Oh,’ he saw the body. ‘I recognise her.’
‘We need more, Hassan,’ Killen prompted.
‘They are coming upslope, on foot. I could hear them before I caught sight of them.’
‘What direction?’ asked Fatima.
‘From the east, I think.’
Killen glanced at Fatima.
‘Our camp?’
She nodded. ‘It could be.’
‘How many, Hassan?’
‘Not many.’
Should they withdraw? No, not this time. Killen ignored the sensible voice in his head, there was payment needed. Killen turned to Abbas. ‘Find yourself somewhere to cover us. Fatima, Hassan, dismount and hide yourselves. When they arrive, I’ll draw their attention and you flank them.’
With grim faces, his scouts prepared for action. They settled their camels behind the beacon and hid in the surrounding undergrowth. For his part Killen made his camel sit in front of the beacon, facing east. If they decided to send a few arrows his way, he’d jump behind the camel and let the ample saddle take the hits. He doubted he would have the good fortune of seeing the beast slain, he wasn’t that lucky. Killen stood with his feet apart, his sword hanging loosely by his side. He could hear the wood elves now, they were close. His hand tightened on the blade. The first one came into view, carrying a bow with a nocked arrow. He readied himse
lf for a heroic leap backwards.
‘Killen?’
The archer in front of him was no wood elf. ‘Larsen?’
The Highlander stepped fully into the clearing, and lowered his bow, releasing the tension on the string.
‘Aye.’
The man looked terrible. A bandage was wrapped around his head.
‘What happened?’
‘Ambush.’
Larsen moved to one side as more arrived. One man using a branch as a crutch and supported by another. A woman carrying another bow bringing up the rear.
‘Is that all of you?’
‘Yes.’ Larsen dropped his bow and near collapsed on to the floor, his companions doing likewise.
Killen’s people emerged from their positions. Hassan and Fatima running to provide aid and water from their canteens. Abbas lowered himself down from a branch. Killen had not even spotted him there.
‘Abbas, backtrack their trail, see if they are followed.’
‘We think we got them all,’ said Larsen as he ran past.
Killen collected his own water bottle and passed it to the tracker, hunkering down on the ground next to him.
‘What happened?’
Larsen took a drink and wiped his lips.
‘We’d just got back to the camp. Bastards must have followed us. They charged as soon as they saw where we were. Their damn arrows took care of half of us. Karl here took one to his leg and one in the side.’
The one called Karl hissed in pain as Fatima looked at the wound. ‘He has lost a lot of blood.’ Her tone neutral, the implication clear.
Larsen nodded slightly. He knew. ‘The fighting got down and dirty. At the end it was just us four left. We lost ten.’
‘How many of them.’
‘A dozen, maybe a few more. We didn’t stop to count. Figured the place wasn’t safe. We thought we’d come here, get help from the nearest beacon, maybe think about lighting that thing.’
‘But you said you thought you got them all.’
Larsen spat and scowled at him.
‘None left standing, but there ain’t no way of knowing if they sent someone back.’ He lifted his head towards the corpse. ‘What happened here?’
‘We just arrived, found a set of tracks heading west. I followed my gut and wanted to check things were alright.’
