The Rise of Aredor Page 16

  “You ladies going to dance all day? We’re dying of boredom over here!” Trey called.

  As if that were a signal they were waiting for, Corin and Martin clashed together. Their swords wove spinning, flashing arcs as they exchanged blows. Finally, they drew apart and conceded a draw.

  “Not bad.” Martin rested the tip of his sword against the ground.

  “He probably didn’t tell you that after he beat our sword master, he went back to Kingscastle and began terrorizing the warband as the newest blademaster,” Trey said.

  “An expert swordsman, eh? I could’ve killed you twice,” Corin said to Martin. “You leave your left side open.”

  Trey and Liam chortled at Martin’s indignant expression.

  “Show me!” he demanded.

  Corin drove him into a sequence and halted. Martin looked down. Their swords were locked, but a knife had appeared in Corin’s hand and was pressed against his side.

  “Well, if you’re going to cheat like that,” Martin said. He disengaged his sword and lunged at Corin. Seconds later, Corin’s scimitar was pinned across his body, and a knife hovered above his chest.

  “Very nice, but…” Corin prodded Martin’s side with his own knife.

  “Neither one of you is going to win this,” Liam warned as they withdrew.

  A smile gradually broke over Martin’s face as he sheathed his sword. “It’s been a while since someone stayed with me that long.”

  “You’re one of the best I’ve ever encountered,” Corin said. “You’ll have to show me that last trick.”

  Martin was about to reply when Liam held up his hand.

  “Did you hear that?”

  The sound of horses and creaking wheels carried through the sudden silence.

  Corin grabbed his bow and quiver and slung it over his shoulder. The others guessed his intent and grabbed their own weapons. Corin looked questioningly to Liam, who nodded and led them toward the sounds.

  A large wagon laden with barrels and sacks of provisions lumbered down the forest road. A Calorin soldier drove it, accompanied by five mounted guards. They rode behind the wagon, chattering carelessly to one another, finally vanishing around the curve of the road a few moment later.

  “Where did they come from?” Corin asked.

  “It looked like some of the Blaen garrison. They have the storehouses there,” Liam said.

  “How far away is Blaen?”

  “A few miles northwest of here,” Trey replied.

  “And how are you proposing we get in and out without being seen?” Martin guessed the reason behind Corin’s questions.

  “We could go at night, and if we were dressed as Calorins…” Corin let the thought hang.

  “I think I might have something to help us look even more like them,” Liam put in.

  Since they had first met, Corin had discovered that besides being a lieutenant in Lynwood Keep, Liam had also been the healer and, as such, had a wide knowledge of herbs and plants and their uses.

  Trey shrugged. “Let’s go get some uniforms then.”

  They set off in quick pursuit of the Calorins and their wagon.

  Chapter 3

  “I got the keys.” Martin joined his companions at their hidden campsite just outside of the town. “The next guard isn’t due for almost four hours.”

  The outlaws had spent the past two days learning the guard rotation on the storehouses—large buildings built close to the edge of town, making them an easier target. They were dressed in the uniforms of the Blaen garrison, and Liam had come up with a fine powder that turned their skin the dark brown of the Calorins.

  “Just be careful, it rubs off easily,” he warned.

  Corin led the horse that was harnessed to the wagon, and the others led the horses that had been taken from the unfortunate troop in the forest. They halted, unchallenged, by the doors of the first storehouse. Martin produced the keys and swung open the doors.

  “Would you look at that!” He whistled. Racks of long-bows lined the walls, interspersed with swords. Piles of spears were stacked in the corners, and mail coats lay on tables.

  “Aredorian weapons!” Liam said.

  “Let’s load as much of this as we can in the wagon and then we can cover it with food sacks,” Corin said.

  They worked as quickly and quietly as they could. When they had loaded the wagon as much as they dared, they closed and locked the storeroom and moved to the next one. The sun had almost set, and Corin lit a torch to help them see as they brought out bags of provisions to cover the weapons. They halted as footsteps sounded behind them.

  “What’s going on here?” A voice demanded in Calorin.

  “Corin, there’s someone out there!” Trey whispered.

  “Who’s in charge here?” Another voice asked.

  From inside the storeroom, Corin’s heart lifted as he heard the slurred speech of the men. They’re drunk! he realized. He grabbed a flagon off the shelf.

  “I hate this stuff,” he muttered and took a deep draft. Spluttering, he took another drink.

  “Corin, what are you doing?” Trey hissed.

  “Keep working. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Corin clapped his shoulder. Liam and Martin watched bewildered as he staggered past them toward the soldiers.

  “That’d be me.” He slurred the words. “Lieutenant Hamíd, at your service, boys!”

  The soldiers looked at him through slightly unfocused eyes.

  “I’m Lieutenant Zafir, and this is Lieutenant Hamzah,” one said. “What are you doing out here so late, Hamíd?”

  “We were supposed to leave earlier, but they didn’t get the wagon loaded in time.” He jerked a thumb back at his companions. “You know how lazy those cavalry soldiers can be.” He took another pull at the flagon as Zafir and Hamzah voiced their agreement loudly.

  “We were just going to the tavern. You should join us, Hamíd!” Zafir said.

  When Corin hesitated, Hamzah clapped him on the shoulder.

  “Come on! You’ll have plenty of time before these buffoons get the wagon loaded.” He took the flagon from Corin and drank.

  “You’re right!” Corin took the liquor back. “There’s no reason I should have to stand out here in the dark while they work!”

  “Aye, you look like you work too hard already!” Zafir said. The three of them roared with laughter.

  “Don’t send someone after me when you’re done. You’ll probably take all night!” Corin raised his voice as he gave the order to the other “Calorins.”

  Trey’s salute told him that he understood. Relieved, Corin draped a friendly arm around Hamzah’s shoulder as they made their way toward the tavern.

  “What is he doing?” Martin asked Trey.

  “I hope he knows. Come on, let’s hurry with these.” Trey slung another bag up to Liam.

  An hour passed and there was no sign of Corin. Liam scanned the street anxiously. They had finished filling the wagon almost half an hour ago.

  “The sentry will be along any minute,” Martin whispered to Trey. “What do we do?”

  “Wait,” Trey replied, equally uneasy.

  As Martin feared, the new guard came on duty and saw them standing by the wagons in the torchlight.

  “What are you doing?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Waiting for the lieutenant. He’s been down at the tavern all afternoon. The guard just left. We’re supposed to give you these.” Trey tossed the keys to the soldier.

  “You’re not the first. These lieutenants think they can just leave anyone waiting for them. I don’t know how many wagons have been held up here.” The soldier shook his head. “How long have you lot been waiting?” he addressed Liam.

  Liam glanced helplessly at Trey. Just then, Trey caught sight of Corin coming towards them.

  “Here he is now!” Relief was too evident in his voice. “Everything’s ready, sir.” He saluted Corin.

  “Good, let’s get going. Taysir needs these supplies.” Corin waved an irri
tated hand.

  Trey nodded to Martin and Liam and they took up their positions. The guard shook his head in disgust at the “drunk” lieutenant and his carelessness before walking away. Trey watched Corin walk a little unsteadily to the wagon, not so sure he was still acting. Corin mounted a horse as Martin took up the wagon lines.

  The journey back to the forest took longer with the heavy wagon. They spent the morning unloading the supplies and carrying them to a hidden cave deeper in the forest.

  “So what happened to you?” Liam asked when they made it back to their campsite.

  “Well, after having more drinks than I wanted with our friends, they still weren’t going to let me leave. So I managed to get Zafir to start a fight. I’ve found that sergeants get pretty touchy after a drink or two. I had to knock a few heads before I finally got out. And Hamzah unknowingly donated the money for this.” Corin produced an oversized flask. “I figured we should have something to celebrate with. The tavern’s finest and infinitely better than what the Calorins insist on trying to destroy their mouths with.”

  His companions laughed. Martin took the flask. “I’ll drink to that.”

  “So what now?” Trey asked.

  Corin grinned conspiratorially. “I managed to overhear some interesting information at the tavern. How do you feel about stealing horses?”

  Chapter 4

  A month passed quickly after Corin entered the forest. He used the stolen Aredorian livery to adopt a uniform similar to his companions while retaining his weapons, vambraces, and sturdy boots. Against his will, the three others in their small band began looking to Corin as their leader. But he couldn’t deny the thrill of planning their forays against the Calorins. It was like something that was long missing had finally clicked back into place with his freedom. Under his command, they held several more daring raids, carrying off more weapons and uniforms taken from Aredorian soldiers as well as food supplies. Using the cave as their base, the four outlaws planned their next raid.

  * * *

  “Most of the men working on the tower were part of the warband,” Martin reported after a scouting expedition.

  “How many did you see?” Corin asked.

  “I counted fifteen.”

  “At night, they’re chained together out in the open by the walls with no more than four guards.” Liam took up the report. “There’s a small fort not too far away. It’s held by about two score Calorins.”

  “You think we can get them all out, Cor?” Trey asked.

  Corin gave a grim nod. The consequences would be severe if they failed. As he had traveled farther into Aredor, slaves working the fields had become a common sight. Anger flared inside him every time he had seen a whip raised, and he was now determined to end as much of it as he could.

  “We’re going to do our best,” he said. “Let’s break camp and head out. We can be there by dark.”

  They packed the necessary supplies on the horses that they had “honestly liberated,” according to Martin, and headed south and east toward Darkan Village.

  * * *

  The village lay a short distance from the forest’s edge. The tower was situated farther downriver. The fort housing the garrison had been built on the outskirts of the village. It was well in sight of the tower under construction. From the forest’s edge, the outlaws watched the work progress on the tower.

  “Most of them don’t even look strong enough to make it back to camp.” Trey watched the slaves.

  Corin gritted his teeth as he saw the overseer lash out with a whip on the unprotected back of a young boy. He hated to see any of his countrymen suffering the same humiliation as he had.

  Liam slid in beside them. “We found a good place farther west from here. We should be able to hole up there for a few days without being found.”

  Liam led them back to the campsite. It was a narrow hollow protected by huge rocks that thrust from the ground. A small stream trickled nearby. Martin had unpacked the horses and lit a small fire. Corin glanced briefly at the sky. The sun would set in a few hours, and then they would begin.

  * * *

  Corin and Trey dressed in dark clothes. Corin strapped his scimitar to his back and buckled on his vambraces. Nearby, Trey was putting a finishing edge on his favorite weapon, a long dirk. He thrust the weapon in the back of his belt and buckled his longsword across his back. Nodding to Martin, the three of them moved out as Liam saw them off. He would remain at camp to prepare for their return.

  They set off, threading their way quickly and quietly through the forest. At the edge, Martin halted and wished them luck before melting back into the shadows. Corin and Trey drew their hoods over their heads and set off toward the tower, passing like ghosts across the open field and halting behind a low wall. The half-built tower loomed above them in the darkness. Crouching by the wall, they listened to the tramping of a guard as he made the rounds and the softer sounds of men breathing and chains clinking as they moved. Trey picked up a small stone and tossed it over the wall.

  One of the prisoners sat up as the rock struck him. An owl hooted softly nearby. Shaking slightly, he sent back a dove call. In answer, a wolf howled, long and lonely. Trembling now in excitement, the prisoner turned to the man beside him and shook him gently. Seeing the look in his eyes, the man came fully awake. Within minutes, the whole line had been quietly aroused. Taking a glance at the guards dozing around the fire, the first man sent off another dove call. Seconds later, a dark figure dropped soundlessly over the wall next to him. A second figure followed shortly after.

  “How many guards?” Corin murmured close to the man’s ear.

  “Three tonight,” the man replied.

  Corin nodded to Trey, and they slid off into the darkness. A sudden noise from behind the tower alerted the guards. Two soldiers ran to investigate, carrying torches. The third came to check the prisoners. A shadow loomed behind him, and he fell without a sound. Corin dragged the unconscious guard over to the tower and bound him with rope. Gagging the soldier, Corin slipped something between the man’s hands.

  Trey rejoined Corin, wiping off his long dagger. Motioning the prisoners to remain quiet, Trey produced a set of keys and began unlocking the chains. Rubbing his raw wrists, the older prisoner addressed Corin.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Time for that later,” Corin said. “We’ve got to get all of you out of here by dawn.” He counted fourteen prisoners. Martin must have miscounted. “Trey, take seven men back to Martin and then come back.”

  Trey nodded and, keeping a wary eye on the nearby fort, led the small band across the plain to the forest. Corin crouched with the remaining men as he waited for Trey to return. He found himself next to a young boy of seventeen. Corin recognized him from earlier that day. The boy was doing his best not to look anxious or frightened. Corin gave him an encouraging smile.

  “It’ll all be over soon,” he whispered. “How’s your back?”

  “It really hurts,” the boy admitted. His voice carried a strange accent. In the faint light cast by the fire, Corin could see a star-shaped tattoo on the boy’s forearm under his tattered shirt.

  “He’s a Braeton!”

  “They seem to pay more attention to him just because he’s young,” a man beside them said.

  “Then Tristan stopped them one day, and they took him away. He’s probably dead and it’s all because of me,” the boy said miserably.

  Corin’s heart jolted at the name. “Where did they take him?”

  “To those barracks,” the man said. “They have some horrible prison down there.”

  “What’s the easiest way to get inside?” Corin knew that if Tristan was still alive, he wouldn’t be for much longer.

  “You’re going in there?” the man exclaimed.

  Corin nodded. “I’m not leaving a man behind in captivity if I can help it. If Tristan’s alive, I’ll get him out.” And if Trey found out his brother was alive and left behind, he’d do something regrettable.

 
“The walls aren’t very high, and they weren’t built well, so you should be able to climb over. I don’t know where the prisons are once you get inside though. When are you going in?”

  “Now,” Corin said as Trey came around the wall. “They have a prisoner inside those barracks,” he told Trey. “I’m going in to get him.” Better to keep Trey out of there completely.

  “It’s too dangerous, Corin. Wait for a while,” Trey argued.

  “Your brother may not have much more time.”

  Trey paled and gripped Corin’s arm painfully tight. “Tristan? He’s alive?”

  “Take them back to camp and I’ll rejoin you as soon as I can.” Corin pushed his hand away, his tone brooking no arguments.

  “What if you’re caught?”

  “Give me four hours. If I’m not back by then, you can come looking for me.”

  “I’m holding you to that,” Trey promised. “Good luck.”

  “You too. Make sure to cover the tracks well. The whole garrison will be after us by dawn,” Corin warned. He waited until Trey led the rest of the prisoners out on to the plain before he headed toward the barracks.

  He circled around to the north wall. It stretched upward a few feet above his head. Two sentries patrolled the walls. Corin waited until the sentry above him passed and turned down the west wall, and then he began to climb. The rough stones gave him plenty of hand- and footholds. The sentry paused to talk with the other soldier at the western corner, allowing Corin to slip over the wall and on to the parapet below. Footsteps announced the return of the sentry. Corin rolled off the parapet, landing lightly on the ground. The sentry continued on overhead, ignorant of the intruder.

  Keeping against the wall, Corin made his way around to the main building. The doors were unguarded, and he stepped cautiously inside. The only movement in the sleeping garrison was the torches flickering along the walls. Corin walked quietly along until the corridor branched to the right and left. He decided to take the right hallway first. His search proved fruitless, and he returned to go down the second corridor, at the end of which was a flight of stairs. Taking a torch from the walls, he descended into the dungeon. He found Tristan in the very last cell.