The Rise of Aredor Page 20

  Most of the men pitched in throughout the afternoon as they cut the meat into thin strips and hung them over a low fire to dry.

  Kara gathered potatoes, carrots, and various herbs as she heated water over the fire. An older warrior named Owain volunteered to help her. She gratefully accepted and they chopped the vegetables and fresh meat for the stew.

  While the stew bubbled, Kara found some flour and made biscuits, which she cooked on a flat rock over the fire and sweetened with wild honey. She was so busy that she didn’t hear Kieran, just returned, sneak up behind her. She jumped as he grabbed her in a hug from behind.

  “You’re back!” she exclaimed as he released her.

  “I smelled your biscuits cooking and hurried.” He laughed.

  Kara punched his arm lightly. “Lucky for you, I made plenty.”

  Martin came over to get Kieran’s report. They both deftly stole a biscuit, and Kieran dug into the pouch hanging from his shoulder before pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to Martin.

  “Thank you, Kieran.” Martin juggled the hot biscuit and still managed to flip open the paper. After reading its contents he called, “Pack up, lads. Captain needs our help down at the Rocks.”

  “When do we leave?” Gavin asked.

  “Soon as we’re ready and we eat,” Martin replied. “Kara, you’re coming with us too.”

  Within a short time, bags were filled and horses saddled. Owain handed out food and doused the fire. Martin scribbled a short note and left it where Trey would easily find it on his arrival.

  “Where are we going?” Kara asked Owain as they rode.

  “Sentry Rocks,” the warrior answered. “Captain sent for us, which probably means a big patrol of Calorins, and we’re the closest.”

  Kara nodded in understanding. Over the past two weeks, she had seen that the warband was held together by a system of message riders, namely Kieran. He brought reports from the patrols to Corin and vice versa. Spies in the villages sent word of Calorin movements outside the forest. If any patrol was outnumbered, they would send to the nearest patrol for help. After months of the same routes, the patrol leaders knew instinctively who was closest.

  They rode all night, only stopping briefly to rest the horses. By midmorning they reached Sentry Rocks. Before Darkan River flowed out of Dunham Forest, it split into a smaller river. This branching was flanked on either side by two rocks. The monolithic stones formed the boundary for a route run by the patrols. Upriver from the rocks was a shallow ford. Martin led his men across and on to a narrow deer track. They rode for an hour before they were met by Corin and his patrol.

  “Well, Captain, what’s the plan?” Martin asked.

  “Bran and Kael were down at the port two days ago. Two ships are on their way in from Calorin,” Corin said.

  “More soldiers?” Martin frowned grimly.

  “Worse, they’re Argusian mercenaries. They’re fierce, savage warriors, and it’ll easily double Balkor’s fighting force,” Corin answered.

  “You fight them before, Captain?” Gavin asked.

  “Aye, and I hoped I would never see them again,” Corin replied.

  “How are we getting rid of them?” Owain asked.

  “Oh, you had to ask,” Liam commented. The men smiled in anticipation.

  “Means he’s been planning again,” Ian whispered to Kara and she found herself leaning forward to hear what Corin would say.

  “Mostly night attacks as they head toward Kingstown. We’ll see if they’re as superstitious as our Calorin friends. The ships docked this morning. We’ll attack tonight.”

  Chapter 9

  Corin and Martin hovered in the shadows at the edge of the forest watching the lights that marked the enemy’s camp.

  “I make it almost two hundred,” Martin said.

  Corin nodded thoughtfully. Gavin and Liam led their horses up as the outlaws assembled behind them.

  “You all know the plan. Quick in and out, target the tents and picket lines. Make as much noise as you can to confuse them and be ready to get out of there on the signal.” Corin swung into the saddle as murmurs of assent came from the band. “Move out!”

  Sentries cried out warnings as they heard the rumble of hooves and saw the outlaws. Two guards ran into the camp but stumbled and fell as they were pierced by arrows. Argusians sprang from their tents, arming themselves only to meet the flashing swords of the outlaws. They tore through the encampment, slashing picket lines, scattering fires, and cutting down enemy soldiers.

  Martin and Bran grabbed torches from stands and fired two tents before throwing the burning brands into a loaded supply wagon. The eerie howl of a wolf cut the air, and suddenly, the outlaws were gone, leaving the Argusian encampment in disarray.

  In the forest, the outlaws settled down for the night. Sentries were posted, and Corin called the twins.

  “I need you to ride tonight and bring Tristan here.” He turned to Kara. He needed another rider and couldn’t spare one of the warriors. “Kara, do you think you can make it back to camp?”

  Kara tilted her head, fingers moving as if drawing, before she met his gaze. “I think so, Captain.”

  “All right, ride back there. Trey should be there by now. Tell him to join us as soon as he can,” Corin ordered.

  “Yes, sir,” Kara replied. She and Kieran mounted their horses and rode off together. After crossing the river, they parted ways. Waving farewell to each other, they galloped off into the forest.

  * * *

  “What were they?” The leader of the Argusian mercenaries tossed his sword onto the camp table with a clatter.

  “Aredorian rebels,” Kadar, the Calorin general, answered. “They hide in the forest, attacking any unsuspecting patrol. We call them the Hawk Flight.”

  “Hawk Flight?” Commander Jibril’s brow furrowed in bafflement.

  “Their leader carries a hawk with him. They appear and disappear at will, almost as if they aren’t human.” Kadar’s upper lip curled in frustrated disgust, deepened by Jibril’s amused scoff.

  “Well, if your ‘spirits’ attack us tomorrow night, we’ll be ready for them.”

  * * *

  The outlaws watched the Argusian’s progress all day. As night fell, the mercenaries began to set up camp. They drove their double-pointed spears into the ground around the encampment, protecting the sentries who patrolled the inside of the barrier.

  Corin studied the defenses from the safety of the forest as he planned their next move.

  “We’ll bring them out to us,” he said.

  “Once they’re out of the camp, what’s your plan?” Liam asked.

  Corin looked to Martin. “Did you see all those supply wagons last night?”

  A glimmer of a smile crossed Martin’s face as he guessed Corin’s plan. “Aye, Captain. How would it be if, say, myself and a few others slipped in while the Argusians are off on a wild goose chase?”

  “Who do you want?”

  “Gavin, Kael, Huw, and Ian should do.”

  “Liam, you and Bran choose four men each. I want them going in as many different directions as possible,” Corin ordered. “Martin, they have some chariots with them. I want those disabled…permanently.”

  * * *

  Movement in the darkness beyond the boundaries alerted the sentries. Grabbing torches, they held them aloft, trying to see what it was. Corin pulled his hood up and stepped into the torchlight.

  “Who are you?” the sentry asked. In answer, Karif alighted on Corin’s outstretched arm. Immediately, the sentries raised the alarm. The man he had identified earlier that day as the Argusian commander came riding up at the head of detachment of cavalry.

  Corin whistled, and Zephyr galloped up. He swung easily into the saddle as he heard the order for pursuit. Sending Karif flying into the night sky, he gave the hawk cry. The howling of wolves answered him from the left and right. Liam and Bran were in position. He urged Zephyr on as the Argusians thundered after him.

  * * *


  Martin and his men circled around the camp until they found the gap left by the absent sentries. One by one, they quickly slid into the encampment. The sounds of pursuit echoed from the darkness as they made their way to the wagons. The camp was quiet; most of the Argusians had been deployed to chase the outlaws. Sliding under the wagons, they went to work.

  Huw and Ian cut at the harnesses and lines. Kael loosened the fastenings of the axles. Martin and Gavin shaved the edges of the wheels down with their knives. Within a few minutes, all the wagons had been tampered with.

  They next turned their attention to the chariots the Argusians had brought with them. Martin inspected the light vehicles. They had seen the Argusians driving them throughout the day and were impressed with the skill with which the enemy handled them. He was reluctant to destroy the chariots, but now that he was closer, he could see how dangerous they were.

  Light spears were stored on the sides within easy reach of the occupant. Razor-sharp blades were attached to the wheels, meant to slice through oncoming infantry or cavalry. The outlaws again cut at the wheels, cutting at the axles so that when the wheels collapsed, the axle would break.

  Martin and Huw began weakening the floorboards. It took them longer to tamper with the three chariots, but once they were finished, Martin was sure that they would never be operational again. Leaving them behind, the outlaws made their retreat. The edge of the camp was within sight when they were spotted by the lingering Argusians. Within moments, they were surrounded.

  “Steady, boys,” Martin said as they drew their swords. “When I give the word, we go.” His men gripped their blades as they readied themselves. “Now!”

  Keeping together in tight formation, the outlaws cut through the line and out of the barrier toward their horses, hotly pursued by the Argusians.

  * * *

  Corin signaled his men to halt as they were joined by Bran and his men.

  “Martin should be done by now,” Bran said.

  “Aye, let’s get going. Owain, signal Liam,” Corin said.

  Shortly after, Liam galloped up with his men in answer to Owain’s signal.

  “Let’s go!” Liam gasped. “A lucky shot got Gethin in the arm.”

  “I’m fine, Captain,” Gethin gritted out, but he swayed in the saddle.

  “Bran and Liam, get going,” Corin ordered as the Argusians approached. “All those with me, bows at the ready.” His men quickly formed a line. “Two arrows each and then head for the forest.”

  Bearing torches, the Argusians made easy targets for the outlaws. The front rank of the enemy went down under the aim of the Aredorians. The Argusian’s ranks fell into confusion, allowing the outlaws time to escape to the safety of the forest.

  Martin and his men joined them shortly before reaching camp. Corin swept a quick glance over them. “Where’s Ian?”

  Startled, Martin looked around. Ian was nowhere to be seen. Kael cursed as he twisted to scan the surrounding trees. “He was right beside me when we got the horses.”

  “And after?” Corin pressed, worry beginning to build in his chest. Neither Gavin nor Huw could vouch for Ian’s whereabouts.

  “I don’t like this, Corin. He could have been caught or injured.” Martin gripped his sword with a frown of worry.

  Corin clapped his shoulder in vague reassurance before giving new orders.

  “Liam, take care of Gethin. The rest of you, form three groups. We’re going to look for him.”

  * * *

  The first light of dawn crept over the horizon as the outlaws returned wearily to camp, empty-handed.

  “Corin, I’m sorry, it’s my fault. I should’ve made sure that he was with us.” Martin’s head slumped between his shoulders as he sat.

  Corin wearily ran his hands through his hair. “Tristan and Trey will get here soon. We’ll make a plan before you start blaming yourself too hard.”

  Liam joined them with slightly better news. “Gethin’s all right. He should be able to patrol again in a few days.”

  “Good. How long do you think it will take them to get to Kingscastle?” Corin asked.

  “Another day, maybe,” Martin replied.

  “Before you ask, I don’t know what we’re going to do.” Corin cut off the question that was plain on Martin’s face.

  “Well, then sounds like we made it in time,” Tristan said as he and Trey walked up.

  “I never got a full story. Mind filling us in?” Trey asked. Corin outlined the events of the last two days.

  “So if they’ve got Ian, we have to stop them before they get to Kingscastle,” Tristan said.

  “Aye. Only thing is, we’re not sure where he is.” An edge of defeat crept through into Corin’s voice.

  “Let Trey and me go out and scout a bit. Fresh eyes, we might be able to pick something up,” Tristan said.

  Corin nodded. “Don’t be gone too long.”

  They were back in an hour with news.

  “They’ve got him. I don’t know what they’ve done, Corin, but he can hardly walk,” Tristan reported.

  “Balkor is supposed to meet them in the next village. They plan to execute him there. And Kadar is with them.” Trey spat as he spoke the general’s name.

  Corin muttered a curse under his breath. Kadar was well known throughout Aredor for his cruelty. And it was Kadar that Tristan and Trey had named for the murder of their father.

  “Were you seen?” he asked.

  Tristan shook his head. “It’ll take them a while to get to the village. They seem to have some trouble with their wagons. Good work, by the way.” He turned to Martin.

  “Aye, at the rate they’re going, it’ll be dark before they get anywhere,” Trey said. “The execution is set for tomorrow morning.”

  “Well, that gives us some time. Anyone know that village?” Corin asked and two men stepped forward.

  “Aye, sir. We were both raised in that village. What is it you need to know?” Huw asked.

  * * *

  Lord Balkor dismounted and strode into the house where Jibril and Kadar awaited him.

  “Ah, Commander Jibril. An eventful journey, I hear.” Lord Balkor touched his forehead in the Argusian greeting. Jibril bowed in return.

  “Yes, the rebels gave us trouble, but we got something out of it.” He signaled to one of his men, and a bound and bloody young man was dragged forward.

  Balkor surveyed him with a dispassionate glance. “Kadar, I’d recognize your handiwork anywhere. Did he talk?”

  “Not yet, my lord,” Kadar replied.

  Balkor went over to the prisoner and forced his head up.

  “Still plenty of spirit.” He smirked a little at the glare the Aredorian gave him before switching to Rhyddan. “No rescue attempts yet. You know, I’m a little disappointed in your captain. Doesn’t he care enough to fight through my mercenaries to free you?”

  “He will, and when he does, he won’t be hiding behind his soldiers like you,” came the defiant answer.

  Lord Balkor’s jaw tightened in a quick spasm of anger.

  “Make sure his last night is comfortable,” he ordered Kadar. A cold smile crossed Kadar’s face. A quick flash of fear showed in the man’s face before he closed his eyes in preparation for what was to come.

  * * *

  “Trey and Martin, you’ll get Ian out of there and take him to where Bran and Liam will have the horses. They’ll have a small force to make sure you get away safely. Flynn, take ten archers and cover from the roofs. Tristan, you and I will provide the distraction,” Corin finished outlining his plan. There was more than enough room for error, but he couldn’t think about that.

  “How are we getting him out?” Trey asked.

  “Huw and Aneiran are getting your uniforms now.”

  “Here, I worked on this. It’ll discolor your skin more permanently so you’ll look like a Calorin. Don’t worry, it’ll wash right off,” Liam reassured them as he produced a flask.

  “We’re taking him right up on
the scaffold, aren’t we?” Martin asked.

  “Yes, that’s where Tristan and I come in. With Flynn and his boys, there should be enough confusion to get Ian out safely,” Corin said. They reviewed the plan once again to make sure every man knew his part. “Get ready. We leave in an hour.”

  * * *

  Martin and Trey, disguised as Calorins, strode into the prison two hours after dawn.

  “We’re here for the prisoner,” Trey said in Calorin, carefully reviewed with Corin earlier that day.

  “The one to be executed?” The jailer laughed. “You’ll have to carry him out most likely. Kadar was here most of the night.”

  Martin muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

  “Well, he doesn’t have far to go, does he?” Trey returned with a careless shrug.

  The jailer laughed again. “Right this way, boys. Let me know if he tries anything funny.” He waved a finger as he unlocked the door. Trey gave him a nod as Martin went in.

  Ian slumped against the far wall. Martin knelt beside him and laid a gentle hand on Ian’s shoulder.

  “Ian,” he whispered.

  Ian’s eyes flickered opened, and he turned a bruised and bloody face towards Martin.

  “Lieutenant? What…?”

  “We’re getting you out of here. Can you walk?” Martin asked.

  Tears welled up in Ian’s eyes as he shook his head. “I’m not sure if I can. They hurt my leg.”

  Trey knelt by Martin. “We’ll help you. Come on, lad. Let’s start by standing.”

  They slowly brought him to his feet, and holding firmly on to his arms, they helped him out.

  Martin and Trey paused before entering the town square. The townspeople gathered together in tight clumps. Calorin soldiers mixed with Argusian mercenaries wove between them. Martin took a quick glance around and caught a slight movement on a nearby roof.

  “Looks like we’re all in position,” he murmured to Trey.

  “All right. Hold on Ian, it’ll all be over soon.” Trey readjusted his grip on Ian’s arm.

  He only nodded numbly, trembling with the effort of holding himself upright. As they pushed through the crowd to the scaffold, a woman caught sight of the prisoner.