FARHAYVEN: VENGEANCE (24 page)

     The soldiers refill their water containers and their comrades’ as well. They walk up to the sentries and hand them their containers. The sentries gulp down the fresh mountain water greedily and break into a smile.

     The minvian removes her battle helm and sweeps back her shoulder length brunette hair and massages her head. She takes in a gulp of water from a container that a subordinate has brought her. The cooling water relieves her thirst and invigorates her. She shuts her eyes and enjoys the strong flow of erratic wind across her face. She sits down and takes in the beautiful surroundings that they are in.

     Then something feels wrong. Something feels very wrong. She feels confused. She hears screams of desperation and agony. She looks around, and sees her soldiers wriggling on the ground in violent fits.  Then she feels a burning sensation in her chest, and her throat tightens. She feels her whole body is on fire now, as she struggles to draw in air into her lungs. She falls to the ground and her body wriggles violently like those of her subordinates. Then suddenly, there is nothing but stillness. The wind stops blowing and all become silent.

     A large crowd had gathered in front of the town hall on the
13
th
Morning of Second Month of Wet Season
. Many of them still held banners showing their allegiances and many more bore the cuts and bruises due to these allegiances. However, the name-calling and abusive language were conveniently absent, due to the significant presence of soldiers. Ray, Lance and Spirit were present as well, mainly out of curiosity. The trio had enough sense to stand at the outer fringe of the crowd. If a fistfight were to erupt, it would be much easier for them to disengage and run to safety.

     A well dressed man in his late forties walked up to the podium which was on an elevated platform in front of the town hall.

      “My dear fellow citizens of Timberstock, I, Mayoral Candidate Coal Etner, would like to thank all of you for being present here today,” said the man on the podium, as loudly as he could.

     The crowd went silent.

     “As it’s now known, Mayor Walrus Rehum was murdered in his sleep two nights ago by professional assassins. No doubt these assassins are ruthless beasts, but it’s those who engaged their services who are the true beasts
!
  I’d like to
assure
all of those concerned that I had
no
involvement whatsoever in this
despicable
plot. The late Mayor Rehum was a fair-minded man, a great administrator and leader of this community. Though I’ve challenged him in this mayoral election, let it be known that I’ve nothing but the
utmost respect
for him. Such a tragedy
!
Such a
great loss
to our town, this passing away of the great man who was Walrus Rehum,” continued the man on the podium.

     The crowd remained silent. Some looked up eagerly at him while others stared solemnly at the ground.

     “The rule of mayoral election dictates that if there’s only one candidate contesting the election, he wins by default; and since the time period for candidate registration is over, it’s with
great sorrow
for me to say that the leadership of this town now falls on my shoulders. As a tribute to the memory and great sacrifice of the late Mayor Rehum, I’ve made a decision
not
, I say again,
not
to build another sawmill in our town. Timberstock already has three large sawmills that process sufficient amount of lumber for our furniture, construction and handicraft industries. Building another sawmill will only deplete our natural resources more rapidly. We would gain in the short term but lose out in the long term. But I
promise
you this, good citizens of Timberstock,
I shall find
another way to boost our economy. Give me time. That’s all I ask of you. Please
put aside
the banners. Please
stop
the rallies and the fights. Let us work together, citizens of Timberstock, and I
promise
you there’ll be a
bright, bountiful
future for all of us. Thank you for coming. Thank you for your time,” announced Mayor Etner.

     The majority of the crowd were quiet. Most of them were shocked at the unexpected contents of the speech. A few rare individuals threw rotten vegetables at the podium, though Mayor Etner was no longer there as he had been rapidly escorted away by a few soldiers. The crowd dispersed a few moments later, though the look of anger and disappointment in some were impossible to hide.

     Ray, Lance and Spirit went off to the market to have breakfast. After a filling meal, the trio returned to their room.

     “Ready _ be of this these few nights because the assassins will be back. Target _ of him, this time it will be Mayor Etner. Track _ we must do this to the assassins if we are to discover the perpetrator of our order’s massacre,” said Ray.

     “Sure _ are you of this about this, master
?
Track _ are we just to do of this of them, instead of preventing the assassination
?
” asked Lance.

     “Sure _ I am very much of this. Assassination _ of this is not of our concern, as we Elementhars are apolitical and protection of town mayors is not our profession; and it is not my quest, young Lance. Soldiers _ it is of them who are responsible for protecting the new mayor,” answered Ray.

     “Wound _ what if we do of this to one of the assassins as they escape, and then follow his blood trail back to their hideout
?
” suggested Lance.

     “Idea _ yours of this a good one, young Lance, so we shall try it,” complimented Ray as he patted Lance’s shoulder.

     “Name _ by the way, master, what is it of this of the spell that you used to raise the block of earth
?
” asked Lance.

     “Name _ of this, it is called the Stone Wall Spell,” answered Ray.

     Lance set the name to memory. He wondered when Ray would teach this useful spell to him.

     Meanwhile, in Windswept Forest, a lone horse-mounted Provincial Guard, of the rank servian, rode slowly along the main road heading southwest. His eyelids were drooping and he afforded several yawns while shaking his head and forcing himself to stay awake. The cool breeze of the forest seemed to make it harder for him to do so. The chirping of birds felt like a soft lullaby to his exhausted mind. He has been searching for Minvian Jussette and her pond for the past two days, hardly stopping to rest, let alone to sleep. The urgency of recalling her and her pond was of the utmost priority.

     Windswept Forest covered a very large area and this made the servian’s search difficult. Suddenly, there was a loud sound. It sounded like a call of a monkey, though the servian could not be too sure. But it had jolted him awake. His heart was beating fast from the suddenness of it. Then he noticed something. There was a smell, putrid and unpleasant, that was emanating from some distance away. The servian commanded his horse forward and as he approached the side of a slow flowing stream, a ghastly scene welcomed him. There they were, Minvian Jussette and her soldiers, lying stiff on the ground. Some of the bodies were bloated while others were infested with maggots but all of them had the look of horror and panic frozen onto their rotting faces.

     The servian, not a battle-proven soldier, vomited at the gory sight. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he vomited yet again. He did not get down from his horse. He could not
!
He was so weak and disorientated that he knew for sure he would fall if he had tried. And he also knew that he could not get back up on his horse after that. He drew his sword and cut the tether of the dead pond’s horses and set them free, those few which were still alive, anyway. They were in a weakened state and he could not bring them back with him to Fort Eastguard at galloping speed. But return to the fort at galloping speed, he must
!
With a heavy heart, he turned around and galloped away, vowing that if he survived the impending Serpentian attack, he would return to give Minvian Jussette and her soldiers a proper burial.

     On the afternoon of the same day, a pond of Provincial Guards were galloping eastwards on the main road to Timberstock. They were in full battle gear. Their gear consisted of battle helms, chain mails, breastplates, shoulder and upper arm pieces, vambraces, groin pieces, thigh guards, greaves and shields. Their horses were laden with supplies and equipments such as food, medicine, bows, arrows and spears. They had been riding hard for the past two days. Soon they approached a bridge and were forced to slow down to a trot. The bridge spanned a very wide river, which sourced its water from the mountain ranges on the eastern border of Eastern Falls, the very same mountain ranges in which was located Fort Eastguard. And it was to Fort Eastguard that they were headed.

     The pond began to cross the long, wooden bridge. Suddenly, the ground began shaking and there was a low rumbling noise. The commanding minvian, realising the graveness of the situation, ordered his pond to gallop through as fast as they could. Just when two thirds of his pond were across the bridge, it collapsed. The soldiers and horses who were still on it fell into the fast flowing current below and were swept away.

     The minvian turned around and stared in disbelief. They had formed this ad hoc pond when they heard that Fort Eastguard would come under attack. They were made up of rivers from several neighbouring town garrisons in the western parts of Eastern Falls. They had ridden out almost immediately, with the intention to reinforce their comrades at the fort. And now, almost a hundred of their comrades were killed even before the battle had begun, even before they could arrive at the fort itself
!
The minvian yelled out a curse in frustration. The rest of his pond felt their commander’s grief, for it was their grief as well.

     An exevian-ranked soldier rode up to the minvian.

     “Minvian Fist Eggle, we must move on,” said the exevian.

     The minvian was silent, still looking at the river that had claimed the lives of his comrades.

     “Minvian Eggle
?
” called out the exevian again.

     “So unfair
!
” said Minvian Eggle finally.

     “It
is
unfair, minvian. But we must move on. We cannot bring back the dead if we stay here, but we can save our comrades at Fort Eastguard if we get moving. Sir, you have to let go
!
” said the exevian.

     “You are right, Exevian Grunt Stemynd
!
We need to go,” agreed the minvian reluctantly.

     Minvian Eggle started off with a trot, and then slowly progressed to a gallop. He did not order his soldiers to move. They just followed his actions and started galloping behind him. And they rode off as fast as they could to Fort Eastguard, feeling the sorrow of loss even before the battle had begun.

     To the people of Easthaven Village in the northern part of Eastern Falls Province, this day started out just like any other ordinary day. At the break of dawn and after a simple breakfast, most of the men headed out to their fields to cultivate wheat and other crops while several others went into the surrounding forest to search for firewood or to hunt for meat and fur. There were even a few who headed down to the nearby river for some fishing. The women of the village worked on their knitting or handicraft items made from wood, rattan and vines gathered by the men from the forest.

     When the ground shook, the men, women and animals of Easthaven lost their footing but were otherwise unharmed. The simple village houses sustained minor damage. The people of Easthaven were glad that
that
was the maximum extent of the damage caused by the earthquake. Some men had stopped working in their fields and had begun repairing the damage to their homes. Little did they realise the tragic fate that would befall them next.

     62 armed men rushed out of the surrounding forest. These men were not bandits. They were something worse
!
These muscular men wore battle helms, breastplates without chain mail shirts, large capes, steel vambraces, steel greaves and leather boots. They were Serpentian soldiers, part of an advance raiding party. As these soldiers approach the outskirt of the village, a few village men grabbed their pitchforks and shovels to confront them. All the womenfolk and children ran towards the village hall for refuge.

     One of the village men lunges his pitchfork at a Serpentian soldier. The soldier swings his sword sideways from right to left, parrying off the pitchfork, then executes a Left Horizontal Cut from left to right to slash at the villager’s throat. This villager falls lifeless to the ground. The second villager swings his shovel at another Serpentian soldier. This soldier ducks below the arc of the swing and upon straightening up, stabs the second villager in the chest and pierces his heart. Death comes instantaneously to the second villager. One of the women of the village attacks a Serpentian soldier with a kitchen knife, but the soldier grabs her attacking wrist and twists it hard. She gives out a loud cry of pain as the knife falls from her hands. The soldier then punches her in the forehead, knocking her unconscious.