Hammers in the Wind (24 page)

“That is a risky ploy. We could have compounded the ship and crew.”

“I agree, yet the fact remains. Badron is sending us a message. He will suffer no trespass when it comes to blood. Retribution is going to be severe. Assemble your men quickly and push hard. Cut these thieves off and bring Maleela home.”

Home
. “It shall be as you say, Father,” Aurec announced. “I shall return as soon as possible.”

“Farewell and be safe, my son.”

Aurec wheeled around and stormed out with intent and a fire in his eyes. The most important piece of his life was marching straight into death and he was her only hope. Everything else could wait. Stelskor took a seat, suddenly cold and alone. The reality that he had just sent his only son off to his doom haunted him. These were the days he regretted being king. He looked to his advisors blankly.

“What?” he snapped once he noticed their stares. “I know what I am doing.”

At least he hoped so.

*****

The lone figure leaned against the base of a mighty oak that must have been at least two hundred years old. The tree had spawned a small forest and been witness to the birth of a small village that became a kingdom. None of that mattered to the watcher. He was old when the world was young. Some claimed he was a harbinger of darkness, but for himself he wasn’t so sure. Good and evil were empty concepts. He simply was what he was.

He watched as first the wagon carrying the young woman he’d hunted through the forests rolled past. A first step in the right direction. Then came the angered and embarrassed princeling and his men at arms. Excellent. Everything was going exactly as Amar Kit’han had predicted. The war was coming and with it the key to unlocking the prison of the dark gods. Malweir was finally going to pay for past sins.

Bahr turned and frowned. The slender cloud of dust was getting bigger, and closer. He had hoped that the reaction to their deeds would take longer. Bahr snapped the reins again and kicked the horses into a faster gait.

“Not a good sign,” Boen commented from the back.

Bahr wanted to remain optimistic. “Might just be a precautionary measure.”

The big Gaimosian barked out a heartfelt laugh. “I like you, Sea Wolf. The enemy is wise to us. The coast is still too far away. You know what has to be done.”

“I know, but I find myself not wanting to do it.”

“Bahr, we can’t trust Ionascu and his men. Send them back to delay the enemy.”

They’d been over this more than once already. The results were almost always the same. Trustworthy or not, Ionascu was still a man of Delranan. He did not deserve to be sacrificed so quickly on suspicion. Boen argued otherwise. This was the perfect opportunity to delay their pursuit and remove a problem.

“It needs to be done,” he insisted. “I’ll lead them myself if I have to.”

Bahr was forced to make a decision, one he wasn’t enthusiastic about. “No, I can’t risk losing you. Stay with the wagon. I want to hear from Dorl and Nothol before we commit ourselves to murder.”

Boen nodded. To him this was an inevitable action. He bore neither love nor animosity for Ionascu, but he also knew that good leaders were sometimes forced to make difficult decisions. Such was the moment. Besides, matters would improve once the spy was eliminated. It took another half a glass for the sell swords to catch up to the wagon. The looks on their faces confirmed Bahr’s worst thoughts. He cursed silently. They were so close to the end of the journey.

“Well?”

Dorl spat and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “A company, maybe less. Looks like the prince himself is leading them.”

“Determined bastards, aren’t they?” Boen smirked.

Bahr wished he could be as flippant. “The prince complicates things. I don’t like this. If we kill him here Stelskor will make it a point to kill us all.”

“Don’t stray from the path now,” Boen cautioned.

Nothol Coll said, “They are under armored and lightly armed. Prince Aurec is leading a raiding party designed to cover great distances at speed. They won’t be expecting a head-to-head fight.”

Bahr had heard enough. He faced his brother’s spy. “Can you do this without losing too many men?”

“Yes. My boys want a shot at revenge. We have already lost two,” he replied tersely. Anger tainted his eyes.

Bahr had sudden misgivings but remained true to his convictions, weak as they were.

“Don’t engage them directly. We can’t afford to lose you now.”

Even Anienam was shocked by this.

“I know how to do my job, Captain. Keep the boat moored long enough for us to get on board,” Ionascu snapped.

Boen instinctively reached for his sword, the spy’s words were too stern for his liking.

For his part, Bahr kept his emotions in check. He promised, “We’ll be there.”

Satisfied, Ionascu nodded and rode off with his men. Bahr and the others watched them go. Only a few showed mild interest. Most were glad the mercenaries were gone. The tiny column broke into groups and disappeared from view.

Boen spoke first. “Bahr, we are wasting time here.”

“I agree. We have to get to the Bane. The princess will be awake soon and we had best be out to sea when she does,” Anienam added.

He looked back over his shoulder to check on their cargo. Princess Maleela lay sleeping comfortably, if unnaturally, in the trance he’d placed her in.

“Ha!” Bahr snapped the reins and the tiny band resumed their long journey to the coast and freedom of the open seas beyond.

The thunder of horses grew increasingly louder. Ionascu struggled to keep his own mount from growing too excited. The last thing he needed was to be discovered so soon. His gaze flickered across to the four men riding with him. Each had their bow drawn and ready. Ionascu smiled, grim and unsure of the pending outcome. He doubted why he’d volunteered to lead this mission. This wasn’t his war, regardless of his loyalty to Harnin and the king. Harnin’s orders had been precise. Ensure the princess returned safely and accuse Bahr of high treason. Instead, the aging captain and spy stood on the edge of a battle he’d only had a moment’s notice to plan. Ionascu knew from experience that it was more than likely going to end badly.

The plan was simple. He figured that the best way to keep too many things from going wrong. They’d split into four groups. He staggered their positions along a narrow deer trail running parallel to a small creek. The intent was for the first group to make contact and then draw the enemy into a twisting series of ambushes deeper into the forest. Strike and run. Cavalry was no good on enclosed terrain. With a little luck they’d be able to keep drawing the enemy in until they had enough wounded to make them quit the field. Ionascu was no fool though. He knew that his plan had only a marginal chance of success.

Thankfully the terrain was in his favor. Large boulders littered the forest. Each ranged in size but the largest could easily conceal a number of mounted men. The forest itself was fairly old and filled with pine and oak. Scrub brush and saplings were just thick enough to keep a mounted force from charging in at full speed. Natural ditches and depressions turned the forest into a very large obstacle course.

“Ready yourselves,” he told his group in a soft voice. “Remember the plan. Kill or wound as many as you can and ride north to the next group. Do not overextend yourselves. Two bolts and escape. If you fall here you will be lost forever. All I can tell you is do not let yourselves be taken alive.”

They said nothing. They didn’t need to. Each of them was a blooded warrior. Most knew Ionascu’s legend on the battlefield and were comfortable with his leadership. He had a reputation as a hard, merciless man. Time disguised how many men he had killed over the years, though estimates whispered close to two hundred. Ionascu was content to let them wonder; he had seen his share of blood and was prepared to shed more, if for no other reason than self-preservation.

“They are almost on us. Aim true and ride hard.”

He wheeled his horse to the edge of the boulder so he could get a clear shot. A downed oak tree lay across his front, further camouflaging his men. Prince Aurec rode at the head of his men. They were riding too fast to notice the brief glimpses of enemy archers hiding in the trees. Besides, there was no reason to believe that any of the Delrananians stayed behind to attack. Ionascu smiled. That was precisely the reason he and his men were spread throughout the forest.

The prince’s company rode closer. Ionascu poked his head around the boulder and was rewarded with the soft glint of morning sunlight on a rider’s steel helm. He saw Aurec for the first time. The man was proud, borderline arrogant. He was also hurt. The love of his life had been ripped from him. All of that made him a dangerous man to face. It also made him predictable.

Ionascu drew back on the bow string. The feathers felt familiar to his cheek. The string was taut. He sighted his eyes from finger to bow. His breath came slow, measured. His aim centered on Aurec’s chest. But he didn’t fire. Dark visions of the future danced just beyond the grasp of his comprehension. He was no great thinker, nor was he of a strong military mind. He did know one thing, however: killing Aurec now would be the worst possible event since Maleela’s brother died. His death would serve as a catalyst to set the people of Rogscroft on the paths to vengeance. Right now they were prepared to defend. Badron didn’t need them taking up the offensive.

Ionascu shifted aim to the third rider and pushed out a soft breath. His fingers released. The friction of the string scraped against his face. The arrow sped. A cry went up. He delighted to see the rider’s arm rise up as the arrow struck the gap between neck and chest armor. Warm blood sprayed in a mist as the dying man fell from his saddle. Ionascu reached behind and put another arrow to the string. Three more arrows spit from his left and right. Two hit their targets. He fired again, catching his target in the thigh.

“Ambush!”

Aurec’s eyes filled with rage. “Come about and ride them down. Don’t let them shoot again!”

His second-in-command drew a mighty broadsword. “Kill them all!”

As one, the Rogscroft cavalry wheeled and charged. Pikes lowered, swords waived in the air. They’d already suffered three dead and two wounded without catching so much as a glimpse of their foe.

Ionascu decided it was time to go. “Fall back!”

His mercenaries broke and ran in an unorganized mass. What they had in courage and sheer tenacity they lacked in cohesion and discipline. Ionascu broke out in the lead, pushing his mount as hard as he dared. Aurec’s men did not suffer the same prohibitions. They forced their way into the forest without regard. Vengeance filled their hearts. Blood lust rose. Ionascu practically felt the heat of their anger burning down his neck.

*****

Aurec jerked his head back at the startled cry. He watched in shock as Tonas dropped dead, the black shaft piercing his neck killing him instantly. His horse continued to race. Aurec snarled, realizing the trap. This entire charade was designed to delay them enough to keep his prize from being recaptured. A fool’s gambit and he had fallen in to it.

“Come about and ride them down! Don’t let them shoot again!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs.

Venten drew his broadsword and uncharacteristically cried, “Kill them all!”

The prince smiled grimly. He knew that his captain and closest friend was normally the voice of reason. Venten abandoned reason and let weeks of pent up frustration and the desire to avenge the embarrassment of failing his prince take control. The company charged.

“Mahn, Raste, provide a rear guard. I don’t want anyone sneaking up behind us,” Aurec ordered before losing himself to the charge.

The two scouts reluctantly obeyed.

Raste turned to his superior and asked, “How can he just ignore us like that now? After all we have done. He needs us!”

“Keep your lips shut and pay attention. This not the place or time,” Mahn scolded as he struggled with his own heart’s longing.

Aurec’s blood stirred. The battle was different from his skulking assault on Chadra Keep. This was hard and fast. He tightened his grip and dug his heels a little harder. The enemy was close. He felt them. He smelled their horses, felt their special brand of excited fear as they desperately sought to escape. Aurec felt his battle rage build. He sorely wanted to punish these men.

“On the right!” Venten cried out.

Aurec watched as another of his men fell dead. He snarled. At this rate his forces would be rendered combat-ineffective by the time they reached the shore.
If we reach it
. The second band of ambushers broke from cover. The prince scowled at the level of efficiency his enemy showed. Suspecting another trap, Aurec changed tactics.

“Venten! Take half of the men and route out the rest of these damned ambushes. I suspect there are more.”

Venten nodded. “What about you?”

“I’m going after this group. Try not to kill all of them. We need a prisoner for questioning.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Venten gestured with his sword and half of the column broke off to attack the second group. He had deep reservations towards leaving his prince, but he was the kind of man who carried out every order to the best of his ability. Besides, he reasoned, Aurec was more than capable of taking care of himself.

The Delrananians were clearly taken by surprise by the shift in focus. They were slow to react and barely had the time to displace before Venten’s riders crashed into them. Venten slashed at the nearest man, who successfully managed to duck back a fraction of a moment before losing his head. The next wasn’t as fortunate. Blood splashed Venten’s chest. The body toppled over, an agonized look permanently etched on the face.

Venten reined in for another pass, pausing long enough to briefly survey the battlefield. Two of the enemy lay dead or dying while a third lay slumped over his saddle with a short spear penetrating his back and chest. The fourth and final enemy was riding away at full speed.

“Hold!” Venten bellowed above the clamor of horse and man.

His men slowed and stopped. Fumes of hot breath steamed into the chill morning air. Crimson droplets stained the rocks and leaves underfoot. One of Venten’s men suddenly pitched forward. His body landed on its back, cold dead eyes staring up into the grey morning. Venten nudged his horse closer. He made a note of who had died and how. The deep gash running across the man’s thigh was enough. Venten’s heart grew leaden. It was cold enough not to notice an injury and one like that would bleed a grown man out in less than five minutes.

“Check for wounds,” Venten ordered.

He knew the cold was as much of an enemy as swords. He looked back down at the body.
That’s how poor Ilmas died. He just didn’t pay attention
.
At least he died quick
.

“We are all good,” the senior sergeant reported.