The Sword of Darrow (19 page)

S
ix volunteers,” thought Darrow. His band had tripled in size. But when Darrow arrived at Quinderfill’s cabin, he encountered another surprise. While searching for food in the woods, Timwee had come across four volunteers who had entered the forest to join Darrow’s army. A fifth had actually wandered to the site of the cabin. One of the men had traveled from the town of Stiffledorf, nearly three days’ journey away.

“All Sonnencrest hails Darrow,” he said solemnly, looking straight at Darrow.

Darrow looked around. His band was now fourteen strong.

Among the new recruits was a soldier for hire, Kaylin, who had worked in the armies of three different kings. A tall man who told many tales and knew many jokes, he delighted the campfire that evening with stories of hunting for kriezzels, exotic weasels that could imitate a human voice and confuse their pursuers in the woods. He was a talented swordsman, and Darrow assigned him to teach the men the skills of the blade.

Another of the new recruits was a dwarf named Cedrick, who had made his living writing songs, at least until goblin rule began. Under the goblins, singing and dancing hardly befitted the public mood. So Cedrick took work cleaning chimneys, which gave him a terrible cough and nearly destroyed his fine voice. That afternoon, he played his mandolin and sang with the remnants of his old tenor, much to the delight of the men. Because Cedrick had traveled the kingdom in the days of old, performing in villages of every kind, he knew the land and the people, and Darrow drew on his knowledge.

There was Aisling, a girl of only sixteen who arrived with a sling and a bag of stones. Her father was an archer who lost his life when the giant Cyclops rampaged through the Pfimincil Forest. She was an only child, whose mother begged her to stay at home. But she had had a dream in which her father told her that she must go to the forest, find Darrow, and fight for the kingdom.

Then there was Kilgo, a locksmith who traveled from the city of Kelsner’s Plain. Kilgo was an amateur magician who entertained the fellowship with a grand show.

Timwee had slain two wild boars. And when the meat was cooked and everyone had eaten all they could, Darrow spoke.

“Gather round, my friends, and welcome to our band. Look around you. Our army is but a handful of men, most without experience in battle. But the smaller our band, the larger each of you stands in achieving the mission before us. You are the first whisper of a cry we will raise across our kingdom. You are the first flame in a great fire that will drive the goblins from our land.

“Tomorrow more volunteers will arrive. And one day, when we watch the goblins flee before us, all will remember the first warriors gathered here tonight.”

That night, with men sprawled around the cabin, Darrow lay inside, considering the events of the day. The admiration of these new recruits had lifted his spirits. But he feared he was unworthy. He had spoken great words and was hailed as the greatest warrior in all Sonnencrest. The revolt he had imagined in his dreams was finally beginning. But what would these people think of him when they saw him perform in battle? Just how many more battles, he wondered, might he survive?

When the sun was up, Darrow sent Timwee and Hugga Hugga back to the woods to search for volunteers who might be lost. They returned at noon with another seven men.

After a day of training and drilling, Darrow called his soldiers together. Eagerly, all gathered round the fire. With the weapons they had recovered from the battle at Naark’s Hill, Darrow had a good sword for every soldier and he passed a weapon to each.

“Raise your swords,” he cried in a voice loud and clear.

Twenty-one swords lifted, each reflecting the flames, sending dancing lights against the walls of the forest.

“Repeat my words: To this small but mighty band.”

And twenty-one voices cried out his words.

“I pledge my allegiance, my honor, and my life.”

And with each line, their voices roared back, each time louder still.

To this small but mighty band

I pledge my allegiance, my honor, and my life

For a cause more noble and precious

Than the soul of creature or man

To sever the chains of fear that enslave our people

To ignite in my countrymen the flames of hope

To inspire the courage of others

To bring a new sunrise of peace, honor, and virtue to our nation

For these things, no price is too large, no sacrifice too great

A fellowship of believers we shall be

And through our deeds will our people be free.

With these last words, the swords did not fall but remained high, quivering at the vast array of stars in this clear summer night. Into this heavy silence, Darrow spoke again.

“Tomorrow evening, my brothers and sisters, we will attack after sunset. We will strike the fort and drive the goblins from this forest.”

With those words, all of the pain and suffering of ten years of cruelty, oppression, and crimes, all the broken hearts of all of the families of all of the land of Sonnencrest came together, no longer as heartache and despair, but as a great and powerful yearning for promise and hope.

And this time, the sound surely shook the walls of the goblin fort many miles away.

Sesha waited in her wagon. She had sounded a whistle, a high-pitched whistle that only Scodo could hear. After a time, when Scodo appeared between the trees, running and panting heavily, she clapped her hands and smiled.

“What news do you bring, my mighty Scodo?”

Scodo was silent for a moment, catching his breath.

“The news is all good. Darrow has returned from Siegenhoffen with six volunteers.”

“Six! Why there are not six good men in that pitiful little sodpile.”

“There are none now. They are at Quinderfill’s cabin.”

“And who else is there?”

“More and more every day. The messages are working. Men from all over the kingdom are heading for the forest.”

Sesha smiled quietly.

“You have done your part well, my friend. Now we will learn what my magic may inspire.”

D
arrow awoke an hour before sunrise. He threw back his bedding and looked around the yard, now cluttered with cloaks and blankets and snoring men. The excitement of the previous day had faded into the reality before him. Today, he would lead his army into battle.

These new recruits knew only his legend. They praised him. They worshiped him. They had left their homes to risk their lives and follow him to war.

But they had never seen Darrow fight.

He wrapped his feet in cloth and reached down for his sword. His hand gripped the handle and the weapon practically lifted itself into the air. Darrow looked down at the weapon. It was not his sword.

The metal of this new weapon glowed bright silver, as though newly forged. The handle fit his hand perfectly. But this new sword was not his. He inspected its markings, but it bore no name. Darrow smiled.

As he gripped this weapon, a warm glow passed through his body. His hand squeezed more tightly and he felt new strength in his shoulders and arms. He thought about the battle to come and no thought of failure entered his mind. He imagined dueling the goblins, his metal clashing against their own.

He raised the sword high above his head. It did not feel like a real weapon—it was too light. Surely, it would shatter on contact. But he liked the way this weapon made him feel.

He walked to the edge of the woods. He swung at a small tree and the sword cut deep into the wood—another stroke and the tree fell. He swung it again and again, each time with more power and confidence.

The first glow of sunrise appeared in the sky. In this better light, he held the sword across the palms of both hands. On the handle, in the metal, was a tiny marking—a figure. A bird. A tiny bird painted yellow. He had seen that bird before but could not remember where. Something told him that this sword with the bird would bring him luck and this he knew to be absolute truth.

Darrow placed the sword in his scabbard and began to walk the camp, brimming with optimism, eager for the day’s events. He talked with each of the new arrivals. He asked about their skills, their experience, and from where they had traveled.

He wanted to know how each man had heard of their battles in the forest. They told him that all Sonnencrest was alive with the stories of Darrow’s army and his courage in battle. And to each of these reports, Darrow responded with a confident smile.

Not long after waking, Darrow sent Timwee and four others to forage for food. Now they had more than twenty mouths to feed; by midmorning, seven more men had arrived. Two were from Ael, his brother, Mempo, and a friend who had lived in a cabin next to Darrow’s.

“Mempo,” Darrow shouted, embracing his brother tightly. “How did you know?”

“Your fame has even reached Ael!” Mempo stepped back and looked up and down at his brother. “Everyone is very proud. Even the crippled man, Felbester, tried to join us. Look, here, we have brought gifts.”

The friend ran a few feet back to retrieve two large bundles. Nervously, fingers fumbling, he struggled against the knots.

“These bundles are a great load for so long a journey. Surely, you did not carry them by yourselves?” Darrow asked, nodding toward the other man from Ael.

The friend, now standing straight with his head held high, responded, “They were heavy indeed, but we could not disappoint our village.”

When the bundles were opened, goods of all sorts spilled out onto the ground. They included bread loaves, some baked with real wheat and blueberries, a delicacy Darrow had never seen in Ael. There were blankets and warm socks, a few shirts made from wool, even a leather belt ornately engraved with the words Darrow of Ael.

In these bundles were valuables beyond any means of the poor and feeble families of Ael. Darrow made a short speech praising his village. And, after a heartfelt thanks, he asked about his father. The men told him that Darrow’s dad praised his son’s wisdom every single day.

Away in the forest, Timwee, Kilgo, and three other volunteers were scouring the forest for wild boar.

“Here’s how it works,” Timwee explained.

“One of us goes ahead looking for the boar. Step lightly and be as quiet as possible. You will hear them before you see them. They dig for roots and they make loud grunts. The idea is to walk around them and chase them back to the rest of us.

“So, who has the best ears?”

No one answered.

“You,” said Timwee, pointing at Kilgo the locksmith. “That way. Step lightly and make no noise. Chase the boar back towards us.”

Kilgo glanced ahead nervously, but after some hesitation, he moved cautiously across the underbrush of the forest. He turned back to Timwee.

“How do I chase it back?”

“Make a lot of noise. Call it some names! When we hear you yelling, we will charge and kill the boar.”

So off Kilgo went, stepping lightly across the grass, vines, and bushes that filled the forest floor. After each three or four steps, Kilgo would stop and listen.

After about twenty minutes, Kilgo heard a sound. He froze, tuning his ears to the noise. It was not exactly a grunt. More like a slobbering noise. Slowly, carefully, Kilgo stepped ahead.

Now the noise was louder. It was a strange snorting sound. “Could this be the boar?” wondered Kilgo, a city dweller who had barely seen a pig.

Now he circled the sound. The snorting was loud and it was a good thing, Kilgo thought, because there was no way this boar would hear Kilgo above his own noise. Through the brush, he saw the beast for the first time. Its snout was as long as two bread loaves and it walked low to the ground with short legs and webbed feet. There was no curly tail. Instead, its tail was as long as the rest of its body, thick, furry, and tapering to a point at the end.

“These forest pigs are quite different,” thought Kilgo. He leaped toward the animal, shouting the most terrible insult he could conceive.

“Out, out, you putrid, dwarf-legged excuse for a pig! The entire swine family retches at your disgusting appearance!”

The animal looked back with an air of disgust, but the sight of this man hurling himself forward, arms and legs flailing and making a terrible racket, told him this was not the place to be. Away it ran.

Its feet were fast and it flowed low like a snake across the forest floor. Kilgo followed, insults and all.

Kilgo saw the bushes move and Timwee’s head rise up. A look of terror flashed across this face.

“A griesonaut! Run for your lives!”

Timwee and the three men scampered through the forest. Kilgo, still behind the griesonaut, ran the opposite way. Hoping to keep the creature at a distance, he continued screaming as he ran.

Unfortunately, his cries alerted a goblin patrol. Ten minutes later, they picked up Kilgo and took him to the fort.

Inside Quinderfill’s cabin sat a small group of men. On the previous day, Hugga Hugga had visited the goblin fort. Now he reported his plan. As he signed words with his hands, Darrow interpreted to the group.

“We are small in number and the men are untrained. But we have swords for most. There are only twenty goblins at the fort. Here is what we propose.

“We will assemble our men to the west, hidden among the trees. To the other side, we will send Kaylin and Timwee.

“The wall surrounding the fort is made of timbers and these timbers are old. They will burn without trouble. Timwee and Kaylin will set fire to the wall. When I see the smoke, I will put my axe to a great pine that overlooks the east wall. When the tree falls, it will open a hole in the wall and spread the fire. At the moment the timber hits, our soldiers will rush to the opening. Hopefully, in all this confusion, we can force them from the fort. The best soldiers are on the plains and not at the fort.”

The door of the cabin burst open. Timwee was breathing heavily. He reported that Kilgo was lost.

“We cannot delay to look for one man,” Darrow replied, though it pained him to lose a soldier before the battle had even started. “We will lose many more before this struggle is over.”

Timwee nodded as Darrow continued.

“There is one more thing to consider,” Darrow added. “If any goblin soldier escapes, word will reach the goblins in three days. They will send an army. We need time to prepare. If no goblin escapes, we might have a week.”

“Let’s place five men at the gate to block an escape,” Timwee suggested.

“Five at the gate is five less to attack,” Kaylin reminded.

“We can’t afford escape. Five at the gate.” With those words, Darrow ended the meeting and the men began preparations for the march.