Ferral's Deathmarch Army

26

  The Race Back

  Gun-Surow and his family did not see them off. Te’lin sent one of his bodyguards in his place. Their inhospitable nature did not surprise Kristian at all. Cairn cautioned Kristian that it simply was not in their nature to welcome outsiders. Kristian viewed the Atlunam as the most arrogant people he had ever met.

  Kristian turned his attention to the home station, eyes opening wide in confusion. A red canvas covering stretched across an obvious hole in the ground. Kristian guessed the diameter of the hole was at least fifty feet; he stepped closer to peek under the tarp and realized it was a shade-covering for a massive workspace some forty feet below him. Kristian descended the broad, stone stairway that brought him to the bottom of the large depression. Within the depression, Atlunam loaded two large, flat-bed wagons connected by thin wooden braces. Unusually small wheels, underneath the wagons, seemed fitted to a set of beams that ran parallel to each other. The ‘rail’, as Te’lin called it, ran into a dark cave.

  The Holtsmen eyed the set up with suspicion. Balhir grunted. “Leave it to the laziness of these people to construct something demonic. Do you really intend to use this contraption, Kristian?”

  Kristian could only shrug. As the others descended the stairs, he noticed that Maurin and Mikhal were already below supervising the loading of supplies.

  “Careful, please, careful,” Maurin urged Mikhal as the cavalier dropped a box onto the wagon. “The contents of that box could save our lives.”

  “Maurin, what are you doing?” Kristian asked.

  The healer smiled awkwardly. “The Atlunam showed me many healing techniques. I have forgotten most of it already. They have given me some herbs and poultices to start the journey with. And a very interesting book on the workings of the human body.”

  Mikhal picked up one of the cloth bags inside the box, opening it to see its contents. An offensive odor reached his nose long before he saw inside. “Ugh! What’s in there?”

  Maurin grabbed the bag and held it protectively. “Maybe it’s something that will save your life.”

  “Not if it smells so bad that it kills me,” Mikhal replied, half teasing.

  Offended, Maurin turned away to supervise the rest of the loading. When he thought Mikhal was no longer looking, Maurin opened the bag himself to take a small sniff. He closed the bag quickly to keep from gagging.

  “I think I’ll like your poems more than I like your medicines,” Mikhal said to Maurin, and then he grinned at Kristian.

  Hin’cabo was there with the other Atlunam. He approached Kristian and Cairn. Bowing deeply, Hin’cabo said something that Cairn translated. “It seems Hin’cabo is not welcome in the city. Since he was responsible for bringing us here, the king has decided that he will represent the Atlunam in this quest.”

  “Tell him that we would be honored, but we are not his responsibility any longer. Who knows what will happen to us? It would be better if he returned to …” Kristian stopped himself remembering that the hunter’s village had been destroyed. “Well, besides, Hin’cabo needs to rest more.”

  Hin’cabo interrupted. His accent was so thick that it was hard to understand him. “I choose. I go.” Kristian recognized the determination in his eyes; he would not be able to dissuade the hunter. Reluctantly, Kristian nodded and shook Hin’cabo’s hand.

  “You are a true friend, Hin’cabo. Thank you for everything,” Mikhal added. The hunter smiled.

  “Is everyone here and ready?” Kristian asked. Balhir nodded, indicating his readiness, and then ordered his nine men onto the wagons. The Erandian king looked expectantly at Hin’cabo. “I don’t suppose our friend knows how to use these contraptions?”

  Cairn replied, “I know how to use them.” Kristian looked at him, dumbfounded. Cairn pointed to the front wagon. “This lever must always be manned. It is connected underneath the bed of the wagon to a system that can slow us down.”

  “I doubt that we will need that. I can’t understand how a wagon without a horse can go very fast,” Kristian commented.

  “It is dangerous to go full speed. These wagons can go faster than any horse.” He could tell Kristian did not believe him. “They work on momentum. Jai-Quinn is at a higher elevation than the plains to the north. A series of small hills allow the wagons to maintain their speed, but if you go too fast over the hills, people are likely to fly off the wagon and get left behind, or worse. Since they require only a few people to keep us under control, most of us can rest. We will make a straight line for the edge of the forest where horses have been staged for us. If all goes well, we should be at the coast of the Utwan by tomorrow morning.”

  Kristian still looked confused, but Cairn told him to get on the first wagon and he would demonstrate. Kristian scanned the area. Mikhal, Maurin and Balhir climbed on the first wagon with him. The remainder of the men and supplies were on the second wagon. Confident that he had nothing left to do, Kristian signaled for Cairn to go ahead.

  Cairn let the lever go forward and asked the Atlunam standing nearby to give them a shove. They complied in haste, hoping to get rid of the Northerners as fast as possible. The wagons moved slowly at first, confirming Kristian’s suspicions that this was not the quickest way to get back to Ferral’s city. They continued on into the cave at a crawling pace. Only a few intermittent torches mounted along the rail gave them light. The creaking of the wooden beams beneath them was an eerie sound; a slight rush of wind in the dark between torches unsettled Kristian.

  As they passed the next lit alcove, he could tell they had picked up speed. He looked at Cairn, curious.

  “The first few miles are a very gradual descent. It will get much faster by the time we reach the first hill, and we will need all the speed possible to reach the top. After that, there are a series of smaller hills that will check our speed, making some sick.” Balhir looked back at his men wondering how bad it was going to get.

  By the time they reached the first hill, they were racing down the rail faster than any horse could run. Balhir’s men stayed far away from the edges. Many of them held the crates of supplies with death grips. The upward slope was gradual, but Kristian could tell that it slowed them down.

  Cairn turned to them and said, “This is where you must pay attention. From now on, someone must keep a hand on the lever. Too much lever and we will stop. We will then have to push to get the momentum started again. Not enough of the lever and we will lose people.” The last statement concerned Balhir so he made a few of his men come closer to watch.

  They crested the hill, slowing to galloping speed, and then plunged down again. Cairn waited until they began to crest the next hill and then gently applied pressure using the lever. The wheels emitted a rubbing noise. They slowed just as they reached the next hilltop, and then he let go of the lever again. Cairn did this for a few more miles, until the Holtsmen were certain they understood what to do, and then he turned the controls over to them.

  Kristian sat next to Mikhal talking about the problems he was sure their countrymen faced when Cairn sat down next to them.

  “When we reach the end of the rail line, we will only have a moment to rest,” Cairn said. “The horses will be fresh and ready for us as soon as we arrive. I suggest we get across the plains while it is dark. We don’t know how many Belarnians or dead creatures are out there searching for us.”

  “You really think we will be on the plains tonight?” Mikhal asked. Cairn nodded in response. He then rummaged through his pack until he found several thin pieces of leather cord.

  “What are those for?” Kristian leaned closer to get a better look.

  Cairn shrugged. “I just want to be prepared for any chance encounters.”

  Kristian wanted to ask more, but Cairn put the leather cord back into his pack.

  “Well, what are we going to do about this secret tunnel entrance?” Kristian asked them. “It seems better than any other option left to us, but who knows if it’s even there anymore.”

>   Balhir sat down with them then. “My men are warriors of the Cougar Holt. They know earth and stone. If there was a tunnel under this tower, then they will be able to find it.”

  “It would certainly make our entry easier if your men can get us in, but they will have to do the work quietly,” Kristian said.

  “And what about boats?” Mikhal asked.

  “There is a small wharf town that the traders of the Mercies use to get supplies back to Ferral’s city. The place is run down but there might be a few serviceable boats. I think it will be our best choice,” Cairn answered.

  Kristian had to laugh in spite of everything. “This is just how our first journey began, a fool leading brave men on a grand quest. We used boats and men before to secure a landing for our forces, and then we marched on the sorcerer’s castle.” His smile faded. “I hope we fare better this time.”

  Mikhal replied, “I hope the fool is no longer with us.”

  “I hope so, too. Not for my sake, but for Allisia’s and yours,” Kristian said.

  They traveled for some time before the wagons began to slow. A light grew in the tunnel ahead of them. As they broke out into the forest, the wagons gradually slowed until they stopped next to a small way-station. Atlunam hunters wasted no time in checking out the wagon bottoms. They gave Kristian and his men some fresh water and food, but they had little time to relax. Soon the Atlunam urged them to sit down.

  One said something to Hin’cabo that Cairn translated. “There will be fewer hills now. The slope is gradual and above ground the rest of the way. We are about halfway there.”

  “Halfway,” Maurin exclaimed. “That’s nearly two hundred miles in five hours. It would have taken even the fastest horse twice as long to get here.”

  “Yes, but we still have over two hundred miles to go,” replied Cairn.

  Kristian sighed and nodded. “Let’s go.” Balhir waved to his men indicating they should sit down. The Atlunam to either side of the rails attached poles to the wagons and began pulling the wagon up a small ramp. It took some effort to get the heavily laden cars to the top, but once they did, the hunters detached the poles and gave them one final push. Kristian looked back, but the hunters just stared at him. The Atlunam looked relieved.

  Gun-Surow walked along his private balcony looking down into one of his gardens. One of his beautiful plants showed signs of wilting. The small blossoms sagged and some had already fallen to the ground. The Atlunam King frowned.

  Te’lin walked in, disturbing his contemplation. “I cannot find Vi, Father. Have you seen her?”

  The old man shook his head. “No, Te, I have not.”

  Gun-Surow could tell that Te-lin was full of pent up anger. “No one has seen her,” Te’lin responded. “She seemed very interested in the Northerners. Her personal guards cannot be found either. And her hunting clothes are gone.”

  Gun-Surow was suddenly overcome with concern. “Are there any horses missing from the stables?”

  “No. Vi-tonia is with them. I know it,” Te’lin said through clenched teeth.

  The king grasped the banister tightly. After a long pause Gun-Surow nodded, saying, “Vi-tonia must be brought back safely. She is precious to me.”

  “I care about her too, Father.”

  “Perhaps she is too precious to you, Te. I am concerned that you are closer to your sister than you should be,” Gun-Surow said.

  Te’lin laughed. “Father, she is my sister. I only want to see her safe. And ensure that our family and people are protected from harm. Harm that I know the Northerners will bring upon us.”

  Gun-Surow nodded again. “No, Te, you are wrong. This evil is something we brought upon ourselves. We should never have let Ferral’s woman come here. We should never have let her consult with our historians. I don’t know how Rebenna was able to steal that cursed scroll or dagger, but it is becoming clearer that Ferral used those artifacts to bring dark magic back into the world.”

  Te’lin looked away from his father for a moment. He caught himself and faced his father before the king noticed.

  “How was he able to do what our people cannot?” Te-lin asked.

  Gun-Surow shook his head. “We’re cursed. Every time we meddled with that damn scroll we paid dearly for it.”

  “We should not blame ourselves for what the Holtsmen did to us,” Te’lin urged his father. “They’re the ones that brought this upon us. We were a strong people, and they abandoned us. They attacked us and stole from us.” The anger in his voice alarmed the king. Gun-Surow looked his son in the face.

  “Where did you go during your last hunting trip, Te’lin?”

  The prince frowned and looked away.

  “Please tell me you are not the one responsible for the deaths Vortah’s son spoke of,” Gun-Surow pleaded.

  “And what about these upstart kingdoms? What about Kristian finding safety among the Holtsmen? Surely you can see that they formed some sort of alliance. That’s dangerous,” Te’lin blurted out, hoping to change the subject. Keeping his father ignorant of certain plans and events kept up the pretense of plausible deniability.

  Te’lin had not used his sword in the last two weeks, and his men were getting restless. From time to time, Te’lin infiltrated the neutral area and raided the homesteads and villages there. His actions made the Holtsmen fear those in the woods. His plan called for the final war to start that way. Once Te-lin had assured his position as king, he would launch a final attack to defeat the clans and reunite their people. Once his father was dead, or too old and feeble to raise a voice against him, Te-lin would act.

  “Kristian knows more of us than I wish any outsider to know,” Gun-Surow admitted. Without turning to look at his son, the king spoke of his concern. “Te, I fear Kristian will soon learn what has truly happened. He, and especially Balhir, cannot know our part in all of this. It would cause a bloody war with the Holtsmen that would destroy us.”

  “Father, Vi does not know. She can tell them nothing that would make them suspect us,” Te-lin assured his father. “And besides, I would welcome war with our enemy. I have always thought the Holtsmen hoarded the resources we all need to survive. We have every right to press our claims.”

  “Te’lin, sometimes I wish you used your mind as much as you used your sword.” Gun-Surow paced the balcony. “If the Holtsmen rallied all of their warriors and decided to attack us, we would be wiped out. We barely held them back five hundred years ago during the War of the Woods. They have grown in numbers and strength since then, while we have weakened. We need to figure this one out carefully, Te-lin. Our empire and heritage is at stake.” Te’lin bowed his head accepting the rebuke … for the time being.

  “And besides,” Gun-Surow added, “Vi-tonia is much smarter than you give her credit for. She probably knows what happened, and apparently, she is more resourceful than we thought. I do not know how Vi-tonia convinced Iohn and Pak to go along with this. Bring her back, Te. Take your guards with you and some of hers, as well. I … don’t want anything to happen to her.”

  Te’lin placed a comforting hand on his father’s shoulder. “What about my brother?” Te’lin asked. “He needs to get out and gain experience. I want to take him with me.”

  “He will remain here where it is safe,” Gun-Surow said, accepting no argument.

  A council member walked in then. “Your Majesty, there is disturbing news from the western frontier. There are strange reports of a small army entering the forest and attacking our villages.”

  “Holtsmen?” Te’lin asked, putting his hand on his sword.

  “I do not think so, Your Highness. Reports make these people seem odd. One armored knight leads them from atop a ghastly looking horse. The scouts say that the army walks very slowly … that they amble.”

  “Amble,” Te’lin was confused and began to say something when Gun-Surow stopped him.

  “Kristian was telling the truth. Ferral’s Deathmarch Army is real, and the dead are comi
ng for us. The fisherman also told me the dead were coming.”

  Te’lin spat at the mention of the wise man. “That means that the Holtsmen have fallen and we are next.”

  “Or Ferral has become much more powerful than we expected.” Gun-Surow took hold of his son. “Find your sister, Te. Don’t let any of the Northerners get in your way, including King Kristian. If any of her guards helped her escape, kill them where they stand.” His grip became stronger on Te-lin’s arms.

  “Most importantly, Kristian can never find out the truth. Our hold on the woods is precarious enough. We’ve lost much of our power. With the Holtsmen constantly threatening us and our inability to regain control of any real magic—we are much weaker than we were a thousand years ago. Bring back the scroll Ferral took, and perhaps, we can still obtain the power.”

  Te’lin stiffened. “Kristian will never know about our part in this. I promise. And if anyone gets between Vi-tonia and me, they will die.”

  Gun-Surow nodded sadly. “Watch Cairn closely. He will be your true adversary. Perhaps it was unwise of me to allow him to train with our Kah Masters, but I took pity on him. He is dangerous, Te, and he’s almost as skilled as you with the sword,” Gun-Surow warned.

  Te’lin grinned. “No, Father, he’s only Tarish’sa Shaif. He is not a true Kah sword master. Cairn protecting them only makes my task more enjoyable.”