Chapter Thirty-Four
Silence
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The rays of the dawn were sluggish, barely piercing through the fog and the fading stars were obscured by a shawl of cloud. There was enough light, however, that were anyone around they would see a tall hooded figure moving through the ruins of the city, suspiciously clinging to the shadows and ducking behind walls. Cloaked in a well-worn dark green cloak and patched brown trousers that tucked into weathered leather boots the figure moved as silently as possible towards the outer edges of the city. As the dawn broke townsfolk began to go about their business, the figure having to duck behind a crumbled wall of a building to avoid being seen.
They waited until the people had vanished into the mist, their voices muffled in the heavy morning air, before straightening and moving faster out of the town, nearing the road with long and powerful strides. A sudden creak made the figure pause and pivot, hand moving to their side where a flash of silver was seen and they waited tense in the silence, straining for another sound. A bird squawked in annoyance as it flew from a building to their left and the figure visibly relaxed, sheathing the dagger and continuing onwards, unaware of the set of fierce eyes that had tracked their every movement.
The figure atop the building the bird had fled from straightened from a crouch, mist cascading from their black cloak and pooling around their lower legs as the figure they were stalking faded into the distance. They turned and took a running leap, powerful legs landing them clear of debris and onto the spine of a second building closer to the town. Wood groaned and buckled under the sudden pressure but held and the person moved onwards towards another building, peering through the mist for their next landing spot. They travelled quickly but quietly through the mist laden city until they reached a building that was in better shape. There they swung from the thatched roof and dropped onto the ground, the remainder of the mist puffing about their boots as they landed lightly.
A dark shape was hidden within the shadows of the building and approached with dull and muffled thuds and a great black horse slowly took shape.
The horse snorted softly in greeting and the rider stroked their nose for a moment before swinging nimbly into the saddle and directing the mount out into the city. They picked up their pace, the rider rising and falling to the horses movements, as they moved through the city, salt air blown across from the right. A few figures saw them and made sure to quickly get out of their way and eventually they had exited the buildings and dangerous terrain of the city for the country road.
Reins were tightened in gloved hands and the horse coiled beneath them, waiting for a signal. It was given and the horse shot forward, pounding along the dirt track with great strides. The riders cloak lashed out impressively behind them and the horse and rider pair didn't halt their haste until they came upon another set of buildings. In the light they could see a flash of something from the upper levels of a great building and they raised their fist into the air in confirmation. The flash vanished.
The horse had barely broken into sweat and was breathing easily for the distance and speed it had just run and with great reluctance slowed at the riders command. A low chuckle came from beneath the hood and the, rider spoke in soft voice, "Easy, Ash. I will take you out later, maybe along the beach."
The rider lent forward and stroked the stallion's sleek neck. Lifting his feet higher as though he were a ladies show horse and not a prized war-horse, the stallion slowed but kept his energy as they approached what passed for the gate to Castle Ashran.
There was a wall surrounding the buildings and gardens of Castle Ashran and in times long gone it had fencing along the top, though most of it was in disrepair; the iron had rusted and the walls were overrun with vines and worn with age. The official door was two swinging iron gates, held fast by two glaring towers, or it was meant to be if it were in optimal condition. Instead the woman directed the horse through one half of the gate, the opening just large enough to squeeze a cart through, with the other gate bowed and rusted, full of holes.
There was a small guard house near the gate, but no guards, they didn't even patrol the grounds anymore, the House of Ashran didn't have much to steal, and the trek out to the castle was too much for the poor towns folk unless there was something in it for them. The castle was well equipped, surprising for such a small House. They had the stables, a barracks, a blacksmith building and food storage buildings. There was a well-worn well near the stables and a few fences held together by old posts and planks where scrawny cattle grazed. Chickens were scattered across the ground, pecking at the dirt and a few dogs were in the shade of the sparse trees. On the other side there were rows and rows of garden, trying to coax as much nutrients from the land as possible.
Directly before them was the Seat of Ashran House, also known as Castle Ashran, the home of Freddrick Ashran and his heirs. A small blur rushed down the steps and halted as the hooded head rose in their direction, the child obediently halting their mad dash at the silent and unseen command but still moving quickly. At a walk the limp in their stride was visible.
The rider dismounted smoothly and the stable master and his boy were watching with interest as he led the horse into the shadows of the stable. The stable was lovingly kept running to the best of the stable masters ability and strength. There were about ten stalls, with a large tack shed and a food bin shed. A few of the stalls were no longer used, they were in disrepair and there were no animals to house in there. The stable master had a great surprise when Hunter arrived at the castle, clearly intending to stay, for one morning there was a great black stallion in a stall previously not fit for storage let alone an animal. Hunter had rebuilt the walls, taking over a second stall next to it for extra room, and had fitted a bolt into the door and taken what wasn't merely cosmetic work and turned it into a very nice stall. Inserted of a dirt floor, cobwebs and musty wood the stall now had straw, a fresh wooden smell (where Hunter got the wood he didn't know) and a feed trough and hay rack. Hunter had also built a tack stand and had sat it in the corner of the barn, where there were empty stalls and spiders.
The stable man and boy stepped out of the way of the impressive warrior as he made his way into the barn, the man bowing slightly with respect, "Hunter." He was met with a hooded nod of acknowledgement and the horse swished his tail in his direction cheekily as he passed. The other animals in the barn were rightly cautious of the giant beast, such a horse had never been seen in their region, if in the entire Empire. He was big; muscular but fine, fierce but delicate, and carried himself like he were a Lord over Horses, and he looked it. He had considered even asking Hunter if he would have his horse mount one of his working mares, even one foal from the beast would drastically alter their breeding stock for the better, but as soon as he had thought it Hunter had turned his hooded gaze on him and the idea was only that, an idea.
There was only a mule and an elderly donkey in the barn as Hunter led his horse, Ashnidanté he was called, towards his stall and their ears flew back as the stallion passed. Ash ignored the two others and followed his master eagerly towards his stall. The small boy that followed Hunter everywhere stepped into the barn and hurried down the isle. The two Asrhanian's walked closer to the pair to observe and watched with interest as a Hunter brought forth a mass of red straps with a red rope and tied the stallion to the stall, it seemed even the well trained stallion had to be tied sometimes.
The boy didn't speak, but began to untack the stallion, undoing the girth while Hunter moved over to his saddle bags and returned with some grain and poured it into the feed bin, the stallions neck and nose following but restrained by the rope. Where he got the grain from, who knew, the likes of it weren't seen around Ashran. Hunter had to return to help the boy with the saddle, and what a fine thing it was. It had heaps of straps and buckles and it had iron loops hanging from each side where Hunters feet went in. There were also other leather straps that went around the horses chest and between his front legs, and then one that went over his haunches, and the seat was curved, like that yellow fruit from the north.
The boy took the saddle, arms jerking downward with the weight of it, before trotting over to the tack rail and placing it gently on there. He returned and Hunter handed him a blanket and the pieces of leather that made up the bridle. The bridle had heaps of straps, one went over the horse's nose, one under his ears and a piece of metal went in his mouth! It was all very unusual, there were even straps that somehow connected the reins to the leather at the horse's chest.
As soon as he had seen the saddle and bridle the horse master had spoken with the blacksmith and leather worker about creating tack like the strangers, but it was proving to be difficult and there were so many straps.
The boy was quick to fetch the grooming gear as soon as the horse was gleaming like his tack and he was led into the stall and released from his binds. They left him happily munching and walked out into the sunshine, the stable master and boy returning to their work. The duo strode up the dusty path towards the door, chickens ambling away from their shadows.
"Did ya find em?"
Stannis' question went unanswered and the boy scowled before sighing and asking again. "Did you find him?"
"Yes, he took the road out of town, just as I thought." Hunter replied as they walked up the steps and into the Castle, two guards opening the doors for them, standing guard per tradition, not need.
Stannis took two steps for every one of Hunter's and was slightly out of breath when they came to the double doors that led to the Great Hall. The wood swung open on well-oiled hinges as they approached and they entered a large formal dining room, the one from the meeting earlier in the week, where the nobility were eating their half-day meal.
Many years before the Ashran nobility and their guests would dine alone, now though there were so few of them, and their relationships with their staff were good, they often all dined together. Freddrick Ashran sat at the Head of the table, as was only fitting for his position. His wife and daughter sat to his right and his heir, Clayton, sat slightly down the table with his friends; the giant Carson and the dark-skinned Theon. The other seats were taken with family servants and guards, and a heavily built man sat next to Lord Ashran, leaning forward and speaking to him.
In comparison to what the towns people had available to them, the Ashran table had some vegetables, meat and bread, and even a lumpy looking pudding, it seemed like a banquet, even if it were a poor one. As the two entered the room the conversation stopped, and all eyes were on them as they came forward. Hunter shoved Stannis into a chair and told him to help himself, the boy obeyed, eager to feast on such rich foods.
The man next to Lord Ashran growled, quite literally, at the disrespect and the guards and servants shifted slightly in discomfort, but none were brave enough to voice their displeasure. Hunter snatched a bread roll and moved down the table towards the Lord, the roll disappearing into the shadows of the hood and returning with a bite taken from it.
"Ah, Hunter," said Lord Ashran, "Have you learnt anything of note?"
The warrior halted between the Lord and his son, where there were a gap in the seating, and pulled out a long tube from somewhere in his robes. He pulled the top off with a pop, revealing that it was hollow, and withdrew a roll of parchment.
"Come," he instructed softly, the order clear in his voice. The guards and men got to their feet and moved to form a half circle behind the warrior, keeping a wary distance, or moved to stand opposite him.
He used cups and bowls to hold down the map, for it was a map, but was unlike anything they had ever seen. At the top there were the words "Kurvalican Empire and Outlands" and in the middle of the parchment there was a large land mass surrounded by ocean. To the lower right of the map there was a group of islands, identified in flowing script as the Copper Isles. At the top left there was a few images beneath a compass, but they were unusual and foreign to the Ashranian's.
"Is that Kurvalic?" Piped a voice from Hunter's side and the hood turned to glance down at the boy. "Yes, this is what this land looks like from above," said the warrior as he took another bite of the bread.
There were murmurs of interest and awe from all those who had heard, such a thing was un-heard of, no one but the God's could and should see their land like this. But it was still fascinating, their country looked so very big on the map. It was shaped like a misshapen closed fist, with islands to the south west and a broken ridge along the top of the island, where the land seemed to have crumbled and then grown outward, a series of islands and then inlands.
Hunter placed a finger on one of the images beneath the compass and then placed another on the land mass. They all jumped back as the ocean seemed to shrink in size, but it wasn't the water, it was the island which was getting bigger. Hunter released his finger for a moment, and the ink stopped moving, cautiously the men peered at the map, now there were dots and little lines and some broken lines, and there were words all over the island. A large number of lines were in the centre, the words around them easily readable, it had a smaller series of lines to its right, which ran right down to the ocean and an even smaller one to the north. They were named "Ilanthel Mountain" and the Ranges of "Ilany" and "Theroix" respectively.
Hunter replaced his gloved finger over a spot to the south and west of the island and the ink moved again, and the words were readable. "Ashran" it said. "We are currently here," said Hunter in his articulated and cold way, he released both hands from the map and then pointed with his right index finger. "These lines represent the borders of each of the Districts. These represent roads, these cities, and these House Capitals." He indicated solid lines, broken lines, small dots and large dots. Clayton inched forward in awe, "Is that Cape Captain?"
Hunter looked at the area the heir was pointing too, an area where the earth seemed to pull into itself up the northern coast of the city. "Yes, every land mass or mark that you have ever seen will be here, as seen from above."
"Now here," said Hunter moving on as the noble looked ready to ask another question, "is where we have said we were planning the ambush."
The area beneath his finger was drawn with jagged and harsh lines, the words "Eliran Pass", a large mountain road which connected the region to the one to the west. "On horseback it should take a week to transverse the pass, if you were wanting to keep your mount alive and healthy for the duration of the journey." Hunter took a final bite of his bread, which had remained safe in is fist for the duration of his explanation, and chewed and swallowed before continuing.
"The narrowness of the line here means that the track is thin, and out here," he moved up the map to where the line thickened, "means that there is more room here."
He then pointed to a faint line going through the mountains, "This is a rarely used, almost un-known mountain track, you would be lucky if you could get a horse over it and it takes almost twice as long as the main route. "However," he pointed to a place in the map where the line connected to the main pass line, "It connects here and here, meaning you can take forces around the pass without being identified."
Freddrick spoke, "So we are going to send some people down the track and have them come at the Warden's from behind and ambush them here?" He pointed to a place in the track where it widened, it looked to be at the top of the mountain and was nearer to Ashran than it was to their sister district.
"No," said Hunter shortly.
There were looks of confusion among the men, "But that's what you said we would do," said Carson and Theon looked just as bemused, the placed looked like the worst place to plan an ambush.
"Exactly."
Clayton frowned, "Then why tell us that's where we are going to ambush them if we aren't?"
The powerfully built man next to Freddrick spoke up, "Because that's what the enemy has learnt we will be doing." Hunter's head rose and he looked over the man, his interest piqued. He was older than Freddrick, probably the oldest man in the room, but he wore his age well. The only signs were the crow's feet at his eyes and the grey in his sun-bleached blonde hair. He was well muscled, evident of hard labour and a lifetime of service and even as he stood he had an aura of confidence about him. The guards eyed him with respect, and Freddrick indicated that he could continue, "Explain, Captain Haydan." The Ashran Guard commander straightened at the instruction and continued in a voice that carried around the men. "You knew we would be betrayed so you told us what the plan was, so that the enemy would hear the wrong one."
"Yes," Hunter gave a slight bow of his head, "and what would you do if you learnt this information?"
"I'd leave some of my force here," he pointed to where the faint line branched off from the main pass, "and then ambush the force that would come at mine from the rear. Then, I'd send those men down the track and spring my own ambush."
The men were leaning forward with interest, that plan made much more sense, the place Hunter had had them ambushing was in the open and was not to their advantage.
Stannis frowned, the logic of the adults escaping his reach, "So are we not going to plan an ambush?"
A low and dark chuckle came from beneath the hood, sending shivers down the men's spines and making their neck hair stand on end, "We most certainly are."
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The sun bet down upon the party that steadily snaked their way up the mountain, the dry air of the canyon doing little to ease their body temperature. There were about twenty of them, mounted on sweat soaked shaggy ponies, who ambled their way forward, tails flicking at buzzing flies, the sound heavy on the air. More powerfully built ponies were pulling two wagons, each driven by a pair of drivers and tied behind them were a string of ponies, clearly reserve mounts. The track was rarely travelled, even so the ground bore traces of traffic long past, and there was rotting piles of useless wood in sparse places along their trek. The path was just large enough to allow two wagons to travel, though the current travellers had taken advantage of the fact and were riding straight down the middle, positioning themselves in defence of the wagons.
The men wore mix-matched pieces of armour and layers of skins and furs as protection. Each of them had a round shield at their back, or tied to their ponies if they had a weapon on their back, and they carried a variety of weapons. Some held bows and arrows and others axes and spares, and daggers, a few even had swords. Of the few that had swords, one was an olive-skinned lightly built man on a horse that seemed to have been created to match him. It was of a different breed entirely to the ponies, it was sleek and powerful and carried itself proudly, the taxation of the hard riding seeming to have done nothing to its stamina. It was a liver chestnut and its ears kept swivelling, alert eyes searching for danger, even as its companions trudged along.
Riding next to him was man on a bay, which was slightly taller than the other ponies, almost entering into horse height. He wore the newest type of armour that the Capital's finest smiths had wrought, it was made up of little rings of iron, intertwined and then shaped collectively to suit his own body. He still wore the leather armour of his companions, but mostly across his shoulders, arms and legs. Evident of great wealth or skill, this man had to be the leader of the Wardens, and had positioned his men strategically and their supplies and tools were in excellent shape.
There were two rings to the wagon defence, the first contained a group of loosely placed bowmen, and the second was the short range troops, who were wielding spears, axes and swords. Though they were tired, evident by the sweat on their mounts coats, they pushed on at a considerable pace throughout the day, they had a city to get to and a rebellion to squash.
The District of Ashran was virtually isolated from the rest of the Empire. The mountain and its ranges in the middle of the country meant that the only publicly travelable road to the region was through a mountain pass, the travel took a week by horseback, five or six days of they pushed their mounts, and the record for the fastest time was four days with over a dozen horses lost in the attempt.
Today was their third day into the journey, they had ridden hard and fast to get where they were, and were perhaps a little over a day ahead of the estimated time, but at a cost. Their mounts were tiring and they had to stop more often, the heat and lack of vegetation weren't improving their moods.
Their District Commander had ordered them to Ashran, the Warden in charge had been having difficulty with the local population, an issue that after a century of living under the Warden's should have been sorted. The local people had thought that their isolation would enable them to remain disobedient and keep them from the wrath of the Empire, it was no longer the case. They would soon be joined by Adule and his men, and together their combined forces would be enough to restore order to the chaotic district, they would also ensure the taxes owed to the Empire would be given. Once they were successful Commander Adule would remain in charge with his men and keep the District in line.
There was movement ahead of them, the swiftness of it immediately catching their attention and the caravan rolled to a halt. Immediately the men took up defensive positions, bows were drawn and weapons unsheathed. The wagons were halted and the riders moved to protect them, lining up in rows several horses deep. The bowmen were direct to the front and all stood waiting, eager for the events to unfold. A third rider moved forward to flank the leader, the olive-skinned man on the other side of him, and so the three of them waited for the figure stumbling before them to get closer.
He wasn't in the best shape, he had a mass of cloth slung over his shoulder and great patches of sweat on his dirty tunic, it could have once been white, but it was hard to tell. He wore patched trousers, so repaired that he could have been wearing a quilt, and as they got closer they could see his stumbling was in fact a limp.
The commander called out to him, "You there, halt!"
The stranger took a moment to register, but when he did he moved faster, putting his hands up in the air in a gesture of peace.
"I'm here to help," the stranger rasped as he got closer and he eventually stumbled to a halt before the horsemen. The slender youth on the chestnut glanced to the commander and then urged his horse forward and around the stranger. Dirt rose behind them as they cantered up the valley to see whether the stranger were alone.
"Are you Brice or Adule?" Asked the stranger as he panted in the heat.
The commander tilted his head and then dismounted, his second in command following him, the Wardens relaxed their positions slightly, but kept an interested watch on their leader and the stranger.
"I am Brice, Commander of the First Squadron of the Seventh Legion," he said slowly, "How do you know of me?"
The stranger grinned through broken teeth, "I've got some news for ya, for a price o' course."
Folding his arms as the youth returned from his scouting the commander nodded slowly, "What news do you have for me?"
"Told ya, aint telling nothing till ya pay me."
The second in command spoke, "Why should we believe you know anything?"
"Wouldn't know your name if I didn't," said the stranger, "but I'll tell ya that Buicac's dead."
The olive-skinned youth's head shot up, and he glanced to the commander through dark eyes.
"What is your price?" Said Brice after he took in the information.
The stranger grinned, seeing an easy opponent and immediately altered his behaviour, "Food and water, sir," he simpered, "and one o' them horses and some coin. I've been walking all day an night."
Brice nodded, and his second in command immediately moved to obey the instruction. He turned and began to bark orders, the Wardens all relaxing and dismounting, taking the moment for much needed rest.
"Come," said Brice, "Tell us what you know." The commander turned and tossed his reins to the youth and led the trio back to the caravan.
A few moments later the stranger was sitting in the shade of the wagons with a water-skin and chewing on some dried meat.
The leader and his aid's were sitting around him, the olive-skinned youth leaning against the wood, wineskin dangling from his long fingers.
"What is your name and where are you from?" The second in charge asked and the stranger bobbed his head in a slight bow. "Names Gavin, I call no place home, but I've been living in Ashran for a while. A'fore that I was in the North, then with those horsemen," he nodded at the youth, "an then with those seafarers, an-"
"Enough! I do not need your entire life story. Just tell us what have you to tell us, wanderer." Demanded the Commander, failing to hide his impatience and Gavin immediately straightened, a shiver running down his spine at the malice in Brice's tone.
He cleared his throat, "Right, um, well, all of the Wardens are dead."
The trio jerked back in surprise, Buicac being dead was one thing, over four dozen of their number being dead was another.
"What?! Roared Brice, drawing the attention of every Warden within hearing distance, "What do you mean they are all dead?! How?!"
Gavin dug his teeth into the meat and tore it off, crunching noisily as all attention was on him. He took a moment to savour the experience and then continued, sensing Brice's ire. "A strange warrior showed up an j'st started to kill 'em all. He didn't care who or how, just did. Nev'a seen anythin' like it."
"He freed the rebels an helped Clayton to kill the rest o' them," finished Gavin and he took a large swig of water. Peering at the empty skin in annoyance before tilting it toward the commander, "Got any ale?"
Brice ignored him as he leant back in thought, there was silence for a few moments before the youth spoke, "An Ashran is leading the Rebels?" His voice was tipped with curiosity, and something else that the wanderer was unable to place.
"Yeah, he an his friends have been causing trouble for a while now," said Gavin, who tilted the water-skin to the youth instead, "Wine?"
Frowning the youth straightened off the wagon and accepted the water-skin, moving around the side of the wagon and vanishing into the back.
"Tell me everything about this stranger, "commanded Brice, "What does he look like, what are his weapons like, his fighting skill, anything."
Gavin scratched his beard, "Well I don't rightly know," he said, and the commander's face stiffened. He hastily added, "He came out of the ocean on a black stallion, I aint never seen one that…great before. He has black and silver armour, makes that," he nodded to Brice's mail, "look like that," he flicked his gaze at the other Wardens and their leather armour and furs.
"Has a brutal fightin' style, he does, " continued Gavin as the youth returned with a wine-skin, a flash of metal at his throat, "just throws his weight around." Gavin took the wine and happily gulped some down. "Don't think anyone's seen 'is face, wears a cloak, but they obey him ready they do. Follow 'is orders, think mayhap their afraid."
Brice was taking in the information, "What orders?"
"Orders about the ambush," said Gavin smugly, "I know their plans."
The second in command was clearly losing patience with the wanderer, "What are their plans?"
"Do you have a map?"
A map was soon procured and they bent over it in the dust, it was a rough sketch of the Eliran Pass and of Ashran as a region. Gavin peered at the pass intently, "They are sending people up through here," he dragged his finger from a point part way into the Pass from the Ashranian end, "through to here. There is a track that skirts the entire Pass, they are planning the ambush here." There was a grubby smudge where the wanderer had dragged his fingers and a print in the middle of the Pass where the ambush would take place.
The road opened at the top of the mountain, widening into a valley and then thinning as the pass wound its way down into the district.
"How long did they say it would take?" The olive-skinned youth asked, peering curiously over Gavin's shoulder at the map.
"Hunter said it takes four days. They plan to hold you here," he pointed at the exit of the valley, "until the other ones get around and then attack."
"How many men?" Asked the commander, a plan forming in his head.
Gavin had to think for a moment, "Dunno, maybe twenty, plus the Ashran Guards, who are now getting involved, and Hunter."
There were a few moments silence before Brice spoke, "Rudey," this was to his second in command, "Take five archers and five men-at-arms and have Gavin lead you through this track." Gavin looked slightly uncomfortable at this and his voice rose in complaint but he was ignored. "Adule is two days behind us, we will wait for him here," he pointed to the valley, "while you come around behind the enemy forces here, " he indicated the Ashranian ambush site. "In five days we will spring the trap, if it is needed, if Adule is early we will discuss moving forward anyway."
Rudey clasped his fist to his heart and spun and began to bark out orders, names were called and within no time five archers, three axe-men and two spear-men were lined up, patiently waiting for their orders.
Brice addressed Gavin, "You will go with them," Gavin opened his mouth to once again protest, "Or you will not get paid." He closed his mouth and waited for Brice to continue. "Until I am satisfied with the state of Ashran, I will employ you for your knowledge on the region and its people. Then you are free to go, with coin and horse."
Gavin nodded in agreement, he would be fed, clothed and protected for at least a few months, and then he would be free to go with pay and a mount, or so he thought.
"Yes, sir," he said agreeably and the Commander turned to the youth. "Boy, get him a horse and supplies."
Flicking dark hair from his eyes the youth obeyed, though not without tossing a glare in the commander's direction.
Gavin was led to a horse, happy he would be able to ride and spare his feet. The youth gathered him some supplies and tied them to the saddle of one of the spare mounts, he also got a pair of greaves and vambrace's for the wanderer. Gavin was quick to equip the leather even though the arm guards were slightly too long for him.
Minutes later the company departed, the horses snorting in excitement as the dozen of them were urged quickly up the path.
Gavin wasn't used to riding, it had been years since he had been on a horse, and he had never ridden as fast as the twelve of them were going, and his body was quick to tell him of its discomfort.
He wisely kept his mouth shut, his companions seemed very determined, and he figured they would reach the track soon anyway, and they wouldn't be able to go so fast. A few minutes of hard riding saw them come to a small widening of the canyon, and Rudey called for a halt.
Two men dismounted and moved over to the canyon walls, trying to find the track. They were unsuccessful and the party continued onward. Several more times the company stopped and the walls were checked. At the next widening the same men dismounted and searched through the bramble and bush. The horses were panting and coated with sweat, their mounts were not build nor were they accustomed to such a harsh pace for so long and they gratefully enjoyed the rest, as did Gavin's body.
One of the men returned before the other, shaking his head. He had searched all along the wall and had found nothing. The second man returned triumphant, he had found the track but said that they would have to leave their horses here, they wouldn't fit in the track.
Orders were given and the men dismounted, loosening their mount's girths and tying their feet so that they couldn't run away.
Clumsily Gavin dismounted and let a Warden take care of his mount for him, he was much quicker at it anyway. His supplies were shoved into his chest and the company was ready to navigate the track.
His feet had recovered slightly from their journey the day and night before, and he was only a little uncomfortable with the idea of carrying his supplies through the track.
In single file the men moved through the undergrowth, brushing aside sun bleached branches and dry twigs and logs. The track was carved into the side of the mountain, probably from mountain goats or herders and it had a great gorge at the bottom which rose up on the other side with sheer cliffs. This side of the mountain was inaccessible for man, only animals could manage its slopes, and there were healthy trees at its peak, clearly thirsty for the waters that ran from the Ilanthenel Mountain which could be seen in the distance.
The track didn't appear to have been used recently, and it certainly wasn't a popular route. Tree roots clung to the rock face and moss and little shrubs dotted the path, harsh brambles and thorns grasped at the clothes and weapons of the group as they moved forward. The sun beat down upon them, the air of the path cooler as mist from the river below cooled the air and created a balance, but it didn't take long until his feet were aching, his torso sore and his throat parched. Gavin was in the middle of the group when he halted, slumping against the rocky cliff-face. The group came to a halt, the men behind him grumbling and he could feel their eyes drilling into him, but ignored them in favour of gulping from his water-skin.
Rudey wasn't impressed and had to return from the head of the group, risking his life on the way down as he had to pass his comrades on thin areas of path, to the wanderer to demand information.
"I need ta rest," rasped the man as he tried to get his breath back. Hard eyes met his own, "You rest when I say you rest," growled the second in command and Gavin shook his head. "I'm resting now," Gavin took another sip of his water. Rudey went deadly still before stepping closer and snatching the water skin from the wanderers hand. "What d'ya-," Gavin was interrupted by a fist slamming into the soft flesh of his belly and be bent over wincing as the Wardens moved around him.
Growling he straightened and foolishly leapt for the leader of the band. A soldier caught him around the collar and threw him to the ground, a spear tip dangerously close to his throat. "Stay down," he rumbled in warning as rope was passed down the line. Ruddy was glaring at him imperiously as two wardens bound his hands, "Let me make one thing very clear," he growled, his voice rumbling above the rush of the water below, "You are only as useful as the information you have. But you have already shared everything of note. It won't be hard to get a local to talk, and they'll know more than you, so shut your gob and start walking, afore your usefulness runs out completely."
The leader dragged Gavin to his feet and handed the end of the rope to one of the guards and then resumed his position at the front of the line, "We don't stop until I say we stop!"
The Wardens were a testament to their leader. They didn't stop until their commander ordered it, traveling at a blistering pace, eating and drinking their rations as they walked, dragging the wanderer behind them, urging him forward with jerks on the rope and the tip of a spear. Onwards they travelled, from the dawn until the dusk, until Gavin had blisters on his blisters and his clothing turned rigid with sweat. The warden's hadn't feared much better, but they were of higher nourishment and physical shape than the wanderer and had shouldered their task with dignity and an eagerness that would hopefully see them reunited with their fellows shortly.
On the dusk of the second day, Rudey posted a watch, having the men change shifts throughout the night. It wasn't so bad, standing watch, the ground was hardly the bed of a city tavern, and the rocks didn't fare well as a head-rest, so being able to sit ahead of the group, with first choice of bush and foliage for a seat was welcomed, even with their exhaustion. Their third day continued similar to the first and second, only with scouts sent ahead. If their calculations were correct, they should soon be encountering the Ashranians. When night brought a chill to the air, and stars as their guide, and there were still no sign of the rebels, the second-in-charge began to get anxious. Rudey's fears weren't ailed as their journey continued and he ordered even further watches, his nervous causing his men to become jumping and cautious, though still there was no sign of any other being on the lonely path around the pass.
As they neared the end of their trek the Wardens formation changed, the spearmen took the front, backed by the men-at-arms and then followed by the archers. Gavin was stuck in front, with the warning that he would die first if they came upon the enemy, so it would be in his best interests to remain silent. Mid-afternoon on the fourth morning the path swerved severly into the side of the mountain, and the group trudeged up the slight incline, inching away from the leathal drop at the joining of the paths.
Hushed orders were given and two scouts were sent forward while the others readied their weapons, continuing onwards at a much slower pace and came to a halt, hidden behind trees and undergrowth. Gavin gratefully collapsed and leant against a pale and withered tree, greedily taking whatever shade he could find and willingly resting his exhausted body. The others relaxed as well, picking through the remainder of their rations wither relish, knowing that soon they would have a full meal and fresh drinking water. The pathway had ended at a point at the Ashranian end of the valley, where the path narrowed back into being two wagons or so wide. The path to the right would lead the wardens down through a valley, which would then thin back to the path the wardens were moving up.
About half an hour later and both scouts returned, each within minutes of each other. The first, who had taken a right at the branch, was fighting through his exhaustion with adrenaline. "I've seen 'em," he panted as his comrade's offered him a water skin, his own hanging empty at his belt. "About a dozen an a half are slowly coming from that way, bout two or three leagues back. Don't appear to be in a hurry". The wardens shifted and murmured to each other as the second scout ran up, a big smile on his dusty face, "We are clear." He said gleefully as he reported to Rudey. "That uva captain must'a arrived earlier, they're camped that way." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder and to the right.
Rudey immediately began to bark orders, "Right then, let's get going. Best warn Adule and Brice."
The wardens got to their feet with renewed vigour, even the exhausted and breathless scouts seemed eager to be off. The wanderer was slightly more reluctant, but as he clambered to his feet he thought longingly of the horse he had been given and hoped he would be able to reaffirm his lost position nas a valuable asset, at least for long enough until he could run away.
The band moved steadily down the path until it widened onto a bigger track, there were many hoof tracks in the dirt and areas where clumps of grass had been pulled out. The valley was perhaps the richest area of land within the district, its only issue was the journey to get there and its lack of land. The grass would only sustain their horses for three days at best, but was more than they had had one their journey from the start of the pass. Tress grew bold and green on either side of the valley, backed by steep and crumbling cliff face and a slight breeze offered respite, cooling their heated bodies, but also carrying their rather ripe scent to those behind them, and that was Gavin.
Scrunching his nose in distaste he kept walking, helped forward by an eager lad who held his rope. The grass felt wonderful against his aching feet and seeing green after four days of dirt and dull colour brush was refreshing, as was the thought of the food he would soon beg for. Rations were called rations for a reason, he mused to himself as the continued.
As the afternoon wore on they got closer to the blobs in the distance and could the tents and the wagons of their brethren. As they did so there was movement at the left end of the valley, the horsemen had come out of the pass. There was a glint of light, as though someone were looking through a telescope and the group began to move faster, seeking safety in numbers.
Audibly protesting Gavin nevertheless began to trot to keep up, he had cast his lot in with the Empire and surely the rebels wouldn't take his treason lightly, even if he did deeply regret it.
As they got closer to the wardens there was movement and orders were carried on the breeze towards them, none of the voices were familiar, so they must have been Adule's men.
The camp was spread into two, a flurry of activity as they prepared to fight the Ashranian's. Three horsemen rode forward, flanked by troops in rows; spear and pike-men at the forefront with close combatants guarding the bowmen. Brice sat rigid in the saddle, and riding next to him in the centre was Adule, for it couldn't be anyone else. The company came to a halt, several dozen meters ahead of the wagons and as the Wardens got closer they got a good look at the other commander.
He was mounted on a great black horse, his cloak falling across his mounts haunches in ripples of black. Oddly he had his hood up, but they didn't need to see his face, for his black and silver armour spoke of his skill and rank among the Wardens. A small figure was on a shaggy pony next to him.
Gavin came to an abrupt halt.
At the far end of the valley the horsemen spread out and began to trot towards them, the Ashranian banner snapping in the wind. The wardens in the middle began to move faster, the man holding the wanderer jerking the rope forward harshly, bringing the man to his knees. They were still several hundred meters away from safety, and Rudey had to double back, as his subordinates began to run, to see what the problem was.
"What are you doing!" He growled as he came closer, dragging the wanderer to his feet and beginning to pull him along. "If you stay here you will die!"
Gavin shook his head wildly, "Him," he said softly as he realised what had happened, how, he didn't know, only that he knew that the man on the horse was not a Warden.
"What? Who?" Rudey was losing patience and released the man and urged his companion ahead as he tried to reason with the wanderer one last time.
"Hunter," Gavin said, and it was then that a gloved hand rose from where it had been holding Brice and formed a fist. The commander swayed for a moment before slumping to the side and crumbling in a pile of limbs on the ground. A horn sounded and the Ashranian's at their back began to canter, spears being lowered in threat. In front of them the wardens slowed, bemusement on their faces as arrows were placed in bows and sent whistling through the air.
Gavin didn't stick around, he made a mad dash for the woods at his right, hoping that the wardens would be a great target than he, his lead rope snaking along the ground behind him.
Adrenaline gave strength to his weary limbs and his return to the track was much faster than his exit, though he had to pause several times to tug the rope free. He wasn't quite sure what his plan was, he had no food or water, was bound and had no means to free himself, but his only thought was to run, casting frequent glances over his shoulder to see if he were being followed.
He stumbled into the clearing that they had rested in earlier and slowed to a halt, the sounds of battle unable to reach him here. Sliding down a tree trunk he panted in the heat and closed his eyes, resting beneath the tree. He would wait, he decided, until the Asranian's were gone and then he would scour the battleground for a stray arrow or, if he were lucky, a forgotten weapon, and free himself, then he would go back to Ashran, disguised of course, and steal some provisions and maybe a mount, and then he would get out of this accursed region.
His body was stiff and the afternoon fading into twilight, with hunger pangs in his belly and his throat like sandpaper, that he heard distant voices. Tiredly he forced his eyes open and glanced around, certain it was his imagination, when he heard the whinny of a horse and the lower murmur of voices he hauled himself to his feet. On the off chance that the Ashranian's came into the clearing they would see him immediately, he couldn't risk that, so he began to move back towards the track.
His entire body protested the movement but with his life in danger it was worth the pain. He could hear them moving through the bush now; branches snapping and feet stomping, they evidently didn't care who could hear them, or that they were announcing their presence.
As he lifted his foot to move over the lip of the track to the path he tripped over one of the numerous tree roots and was sent tumbling forward. Unable to stifle his scream of shock he rolled forward down the track, flaying about with his bound wrists as he tried to stop his descent. For one horrifying moment he saw the edge of the ravine ahead of him and he tried to throw his body backwards, or at least to the side but his momentum was too great. Over the cliff he went, the aching in his body leaving for a moment as he flopped out into the open air, time seemed to halt and he briefly mourned the loss of his life, before bemoaning the many women he had yet to meet and the food he had yet to taste, finally he thought of how he had gotten into this position. It was all Hunter's fault.
Time started once again and he began his descent into the valley below, wind lashing at his face and fingers grasping at his clothes. Abruptly he came to a halt, hanging limply over the ravine like a worm on a hook, or maybe a caterpillar. Breathing heavily, eyes rolling in terror he glanced up, the leash that had bound him now kept his from death, somehow it must have caught.
He let loose a scream as he glanced down to the icy waters below and began jerking at the end of the rope, releasing a wail and ignoring the burning in his wrists and fingers as they held his weight. He wasn't sure over the roar of the wind, which sounded much louder when he was hanging precariously above death, but he thought he heard someone. He screamed again and footsteps got closer and a face peered over the top of the cliff, keeping a safe distance.
Dirty blond hair and brown eyes framed a small face with light brows furrowed in curiosity, "What you there for?" The boy asked, revealing two missing front teeth.
Gavin ignored the question as he spun, straining his neck to look up at the boy, "I know you! Boy, go and get your Master!" It was Hunter's lad, the boy who had stuck like a bur to the stranger ever since he came to town.
Stannis blinked at him and moved further down the track, where he sat on his haunches and took a piece of bread out from within his clothes.
"Boy! Did you not hear me?"
"'course I did," said Stannis, "Not deaf am I," he said he took some bread and began to chew.
Gavin turned again, rotating slowly like a child's spinning top toy, as he again asked for Stannis to go and fetch his Master.
"Don't needa do I," replied the boy as he took another bite and Gavin felt, more than heard, the arrival of the stranger. He strained his neck and saw Hunter standing above him, nonchalant of the dangerous drop below and the precipice he was so close too.
"Bring me up!" Demanded Gavin warily, he was so tired and he hurt, all over. "I'll pay whatever you want, I have coin."
A low chuckle came from beneath the hood, eyes Gavin was certain were staring right through him, "Stannis has told me about you."
"W-what?"
Stannis moved from the track and came up to his Master, and Gavin again voiced his confusion, but decided he wanted to be brought back to solid land, "Please," he sobbed, "bring me up."
Hunter's arm's folded and his voice was laced with amusement as he said, "Hm, no."
"What do you mean, no?!" Demanded the Wanderer and he kicked out with his legs, sending him spinning even faster and he felt sick.
"Stannis?" The hood shifted slightly to face the child, "The decision is yours."
Brown eyes were contemplative as they glanced up to the hood and then back to Gavin, suddenly they hardened, "You left me ta starve!"
Something stirred within his memory, a half forgotten night where he had consumed more alcohol than advised. It had been a freezing week; a shield of ice coated every blade of grass and rock, and his breath turned to shards of ice as he had stumbled home, home being a pile of stolen furs and blankets in the corner of one of the many abandoned buildings in Ashran. He had come across a boy, the very boy watching him intently, who had been cradling a bowl of stew from Granny Bo, the stern old woman had a soft spot for children and tried to feed and clothe the ones that didn't cause trouble. He had, of course, relieved the boy of his meal and when the lad had complained had sent him reeling from a blow to the head.
Remembering what he had done Gavin swiftly tried to reason with the boy, "L-look, I'm sorry," he simpered, swallowing his pride if it would mean his life was safe, "I'll-I'll give you a dagger. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He spun around softly in the wind and had to turn his head to keep the boy in sight.
Stannis said something softly to Hunter, the wanderer was unable to hear it, the wind ripped the words away. A gloved hand rose and pushed a hood back, wind caressing strands of flaming red hair and gently drawing them across regal features. Gavin's jaw dropped as he eyed the woman, for he had never come across or heard of a man so… pretty… A slight smirk crossed pink lips and she eyed him in amusement, or he thought it was amusement, those cold purple eyes roved over him before looking down to the child at her side.
Abruptly she swooped down, so fast that had he blinked he would have missed it, and snatched the rope that bound him and kept him hanging over the edge of oblivion. She held his weight easily and he was blubbing his thanks as he was hauled up level with her knees, then she paused and he glanced from the silver runes in her boots and the great buckles up her legs, over her thigh guards, up her torso and over the clasp across her chest. All traces of amusement were gone from her features as she stared down at him and he thought a moment for the Goddess of Death, for She was said to be devastatingly beautiful but colder than winter. She crouched down, still maintaining her balance and hold on the rope, standing on the edge of the cliff as though she were one of those statues that guarded tall buildings in regions richer than Ashran.
She cocked her head to the side, almost like an inquisitive dog and then she smiled, it wasn't as sinister as her earlier smirk, this one was an upturning of lips that widened to flash perfectly straight and white teeth as he couldn't but help smile in response, his heart thudding in her chest.
She lifted her other hand up to her mouth, index finger pressed to her lips as she hushed him. "Shhhsh, do you hear it?" Her voice was soft, soft than he had ever heard a woman speak and musical and he strained with all his might to obey, to hear what she had asked of him.
He could hear nothing over the thudding of his heart and the whispering of the wind.
"I don't hear nuthin," said the boy curiously.
"Are you certain?" She asked, her voice full of surprising warmth and then she turned her bright eyes on the wanderer. Then she released him, the rope shipping through her hand and snapping in the air above them as he fell, a scream torn from his lips.
She straightened as he rolled and spun through the air, like a leaf on the wind, he had only one destination. Hunter pulled her hood back up and began to walk away, the boy the only one to watch his plummet, getting further and further away, wind lashing at Gavin's eyes and making them water as gravity forced him to the bottom.
Stannis stood at the edge of the cliff until the echoes of Gavin's screams had faded and the only sound was the wind whispering to him. He took a deep breath as the fading light of the sun shrank beneath the onslaught of night and the stars. Hunter returned and stood behind him, warm like a fire in the chill of night and he turned to face her. In the face of overwhelming silence, with only the stars and moon to keep them company, he thought he understood.
"I hear it now." And he could. He could hear it as though the mountain were roaring beneath him, as though the river were bellowing as water rushed towards the sea. He could hear it in the rumbling of the trees and the singing of the stars. He could hear it. Silence.
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A/N: I had trouble writing this chapter as I had it written but then had to reset my device, losing the entire chapter. As a result re-writing it was difficult as I had already written what I wanted to happen… anyway this one is longer :D Enjoy.
Tris: I hope I can help you understand a bit better with the future chapters, things are about to get interesting/fun (for me).
Zhen: Aren't you clever :D Some of what you mentioned in your last review may come to pass… but not how you expect.