Chapter 23 – Summoning the Fortitude

Flik hurried through the streets, his feet propelled by things he knew and things he did not. He had no idea how many Highland soldiers stood outside the walls, waiting only for Culgan's return to march into the city. He did not know how long it would take to gather his own men and try to flee. He did not know where he would flee to, when it came to that. He did know one thing though. If he remained within the city, he was a dead man. Only a firm sense of responsibility to the people in his care held him back from running for the first gate out of the city.

South Window had suddenly come alive, the streets buzzing with people passing rumors back and forth in hurried tones.

"Did you hear?" an old man said. "The Mayor's going to surrender to Highland without a fight."

A youth answered, "I heard that Highland is demanding a tenth part of all the wealth in the city as tribute."

Around the corner was another rumor. "I hear they're going to round up the thousand most beautiful virgins in the city and take them back to Highland."

The reply was, "I hear Luca Blight uses women the way a miller grinds flour. Uses them up and throws out the husks."

Flik wiped at his brow. The city was simmering, and the wind was picking up from the southwest. It seemed to get warmer with each of his long strides. There was still more gossip on the wide street where the merchants' warehouses stood.

"I have a friend among the palace guards who heard the terms. Highland's going to round up all the men over sixteen and draft them into the army."

A burly worker responded, "Why did Granmeyer go and do that? I'd have fought to keep Highland out, if anybody asked. Why should I go and fight for them?"

Farther down the lane, several merchants discussed the news, furtively looking around.

"They say that Highland is going to burn down the merchants' quarter and turn it into an armed camp."

"I heard that the hundred richest men in Muse were all executed, and their property turned over to Highland."

"My cousin says that a friend from Muse told her that Luca Blight bathed in the blood of those men."

Flik's head began to spin from all the stories he was hearing. Not one of them was correct, save that they all mentioned that Granmeyer was going to surrender. He continued on. The sun was already past its midday peak.

He was sweating profusely by the time he returned to the inn. Much to his surprise, Rossgard's half-company was busy forming up in the shadow of the interior wall. Apple, her sleeves rolled up and her yellow coat hanging loose on her frame, was directing them. Rina and Bolgan were packing up their belongings, settling them squarely on Bolgan's broad shoulders.

Flik staggered up, panting. "What's going on? Apple, we've got a huge problem."

Apple, her face flush in the heat, smiled. "Already taken care of."

Flik was too busy trying not to throw up to look amazed. "What?" he gasped.

"I figured that Granmeyer wasn't going to fight. So we're leaving. We'll use the disturbance as our cover. I've had people out all morning, planting rumors and working the crowds."

"That-" Flik heaved a huge breath. "That explains everything I've been hearing."

Apple nodded. "Yes. Now, are you able to walk, or do I need to get you some water?"

Flik's head was clearing; there was nothing like impending danger to goad the body on to higher efforts. Still, he voiced one qualm that came to mind. "This is very deceitful. None of those rumors are true, and a lot of people could get hurt in the mayhem."

"The choice is yours, Flik: escape or don't." She sighed and frowned. "Personally, I don't care to spend the rest of my life locked up in some Highland dungeon…or worse."

Culgan's warning whispered in the back of Flik's mind. He knew what would happen if Highland managed to catch him. "Let's do this. If we hesitate, it'll only make things bloodier in the end."

"Good," Apple replied. "I've already sent most of the others on ahead. We were only waiting on you. The meeting point will be to the northwest, at the intersection between the Cave of the Wind and North Window."

They departed, marching off towards the tunnel in the interior wall. The shade was a relief from the heat, but the afternoon sun seemed to be waiting with redoubled strength as they left the tunnel behind. In this poorer neighborhood, people were streaming towards the northwest gate, pushing forward furiously. As Flik's formation entered the press, more people closed in behind them. His men made their way forward by dint of discipline and unity.

As the mercenaries approached the gates, the crowd hesitated. A squad of Highland cavalry had just appeared at the entrance, fighting its way against the current. Its leader shouted, "Disperse, all of you! You are in violation of the terms of the armistice."

The crowd screamed insults back, but no one was ready to be the first to step towards them. However the pressure from behind was still building. Flik knew that all it would take was one person slipping to start a disaster. They had to get out through that gate.

Rina was the one who came up with the solution. She hefted up a fist-sized chunk of loose paving stone and handed it to Bolgan, who lobbed it in the direction of the Highland cavalry. It struck their leader square on the head, and he collapsed right out of his saddle. Emboldened, the crowd pressed forward, and the rest of the Highlanders scattered.

Once they were outside the gates, the going was a little easier. Flik led them off due west, trying to find an easy way onto the west road. The hot south wind roared, and, from that direction, a wall of darkness seemed to creep towards him.

"It's a dust storm," Apple explained when Flik asked. "High winds blowing over the Karakas Desert create them. If the storm gets here quickly enough, it might screen our flight."

Flik looked to the north. A large force of Highland soldiers was marching down the north road, several thousand at least. More cavalry were making their way towards the gate, too many for those seeking to flee to easily turn aside. Ominously, some of that cavalry was peeling off to the west.

Flik urged his men on to the northwest, gaining the road, but there was little his flagging men could do to outrun the horsemen. Riding two hundred yards to the north of the road, they quickly came alongside and began shooting arrows towards his men. Flik ordered his men to change facing, preparing to use the Fire Spears. Even as they did, the enemy cavalry wheeled and trotted onwards, farther to the west.

Now in front of the mercenaries, they came south to interdict the road. Even at a distance, Flik could see that it was Culgan who led this particular group of enemies. Apple suggested they turn off the road and find a group of South Window refugees to hide in. Flik turned the men back towards the north, angling towards one such group.

But Culgan's men pursued vigorously, nipping at the mercenaries with pinprick arrow attacks, then riding on ahead, cutting the mercenaries off from their goal. Flik turned back towards the road, using the Fire Spears to lay down a screen of flame. The Highland mounted archers were driven back for a time but reappeared to the northwest again.

Flik considered his options. The Fire Spears could keep Culgan's men off him for a time, but the spears would eventually fail from overuse. The wall of dust was closer, stretching across the entire southern horizon. There was also a series of low ridges in that direction. Flik led his men towards the approaching storm, hoping to lose Culgan in it and the terrain.

He soon found that the Highland general was exceedingly clever. Half the mounted archers, a force still larger than Flik's beleaguered men, split off from the main unit and raced ahead, while the other half shadowed him from behind. There did not seem to be any opening to escape his pursuers, so Flik led his men towards a thicket of tall, prickly brush. He deployed the mercenaries around the perimeter and hoped that the foliage would keep the arrows out. The two mounted archer units circled for a time, firing arrows that didn't kill anyone but kept his men pinned down. After a while they stopped even that, holding their ground as messengers passed back and forth between the two enemy forces.

Flik glanced up at the approaching storm. It seemed to be about half an hour off. "What do you suppose they're talking about?" he asked Apple.

"If I were they, I'd be coordinating where they're going to attack," she replied casually. "They're deciding which part of the formation to attack now, so that you don't have time to shift more men to the proper position."

"You have a plan?" he asked.

Apple wiped dust off her glasses. "We need to buy some more time, then we might be able to escape in the storm. The problem is, I don't know how to get that time."

"Could we use the Fire Spears, maybe make a circle of fire around our position and wait them out?"

"No." Apple shook her head. "With this wind, that's much too dangerous. The fire would almost certainly be blown right back onto our positions."

Flik hung his head and pondered an even more desperate idea. "I could surrender myself to them. I'm the one they're after, anyway. If they had me, then they might go away, and you could escape to North Window."

Apple did not reply, but Rina did. "That's stupid," she said heatedly. "You want to give up now, without fighting? If you do that, then you're no better than Granmeyer."

That stung. "What do you suggest?" Flik asked.

"Sleight of hand," Rina answered. "In a card trick, you show the audience a particular card, and then distract them with something that looks important, all the while slipping the card away. It works every time."

Flik frowned. "I don't understand."

"I do," Apple said. "You want to dress somebody up to look like Flik, right?"

Rina smiled. "When the Highlanders see somebody that looks like Flik leading the men out of this thicket, they'll follow after him immediately. Then you," she pointed at Flik, "can sneak out while the Highland Army is distracted."

Apple also smiled. "That just might work, but who will play Flik?"

Rossgard stepped back from the edge of the bramble. "I should be the one, I think."

Flik studied the senior sergeant for a moment. "Your hair's too dark, and you're going bald. Besides, you look older than I do."

"None of that matters," Rina explained. "Most of the Highland soldiers have never seen you close up. Show them a man in a blue cape, blue bandanna, and blue leather coat leading a group of mercenaries, and they will believe it's you."

The wind rattled the branches of the underbrush. There was no time left for doubts. "Fine," Flik said. "I agree." He untied the bandana and found that it was soaked with his own sweat. After that he unbuckled the cape, handing it to Rossgard. Finally, he pulled off the leather armor. He was actually much more comfortable in his yellow shirt and black pants. Rossgard put the bandana, cape, and armor on. "You still don't look a thing like me," Flik commented, when the costume was complete. "Never mind, this will have to work."

Rossgard smiled. "We'll lead them on a merry chase. After a while, I'll take these things off. Hopefully, that'll confuse them as to your whereabouts. Then we can slip off during the storm."

"Don't get yourself killed," Flik said.

"I don't intend to."

"Don't lose my stuff either," Flik continued.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Minutes later, Rossgard and the mercenaries charged out of the tangle, making a feint towards the closer of the two Highland units. Flik, Rina, Bolgan, and Apple, lying in the thickest portion of the bramble, watched as Flik's soldiers began using Fire Spears to drive the Highlanders back. The diversion went on for a few more minutes before the men disappeared beyond a ridge to the south and west. Both enemy units trotted off in pursuit.

"Seems to have worked." Flik managed to start breathing again.

"Seems to have," Rina commented, cool and confident.

Flik and the others waited a little bit more, and the storm finally came up. Red and yellow dust swirled in the air, and visibility was suddenly no more than a few feet in any direction. They started coughing, gagging on the grit. Flik unrolled the neck of his shirt and pulled it up to his mouth. That helped, a little.

The four of them wandered away from the thicket, heading in the direction that Apple believed was north. Flik hoped they'd reach the road quickly, as the sun was now far to the west, and the day's light was failing.

They did find the road, struggling into a crowd of refugees travelling along it to the north and west. Now, at least, Flik had anonymity. He held Rina's hand with his left hand and Apple's with his right. Bolgan plodded ahead, his size making him unmistakable, if indistinct in the evening light.

The dust storm continued to howl, even into the coming of full night. The heat was nearly unbearable, but Flik did not see anybody stop. Not that he could see much of anything. His awareness of Rina and Apple had shrunk to just their hands in his. Bolgan was just a larger shadow in the midst of a horde of shambling shades.

The march continued for many hours, but, because of the storm, Flik could not see the moons to measure the time. He had no sense of distance either. He just continued putting one foot in front of the other until he walked right into Bolgan. He stumbled back a bit, losing his grip on the women's hands.

"Sorry, sir," Bolgan rumbled gently. "We seem to have stopped."

Flik shook his head and spat grit out of his mouth. All of his clothes were covered in the stuff. "Where are we?" he asked, when he had his mouth clear.

"I assume it must be the crossroads," Apple replied. "I told the others to wait there until morning. It's possible that everyone's just been coming to a halt at that point."

"Even if it isn't," Rina suggested, "we may as well get some sleep. I'm tired and I don't see any point in blundering around not knowing where we're going."

They tried to rest sitting up, Flik and Bolgan back to back, with Apple to Flik's left and Rina to his right. He closed his eyes and tried to relax his mind, letting the noise of the wind and the aching of his muscles fade into the background.

Suddenly it was morning, and the storm was gone. Flik had just this moment of realization before Bolgan tried to crush him. It wasn't intentional, the larger man was simply leaning back into Flik and yawning as loudly as he could.

Flik did his best to scramble away. "Careful there," he chided.

Bolgan looked around, abashed. "I forget my own size sometimes."

Flik stood up and brushed himself off. "No harm done." Rina and Apple were on their feet, faces coated with dirt from the storm. Come to think of it, his was too, and it had a layer of unshaven stubble. He ran a hand through his messy hair, noted with alarm the lack of his normal blue bandanna, and remembered the events of the previous day. He wondered if his men were okay.

Apple took off her glasses and tried to clean them. All she managed to do was push the dirt around a little. She gave up and said, "Let's see if we can find Leona in this mess." Since she couldn't see much, she let Flik guide her by hand.

Bolgan got to his feet and the four of them set off through the crowd. As Flik looked around, he mulled over the fact that he'd been getting a lot of experience with large groups of refugees. Just as in East Muse, they were clumped together in groups of five, ten, or twenty. This time they were not seeking warmth, but simply comfort from being near other people. It was much warmer than in East Muse, and the people around Flik already stank of sweat and earth. A few others had gotten up and were moving about, but most of them seemed to be too exhausted to go anywhere yet.

They found the men of Viktor's Mercenary Army mostly because their camp was the most orderly portion of the larger refugee horde. Bolgan, being the tallest, had spotted them first, pointing the proper direction. As Flik walked towards his men, he took stock of their appearance. They looked disheveled, but otherwise in as good spirits as might be expected after fleeing for their lives.

On the other hand, they almost didn't recognize him without his trademark blue clothing. "Is that really you?" Tarrance asked, after Flik had shouted for a meeting of the senior sergeants.

It was Leona who answered. "Yes, it is him. He's looking a little worse for wear and seems to be missing some of his clothing, but that's Flik." She didn't look that great herself. None of Riou's recruits did. Even the ever optimistic Millie wasn't sporting a smile on this morning.

Tarrance had another question. "What happened to Rossgard and the men that were supposed to be with you?"

"He led a diversion so that I could escape," Flik reported. "It seems that Highland was after me specifically, so he took my cape, bandanna, and coat and led his men away, pretending to be me."

This brought some chuckles and snorts from the senior sergeants. "I can almost see it," Tarrance replied, smiling. His grin faded. "I hope he made it."

"I do too." Flik nodded. "Regardless, we have to move out. The goal for today's march is North Window. If we get there, we can possibly get food and water from the surrounding villages. After that, we'll see. The marching order will be-"

"Troops approaching!" someone from the refugees shouted, dashing past the mercenaries' camp. "From the south!"

Screaming filled the air. A lot of people shook off their lethargy in a panic, bolting in the first clear direction. Many others, especially those in large groups, wearily got to their feet and shambled towards the north. A large plurality simply chose to remain in position, too tired to do much of anything.

"Form a square," Flik commanded, yelling. It was not a formation the mercenaries had much practice in, and it took a lot of jostling for the companies to get into the right position. Luckily, the crowds were spooked by any armed men, and so they didn't foul the defensive lines. Flik squinted off to the south, trying to get a good look at the approaching soldiers. He couldn't see much of anything, save the refugees and the dust that their panic was kicking up.

Minutes went by and Flik still didn't see any enemy. He wondered if it wasn't just a false alarm. Finally, with the dust beginning to settle down, he did see a group of men approaching.

Flik looked at his own men. Those closest to him had tense faces, hands ready on the Fire Spears. He pulled out his sword. "Ready Fire Spears!"

He waited a moment to see the extent of the enemy. He didn't want to waste his precious spears on a feint or a skirmish line. This first group didn't seem to be a skirmish line. It was more like a clump of men in a marching column.

Then Flik caught sight of the man in a blue cape, blue bandanna, and blue coat who was leading them. He laughed out loud, long and hard. "Stand down!" he shouted, fighting for his breath. "Stand down." Relieved smiles broke out on the faces of the nearby mercenaries, for they too could see who approached. Even the panic among the refugees was subsiding.

Rossgard walked his battered contingent towards Flik. He saluted and then began untying the bandanna from around his forehead. "With all due respect," Rossgard said, in an exhausted tone. "I think I'll go back to being a humble senior sergeant. If that storm hadn't come up, I'm sure they would've ridden us into the ground."

Flik took back his raiment. "I'm glad that you and the men made it out okay. When we have enough potch to spend, I'm going to give your half-company an entire month's pay as bonus."

A few men in Rossgard's half-company whooped, but most of them looked like they were ready to fall asleep where they stood. Rossgard rubbed his forehead. "I do bring some distressing news, sir." He looked back to his men. "Bring that fellow forward to speak to the commander," he ordered.

Flik recognized the man as soon as he caught a glimpse of him. He could hardly forget him, even without the gaudy golden armor he'd seen in Granmeyer's audience hall. Arnhem, chief among the generals of South Window, bowed deeply as he was ushered before Flik. Somehow, the fact that he had fled wasn't the least bit surprising.

"I have terrible, terrible news," he squeaked, when he'd finished bowing.

Flik waved a hand dismissively. "Get on with it."

Flik's tone seemed to catch Arnhem off guard. The pudgy general flustered a bit and began babbling. "Well, it was yesterday when the Highland soldiers suddenly burst into the palace. I suppose they didn't find me because I was on the toilet. I threw off my armor and hid among the refugees in the palace. They rounded up all the officials and cut off their heads. They said it was because of we violated the terms of the surrender. They even killed Lord Granmeyer."

The crowd groaned at this news. Men and women began weeping.

"Which general?" Flik asked. It couldn't have been Culgan, he seemed too honorable for that sort of underhandedness. Besides, he'd been chasing Flik for much of yesterday. "Do you know who it was?"

Arnhem's tongue stuck in his mouth. He was close to crying, too. "Solon Jhee," he squeezed out. "Solon Jhee did it. Then he kicked Granmeyer's corpse and told the men to place the heads at every gate on the walls. That was when I left the city." He fell silent.

Flik glanced around; people were looking at him as if expecting an elegy, but he couldn't find the words. He was still upset with the late mayor for not trying to defend South Window. But the crowds were waiting for some sort of closure. Flik sighed and relented, summoning the fortitude to find the right thing to say.

"Lord Granmeyer was a patron of the arts, a man of peace born into an age of war. He deserved peace, to let his talents shine, but Highland stole that away from him." Slowly, Flik gazed across the refugees and his men. "If you truly wish to honor Lord Granmeyer's death, then help us to throw Highland out and bring the peace that he would've wished for back to your land."

Flik had never counted himself as a great orator, but there was some applause at the end of his little speech. There definitely seemed to be less crying. His own men were nodding respectfully. He smiled. "Right. We move out for North Window. All those who wish to fight for Lord Granmeyer, follow me."

And much to Flik's amazement, the crowd did.