-a/n- Again, this chapter starts with an apology. Uni is exhausting and my writing has been sporadic. Thanks to every lovely person who reviewed, especially to those new readers who review older chapters too! It means so much to hear your thoughts and opinions :D
Oh my word, I've just noticed that Friday was Fallen's 4th birthday! Eek. Mega thanks to you if you've stuck with it from the beginning!
Confusedknight xx
Kel wiped her sweaty palms on the rough skirt that they'd hastily sewn together from a saddle blanket. It was heavy and itchy but fortunately was shapeless enough to hide the various implements that were strapped to her thighs.
Through her anxiety Kel felt slightly guilty. Commanders were meant to lead their men, not go haring off on a risky mission. She had abused her leadership position into persuading Neal and Dom to let her go. They'd both begged for her to reconsider, but Kel had stuck firm. Now was the time to act, to use whatever experience and skill she had, to take risks and ultimately rescue as many refugees as she could.
Of course, Kel's friends didn't know that she had years of experience dealing with Scanran slavers and soldiers. They didn't know the extent of her grasp of the language, that she'd already been branded, had been a slave before. Most probably thought that she'd lost her head in her desperation to save the kidnapped.
Kel saw a sentry raising a crossbow, pointing straight at her. Kel hoped that the fact that she was a woman would stop them from shooting on sight.
'Please, please,' she called out in Scanran. 'Help me, help me.' She continued to stumble towards the guards, hunching her shoulders and mimicking the actions of someone who'd been on the road for days.
'Water, I need water, and food,' Kel moaned, dropping to her knees before the soldier.
'What are you doing here?' asked the taller guard suspiciously.
'Master dead, ambush,' Kel panted, her hands grasping for the man's water gourd. 'Walking...ever...since.' Her hands flailed uselessly.
'Take her to Broskn,' barked the guard, whose uniform showed him to be the more senior of the two.
The tall guard hauled her to her feet and shoved her forwards. Kel walked meekly along, dragging her feet, playing the part of Selyn the lost slave girl. She immersed herself in Selyn, in the story she'd created; a lifetime of slavery, a downtrodden meek woman, not possibly a threat.
'Is this another one to make an example of?' asked a paunchy man, scratching his beard absentmindedly.
'No, Meister Broskn, we just found her. Wandered right into our camp.'
'You found her? he asked disbelievingly.
The guard shoved Kel forwards and she let herself tip uselessly forwards, landing heavily on her knees.
'Well where did you come from?'
'We were travelling through Dundine,' Kel mumbled, cowering on the floor. Something hit the side of her face like a sledge hammer. Kel reeled backwards, spots dancing in her vision, the taste of blood welling in her mouth.
'Look at me when I ask you a question,' he said, almost lazily.
Kel brought her eyes up to meet his hard brown ones, trying to make sure her expression was one of fear and not disgust.
'I was with me master Vischnauct, travelling through Dundine,' Kel whimpered. 'We were attacked at night, sir. I was washing the lady's things in the stream, I was. I knew they died cos my collar fell off.' Kel let her voice die to a raspy whisper.
The slave dealer wrenched her sleeve up her arm, revealing the old but visible marks of her slave brand.
'Not one of ours,' he grunted. He looked Kel up and down. 'We'll not get a bad price for her either.' He reached for a water gourd at his hip. 'Throw her in with the Tortallan lot. We'll write some papers and get her sold at Miltrak.' Turning away, Broskyn went back to whatever he'd been doing before he'd been interrupted.
'Come on,' said the guard in a bored voice. 'There'll likely be some water for you in the slave pens.'
Kel kept her head down so that a curtain of hair hid her face; she didn't want any of the refugees to react in a way that would cast suspicions over who she claimed to be. As the door slid shut behind her, Kel shuffled forward. After half a minute she glanced back; the guard on the gate was not paying any attention to what was occurring in the pen. Kel slid her gaze, searching the refugees faces.
At first many didn't recognise her, bloody and dressed as she was. Puzzled, surprised and then excited faces began to appear all around her. Kel pulled a face of extreme caution and shook her head frantically. A low murmuring broke out. Kel hoped that the guard would attribute this to her being a new arrival rather than anything else.
To her relief she saw the lady she was looking for. Kel made eye contact with Fanche and then walked pointedly to the big trough where they were able to drink. Kel pretended to be desperately thirsty and splashed water at her face, waiting for Fanche to arrive.
The elder woman's expression was one of wonderment. 'If I ask will you give me an answer?' she said, finally.
Kel smiled painfully, 'You didn't think I'd let Scanrans go haring off with our people did you?'
'And what of Mr fancy Lord, the one you're serving?'
Kel's face fell slightly, but she set it determinedly. 'He's been charged with protecting the whole of Tortall from the biggest army that's threatened it in living memory. My task for this war is...different. Getting you all back to Tortall alive to start with.'
'They've taken our children, all the little 'uns. Stenmun and his army marched off with them.'
'Stenmun?' Kel breathed.
'Aye' Fanche spat on the floor. 'A blonde giant, likes of which you've never seen.'
Oh I've seen him alright, thought Kel, who was pretty sure that it had been Stenmun who'd shattered her wrist on the plains of Somalkt.
Kel's heart had fallen upon learning that the children had already been taken. Blayce obviously didn't like to work with adult spirits and had handed over the rest of the Tortallan's to be sold. She shook herself mentally. It was no use worrying, she couldn't do anything for the children until they'd escaped from the camp, which in itself was going to take an awful lot of luck.
'How many?' Kel directed her thoughts back to Fanche.
'There's near one hundred guards,' the older woman estimated, 'And similar numbers of slave traders. Just over two hundred of us, but some hurt and no weapons between us.'
Kel and Fanche retreated to a corner of the pens where they were hidden from the view of the guards. Kel had to relay the plan quickly, and yet not in a way that would rouse suspicion.
From inside her breastband Kel withdrew several pouches of herbs. They were designed to induce sleep, usually for medicinal purposes. The pouches were handed along from woman to woman, until they reached those who'd be serving the men that night.
Kel handed lockpicks to the convict soldiers; when it was dark they could unchain all the men who'd been shackled at the ankles.
'The others will take care of the first shift of guards and won't move in until the second ones have come to relieve them. It's a safe way of disposing of sixteen odd men.' Kel grimaced; the odds still weren't good. The two daggers she had strapped to either thigh were the only weapons they had.
'The most important thing for when the others come charging in, is that those of you able to fight have weapons,' Kel mused.
She spent most of the afternoon mulling over different possibilities. Despite being urged not to, some of the refugees couldn't help but coming over to greet her in low tones. There was fear and suffering in every face, yet when they spoke, Kel could feel their burning desire for freedom, their hope.
It was a crushing burden to realise that two-hundred people's sole hopes of freedom rested on her shoulders. She wondered how Alex could bear the pressure of having the peace and lives of millions dependent on his success.
The sun crept lower in the sky and Kel joined the group that had been assigned to cooking duties. Ideally they'd just shove Neal's magical herbs into the food dish and drug everyone, but Neal had warned Kel about diluting the magic too much. It would only work for about twenty men.
Night came slowly, Kel's heart beat rapidly as she observed the men retiring to camp fires in their own quarters, marching off for sentry duty and returning to their tents. Kel mixed up the herbs into jugs of tea and ale and went around serving the men camped near the slave pens. She made careful note of who didn't drink; who she'd have to see to personally.
Sleepiness overtook the men, who trudged back to their tents, complaining that they were spending another night on the road. Kel spotted that the keeper of the slave pens was coming to return the fifteen serving women to the cages for the night. She offered a cup of tea to a soldier who hadn't yet drunk, winking flirtatiously. With a lingering touch on his arm, Kel hoped she was conveying her willingness to accompany him to bed.
A smug grin breached the soldier's spotty face. He stood up, grabbing Kel by the arm. 'She's with me,' he told the slave trader, smirking.
'Well return her when you've finished,' the man replied, unconcernedly.
Her skin crawling, Kel followed the man into his tent. As his back was turned, doing up the tent's fastenings, she reached under her skirt and slipped a dagger out. The soldier was turning around, loosening his breeches. Repulsed, cold sweat breaking out on her forehead, Kel lay down and tucked the dagger beneath the small of her back, wishing it was Courage. Yes, she told herself, have courage.
The nameless man was now approaching, crawling over, on top of her, his hand sliding up her bare leg. Kel's right hand reached for the dagger, she pivoted, rolling so that he was beneath her, Kel struck out and plunged her dagger into the back of his neck, driving the sharp blade until it was buried in his brainstem. The man died silently and Kel scrambled backwards, trembling from head to toe.
After a couple of minutes of staring at the dead man's face repulsed, Kel's trembling hands removed her dagger and cleaned it on the man's shirt. She rooted around in his possessions, finding a sword, an axe and three knives, which she piled by the front of the tent, just inside the flap.
Kel filled her mind with the faces of the children she knew were being spirited deeper into Scanra, for the fate that awaited them when they got to Blacye. She thought of Alex, how she had to get out of this perilous situation and find him. Finally she sent up a prayer to the Goddess, 'Don't judge me too harshly,' she thought, and slipped out of the tent.
Dark had truly fallen, and it was by the starlight that Kel walked over to the next tent. She slipped inside. It's occupant was sleeping soundly and Kel killed him swiftly, silently. Piling the weapons at the doorway to the tent, she left.
On and on she went, whittling down the Scanran forces, until her mind was numb to the pain of it all. Whenever she reached a tent with an awake soldier, she pretended she was prepared to bed him to let herself get close enough for the killing shot.
There was a huge risk involved; one cry would raise the alarm. All it would take would be for one man to discover one of the soldiers dead in their tents before all of chaos's realm broke loose. When the thirty tents nearest the slave pens had all been silenced, she made her way back to the other slaves. At her signal, Lorrein, a hedgewitch, cast a sleeping charm over both guards, making it easy for Kel to finish them off. Kel selected her five helpers and sent them off to silently collect the weapons she'd harvested for them. None of them commented on the manner in which they'd found the dead.
Weapons were passed around until nearly everyone was armed.
'Why don't we take them on now?' Hissed a blacksmith, swinging his new axe experimentally.
'It'd be foolish in this dark,' replied Kel. 'You'd barely see friend from foe. No, we wait until first light, that's when the other soldiers will ride in to help us.'
Kel waited on tenterhooks for the rest of the night, now that the refugees were armed it would be foolish to risk raising the alarm in an attempt to kill more Scanrans whilst they slept. Their best chance now lay in catching the soldiers and slave traders by surprise when the others charged in at first light.
The inky blackness of the sky had lessened, but the sun was still not visible when Kel's reinforcements rode into the camp. She was there to meet them, her hand reaching for Courage.
From then on it was a blur to Kel. The refugees, knights, and men of the Own hacked through tents to find flesh, faced the Scanran soldiers that ran at them. Kel yelled for Sergeant Connac's squad to circle the camp to check that none escaped, she set a band of thirty refugees to guard the horses, so that no Scanrans mounted up. Kel wielded Courage with her usual deadly force, throwing herself into the exercise with such a ferocity that she could temporarily forget the night before.
The last Scanran died and a great cheer rose amongst the refugees. They were clapping each other on the back, thanking the rescue party endlessly. Neal and the other healers set about healing the Tortallan wounded. Mercifully they'd only lost two refugees in the skirmish and Kel thanked the Gods that the toll wasn't higher.
As Kel went to join the party that were checking that the dead were truly so, she saw a thin woman with mousy hair hacking violently at a guard who'd long since died. Kel remembered her name; Peliwin Archer.
'He's dead,' said Kel gently, her voice thick. 'Enough.' She wrested the long-sword from tight clutches of the woman's fingers.
Peliwin's eyes were full of despair as they met Kel's. A purple bruise vividly marred her pretty face and there were bruises around her neck and wrists.
'He hurt me,' she croaked, confusion and misery mingled in her face.
Kel caught the girl as she stumbled forward, sobbing.
'Shhh,' Kel soothed, knowing that nothing she said could help the poor girl.
Neal watched Kel pensively from amidst the groups of people milling about. They'd rescued around one hundred and eighty from the clutches of the Scanran slavers; a tremendous feat when considering how they'd only left Tortall with a band of twenty-nine. And yet Neal couldn't help feeling that actually, without Kel's planning and infiltration of the camp, they'd have never pulled it off.
He took in his friend's ragged appearance; from her straggly shoulder-length hair, framing a bruised face down to the rough, blood-stained clothes she was dressed in. Kel had her arms around a woman, comforting and soothing her. Despite her noble birth, Kel could blend in with the war-worn commoners all around her.
Neal still had trouble believing how tough Kel was, had trouble recognising where exactly the Kel he knew had disappeared to. He'd heard Connac reporting quietly to Merric of the soldiers that lay in their tents, throats sliced mercilessly.
The calm, composed warrior he'd once know was replaced by someone constantly on the edge, alert, guarding her thoughts and feelings from everyone around her. Had she planned all along to slip into the camp and kill them all where they lay? Is that how she'd planned to regain the lost refugees? If it was then maybe she hadn't need their help after all.
Questions and discrepancies nagged at Neal's over-analysing brain. Why had she been so quick to enrol the help of the other captives, letting them live, when they'd left not a single slave trader alive? She seemed to be so sure, so set on her path. She didn't think like a warrior anymore, if anyone, Kel reminded him of George and his immense ability for analysing situations and taking advantage of weaknesses or assumptions. Not for the first time Neal wondered whether Kel hadn't travelled here before. He'd seen her slave number, had she spent her years held captive by some barbaric clan chief?
'We ought to get as many people in the saddle as possible and just go,' muttered Merric in his ear, making Neal jump.
'I'm waiting for Kel to organise this lot,' replied Neal, a slight frown upon his face.
'Well I'm just saying that the longer we linger, the more dangerous this whole circus becomes,' replied Merric, shifting from foot to foot impatiently. 'Come on, lets go see what our orders are.'
As he followed the red-headed knight, Neal had the distinct impression that Merric was slightly disgruntled about following Kel's orders, the orders of a squire. Not that she's led us wrong thus far, thought Neal, again amazed by what they'd just achieved. A rescue mission, behind enemy lines, it was almost ballad worthy.
'Kel we should really get moving,' Merric pointed out.
Neal watched his younger friend pass the lady she was comforting into the care of another, pause ever-so slightly to fix her expression into a calm, emotionless canvas and then square up to Merric.
'Yes,' Kel agreed. 'You should leave soon. Follow the route by which we came and try to stick to cover as much as possible. You should be able to travel quite fast, there are plenty of horses here for the refugees to share. Get them back safely.'
'What do you mean "you should leave soon"?' Demanded Owen, from over Kel's shoulder.
'Stenmun took the little ones yesterday,' Kel explained dully. Close-to, Neal thought she looked exhausted.
'Then we'll all go after him,' exclaimed Owen gallantly. 'There's over two hundred of us now.'
'No,' Kel replied. 'This is no army. These are civilians, farmers, woodworkers, they are under our protection and you must get them back safely. I'll do what I can for the children, but here and now, two hundred people need safe passage back to Tortall.'
'My orders were to stay with you.' Neal's cousin joined the gathering, his blue eyes stubborn. There was no way Dom would abandon his lover in this hostile territory.
'I'm afraid I too must remain with Kel,' Neal spoke airily. 'There need to be some brains on this mission.' Despite his light-hearted tone, he knew with a heavy finality that he was in this to the end, to wherever Kel might lead them.
'No, no, no,' said Kel loudly, her voice cracking slightly.
'Well you're not getting rid of me,' declared Owen.
'Nor me,' said a rough northern voice. Neal cast a glance to the heavy-lidded woman, Fanche Weir.
'You all need to go,' said Kel, almost desperately. 'This is Scanra; we could be discovered any minute.'
'Precisely, this is Scanra. So we're not about to leave without you,' Neal told his friend bluntly. 'Either you come back with us, or lead us on to wherever you're going.'
He watched her glaring round at them all, and saw her give in to the idea.
'Fine,' she snapped. Merric, you're in charge. Seaver and Sergeant Connac's men will help you. Get these people out of this country.'
Merric opened his mouth to argue and then shut it again.
Neal glanced around at the band of those who would not abandon this troubled fighter to her impossible quest. Dom, sturdy and unwavering with his seven fighters behind him. Owen, whose round face shone at the prospect of more adventure. The three scanran soldiers hovering awkward and surly, and Fanche, toughened by the war, with her group of determined refugee fighters and convict soldiers. He then turned to Kel, who seemed to be staring into the distance at the peaked mountaintops that loomed there, and he smothered his concern that Kel might have other distractions on her mind.
Disgruntled as she was by the small group that had refused to leave her, Kel couldn't help but feel comforted by their presence. Now that Stenmun had lost the refugees and wagons that had been slowing him down, his band of men and captive children were travelling faster, with everyone mounted, judging by the tracks they were following. Kel pressed on, determined that they should make up ground between them and their quarry.
The sky had been growing steadily darker all day and Kel's thoughts were as bleak as the unfamiliar landscape. The first spots of rain hit Kel's nose and she knew that they were in for a long day ahead.
She was tired, bone weary from the constant state of alert, from having stayed up all night as well as wrestling with the emotional drain of what she'd done. Squinting through the sheets of summer rain, Kel couldn't help but envisage the lifeless faces, feeling over and over the slick feeling of her dagger driven into neck after neck.
Would Alex have justified her severe actions? They had been slave traders, whom Kel, based on past experience ranked even lower than common mercenaries, but even so, it was human lives that she had stolen without giving them the chance to fight back.
Tears slid from her hazel eyes, immediately washed away by the rain pouring down her face, dripping off her nose. The incessant sheets of water had plastered her hair to her head, had soaked through her shirt and the breeches she'd changed into. But not even the deluge could wash away the feeling of blood on her hands.
Eventually, as it was nearly dark, it was Neal who called a halt to their riding. Kel didn't argue, most people looked to be nearly asleep in their saddles. Extracting herself from the saddle took an enormous amount of effort, but she managed it, landing with a squelch on the sodden ground.
They led their horses through the undergrowth until they came up against a sandstone cliff, pitted and eroded. Dom organised two of his men to take first sentry duty and helped to picket all the horses in the shelter of the trees.
Owen, who'd been remarkably subdued all day, let out a gleeful shout. 'Look at this.'
Having scrambled over a few loose boulders, he'd found a small, low-ceilinged cave. Neal shone a ball of magelight deep into the rock opening and saw no sign of human or animal habitation, except for a few spiders scurrying to get away from the emerald light.
The ten refugees, Dom's men, Neal and Owen hurried eagerly inside, out of the driving rain. Kel didn't follow, not sure she could bear the close proximity of everyone right now. Instead, as the others bustled about unloading saddle bags and setting out things to dry in the cave, Kel scrambled up an enormous boulder, and from there climbed onto a ledge. She traversed for ten metres or so before climbing up to an even higher perch, just level with the top of the tree line.
She peered out through the dark landscape, unable to distinguish any prominent features that might tell them where they were and how further Stenmun had travelled.
'Kel?' Dom's voice sounded distant, muffled by the downpour and the trees.
Kel leant back against the weathered cliff-face and slid down until she sat with her knees bent, face-upturned to the deluge.
She heard their swords grating against the rock face and their heavy breathing before she turned her gaze towards the two men shuffling onto her ledge.
'Well,' said Neal, breaking the silence, 'This would be a lovely viewpoint if it wasn't dark and raining.'
Kel sighed, and trying to make her voice sound as normal as possible said 'I just wanted some peace and quiet to think.'
'About what?' Inquired Dom gently.
Something, already stretched tight with stress, splintered inside Kel.
'Oh I don't know, maybe about what we're doing tomorrow, where we're headed. How on earth we're going to rescue a couple of hundred children with only a dozen swords. How I need to come up with a plan for every unforeseeable circumstance, to weigh up the consequences of every action. The places we're headed, the people we're up against, you just don't get it.'
'Then tell us,' said Neal quite calmly. 'Tell us about Scanra.'
'I've been trying!' exclaimed Kel, 'But none of you will listen to me, you all insisted on coming along-'
'I meant,' said Neal cutting across her tirade swiftly, 'The Scanra you experienced when you ran away from Tortall.' Neal's words were like a punch to the chest.
'I-'
'Don't,' Neal interrupted her again. 'Do we not deserve the truth Kel? We've both seen your slave brand, the injuries you've sustained over the years. You speak Scanran, your blade has a Scanran inscription on and if Prince isn't Scanran-bred then I'll eat my shirt. You know this country Kel, and what's more you understand it's people. Have we not proved over and over that we trust you with our lives? Why do you not trust us in return?'
'Because,' said Kel, finding her voice at last. 'Parts of the story are not mine to tell. I didn't just get captured and made a slave...' She paused and rubbed her face with one sopping sleeve. 'No, it started before I even became a page.'
Neal was about to interrupt but was silenced by a quick 'Shhh!' from Dom, who was staring intently at Kel.
'It started, I suppose, with the destruction of a family, with Maggur when he tore apart the Rathhausak clan and took control. Through sneakery and brute strength he then overcame Miltrak and Hastanne, two of the largest fighting clans. Then he waited, building up an army. From there he destroyed smaller clans, making examples of them. Some clans offered their allegiance out of greed or fear, others stood up to the growing power and were slaughtered because of it.
Few could see the larger picture of Maggur's takeover; Scanra is too large and the clans too separate. One group who did, who knew precisely where Maggur's campaign led, began to work against the warlord; gathering information, alerting those in danger, destroying Maggur's resources. Funded, in part at least, by the Tortallan crown.
I met one of these fighters in a northern village of Tortall, and persuaded them to take me on as an apprentice of sorts.' Kel paused, so far she'd only told the easy impersonal half of the tale. She forced herself to continue. 'I began by acting as a slave, gathering information in the capital Hamrkeng. I travelled, a lot. Across mountains and vast snowy plains, through villages massacred by soldiers. We fought Maggur, bought time for women and children to escape, opposed his mighty armies and witnessed the mass-scale slaughter of the men we led.
I worked on a slave plantation where lives were worth nothing except a few sliver bits. There were no healers, I saw plenty die in childbirth, others beaten to death because they were too exhausted to work for their supper. Imagine hundreds dying of infections that could easily be cured by a healer.
I was shot at, beaten, starved, burned, left for dead and nearly died so many times, that it seemed almost impossible I'd live to make it back to Tortall. During those years I met some of the most loathsome creatures to walk this earth, slave traders and men like Stenmun.' Kel took a shuddering breath, before the words continued to tumble out.
'And yet I also met wonderful people. Families that took me in as one of there own, men who respected my fighting and leadership even though I was a girl, and leaders that I'd lay down my life to follow. I discovered a rich culture; festivals and music that I'd never experienced before, fighters of calibre to match the most skilled knights and a place where your worth is not dictated by a social class system. There's so much in this country worth fighting for. With a decent king on the throne, one who would abolish slavery and bring peace between the two countries...' Kel's throat became too tight to speak of all that she hoped for the nation.
'So why did you come back?' asked Dom quietly.
Kel swallowed and replied, 'The Tortallan border must hold; the more power and land Maggur gains, the harder it'll be to stop him. Besides, if you'd seen what he's capable of, his brutality and disregard for human life...He's probably amassed the largest army Tortall's ever faced. And now-'
'Here we are,' said Dom slowly. 'Trying to save refugees, because if they're made into killing machines-'
'It's likely the border will fall,' Kel finished.
There was a tangible silence.
'Do they know you're here?' Asked Neal, 'The ones you fought with.'
Kel shook her head. 'They could be anywhere in Scanra. I had a stupid hope that I'd be able to find them and get help,' she said miserably, starting to shiver worse than ever. 'But we're on our own.'
The morning brought with it a sun that burned down, drying any residual damp from the previous day's downpour. Kel felt better in the bright new day, as though something inside her had been cleansed by talking to Neal and Dom. Relieved that they had accepted her story with little questioning, Kel had now to simply focus on the present, push back memories good and bad, and try to get them all out of this alive.
They followed Stenmun's trail, riding hard and praying that their mounts could hold the tough pace. Dogging Stenmun all day, Kel had her archers picking off sentries whenever they could get a clear shot. The Scanrans soon wised up to this and kept children alongside them, so that it was difficult for the Tortallans to shoot safely.
Kel knew that in light of their obvious presence, Stenmun had two choices; send men after the shooters or to ride as fast as he could to his destination. Luckily for Kel and the Tortallans, he chose the latter, which suggested to Kel that Blayce was nearby.
Eventually Kel had to call a halt to their journey. Both riders and mounts were plastered in sweat, and even Prince who had journeyed long distances before, was looking winded.
'There's no use in us catching up with Stenmun if our mounts are too lame to get us back to Tortall,' she told the band, somewhat unnecessarily. 'Unsaddle them properly, give them a good rub down and check all hooves.'
'My lady,' said Saefas, one of the group who'd accompanied Fanche. 'There's an army up ahead. Maybe two hundred strong.'
Kel's blood froze. 'Hold,' she hissed. 'Don't unsaddle yet, we may need to escape quickly.' She, Dom, Neal and Owen all followed Saefas through the thinning trees. They dropped to all fours and continued, low to the ground, until they could peer off the bluff into the valley below.
Sure enough, camped before them was a whole army bedecked in red, horses tethered here and there. Neal swore next to her. There was no way that they could get through the soldiers ahead. They'd have to divert for miles and miles, risking losing Stenmun's trail.
'The banners,' said Dom, slightly puzzled. 'They don't flap.'
Kel saw that he was right. 'Here, hand me a spy glass,' she requested.
Owen fished one out of his pocket. Kel examined the nearest reaches of the camp. Yes there were horses, tramping up and down on the spot, but Kel observed that no dust was kicked up by their hooves. Kel looked up into the soldier's impassive face. As she watched, not a single man moved, spoke or even altered their gaze.
'I think,' she said cautiously, 'That it's only an illusion.'
'But I can see their mages gifts,' hissed Neal.
'Look, actually look at them,' said Kel. 'They're hardly animate.'
After ten minutes or so of everyone examining the army, they decided that it was most probably an illusion. After a shortened rest, they proceeded, cautiously.
The closer they came to the army, the less real it became, and when they actually reached the tents, the image disappeared altogether.
'Well, it was the best illusion I'd ever seen,' grumbled Neal.
'There are some Scanran mages that specialise in illusion,' Kel said absentmindedly. 'They sometimes recreate images of historical events or of a fallen warriors deeds.'
In place of the fearsome army was a town, ramshackle and rotting. Houses had been gutted by fire, or simply abandoned altogether. It was quiet. Then, out of what might have once been an inn, exploded villagers armed with crossbows, scythes, axes and spears. Kel halted her men, sword drawn. Her eyes scanned the people and came to rest on a face that was unmistakably familiar.
'Peace,' Kel called in Scanran.
A girl, young and innocent, not more than eight years old, appeared from within the building. Within her grubby grasp was a floppy rag doll, made from brown sacking or suchlike. The child smiled, her eyes wide, innocent and knowing.
'This is the one alright,' she announced confidently, in her child's voice. 'The Protector of the Small, sister to the Leader, friend to the Fighter and the Spy both. She comes with justice, a royal horse, the great sword of Courage and her friends from abroad. Blayce will fall.'
Please review :D I've just finished uni for Christmas and will update much sooner!
Finally, because I wrote the vast majority of this chapter on Rembrance Sunday:
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
Peace,
Confusedknight xx