Black Kerthon's Doom (5 page)

Serada stepped between them and separated the cousins. He looked into Bonoma's eyes, saw the anger subside, and grief filled the grey eyes again. Macelan went to sit on a stump, remembering Jared, still ignorant of the hurt he had caused.

"What will you do?" asked Serada.

"We cannot decide," said Bonoma. "Our numbers are too few and word would reach the High King no matter how many men we had and soon more soldiers would come. There is talk of joining Gareth's rebellion but whatever we do we cannot hide. Perhaps some raids at night might discourage them."

"Where do they take the new soldiers?"

"Some remain with the local squads but most are sent to Nantitet so there is no hope of their assistance."

"Is it too late to catch up with them and liberate them?" asked Serada.

"There are many soldiers with them and they march fast. Besides, the closer they get to Nantitet, the stronger the grip of the High King. There are too many Calendian army posted across the south land. I see no hope in that direction."

"In what direction do you find hope?" asked Macelan, almost to himself, but Bonoma's head snapped at the words.

"We must defend our town and our families as best we can," his anger rising again. "We are no match for the Calendian army on the battle field. We must fight in the shadows and slowly drive them out."

"They will hunt you and harass your families," said Macelan. "There will be those who would sell you out. It is not the best thing to do." Macelan was trying to think of a simple solution but nothing came to him. Nothing.

"No? Then what would you and your friend have us do? Chase the soldiers to Nantitet, knock on the High King's door, and ask for our men back? That is foolish, but I shouldn't have expected any more than that from you."

"Your words are angry and rightly so," said Macelan. He felt he had tried to help in good faith and felt each slap of Bonoma's words. "I had thought to spend a pleasant vacation with you but I see that is now impossible. Good luck, cousin, I hope your plan works."

"What?" asked Serada. "Are we just going to leave them? They can use our help."

"Your friend doesn't know you very well, Macelan," said Bonoma. "You see, Serada, my cousin is a coward. That's why he tries to act the fool so he won't get work on the fishing boats. He is afraid of the sea and he is afraid of having to be a man. He likes being insignificant and shuns responsibility wherever it lies. Reality does not get in his way. In minutes, he will be humming to himself and Jared's death will be but a passing thought. You can do better in a friend than Macelan. Stay and help us. Leave him to his own deceit and decay. He cannot see his future and dodges it like a puppy. He does not understand duty."

"And neither do you," said Macelan, his pride overriding his good sense, again. "Good-bye." Macelan moved off.

"I understand it enough not to leave my friends in peril!" Bonoma shouted. "Soldiers march upon Dale and you are out on a stroll. You even see the Calendian army and wave at them and are thankful you have run away."

Macelan turned and left amid the taunts of the men of Greenhills. Bonoma's face was red and he spat after his cousin. Serada gestured helplessly and ran after Macelan.

Macelan kept a furious pace and it was some time before Serada could catch him. They went north again and then curled around to the east. The trees thinned out as they neared the river and Macelan moved slower with more deliberation until they came to a narrow part of the river. Serada settled behind the rock next to Macelan and wondered at the angry face he saw: the lips pulled tightly around the teeth and the brows crunching down upon the eyes and the strong deep breaths.

"What are we doing?"

"I don't know. But I'm going to cross the river and head south until I come to the soldiers' camp. Then I shall decide what to do. We can't go back to the south on this side of the river without crossing Bonoma's path or going through Greenhills and encountering the soldiers."

"Why are you so angry? What are you trying to prove?"

"You of all people should not need to ask that. If you are with me, come, otherwise seek safety. I mean to aid Bonoma and his friends. They shouldn't have to stand alone." He stared at the river currents, following the leaves swirling in the water.

"Jared was a terrific kid. I used to take him camping in the mountains north of here. Everything interested him. He'd laugh at the sunshine and sing with the crickets. He was so happy. Someday I want a son just like Jared."

"Why didn't you tell Bonoma?"

"I didn't want him to know how much I cared. I didn't want to appear weak."

"What purpose does that serve? He would have appreciated your feelings much more than you deserve and I doubt very much if any man there would have thought the less of you because of it. In fact, you would have gained some of the respect you lack."

Macelan glared at Serada and changed the subject.

"If we can reach the opposite side of the river from the Calendian army camp then we may hear something important. Sound carries well over water."

"And what can we do? The two of us, unarmed, are going to terrorize soldiers?"

"We must do something."

"Offer our aid to Bonoma."

"I can't go back there. Not now."

"Macelan, this will prove your foolishness, even to someone who may have believed otherwise. If such a person exists. Swallow your pride and go back to Bonoma if you want to help."

Macelan frowned at Serada.

"Macelan, we cannot do anything alone."

"Perhaps we can spy on them and then you can go to Bonoma with our information." His voice was eager, he was grasping for some place to stand. Serada nodded.

"Yes. We could do that. But no more. We are fishermen, not soldiers, not spies. We have no mastery over soldiers."

They waited until dusk before they crossed the icy cold river, their packs and clothes held high over their heads. It was much later when Serada began to shake the numbness from his limbs and then they had neared their quarry. The campfires could be seen across the water. Macelan sat on a bank and his feet dangled over the side a foot above the rushing water. They did not speak for they heard the clear sound of the voices on the other side carry to them and they listened to all, which was said. But the officers were not among the speakers and they heard nothing of importance and they found a safe place to sleep and rolled out their bags. Serada was too hungry to sleep, the pretzels gone and he thought the soldiers would hear his stomach. Finally, Macelan tossed something on his chest. Serada picked it up, sniffed it, and wondered where Macelan had found the jerky.

In the darkness of the night, a cry rang out in the camp across the river. Suddenly, the whole camp was awake, the torches flared brightly, and the sound of steel rang. As abruptly as it began, the sound dulled to bewilderment on the part of the soldiers.

"What happened?" asked Serada.

"I think Bonoma and his boys made a midnight visit."

"Can you see if they got away?"

"No. There might be some bodies down there, but I couldn't say whose they were. We won't know until the morning. The dead soldiers will be buried and any of Bonoma's men will be thrown into the river. And those we won't know about, the river flows fast."

"The soldiers won't allow another attack like this."

"No, that's certain. As soon as it's light they will be searching every house in the area."

"Do you think they'll search on this side of the river?"

"Perhaps we better rise early."

They did rise early and had retreated several hundred yards when the first of the soldiers crossed over the river. The red uniforms walked up and down the bank, stooped suddenly, and then followed a trail to where Macelan and Serada had slept.

"Damn!" said Serada. "Will they track us?"

"Depends on how successful the attack was last night."

The red uniforms called to others and soon a dozen soldiers were moving inland. One was several yards in front tracking, and the rest were grouped together, their broadswords were out and glinted in the sun.

Macelan led Serada through the tall grass toward the sweeping hills from which Greenhills claimed its name. The hills sloped gently for a quarter mile and then the rolling motion of the ground became pronounced and reminded Serada of the swells on the sea. The hills were mostly bare and they did not hope to cover their trail without being spotted in the process so they pressed their endurance and ran up and down up and down, the jolts on their knees going down and the burn in their thighs coming up exhausted them and at mid-day they rested. There was no sound of pursuit.

"Do you think they are still trailing us?" asked Serada.

"Yes. If any soldiers were killed, they will not stop until they catch us. This is probably the most excitement they've had since arriving in Greenhills. I doubt if they would stop even if they lost our trail."

"Would that happen? Them losing our trail?"

"Not likely. These are trained killers. They are after you." He grinned.

"Bonoma is definitely right. You do not take anything seriously."

"Because I jest about our situation? You are too tightly strung. Relax. Relax and you will respond better to stress."

"Is that what you do?"

"Yes," said Macelan. "You don't really think I'm that foolish, do you?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

Macelan was still, suddenly, and raised his finger to his mouth. There was a dim sound of movement far below them, a half-mile or so but the texture of the hills made it difficult to pinpoint where it was coming from.

"I don't know if that's the soldiers already," said Macelan. "But we better keep moving just the same."

They had just started out when four soldiers rose up out of the earth. Serada froze but Macelan dashed off down the hill. Two soldiers followed him.

"New recruit, eh, Cranton?" said one of the soldiers as the other got out some rope with which to tie Serada.

"Always admire a volunteer. You boys led us on quite a chase. We always can use spirited boys. Mind we have to beat it out of you for the first few weeks, but after that you'll be one of the guys."

Serada didn't answer but he found some nerve and started to back away from his captors.

"Easy lad," said the other. "Don't make us be rough on you."

Macelan was fleet afoot and outdistanced his pursuers. He changed direction and found a place to watch for them. The plumed helmets were easy to spot and he saw they had split up. He found a fallen branch that was light enough to swing but stout enough to do some damage. One Calendian soldier was heading his way.

He watched the man and noticed he was head down, looking at the tracks. Macelan settled down in the tall grass and when the soldier walked close, he rose up and hit him in the face with the branch. The noise alerted the second man who came running in a hurry but by that time, Macelan had a sword in his possession. He smiled at the notion of invulnerability the soldiers thought surrounded them.

Macelan knew he had been seen so he ran to a ravine and positioned himself with a view of the entrance. The Calendian soldier was not trying to be silent as he followed and Macelan wondered if the other two were nearby as well and they were trying to flush him out. He waited.

The soldier rushed down the ravine and was upon Macelan almost before he could raise the sword and run the Calendian soldier through. The soldier saw Macelan at the last moment and dodged aside, taking a glancing blow from Macelan's sword, stumbling on the rocks. Macelan struck him with the sword, drawing blood but it wasn't deep. Macelan struck again, sinking the blade deep into the man's thigh. Macelan was starting to panic. The Calendian soldier was tough and the fear that he might call for help fueled Macelan's actions. He struck repeatedly; the soldier's body sprayed its life's blood everywhere, soaking into Macelan's clothes. The soldier twitched and gurgled. Macelan brought the sword down as hard as he could. The soldier coughed and died. Macelan waited but heard no other sound. He looked down at the Calendian soldier. A boy. Fifteen, perhaps. He could have been Jared. He was somebody's Jared. Poorly trained and sent out to die. Macelan could not bear to pull his sword free so he picked up the youth's sword and headed back to where he had left Serada. The images of the battered body would not leave his vision and he vomited.

He couldn't shake the image of the boy he had killed. A boy much like Jared who would not grow up. Who would not have a sweetheart, a wife? Who would not have children? How can these soldiers fight and kill, knowing what they do to their victims and that it might happen to them?

He approached their camp. Serada was tied up and the soldiers sat eating Serada and Macelan's supplies. Apparently, they did not think Macelan would escape from the other two soldiers.

Suddenly, there was a cry off in the distance. The one Macelan had hit with the branch had come to his senses and called out. Both soldiers, confident that Serada could not escape, rushed off. Macelan couldn't believe his luck. He crept in and cut the ropes.

"Macelan!" Serada stifled his exclamation. "How did you do it?"

"Children," he bit off the word. "They were children. I killed a young boy playing soldier." He spat. "Let's hurry. Without surprise we have no chance."

They got to their feet and ran and ran. Two hours later, they had managed to make their way to the edge of the Great Forest that was as far north as either had ever been. The Great Forest extended beyond the mountains and it had never been fully explored. There was an ancient road that ran between the forest and the Cathtrag Mountains to the east but it had not been used in generations and where it led had been forgotten.

Macelan and Serada were as far from Greenhills as from Tweedon but neither town appealed to them. They decided to continue east ahead of the soldiers whom they hoped would tire soon. The day was drawing near to a close when they realized how hungry they were. They found some berries but it didn't satisfy them and they fought to fall asleep.