Read Bloodletting Part 1: The Affinities Cycle Book 1 Online
Authors: Mark Ryan
Bloodletting Part 1: The Affinities Cycle Book 1 (18 page)
Chapter 40
Halli Bicks
For a week after the fight between Kunat and Surro, the girls remained contained, either in their cell or in the long cave just beyond. A guard had been re-posted outside the entrance, and once more, Halli wondered if this had been done to keep an eye on the humans, or ensure none of their captors came to strangle them in the middle of the night. She put her hand to her throat, still feeling Surro’s grip.
She hadn’t realized how much her limited freedom meant until they took it away. Locked away from the forest canopy, days reduced to shades of meaningless and sedentary boredom, stone walls on all sides. It ate at the mind, serving to remind them how little control she held over her own life.
The other girls felt it as well. During these months, they’d learned how to withstand whole weeks of uncertainty and tribulations, but now their patience frayed at the edges. Squabbles broke out among them, and Halli had to separate several of them before they hurt each other so badly she needed to apply healing. It disturbed her, seeing them fight one another like the orocs did, losing their unity to petty differences.
Halli kept herself sane by returning her focus to Katerine. She finished her morning meal and then started the ritual of forcing food down her friend’s throat.
By now, Kat’s body had atrophied to the point where, even if she woke, she wouldn’t likely move for a long while. Even if Halli figured out an escape plan like the boys had managed, and even if Kat regained awareness in time, she’d have to be left behind. Nor did Halli feel any closer to knowing what kept her asleep. Her spirit remained within her body, vibrant and strong, and her natural functions regulated themselves, except for eating and drinking. According to the girls, she took no injury the night of the raid.
Since the orocs had many powerful Geists, she tried to think through all the techniques she’d been taught and how they could cause this sort of condition. Tearing the spirit from the flesh would’ve caused instant death, not this lingering.
Just as she administered the last spoonful, a commotion rose off in the distance. It came from outside, in the main camp, and yet she heard it tucked all the way back in this cave. Laney stood and went to their barred entry, where several of the other girls joined her.
“What’s going on?” Halli asked as she continued with feeding Kat.
“No idea,” Laney said. “Can’t you make sense of it?”
Halli listened, but shook her head. Angry shouts, by the sound of it, alongside a rumbling that she thought might be many running feet. The voices she caught overlapped too much for her to understand.
As she rose, an oroc appeared at the entry, making Laney and the others jump back. Halli recognized Kunat, who dispersed a few bars with a pass of a hand, which he then held out to her.
“Follow. You. No others.”
Halli exchanged worried looks with the others, though they didn’t know what he said. She patted the air to indicate they should remain, while she edged out to join the oroc. He headed off towards the cave mouth, and she hastened to match his long strides.
“What’s happening?” she asked.
Kunat looked at her sidelong. “We had balance, but it has been broken. Gnarrl says you should see.” He barred her with an arm before they came too close to the outside. Then he guided her to a hollow in one wall, where shadows hid her from easy observation by anyone out in the open. “Stay. Watch and listen, but be wise. And quiet. Take root, do not act as a sapling.”
A mob of orocs swarmed past the cave and joined a growing throng before the main cavern entrance. Kunat slipped off with them, but with a more measured pace than the rest. Halli pressed back against the stone wall, not wanting to be found without a protector with everyone so riled. Her heart stuttered in panic as she saw her breath escape her like puffs of cloud into the frigid morning air. Covering her mouth with her hand, she tried to take shallow breaths as she strained to hear and see what went on.
After another minute, as hush fell over the assembled orocs—though their agitated forms made them look like a forest shifting in a strong wind. Argant’s antlers glided through the silenced crowd and stopped when the shaman reached the center of the disturbance. Orocs pushed out of his way, and a chance gap opened up, letting Halli see what lay before the shaman’s feet. A body. A human body, dressed in bloodstained green-and-gold leathers.
Argant’s voice boomed. “What is purpose of this, Mossruc?” He addressed an oroc who displayed a distinctly different skin color and pattern than any Halli had seen. Golds and ambers wove through his living clothing, offsetting the mossy greens and yellows of his skin. He looked like fall incarnate.
Mossruc raised his voice for all to hear. “Harvesters from the Willowhawk clan found a group of human warriors attacking gatherers near one of their southern human dens. They started with ancients, making sure they could not protect saplings. They …” He wavered. “They then … burned the … defenseless saplings, slowly, one at a time.” Shrieks and shouts erupted from the crowd, but Mossruc shouted them down. “Our Willowhawk hunters chased the humans down and killed them for their crime. We bring this one as proof.”
The racket broke out again. Argant alone remained unswayed. Through the chaos, Halli spotted Kunat and Gnarrl behind him, arguing fiercely with others. The tumult continued until an oroc cried for the rest to listen.
Mrgle turned as he spoke, meeting the eyes of everyone around him. “Humans do not respect the balance. They took, so we took, and then they take again. So long as we allow them to live, so long as they are among us, we will never have balance.” He pointed at the cave containing the girls. “We should have killed them months ago, but at least now we have a proper message to send. This is an act by the ancient known as Drayston. Let us respond by flaying the human saplings and sending them back in pieces!”
A handful of orocs moved towards the cave. Halli cringed, wanting to flee, but with so many looking that way, any movement would be spotted.
Argant’s rumbling stopped the assembled clan. The ancient of ancients towered over Mrgle with a look of disgust. “Your message would be that Rocmire clans are as disrespectful and heartless as Drayston humans? Were these human saplings not here when Willowhawk hunters killed Drayston humans?”
“The Bearoak clan must make justice with the blood of Drayston,” Mrgle said.
The crowd loosed a roar of agreement.
Argant studied the Bearoak clan with sorrow. “First you speak of balance, and now of justice. Which is closer to your heartwood? Argant remembers a time when orocs and humans left one another alone, in peace.”
The cries lessened, and then died off. As one, the assembled orocs listened to Argant speak his case.
“Argant remembers a time when war was only memory for the Rocmire clans.” He sighed like a mournful gust through the treetops. “The human saplings will live, but Bearoak will make justice, yes. We will send a message written in human sap to Drayston that attacks on Rocmire clans are not tolerated.”
The orocs started to cheer, but Argant bellowed louder. “Know this! Quenching thirst with living sap only makes greater thirst.” With that, the shaman pushed his way back through the chanting crowd and disappeared.
Halli met Gnarrl’s unreadable look across the distance. Then he turned away.
Shivers turning to trembling, she ducked deeper into her hiding spot, her breath coming in short gasps that she tried to conceal behind her hand. Trapped as she was, she would have to wait for the cave to clear to tell the others the dire news. War was about to break out. There was no hope of rescue anymore.
***
Chapter 41
Malthius Reynolds
And I’m supposed to just take the word of this boy?” Lord Drayston shook his head in wonderment. “Commit what men I haven’t sent out to a conflict I’ve already told you I can’t get involved in?” He looked to Lieutenant Heiml, who stood at attention beside Sergeant Reynolds. “What do you have to say for this? You’re the one who sent these patrols out—and now you want to rescind the order?”
Reynolds caught the rueful press of her lips out of the corner of his eye. Drayston paced his meeting chamber, a cup of wine in hand. His sips had already stained the edges of his ruddy mustache violet.
“My lord,” Heiml said, “these are unusual circumstances. Initially it seemed clear these men had fallen foul of banditry or other unfortunate encounters. However, based on what the boy pointed out, I have reservations. He could be right in that they were slaughtered by orocs. I have no reason to doubt or favor his surmise any more than my own of banditry. The patrol commander reported no other bodies in the area, so it’s logical to assume enough of their attackers survived to drag off any dead and cover their tracks.”
“This boy … Tetra, is it?” Drayston’s focus shifted to Reynolds. “The one from Jaegen who says it was burned to the ground by orocs?”
Reynolds conceded this with a lift of his chin. “Yes, lord. The same.”
“Hm. And now he’s urging us to believe orocs are once more roving the countryside, attacking my men. Doesn’t that seem a little narrowly focused?”
The sergeant shifted in place. “To clarify, lord, we’re almost certain these weren’t actually our men. Tetra believes they come from Ulfast and were acting as a militia. Whether he is correct or not matters little. We are weakened with so much of our garrison on patrol, and someone has just killed many men that
looked
like they were Drayston men.”
“Even better. So not only is this boy getting my officers riled by his stories, these rumors are somehow spreading and causing otherwise innocent villagers to commit acts of war.”
“Lord Drayston, this attack wasn’t Tetra’s fault,” Heiml said. Reynolds glanced at her, surprised by her rise to the defense. “If Sergeant Reynolds hadn’t listened to him, we might’ve overlooked the evidence altogether.”
“About that …” Drayston lowered himself into a cushioned chair, setting his cup down on the armrest. “Have you considered there’s nothing to overlook? That he’s been addled by his injuries and is now consumed by fantasies of revenge? Fantasies you’re letting yourselves be sucked into? Couldn’t these men have died at the hand of bandits who’ve also heard tell of orocs attacking Jaegen and decided to start mocking up their victims to shift blame that way?”
“My lord,” Lieutenant Heiml gave a half bow. “Your pardon, but have you ever known Sergeant Reynolds or myself to be swept up in childish fantasies? Unless the bandits had a supremely powerful Geist with them, it’d be near impossible to mimic that body’s condition.”
“I suppose not. Still, this isn’t enough for me to act on.”
“What would be enough, milord?” Reynolds asked. “Short of an oroc chief to stand before our gates, calling for us to surrender?”
“Careful, Sergeant.” Drayston leveled a finger at him. “The only reason I’m even giving this any consideration is because two of my finer officers have presented me with it, and I respect their opinions—however much I’m doubting their perceptions at this point.”
“We’re not asking you to send troops into the Rocmire, milord.” Reynolds fought to contain a deep sigh. “Just to send stewards with orders for at least one or two of the patrols to return, and to prepare the castle defenses. We have twelve patrols out now. It’s the least we can do to keep performing our duty in protecting the land but also ourselves. If,
if,
this bandit attack is other than it seems, we cannot be caught entirely unprepared. If Castle Drayston falls, all other villages in our territory will be left wholly exposed.”
“My lord, we only have a thousand troops garrisoned here,” Heiml said. “The Rocmire clans number at least five times that. Can we risk not being at least on alert?”
“I’m well aware of this,” Drayston tightened his fingers into a fist.
“And I couldn’t agree more.”
Reynolds jerked his head to the side as a new voice echoed through the chamber. A man strode into view from the back of the chamber, where a short hall led towards a larger assembly room. He wore the finest armor of anyone in the castle, green leather and gold plate polished to a shine and a gleaming saber at his hip. Glossy black hair hung to his shoulders, and his brown eyes gleamed almost dark enough to match it.
Reynolds bowed. “Lord Major.”
Even though Lieutenant Heiml outranked Illamer, she bowed as well, in deference to his noble status. The Lord Major didn’t return the courtesy, and Reynolds’ back teeth ground together. Illamer’s intrusion meant he must’ve been just out of sight, listening to the whole conversation. Not the conduct of a military leader, in his opinion, but of one who timed his intrusion on matters for personal gain.
“What’s the worst that could happen, Calhein?” The sergeant coughed at Illamer’s casual use of Drayston’s name, but no one seemed to notice. “Say we ready the defenses and nothing happens. Why, it’d simply be a good training exercise for your men. I know mine could use the practice.”
“While you’re touring here, your men are under my command,” Drayston said. “You’d do well to remember that.”
“Of course. Of course.” Illamer went to the flagon of wine Drayston had set on a side table, and poured himself a measure. He raised the hammered silver goblet, saluting the other two soldiers. “But if maybe, just maybe, this boy you speak of is right and we do nothing? Well, that’d be absolutely disastrous, wouldn’t it?”
Drayston grumbled. “You’re arguing for an offensive defense, is that it?”
Illamer offered a conciliatory smile. “I know Lord Calhein Drayston to be a man of perception and foresight. One who is never caught off guard in times of battle.”
“There’s no assurance there will be any battle, Illamer. I’m also not one to waste the resources I have at hand.”
Despite his dislike of the man, Reynolds kept his mouth shut. The Lord Major argued his point and, notwithstanding the man’s motives, he appeared to be getting through to Lord Drayston.
“Men wearing your colors lie dead in your courtyard.” Illamer paced to the room’s larger window and peered out, pose contemplative. “I took a stroll to see them myself. Whether or not they were actually Drayston soldiers is moot. Blood has been spilled, and once it begins to flow, it doesn’t easily dam up again. I believe battle is coming. Maybe it is orocs, as the poor boy suggests. Maybe one of your rivals seeks to undermine your authority in the region, and this is a ploy to overstretch your means. Either way, it would be foolhardy to ignore all the signs thus far, even if they turn out to be happenstance.”
Reynold’s eye twitched. Had Illamer just called Drayston a fool? Heiml frowned next to him, lips now pinched while fine lines cracked her otherwise fair features.
If Drayston registered the slight, he showed no sign. He stared at the one wall tapestries he kept in the room, opposite the bookshelves, which depicted a warrior kneeling to accept the blessings of the Aspects. At last he rose and nodded at Heiml. “Very well. See it done.”
She and Reynolds bowed. “At once, my lord,” she said. As they strode out into the hall, Illamer joined them. Reynolds sniffed, detecting a faint odor of rose water around the man. Had he bathed just this morning?
He forced himself to fall back on the sword of courtesy. “We appreciate your support, Lord Major. I’m not sure Lord Drayston would’ve agreed without your encouragement.”
The man fluttered a hand. “
Tsk
. Think nothing of it. After all, how often do soldiers like ourselves get the opportunity to see true action these days? Peace treaties are all well and good, but they do little to keep dreams of blood and glory alive among the troops.”
Reynolds exchanged a concerned look with Heiml, but Illamer shifted between them and chattered on.
“My own contingent remains in the barracks. I volunteer them to take position beyond the walls once the battle comes—and I do believe it is coming. I’ll lead them myself, of course, as I’ve a clever stratagem in mind.”
Lieutenant Heiml hemmed. “Dauntless of you to offer, Lord Major.”
“Not at all. Simply doing my duty, as we all are. Isn’t that right, Sergeant Reynolds?”
Reynolds managed to conceal another eye twitch with a shrug, which seemed to satisfy the Lord Major. Illamer and Heiml headed on, discussing possible plans, while he lagged behind, trying to subdue the worry writhing in his gut.
Bloody and glory? Should it come to a confrontation with the orocs, they’d likely see plenty of the former, there always was in every battle. But he had yet to see a soldier holding glory in their hands.
For now these thoughts were too abstract. He had troops to rally and prepare for the eventuality of battle. Reynolds strode into the courtyard, searching the soldiers there until he spotted the familiar face he was seeking. “Mikkels. To me!”
The corporal spotted him and ran over. “Yes, sir?”
“Send out riders. I want all six of our Prios’ sweeping the areas around the castle. We are on alert.” Reynolds studied the men and women moving around the castle. How far to take this? He believed Tetra that Jaegen had been destroyed by the oroc clans. Too many resources thrown blindly were only muddying the waters.
For the first time, Reynolds felt he was beginning to understand the balance Lord Drayston had to keep.
***