Rise of the Darekian's, The (15 page)

Chapter 13
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Although the gates of Casham were open, as a gesture of welcome to the group heading their direction, Caldar still ensured two rows of infantry were on hand if needed. Not that he expected trouble, but he thought it wise to air on the side of caution. In addition he also had archers positioned strategically around the tops of the walls and buildings, not only to target outside but down into the street by the entrance. The group gathering was from the army of south Besemians. It was not a huge number that
could be deemed as a threat, but about some twenty in number, one of whom held a large white flag. The light morning breeze hardly enough to lift it from the pole.

Caldar stood tall, with more than a touch of nervousness; he waited with his officers flanking either side of him. Watching the group slowly walk their mounts, they eventually stopped them about ten paces shy of the gate. One man dismounted and stepped to the front. Elegantly dressed, tall and lean with a sword and dagger hung from his waist, dark haired and clean-shaven he walked forward to announce himself. "I am Lord Willem, representative of the council of South Besemia. I wish to speak to the commander of your forces" he spoke in a clear well pronounced voice. Caldar took his turn and stepped forward himself, eyes
looking upwards to his men around the wall, hoping they were alert enough to intervene if needed, as well as sensible enough not to do anything rash.

Clearing his throat before speaking, "Welcome, I am Prince Caldar of Corlan. Please step forward you have my word and guarantee of you and your men's safety." Lord Willem straightened himself up, somewhat shocked by the fact a member of the royal family was in the town. The two closed the gap towards each other, "your highness" he bowed, conceding that a prince stood far higher in standing than he did. Caldar dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement of the man's subservience then held out his hand. After shaking the princes hand, Lord Willem gave his own men a nod as if to tell them to stand down and turned back to join the prince walking in through the gate and into the town.

Caldar led his guest into a nearby building that had been tidied and cleaned, and set with a table and chairs for their meeting. As they sat, a serving woman bought refreshments and placed them down on the table. The first words hit Caldar like a brick wall, "I wish to express my deepest sympathies your highness, for the loss and devastation of your capital city and its people." Sitting as if frozen, Lord Willem realised his host had not heard the news and so went on to explain. He himself had only received word that very morning from his associates working undercover in Bashek. Caldar had not been in touch with Hamalin or had any reports from there in some weeks, and now, told it was gone. Caldar did not know how to feel, confused, concerned as he listened further to the events that had wiped the city from the map. Of the dark magic used, the buildings crumbling, of not knowing if anyone survived, and still the news got worse. He heard reports of both Darekian and Besemian troops running amok across the north of Corlan, destroying everything that lay in their path.

The first question from Caldar was "My family? My parents and brother, do you know if they...?" Lord Willem did not for certain, but by his reports, it did not sound likely. His brother, surely he could not have perished, he had thought him safe and away from danger being in Hamalin. It was supposed to be he that was at risk, him on the front line fighting. He felt as that his heart was systematically being wrenched from his chest; he was finding it difficult to keep his emotions in check. Ultimately, he felt the tears start building and he let them roll down his face. Lord Willem looked genuinely sympathetic, and sat patiently as the prince struggled to come to turns with his grief. Hoping it may at least give him some hope, "Highness it may have been possible that some people escaped, and perhaps
by chance your family were amongst them." Caldar nodded, hoping beyond all hope it could be true.

Regaining his composure, apologising to his guest, "no need your highness, I fully understand, I would not think you normal if you did not grieve after such news." Explaining further, Lord Willem sought forgiveness once more for being the bearer of such bad tidings, before continuing. Speaking of his countries current situation, he told Caldar of King Belin having taken to a Darekian priest for his council. Subsequently several lords had been killed for speaking out against the kings recent actions. Thousands of people had been rounded up and forcibly transported northwards into Darekian hands. Eventually the southern lords had had little alternative than to make a stand against the throne. Seven southern lords were now in rebellion and co existed as the ruling council. Their aim was not only to remove the king from the seat of power, but also to reclaim all the lands he had foolishly handed over to the Darekians.

He went on further to explain, that for reasoning beyond him, the troops of the north seemed impartial to any reasoning, using the previous days attempt at truce as the example. The northern soldiers having fired at and killed the men carrying the white flag of truce, a transgression Caldar himself had witnessed. As much as he hated fighting his own fellow citizens, he had been left no other choice. Coming to the point of why he was amassing men just outside the town across the border. The nation of South Besemia as they were now referring to themselves, needed to draw a borderline. The nation did not yet have enough men and supplies in place to be stretched across the north. Their plan now, providing the two men sat at the table could agree a treaty, was to build their defensive front line parallel with the two border towns. Giving them cover on the flank of their lines as well as a source of supplies, purchased of course, and a town for men to use for rest and recuperation. In return, with thousands of South Besemian troops on the doorstep, it meant Caldar could retreat his men knowing the towns would be safe from any marauding hordes of North Besemian or Darekians.

Refreshments were
sent out to those riders that had escorted Lord Willem into Casham. Meanwhile two scribes quickly drew up draft treaties. The paper stipulated that Corlan acknowledged South Besemia as a separate entity from its northern part. Also agreed, was an alliance between the two in fighting their common enemies, with the ultimate goal of returning peace to their lands. Other clauses were added, such as South Besemian troops and associated staff being able to come and go onto Corlan territory, with the promise it would not cause its host nuisance. Furthermore, it would aid in defence if any threatening force should seek to cause harm. Points were made for the supply of local produce to be sold to the South Besemians, at a discounted price or course, as well as unlimited access to the fresh water wells in the two towns. A small force of Corlan troops would be left to police the areas, and whilst on Corlan soil any South Besemian who broke the law would be bound to their justice.

The two scribes wrote for
what appeared an age, making amendments here and there, ensuring each word was correct. Once finally happy the two identical documents were signed by Prince Caldar as representative of Corlan and Lord Willem for the ruling council of South Besemia. These were not the usual plush thick parchments, covered in gold gilt, and written in big fancy lettering, as one would expect when two nations agreed such a pact; nor was there any pomp or celebrations that usually followed such a significant signing of a treaty. Two glasses of wine, and a drink to good health, a wish for happier times, and luck to their respective forces was the toast raised between the respective parties.

After Lord Willem had left
, and returned with his copy of the agreement to his own forces, Caldar had asked to be seated alone. With the news he had received he needed time to himself. With the treaty in place, he was now free to travel to see for himself the disaster that had struck his home. Although he was certain he would not like what he found when he got there. There was also the small problem of enemy troops rampaging across the north of Corlan, two thousand in number at least; the number he had seen leaving for Hamalin not a few days since. With his mind once more thinking of his brother, it was impossible to stop his eyes welling up and tears from rolling down his cheeks. Luken, his dear little brother, not only his younger sibling but also his best friend rolled into one. He started thinking back and reminiscing of happier times he had shared, of the play and laughter, he could not even recall ever having had a falling out or so much a cross word with Luken, now it looked like he was gone.

Sniffing and wiping his nose on his sleeve, his sorrow turning slowly to anger. He would fight the vermin that ravaged his country, murdering innocent people. He knew now what he must do, ride north to Hamalin, then see for himself what had happened. Then he would raise an army, and with the aid of his new allies, he would clear them from his lands and push them back to the stinking pit of hell from which they came. Slamming his fist down hard on the table, he stood kicking over his chair, screaming in absolute
rage at the injustice of it all. He stormed outside, "muster the cavalry, we ride out within the hour," he ordered, "We make haste for Hamalin." He realised many of those men would also be grieving, many he knew had wives and children, mothers and fathers that had been resident in the city.

Luken sat upon his horse, riding contently along when the strangest feeling hit him. The thoughts in his mind were of his brother, Caldar, and he was hurting, badly. Shaking his head in an attempt to rid his mind of these horrid feelings, surely they could not be true. The thought did though make him hope beyond all hope his brother was well, and he wished he could be here with him. He knew Caldar would be in his element leading this enormous group of refugees, for that is what they were. His older brother was far the better leader, he after all had grown up knowing that one day he would be king, and hence his upbringing had been one in which he would have been taught the do's and don'ts of leadership. Caldar would know how to organise these people, would know where to go and what to do, know how to defend and keep them safe, and Luken missed him dearly.

After stopping at midday for food, and to give the horses and other animals some rest, the long caravan continued southward. The coming and going of scouting parties, continued in earnest, reporting to General Skalton of any threat, if any, in the local vicinity. Luken had earlier perceived an idea, and had already put it in to action. Realising the group as they were, could only move as quickly as the slowest animal, he had ordered an advance group to be sent ahead to Easton. This party was not to take wagons or carts, but use packhorses to carry anything they needed, made up of a handful of guards, and the main body being men who were skilled in building work. He hoped this advanced group would arrive a day or more before the rest, and would have been able to assess the situation and state of the remains of Easton. He had also ordered them to make a start on some form of temporary buildings within the walls for shelter and start any repairs they deem necessary to the defensive structures.

After a quick meeting with Lord Willem of the South Besemia army, Caldar led his one hundred cavalry away from the towns that had been his home for the last several weeks. Notifying the Lord of his dep
arture, entrusting the safety of the towns he had spent the last few days defending, to a man he had only met several hours earlier. Riding gave him time to think, a time of deep thought and reflection. His new demeanour already coming to the surface in the way he spoke. A new hardened man, with all he had learned of late, he was forced onward with a new focus. Whereas once the prince was thought of as calm, courageous and kind man, he now had an added steel and single mindedness. As was normal, scouts were sent forward to check the area ahead for any trouble. The team of four he had sent returned at pace and pulled up before him.

After the usual bows and salutes, the lead rider spoke, "your highness. The village up ahead or what is left of it, is deserted." Explaining further, he spoke of burned buildings, and remains of what they assumed was a pyre. That they had discovered fragments of blackened human bones
, meaning the residents had been slaughtered and put to the torch. Caldar sighed, such needless, pointless waste of life. His new self, now he had lost the people he had loved more than any other, nothing could hurt him anymore. His emotions had been stripped to the bone, with the loss of his brother and parents even his own will to carry on had started to become a struggle. If not for the need for revenge, he knew he would have given up all will to continue. Hearing of such atrocities would have once caused him anguish and pain, now he was just cold and numb, just another reason to hunt down those responsible.

Riding through the village his scouts had reported
earlier, he looked around at the destruction. Houses had indeed been burned down, and several mounds of blackened debris indicated were the bodies of the people had been piled and set on fire. Although it appeared the fires had gone cold, his men estimating a few days past, one or two of the houses still smouldered a little. Thin tendrils of smoke rose upwards, barely visible to anyone other than those nearby, the last signs of the dying fires. A number of farm animals had been slaughtered, and remains of their carcasses lay randomly placed on the ground with flies swarming around them. Deciding there was no more he or his men could do, he ordered them onwards. Hamalin was their target destination, tidying up after others was not their priority.

Caldar knew ahead of him was a huge army; he needed to avoid making direct contact with. He numbered only one hundred, and although he was far more mobile than the large number of foot soldiers in the enemy force, he did not want them sending any in pursuit of him. Travelling unhindered meant he could move quicker, and in all honesty, he was in no mood for delays.
Their onward journey saw them encounter a number of similar places, farms and small communities burned and its people either fled or killed. On encountering one of the larger farms, it was evident that the charred corpses had not just belonged to the dead residents, from the fragments of remaining clothing; it appeared they had taken a few Besemian soldiers with them.