Son of Soron (8 page)

Bailmont, his captain, an efficient if not overly blood- thirsty soldier, echoed this thought, “A northern warrior living in a small village south of the mountains? And training a local? If that doesn’t sound like bandits I don’t know what does.”

Hearing Bailmont’s words further solidified the idea in the duke’s mind. That idiot Count Mavane had a whole village of bandits being trained by a northerner right under his nose.  Before Duke Evollan had time to think through his faulty logic, a second scout rode into camp.

The scout, having been on the wrong end of Bailmont’s temper before, quickly delivered his news. “Fifty or more riders are coming up the southern road and fast. They all look like tribal warriors my lord. They will be here by mid-afternoon.”

Duke Evollan thought about this for a moment. The southern lands were full of tribes known to be fierce warriors. If these horsemen were part of the group of bandits working out of the village, he and his men would be hard pressed to defeat them together. The duke was no stranger to battle tactics. He quickly surmised the path to victory was to attack first, destroy the village before its reinforcements could arrive. “Bailmont, gather the men, we attack the village now, before those horsemen can help them.”

Several of the men looked carefully at the duke before one replied, “Yes my lord, but are you sure? There are villages around here that trade with Salba. Maybe this village isn’t bandits.”

Bailmont, eager for battle, scoffed at this idea. “You heard the scout, a northerner sparring just outside the village miles from where travelers are regularly being attacked? No, it has to be a bandit village. And if we get caught between them and those horsemen, we will be in danger of being defeated. We attack.”

The duke nodded his agreement with Bailmont. Bailmont was a particularly vicious killer. Putting him in charge was a mistake the duke would live to regret. But at this moment, all the duke could see was the praise and glory he would receive.

As they charged the village, Bailmont yelled, “No mercy. No survivors. We shall teach them a lesson that will strike fear in every bandit throughout this kingdom.” Bailmont was not worried about reprisals. If any of the villagers were not bandits, they could blame it on the bandits themselves. The duke had never worried about his tactics before. This would be no different.

…

Soron and Nathan were in the blacksmith shop when the screaming started. They quickly went out the door just in time to see a villager drop from a soldier’s arrow.  Soron reacted quickly. “Nathan go next door, grab the Dollan’s kids. Do it quickly. Take them to the great swamp and wait there. If we don’t come, you wait a week before returning." As Soron spoke he turned back into the blacksmith shop, grabbing his hammer and a knife he just finished repairing.

Nathan was scared but did not want to leave. “I can fight father. I can help.” Soron turned and looked as his son.  Nathan was grabbing his daggers.

“I know you can, son. But part of fighting is protecting those who can’t. Grab Ava, Rose and any more children you find on your way. But you must get to the swamp quickly. I am going to find your mother.” Soron paused for a moment. He was trying to speak as fast as possible, as clearly as possible. So much he needed to say and too little time to explain.

“Son, there is a lot about my past and your mother’s past that we haven’t told you about. I don’t have time to explain, but someday when you are older, I want you to go north of the mountains and learn of your heritage.” Soron put the dagger in his belt and grabbed an axe he had sharpened for a neighbor, arming himself further as he spoke.

As Soron returned to the door, he carefully looked in all directions, scouting for an escape route for Nathan, hugging himself carefully against the walls he advanced to the corner of the building. Nathan followed his father’s lead, stretching out flat against the wall.

Soron saw enemies advancing. Holding his son against the wall, he continued speaking as he calculated how many eyes would be in their direction. “You have birthrights and one day will have to choose to accept them or not. It will be your choice and I will be proud of you regardless of the choice you make. When you go north, tell them you are Nathan Stoneblood, son of Soron Stoneblood.  Whoever you meet will take you to our people or try to kill you—either way, be ready. Your mother and I are proud of the man you are becoming; when this is over we, shall explain everything.” Soron saw that the time to move had come. “Get ready to run on my command. I love you, son.”

Soron watched the closest soldiers engaged in combat with his fellow villagers. Once he saw them all with their backs turned, he gave Nathan a push. “Go now.”

Nathan's heart pounded as he sprinted the seemingly forever distance to Ava's house.

Seeing Nathan escape the notice of the closest bandits, Soron charged out from the edge of the blacksmith shop. Velaina was in danger!  He could see her across the village helping a wounded neighbor.  The soldier closest to him was hacking down a villager. He never saw the mighty swing of the hammer coming down upon his head, his death unfairly swift. Soron skirted the village, running as hard as he could, commanding women and children to run and hide as he hacked and slashed through the unknown assailants, fighting his way towards Velaina.

Nathan had no time to ponder his father’s cryptic message about birthrights and his last name; he was focused on getting Ava and Rose, then getting to the swamp. His ears heard the pounding of hooves and the clanging of metal and the cries of villagers in the distance as he burst through the Dollan’s door.

Edward and Suzie Dollan were elderberry pickers.  At this time of day, they were either still out in the forest or at the creek on the far side of the village, rinsing the berries off. While they were working, their two girls stayed with Edward’s father. Edward’s father was one of the oldest villagers and his family had lived there for generations. For years the children of the village had been affectionately calling the elder Dollan “Bends” a none-too-subtle reference to the old man’s walking gait. The Dollan house was just across from the blacksmith shop. Nathan was there and in the door in moments.

As he burst through the door, Nathan was relieved to find the girls inside with Bends. He hurriedly exclaimed, “Bends, I’ve come for the girls. I've been ordered to hide them in the swamp! “

Bends was already brandishing an ax; the girls behind him with fearful eyes. The sound of pounding hooves and screaming struck terror in their hearts.  The frightening sounds were drawing closer. “We have been expecting you, Nathan. Your father and I discussed what to do if something like this ever happened. The girls are packed and ready to go, take good care of them.” Bends handed Nathan a pack with food in it before turning to the girls. “Rose, Ava, go with Nathan!”

The girls looked up wide-eyed and terrified but nodded and followed Nathan to the door.  Bends made certain it was safe for them to dart into the nearby cover of the pig hut. It was near enough to the bush to provide the children with cover.  Bends ordered, “Run, run as fast as you can. Do not look back.”

They ran with hearts pounding. They ran ‘til they were out of breath. With most of the noise from the attack coming from the east side of the village, Nathan led the girls in the opposite direction, deeper into the woods, following deer trails and wild hog trails.   When the sounds coming from the village were faint in the distance, he then made his way northeast toward the Great Swamp.

While Nathan took the girls into the swamp regions, the battle in the village did not take long. A few of the village members were ex-soldiers from the east or the southern cities. But for the most part, the villagers were farmers, elderberry pickers, wine-makers and other simple folk. Against trained soldiers, they had no chance. Within minutes, most of the defenseless villagers were dead.

Duke Evollan’s men led by the bloodthirsty Bailmont did not make exceptions for gender. By the time Soron fought his way to Durant’s farm, he found Velaina trying to defend the injured Durant from a small group of attackers.  She swung a scythe like a sword, courageously attempting to keep the soldiers from slaying the defenseless farmer. Her blonde hair whirled as she fiercely fought off her assailants. But before Soron could reach her side, a soldier came from behind and thrust his sword into her back, the blade pierced through her heart. As she stood there dying, their eyes met one last time. While the light quickly flickered and faded from her eyes, Soron stood frozen for moment watching as his love fell to the ground.

Soron roared with rage and despair. Within seconds he reached the group of soldiers around the fallen body of his beloved Velaina. He sliced through the soldiers, his rage-induced attack destroyed all in his path. His hammer crushed through helm and armor while his axe found throats and hearts. But as the last of the resisting villagers died at the hands of the duke’s men, soldiers still thirsting for blood joined the fray against the blood soaked raging northerner who was decimating their numbers. Even with several arrows in his chest the tall northerner continued to slay the attacking forces. More deadly arrows found their mark.  Mighty Soron fell. His once towering body fell across the lifeless body of his soul mate.  Sword wounds had weakened him. The arrows killed him.  Over twenty of the king’s rogue soldiers lay dead by his hand.

Nathan was deep into the woods leading the girls swiftly away from the conflict when the souls of his parents were passing from this world. At that very moment, he felt a pain throughout his entire being that he could not explain.  He lifted up a tearful and exhausted Rose. Her arms were scratched as were Ava's. Rose was slowing them down, so he swept her up and piggy backed her. Already, Nathan was thinking of shelter, water and food.  Ava was silent, speaking only to reassure Rose. She too was thinking about the necessities, and her parents and her grandfather. Being with Nathan and Rose was her only consolation.

Nathan was acutely aware of the wind direction as they approached the treacherous swamp. The deadly vapors would follow the wind and kill them if they could. He calmed his breathing once again.  If strangers followed them and strayed from the exact paths they were taking, the swamp would vanquish them, claim their bodies and use the decaying bodies to nourish the dark and forbidding trees. It paid to know the swamplands, to follow where animals traveled safely.

With every visible villager dead, Evollan retired his bloodied troops, leading them back east of the village and into the forest. If the southern riders were allies of the village of bandits, it was far better to meet them in the forest and not on open ground where horses would give them too much of an advantage. The duke was not overly concerned that the village of bandits and murderers consisted mostly of now dead farmers and berry-pickers, women and children alike.  The attack at Elderwood was to be another crowning glory.  While the duke might now be willing to concede to himself that the village was not full of bandits as his original assumption had been, it mattered not. His justification would be that the villagers were supplying the bandits with food and weapons, profiting from a liaison with murderers and thieves. As long as the bandit raids eventually stopped he would be well rewarded. Any rumors of unjust massacres would be swept away as hearsay, rumor from jealous sources.  Evollan congratulated himself for his cunning. He prepared himself to deal with the mysterious riders advancing.
 

Chapter fifteen

ASHUNA WITH HIS FIFTY horseback warriors arrived at what was left of the village of Elderwood. They had been riding hard, not to join in on an attack on Duke Evollan and his troops, but to make it to Elderwood before dusk. Elderwood was the last village on this northern road before it turned east towards Salma
.

Ashuna intended to buy food for his warriors before continuing on the way to Salma. When Ashuna and his men rode into the still burning village their faces were grim.  At first glance, it appeared bandits, ruthless murdering bandits, had struck the once peaceful village. But the assortment of bodies on the ground told a different story. For some unknown reason, soldiers had struck this village. He sent scouts to look in the woods for survivors. Survivors were found; terrified, hiding in the woods. Something very dark and evil had happened here.

When Ashuna got to the body of Soron, he did not need a villager to tell him what had transpired here. The bodies of the soldiers lying around the arrow ridden body of a great northerner told him at least this part of the battle was not so one-sided.  This man, above all, was a warrior.

Ashuna had his men help tend to the wounded while others buried the dead. He sent a few scouts back out into the woods to find out who perpetrated this attack. It did not take long for the scouts to find the company of soldiers fortified in the forest east of the village.

It seemed the soldiers in the woods were waiting for the Chundo to attack. When Ashuna and the warriors finished tending to the wounded and burying the dead, they remounted and went toward the east to see what this company of soldiers intended to do. Ashuna had important business in the eastern capital and had no time to deal with this. He sent a rider to the edge of the forest under a white flag to arrange a parlay with the soldiers. A meeting was negotiated.

Duke Evollan came cautiously to the edge of the forest to meet the leader of the horsemen. Ashuna rode up to the edge of the forest and greeted the duke. “Greetings, my name is Ashuna and I am an emissary from Venecia, enroute to Progoh. “The duke looked at Ashuna with a degree of disdain and distrust. “An emissary traveling with fifty horsemen, to me that seems excessive.”

Ashuna gave a small acknowledgement to the duke’s math skills. “Yes, well the last emissary never returned from visiting Progoh. Apparently, these roads aren’t safe. My men are simply here to discourage any bandits from attacking me.”

Duke Evollan relaxed. “Well you needn’t worry. My men and I just finished dealing with a large group of the bandits causing problems in the area. Your travels should be safe from here to the capital.” The lie rolled off his tongue easily.