The Grim Wanderer (10 page)

‘I mourn our fallen brothers and sisters,’ Shandor put her hand on her heart.

Baek stared at the floor.

‘We will avenge them,’ the Captain said harshly. ‘And we will drive the Krun from our forest.’

‘Here here!’ Aborle around the table shouted.

‘What do you propose, Captain?’ Gerandel said.

‘My company has a hundred spears,’ Shandor pointed at the map, ‘we still have three dozen Warders, and we’ve conscripted one hundred and forty two volunteers.’

Taem felt his stomach drop. They were so
few in number. The sensible thing to do would be to relinquish Leafholme and retreat deeper into Borleon. But Taem knew now the Aborle could not let the Krun destroy their sacred village. Looking around the table, Taem could see the determination in these Aborle to defend their homes, and he felt ashamed for ever doubting that these people had the courage for battle.

‘This is what we have come up with so far,’ Shandor indicated to the map on the table. ‘We will meet them here,’ she pointed to an open area, some way from the tree village. ‘We will bar the enemy from reaching Leafholme – the Krun will
never
taint our groves. The Forest Guard will take up the centre of the field of battle, with archers on both flanks,’ the Captain indicated to areas on the map.

Gerandel nodded in agreement, as did the other Aborle around the table, relying on the captain’s experience.

Taem looked at the map. He knew the Aborle were outnumbered. A full pitched battle was too risky, they had to resort to strategy.

‘May I say something?’ Taem said quietly.

All the Aborle eyes around the table fell on Taem, which made him nervous. He could sense the scepticism of the captain, she was the most intimidating person he had ever met – aside from Logan of course, but he was family, so did not count.

‘By all means,’ Gerandel swept his arm wide, whilst some of the other Aborle round the table nodded in hesitant agreement, others looked affronted by this coutryman’s interruption.

Taem could see Captain Traylark scowling at him now, and it was beginning to irritate him.

‘Our strength in numbers is our bowmen,’ Taem murmured. ‘For which we need to keep the enemy from getting close.’ Taem did not think it wise to say that the Aborle would be slaughtered if the Krun got on top of them.

‘We must let the Kruns come to
us
.’ Taem looked to each of the other battle leaders.

There was silence, as most of the Aborle just scowled at Taem.

‘And how do you propose we do that,
farmboy
?’ Shandor snarled.

Taem wondered if he should just walk away, but there were lives at stake, and that gave him the confidence to speak up for himself.

‘I might have been raised on a farm,’ Taem glared at Shandor, ‘but on my farm I spent ten years being taught how to use
this
,’ Taem touched his sword. ‘My Master also taught me about the battles of history, and I have studied enough of war to know you are outnumbered
and
outmatched.’

Every Aborle stared at him in shock. Taem would never normally have the self-assurance to talk like this, but this was what he had spent half a lifetime training for.

‘This has been done before,’ Taem said strongly, ‘these odds have been beaten before, at the Treblan Bridge – and we should copy the strategy the Aritians used there. A small force will lie in wait for the enemy. They will spring an ambush, kill some of the Krun – make them angry, make them witless. Then pretend to flee, back to the village, where our main force will be standing firm. Bring the Krun onto our arrows.’

Some of the Aborle now looked impressed. Taem saw Shandor was no longer scowling, and seemed to be deliberating.

‘Make the Krun
angry
?’ Another Aborle murmured. ‘Are you sure about that?’

‘Anger may quicken the senses,’ Taem said confidently, ‘but it will dull what little thought these Krun have. When they see Aborle fleeing, they will be too eager for slaughter not to pursue. And if there’s one thing I know about Krun,’ Taem said darkly, ‘it is they will be excited by the prospect of murder.’

‘But how can we allow the enemy to come so close to the village?’ An Aborle muttered.

‘We are luring them into a trap,’ Taem nodded. ‘The Krun are fierce, but not too bright. The sight of our fleeing warriors will be enough for those savages to give chase. The Krun’s frenzy will force them onto the waiting spears of the Forest Guard,’ Taem pointed to the central area outside the village, ‘whilst they are bombarded by arrows from both sides, and the higher levels of the tree village.’ Taem drew imaginary lines on the map with his finger, showing the path of the arrows. ‘I know it is a risk bringing the enemy so close to the village, but it is a calculated one. The elevated shooting positions on the higher walkways will maximise the effect of your bowmen. The Krun numbers should be severely reduced before battle is even joined. It will blunt their charge before it hits. We must also keep a small force out of sight, to one of the flanks, held in reserve – the left wing looks best. More cover to hide behind.’ Taem gestured to the map. ‘Once battle has been joined those hidden warriors will smash the Kruns’ flank. Engaging them on two fronts will disorientate the enemy. It will deceive the Krun horde into thinking our army is far greater than it is, forcing them to panic.’

Taem thought to himself how Logan always said the best tactics were based on deception. He was sure the Master would be pleased with this strategy.

‘The Kruns are weak individually,’ Taem held up a fist. ‘Their strength is their numbers, and their resolve is feeble. If our main line can hold them, a flanking manoeuvre will break them.’

The Captain of the Forest Guard, and the other Aborle, looked from Taem to each other in sheer disbelief.

‘But we must not divide our spears, surely?’ An Aborle questioned Taem.

‘We have to,’ Taem said strongly. ‘We are outnumbered. We must engage the enemy from two sides, trick them, force them to panic.
It will work
.’

All the Aborle at the meeting were silent, struck dumb by the surety in this young countryman. They all looked at the Forest Guard captain, to see what she would decide.

‘It is a daring plan,’ Shandor murmured, ‘and it will require perfect cohesion – but it is a good strategy. This young swordsman understands war very well,’ Captain Traylark murmured, looking at Taem in a new light.

A Warder ran in from the outside and up to the table, ‘The enemy are on the move. They should arrive on the morrow, and will be some five hundred strong.’

‘So it is as we feared,’ Baek said, ‘they outnumber us twofold.’

‘It is the first time they have come into Borleon with such force in two decades,’ Gerandel muttered.

Shandor sprang into action, ordering preparations based on the plan Taem had suggested, ‘Baek, you will lead the troop of Warders that will draw the Krun Horde towards the village. Sixty Forest Guard will take up the centre of the defensive line. That leaves the Aborle bowmen and women to make up the rest of the main force. Eighty will take up position above the Forest Guard, in the walkways and platforms of the tree village, from where they can use their raised position to rain arrows on the advancing Krun Horde.’

Shandor pointed on the map as she spoke, ‘The remaining seventy bows will divide and form up on the flanks of the main Forest Guard unit. The rest of my Forest Guard, some forty spears, will wait under cover a couple of hundred feet away from the main army: the concealed flanking force.’ The captain nodded to Taem.

Later that night, Taem felt the sense of unease that seeped through Leafholme, as each Aborle contemplated the threat to their lives. Taem knew these men and women were terrified, he saw it in their eyes. The doubt crept back into Taem’s heart, the dread that all these peaceful souls would be slaughtered by ferocious Krun. But as the frightened Aborle glanced to him, Taem endeavoured not to show his fear. If they could take some small hope from his defiant determination, Taem was glad.

Taem climbed up to the largest high platform in the village. He knew it was quiet up there, and he did not want to be disturbed. Once on the platform, Taem drew his sword from his back, admiring its beauty as the lamp light gleamed along its blue surface. Taem quietened his mind and ran through the Forms, focusing on speed and power.

Taem was one with his sword. He flowed between the precise movements of Lion Stands Proud, into the most aggressive Form, Bear Fights with Fury, and finished with the most reckless, Stag Knows no Fear.

Breathing deeply, Taem opened his eyes to see Gerandel Malaran standing by the edge of the high platform.

‘I heard you approach,’ Taem said calmly, to Gerandel’s surprise, as the Sodan sheathed his sword on his back.

‘I have not seen moves like that in many years,’ Gerandel said softly. ‘And that sword you carry is of a distinct old style. Of the Old Ways of the Sword.’

‘Yes,’ Taem whispered. ‘I am Sodan. A warrior of that which has been forgotten.’

‘Very interesting,’ Gerandel murmured, hiding his bewilderment. The Aborle had seen much of the world, and he knew it could only be by the Light’s grace that this young man had come to them.

‘Let us speak plainly,’ Gerandel said. ‘You have seen our ways, and you must know – as I do – that few amongst the Aborle are true warriors. I have fought the Krun before, Taem, and they are dark and violent and brutal. Do you think the gentle forest folk can stand up to that?’

Taem looked down at his feet.

‘They cannot, Taem. Not by themselves, anyway. But you are Sodan; you can show them how.’ Gerandel had a gleam in his eyes as he spoke.

Taem took a deep breath as he realised the weight of responsibility that was upon him.

‘I have never known a place such as this,’ Taem said wistfully, ‘nor a people such as yours. I will do my utmost to protect them both.’

‘I know you will,’ Gerandel put a hand on Taem’s shoulder. ‘And we will need you tomorrow, young friend. I fear you may be our only chance.’

Taem felt a tingling sensation run down into the pit of his stomach, and he tried not to show that he was trembling. He would fight with valour, but he was fearful of letting these Aborle down, or not living up to what was expected of a Sodan.

‘Come,’ Gerandel gestured for Taem to walk with him, ‘you should eat and sleep, be fresh for the morning. Baek has already gone to bed. He is still tired from his healing, but should be restored by tomorrow.’

Taem woke an hour after dawn. Baek was up and waiting for him, and the Aborle took him down to the forest floor. Taem could feel how subdued Leafholme’s atmosphere had become. He saw the Aborle were in no mood for talking. They all sat in anxious silence round the breakfast tables, ate their porridge and left. Taem found the quiet unnerving. The Aborle had yesterday been talkative and open, but now they had all withdrawn inside themselves. Taem’s own dread returned as he wondered how these gentle Aborle men and women would stand up to the Krun charge, but all he could do now was show a confidence he scarcely felt.

‘I feel a warmth from these enchanted trees,’ Taem murmured to his Aborle friend, as they sat down at a table, with bowls of porridge in hand.

‘It is part of the magic of this place,’ Baek said pensively. ‘Even in winter the Aborle villages hold some warmth, whilst the world beyond the groves is bitterly cold.’

Taem sensed his friend’s unease, and he knew Baek was terrified– like every other Aborle in the clearing.

‘I guess it is time for me to go,’ Baek said quietly, as he stood up from the table. ‘I must assemble the Warders.’

‘You will do well, Baek,’ Taem clasped a hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘You are a good man, and a good friend. And – so I’ve heard – the best shot in the whole of Borleon!’

Taem saw Baek fill with new pride and confidence, and he was glad. All the other Aborle around the table looked at Taem with pleasant surprise. It was the first positive voice they had heard all morning.

‘The Light shine on your blade,’ Taem said strongly, aware that many Aborle were watching.

‘What?’ Baek looked at Taem in surprise.

‘The Light will overcome, trust in that.’ Taem let out a reassuring smile. ‘Aim true and run like the wind,’ Taem and the Aborle shook hands, each clutching the other’s forearm, ‘and I will see you after.’

‘See you after,’ Baek nodded to his friend, ‘and thank you, my friend,’ Baek touched his hand to his heart – the traditional Aborle blessing – before he went off to gather his Warders.

Taem spent the next hour walking around Leafholme, observing the forest men and women readying themselves. The odd Aborle wished Taem well in the battle to come, and thanked him for standing with them, but most were too anxious with their own fears to even notice him. Taem saw Aborle on the brink of weeping, and forest men with an ashen-faced realisation that they were soon to confront death. He saw Aborle huddled up and shaking, and staring into the distance. Other forest men and women were on their knees in prayer, pleading for the Light to deliver them through this dark day. Of course there were also soldiers of the Forest Guard that looked determined, but Taem sensed that even these warriors of Borleon walked around with heavy hearts.