No, the real objective was there, his center.  I could see his heat underneath his garments as my elvin vision was intensified.  His heat; my target.  It was so clear.  I could smell him strongly over here, from thirty feet away.  His scent was changing.

I stalked him the way a predator would stalk its prey.  His movements became precise and deliberate.  I thought I saw him wave the mug, but my focus was the heat, the center of his being.

When I launched my attack he sprang like a cat and met me with a clash of steel.  I could feel the power course through my veins and muscles as I let go.  The clang-clang of our blades sounded hard through the hall as I pressed this man.  All I could see was the heat, the movement of his blade was only in my way.

I could feel myself growling like an animal as I let it all flow out as the human came back with all he had.  Press-press-faster-faster-faster.  The human couldn’t possibly move that quick, so nimble, but he did.  Across the fighting hall we made the steel sing.  Faster-faster-more power. 

As I pressed I came at him with every movement I could muster and then I made up some more.  My leaps were tremendous and twice I vaulted over his head to strike downward midst an aerial roll.  He tried a counter maneuver and I sprang out of his way with a cartwheel and a one-handed back-spring in the opposite direction.  Leaping from a center post I almost speared him through the torso … shit … by Hades Fire, I growled … so close.

Faster, I thought, more speed.  He was just a human … I thought I heard the sound of ceramic crash and saw his left hand was moving free as he fought me with all of his experience and skill.  I leaped into an aerial spin and switched hand-grips to fight him left-hand style and almost sliced his neck … but not quite.  Faster-press-press-faster- and then I switched to a two-hand style.  I could smell the metal burning as we went full tilt.

Was he speaking?  The human was yelling, baiting me, “More!  More!  Fight, damn you!  FIGHT!”

All of it, I thought.  All of the power, I pushed to the brink of my own snarling strength and felt him retreat.  I was pushing Hoscoe across the floor!

The opening I had sought was there … I took it … I laid my blade against the human’s belly and sliced hard.  I SCORED! 

I had scored on HOSCOE!  Elation washed through me as for a split instant I forgot everything and relished the moment …

Smack-slap-whack-slip-flip-slam- … my blade went flying into the air and I hit the floor hard on my back, knocking the breath out of me.  Standing above me, a sweat soaked and hair matted Hoscoe pointed his sword into my throat and I felt a trickle of blood running down my neck. 

He was breathing a ragged breath and was white as a fresh washed sheet.  His breath seemed to come with pain, and as he bent over me with one hand on his leg for support, he said in torn words, “The fight …is never … NEVER … over … until … your opponent … is down!” 

With-drawing his blade from my throat, he straightened up and staggered back.  Before I could get up, I watched in horror while he turned, took two steps, and grabbing his chest and gasping for breath, Hoscoe dropped his sword and spun around as he collapsed upon the sawdust floor and began to convulse.

Chapter   41

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IN A FRACTION of a second I was beside Hoscoe and saw he was turning blue.  In a blind panic, I stifled back emotion and focused hard.  Right now he needed me and I must concentrate.  I saw his tunic had sliced open across his torso, and fearfully I checked to see if I had damaged his vitals.

The leather protective under-pad we wore had been cut all the way across, but not all the way through.  I subconsciously breathed thanks that our practice sword edges were not sharpened.  Always I healed myself, so I had taken no interest in real medicine and was now at a loss.  I didn’t know what to do.  Never had I lended my energy into anyone without knowing what I was trying to heal, and never anything like this. 

There was no time to think, I had to do something, make a decision straightway.  Searching within myself, and seeking into So’Yeth, I tried to find some little more, something I hadn’t spent in the fighting; something I could save Hoscoe with. 

How long since had he stopped breathing; only a matter of seconds, for sure.  I placed my left hand under the lapel of his tunic and over his heart.  It scared me to find his skin to be cold and clammy.  I found the last vestiges of my own fire, harnessed it, and breathing in deeply I exhaled and began to *Push*, a slow, long and deep steady stream of healing essence. 

Over the course of time and practice, I had learned it took much more energy to apply the healing effect on someone else … I guess in part because I had to reach outside of my physical form.  And here I was, almost depleted to begin with.  It gave me grave concern I might not have enough left to help Hoscoe.  What was worse, I didn’t know what I was trying to heal, somehow I had to find it. 

Still emotionally charged from our fight, and now driven by necessity to save my mentor’s life, I found myself pressing my energy deeper than ever before … it felt as if my own mind had suddenly merged with my essence and I was flowing into Hoscoe’s body.  I could actually see under the muscles and it was like I was compressed and surrounded by his inner workings.  ‘Swimming,’ I thought, it was as if I had become a small thing of mist and was sort of swimming in between the muscles and organs.

I had learned some butchering when helping Ames, years ago, and I had seen a couple of men who had been opened up in battle, so I had some idea of anatomy.  So dark inside, but I could see by the glow of my own energy, and by what was left of his.  He was growing cold, fast, and some of his insides were still moving, kind of contracting-like.

I found what I was sure, was hoping dearly was his heart.  It was so big compared to my own size within him.  I embraced misty fingers around it as if reaching around the medicine ball he had me train with … and *Pushed* my energy into it with a pulsing effect.  It pumped … once, but no more.  Scared, but trying so hard to focus, I *Pulsed* my energy into it again. 

Again it pumped, violently so I could actually feel a backlash that hurt.  Again it pumped, raggedly and then it took up strength.  All around me I felt the body almost jump.  I focused warmth into Hoscoe’s heart as it thrashed against my essence form.  His breath was loud like a roar against my hearing, and as he began again to breathe it was in a ragged struggle.  I reached around his lungs like a pair of flour sacks, and tried to breath with him, to steady his rhythm.

I refused to let go, not until I felt my own insides begin to grow cold. My physical hand lost strength and slipped away from his chest, as it seemed I was torn from within him and was suddenly back inside my own body. 

Sitting down hard on the dirt, a violent chill ran through my body, yet I was satisfied.  Someone close to me had been at the threshold of death, and I was able to do something about it.  For the instant, it wasn’t important that it was me who had pushed him to that point.  I marveled over what I had just done.

Outside lightning flashed and a few seconds later thunder split the air.  Was that rain?  Something hard was falling and resounding from the roof.  Hadn’t I known that already?

I had to get Hoscoe to his quarters, and a blanket for myself.  Hoscoe was trying to sit up and was looking around, somewhat disoriented, but his face was full of his natural color.  I smiled, pleased, but also alarmed at myself.  I had almost … “Hoscoe, stay there.  Don’t get up.  I’m going to help you.”

As I struggled to rise up, myself, I felt wasted, far beyond anything I had felt before; even more than the time my head had been cracked open.  But strangely, I also felt clean, satisfied.  There was much Hoscoe and I needed to talk about here.  As I swayed on my feet, another violent chill swept through me.  How was I going to help him when I was like this?

Again came the lightning, followed by the crashing of thunder.  There was a hard pounding at the training hall door, and I could hear Izner yelling, “Timber Wolf, Master Hoscoe?!  Are you still in there?!”  I wrapped in a heavy blanket and made quickly for the bar on the front door which kept our sessions private.  My thoughts went to Ander, who was walking the city walls tonight, and Dudley, who had made sergeant for the third time and was out on patrol.  They were out in this.

The door was still pounding and Ize yelling, and then Merle, but I couldn’t raise my own voice loud enough to let them know I was coming.  I got the bar up and they pushed in from a torrent of freezing rain and sleet.  Wearing oiled down slickers, the two of them were carrying bundles under their arms.

Izner looked around, saw Hoscoe on the floor and me shivering and asked, “Hey what’s going on?  Are you fellows alright?”

Hoscoe managed to sit up, albeit weakly, and much to my pleasure answered in a strong, but tired sounding voice, “Yes, young sir; nothing some rest, good food and perhaps a hot jolt of that cactus liquor laced with honey cannot cure.”  Looking at me, he breathed in and added, “We have, the both of us, pushed ourselves beyond our limits, I believe.  But it’s been good.”  He smiled, a strong and good-natured smile.

The lightning flashed again, laced within was an unnatural purplish hue.  Merle said, “It’s been doin’ that for an hour.” 

I looked over at Hoscoe, and he caught my eye as the deafening sound of thunder rolled.  Hoscoe looked over to Merle and asked, “Would you mind if I ask you to assist me to my quarters?  I am completely done in.”

The bundles that they were carrying were heavy cloaks and slickers.  There was no lull to catch, so Merle respectfully, but rather obviously, practically carried Hoscoe out the door in a hurry to our barracks.  Just before Ize and I made the run for it, I saw Hoscoe’s mug.  It was laying against the wall in several pieces.  Picking them up, I put them inside my blanket against my tunic.

Izner and Merle were quartered in the same room, and in the second level of the same building as Hoscoe and I.  So that was good.  It was really cool they thought of us, but we were a tight-knit group.  Ize knew we were going to be in there, and that old stable was built snug and sturdy.  A storm could be upon you without knowing, and this was proof.

Hoscoe had us all into his quarters, and it was the first time Ize or Merle had been in there.  Careful not to touch anything, they stared all about the place.  Hoscoe lived what he was, a high-ranking military official; retired from Dahruban, sure, but it permeated him through and through.

The place was immaculate.  No dust could be found, his clothing in perfect order and everything in its place.  They had never seen a chessboard before, and a game was set up on his table where we were still in progress.

Hoscoe was moving around a bit better than I was, and he put the makings together for coffee.  He explained to the fellows, “That stuff they serve in Malone, is for the weak.  A good coffee should be black as sin and strong enough to dissolve your spoon.”

I saw him reach where his mug was customarily kept, out of habit I’m sure, then visibly corrected himself.

Merle and Izner just looked at each other with an, is he serious, expression.  The short of the matter is, they got their first taste of coffee; a drink considered to be the nectar of scholars, and not exactly a commoner’s beverage.

Hoscoe said nothing of the maps, but he let them ogle over them.  He told a couple of stories and made a few jokes, and the fellows got to see him from a different perspective from the Sword Master side.  He had some food stuffs and we had our evening meal in his quarters.

When time came for Izner and Merle to leave, Hoscoe said thank you, and they left feeling very good.  Hey, they had been allowed to break bread with the Master Teacher of the Blade.  That was a big thing.

After they left, he went to refill his coffee.  He seemed to look for his mug, again, but reconsidered.  Sitting down across from me we were both quiet for some time, hey, we were both totally exhausted.  When I started to open my mouth, he seemed to know I was going to talk about our fight, and my, well, my everything.  But he held up his hand and gently shook his head.

“Every since I first saw you, I knew there was something different.  I saw it in the way you worked, the way you ate your meals, in the fight with Stagus.  There is a very primal force within you; something which has all but died away among your people.  Many of the elves believe Kn’Yang was the last.”  He smiled, a knowing secret information type smile, and then said, “I believe you have the makings of what they called the Gahjurahnge, what men called a Ranger.

“I believe that primal energy manifested itself within you tonight.  It’s been building for some time.  But you had to let it out on your own.  You have opened a doorway, now let us not shut it.”

“But … I almost, I almost …”

“No.  You did not.”  He was very stern, gentle, but stern, “What happened was a force of nature, a very particular force of nature, at that.  What you must do is learn to harness it.  Not fight with it, not actually control it.  But rather, control your use of it.

“Besides,” he grinned, “I rather enjoyed it.” He took a sip as I stared at him unbelievingly.  “I have not been challenged to the brink of my own abilities in a long, long time.  You are the first to make that score on me, ever.  Practice or no, I am proud of you.”

There was another period of silence, in which we just sat across from each other and drank hot coffee as black as sin.  Mine, of course, had sweetening in it.  And then I asked, “May I ask a question?”

Amused, he thought about it.  I must remember, he was always the teacher.  And then he replied, “I will answer one question.  And then, as early as it is, I believe it is time to turn in.”

“How old are you?”

That was not a question he was expecting.

___________________________

 

It only took one good night’s sleep to get enough rest to be able to heal myself of a common illness.  Trouble was, it took me three nights to get enough rest to be able to do it this time.  I had really drained myself.  Another lesson learned; the more I channeled my so-called power, the more it tired me out, and the longer it took to regain the energy.

You hear about folks with some kind of power, and oh, look what all they can do with it.  But it isn’t all that easy.  I had learned, in my case anyway, my own was generated in part by my physical condition, how much rest I got, how well nourished I was, and where I was standing and on what.

While I had learned I could use my power to do different things, there was lots of stuff I couldn’t affect.  For instance; I could affect wood, plants, hides, leather, and was learning I could even affect the ground … a little … and some kinds of stone.  But so far, I couldn’t do squat with metal, except make it hot … up to a point.

Once I was able to heal up, I took Hoscoe’s mug and tried to see if I could put it back together.  Guess what?  I was able to hold two pieces together at a time, and make them kind’a *Mend* back together, but it wasn’t easy.  I think it was because the ceramic was processed, or something like that, passed its natural state but not too far.  That might not be right, but it sounded good at the moment.  Once I had fixed the mug, I knew it had taken a lot out of me, more than trying to heal someone else, even which was one of the hardest things for me to do.  But, it was fixed, and I was happy.

The freak storm had covered everything with ice, so for the next two days there were no sword classes.  When they were continued, Hoscoe held them inside the training hall.  Watching him move, let alone teach, gave me a whole new perspective.  And then there was our match. 

Hoscoe was nearly one hundred and fourteen years old, almost unheard of in that day and time.  It wasn’t like he was of one of the two known long-lived human groups; some of the Gevardians had lived to be one hundred and twenty to thirty years of age, and the Nakoai averaged one hundred and seventy to eighty years of age.

He said his life span was largely in part due to a clean lifestyle, and practice of elvin exercises he had learned from Th’Khai.  Still, I found him to be amazing.  No wonder he had done so many things.  When he had come to the territory in search of the Eye of Anu-Rah, he had been in his thirties; it explained perfectly why Chitivias didn’t know him.

But there was something else, something I had always put off thinking about.  Hoscoe was much older than was normal, but it wasn’t due to magical means; he was just healthy.  Still, he was getting old and I didn’t want to lose him.  He was much more than a friend and mentor.  How to say it?  It was a word I had never uttered.  Hoscoe was, in my mind, something like a … a father. 

I now understood what he meant when he asked if I could lay him down, and I didn’t know if I could.  I started to be very aware of him.  His words of not knowing how much time we would have, also took on new meaning.

On Ehnday evening we got together in his quarters to play chess.  I went to prepare the coffee and when time came I fixed him a cup.  Watching him for so long, I knew how he liked his coffee, but he always made his own mug.  I said, “You like it straight black, don’t you?”

He said, “Yes, but it is alright, I’ll ma-” he faltered as he saw I was handing him his own mug.  Hoscoe hesitated and I thought I saw emotion in his eyes, and he chewed the side of his jaw.  Accepting the mug, he smiled and said, “Thank you.”  He ground his teeth, took a good sip, and added, “This thing and I go way back.  I picked it up for a copper pence in a hamlet outside of Costien.  I must have been, oh, twenty-three or four.  But I have carried it ever since.”

Memories seem to flood his mind, and then he abruptly turned and asked, “Chess?”

The evening was pleasant and Sabboday as well.  Sabboday eve was spent with Riana, and when we kissed?  Well, perhaps that is a story for another time.

___________________________

 

The next few weeks saw more strange weather, and that in turn spawned new talk about Meidra.  Was the Witch Queen returning?  What about Xiahstoi?  And then came the messenger from Siago Village.  The whole place had been wiped out by cognobins, led by a human.  The rider believed he was the only one to escape.

This brought a new wave of talk, as Siago was only slightly farther out than had been Biunang Village.  Immediately two small forces were gathered and sent out under commands of Field Major Eppard and Lieutenant Commander Orance.

Hoscoe said depending on the country, any one of four different lines of command were used.  Chitivias had opted to use the ancient system used by Shudoquar of Lieutenant, Senior Lieutenant, Field Captain, Field Major, Lieutenant Commander, and Commander.  In Shudoquar, there were six different Commanders and one Commander of the Army.

Patrols for the city were upped by three times and the wall watch was multiplied as well.  Hoscoe didn’t agree with the king’s strategy, “But I am just a teacher,” he fumed.  “He will not listen.  The city is not in peril, not yet.  We must needs find the source of entry and quash it.  He is scared of these cognobins.  They are not the enemy, they are tools of the enemy.

“Give me a regiment, and I’ll go find the problem.  By Cherron’s Beard, give me a battalion with three, even two good companies …” Hoscoe ranted.  “This man is no general. He can fight yes, but he has become a politician.  He could bring people together, and he has fought battles.  But those were individual engagements.  He is looking at a war, here, a campaign war.  He is moving as if he is performing a police action.”  These were things which could have gotten him in a lot of trouble, but we only spoke among ourselves.

On the first day of the second month, Orance had taken his force far a’field.  They made camp, and in the middle of the night they were suddenly attacked by the cognobins.  Most were slain, including Orance, although maybe one fifth of the men got away.  They were reassembled under Cudty, who got them to the Marian Diamond Mine.  There a series of messages were sent by pigeon network until it got to Kiubejhan.

I met Ander for a while at Baldwin’s for an ale where we were joined by Handsome Henry.  We talked about the state of things as were, cognobins and what have you.  The band was going to play the pub in two nights hence, so Handsome was there to make final arrangements.

Ander was going to meet Lafia later that evening, so he went on to clean up.  Handsome and I talked a bit more, and then we both decided it was time to head out.  He went ahead, as I was going to pick his tab.  When I went outside to head for my barracks, however, I saw Handsome had run head to head into trouble with a soldier they called T-bone and some of his cronies.

T-bone was perhaps the tallest in the entire army, and was nearly a foot taller than me.  He was also big across the shoulders, possessed massive arms and was an all-round bully.  Two of those with him were of the same caliber, but the fourth man I didn’t know.  At least the three of them were known regulars in Aldivert’s command.  They had been in for a little while, and were scheduled to leave out soon.

I had no idea what had just happened, but T-bone was harshly asking, “What did you call me, little man?” 

“Nothin’, sur.  I jus’ wished you well.”  Handsome had his hands up, wanting no trouble, but old as he was he wasn’t backing down.  Strings told me he was a maestro with a knife and had killed three men at once after a gig in Charlamae.  But these men were wearing their swords.

T-bone continued his haranguing, “I think you’re …”

“Leave him alone,” I said.  It took me only a moment to get there.  I also realized I was unarmed but for a belt knife.

“Back off, minstrel!  It’s none of your concern,” one of them told me, with a sneer on the word minstrel.  I had heard him called Daines.

“He’s my brother …” I said as I looked Daines square in the eye.  There was no heat, no rush of energy from So’Yeth.  I was playing it smooth.  Then I turned to T-bone and said coolly, “… and I’m making it my concern.”

I heard someone come to the door of Baldwin’s, then stop and turn back inside and say, “Hey, come look at this.”  But my focus was in front of and around me.

The one they called Riuger piped in, “Brother?  I don’t see no spikes on this’uns ears.”

On my left, the man I didn’t know, he looked at me with a laugh and said, “Shit.  His mother’s an elf.  She’s probably done every m---”

My left jab bloodied his nose and my right cross broke it.  Before anyone could get set, I followed in with a kick to his gut, then spun him around and into a left hook which laid his cheek open to the bone.  I felt movement behind me and pivoted around and drove a long right into Ruiger’s solar plexus.

Scooping my right hand down to his groin and grabbing his collarbone with my left, I lifted him into the air and over my head.  Like I said, the training Hoscoe had put me through made me far stronger than most, and I was now mad.  I hurled Riuger ten feet and onto the charging Daines.  Both went tumbling back to the outer wall of the pub.

The boys were piling out of Baldwin’s to see what was going on, and I could hear yelling from all around.  As I threw Ruiger, I turned to meet T-bone lunging in at me.  He was cumbersome as he was big, and I side-stepped him to the right and took him in the wind with a stiff left as he was coming in.  Following up with two hard rights into the kidney, as he turned around I pelted him again in the wind twice with a solid right-left uppercut combination, both putting him up on his toes.

T-bone was big and had intimidated people all of his life.  He could swing a sword hard because he was strong, but he had taken no time to learn the fundamentals of real fighting.  He hadn’t needed to.  All of his training was in hefting rocks and metal spheres to build his physique.  My left crossed to his chin which spun him completely around, and then I kicked him in the groin.  Grabbing T-bone by the hair I head butted him hard in the center of his skull.

He stood straight up and had a queer look on his face and I knew he was already out like a blown candle light.  Once he reached his full height, he started to fall over backward like a big piece of wood.  My *Awareness* warned me and I ducked down low as Daines swung a piece of wood that shattered across T-bones body.  ‘Thank you Hoscoe, for all of that blindfolded awareness training.’

I stomped Daines’ knee from the side and felt the bones shatter; just in time to catch Ruiger lunging at me, arms wide and diving down to snatch me by both knees.  Stepping back and bringing my left knee up, I caught him square in the chin and heard his teeth crunch.

Off to the side, the man I did not know was drawing his sword while coming my way, so as Ruiger’s head snapped up from meeting my knee, I grabbed Daines blade from its sheath as he was falling down and clashed swords with my would be attacker.  Ours eyes met only for a moment as we engaged blades once, twice, three times … on the fourth cross of steel I saw an easy opening, disarmed him, swept his feet from under him, and as he lay breathless on his back I pushed the tip of the live blade against his throat, breaking his skin directly above the artery.

In the background I heard, “Wolf!  Stand down!”  I wasn’t sure of the voice.

I held my eyes on my opponent, a vision of my momma on the refuse heap flashed across my mind.  ‘It would be so-o-o easy to …’

“Stand down, Timber Wolf, stand down.”  That voice I knew, it was Hoscoe.

Slowly, but clearly I spoke, so he could grasp my words, words delivered with an icy edge, “Touch him again, and I’ll kill you.”  And then I gave him an evil sneer.  “Speak low of my momma again …” I knew he could feel the trickle of blood from his neck running into the dirt, “… and I’ll hang you from the West Gate Towers by your entrails, as you kick and scream …”

Stepping back, I lingered my gaze at the other three, only one of whom caught my eye.  In my demeanor was a challenge and a nod of a deadly promise.

“Timber Wolf …” Hoscoe’s voice was firm, but gentle.  Later I thought, much like the handler of a beast who has broken free without a leash.

“Are you alright?”  I asked Handsome.  He nodded his head, and with a deliberate action, I tossed the sword to the ground with disgust.  As I turned to walk back to my barracks with Hoscoe, I saw Commander Lahrcus carefully watching me from the side, his hand slowly releasing the grip of his sword.

Chapter   42

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STANDING AT PARADE Rest is in no way restful at all.  Clearly named by a human, no elf would name a posture with such a radically different definition from the implied title.  The feet are just more than shoulder width apart, the back is straight, and the hands overlap behind the back with thumbs interlocked.  Not a bad posture for its purpose, just badly named.

The main purpose for Parade Rest, is to put soldiers in a neutral position so an officer, or leader, can speak and/or conduct an inspection without someone suddenly attacking said person.  Holding the arms in this way is unnatural for the shoulders and slows the blood circulation all through the arms.  After standing at Parade Rest way for several minutes, it becomes difficult to drop arms and effectively reach across the body to draw a sword and attack anyone.

Hoscoe and I had been standing at Parade Rest in front of Commander Lahrcus’s desk for some time now.  My fight the previous night had brought up some serious problems.  First, fighting among soldiers was not tolerated.  Of course, technically, I wasn’t a soldier.  I was Hoscoe’s apprentice, which made him fully responsible.  Next, and not necessarily in this order, the man I didn’t know was Aldivert’s new lieutenant, and Aldivert wanted me whipped and put into stocks.

On the other hand, there were dozens of witnesses who went on record to report Handsome Henry had been pushed around and I rose to his defense.  The unanimous testimony was also that the lieutenant was moving to put his hand on Handsome when I rose to stop him.  The fact that all four were wearing swords to enter Baldwin’s also went bad, blades over twelve inches long were not allowed in proximity of the pub.

There was the fact that Daines swung a stick at my back, let alone that he was being charged with attacking T-bone, and then the lieutenant drew his sword in what was clearly a fist fight. The incident had the whole place in a hub-bub.  Everyone had been grilled and now it was Hoscoe and I.

“The king has given me full latitude on this, gentlemen.  Due in part to Master Hoscoe’s superb instruction, in part to the overall nature of the incident, and perhaps in some small part due to Timber Wolf’s performance at the Princess’s ball.  However, let it be clear any favor gleaned from that has now been awarded and spent”

Lahrcus sat back in his seat and mused, “On the record, these four have performed outside the realm of code and are being dealt with in appropriate manner.  Not the least, ‘T-bone’, as he is called, has been busted down to the lowest grade of buck soldier.  Time in stocks has been wavered, simply because we need him in the field.  His injuries will, of their own, serve a sentence on him as this story will follow him as long as he lives.

“Lieutenant Davolet has been stripped of his commission and rendered the grade of buck soldier.  Likewise, time in stocks has been suspended for same reasons.  Previous to last night, Davolet had been considered to be a fine swordsman and had been teaching swordsmanship at his previous post.

“The other two,” Lahrcus waved his hand, “are not fit for any kind of duty, largely in part due to their injuries.  One will be crippled for life, the other … the other … we cannot fix his face.  His jaw is shattered, teeth broken, and bones in his face are apparently cracked.  Daines may be useful when he heals as a quartermaster, tending to supplies and what have you, or possibly as a cook’s assistant.  But that will be all.”

Looking directly at me, he said, “Timber Wolf, as of this moment you are a civilian and don’t come under military code jurisdiction.  We won’t look at civilian law, for the moment. 

“Off the record, you beat the shit out of four seasoned warriors, one an expert at arms, crippled or maimed two men we can’t afford to do without, failed to stand down when I ordered you to do so, then when your master ordered you to do so, and went on to threaten an officer with macabre action within city walls.”

He held up his hand when my face changed, “Don’t,” he said, and slightly shaking his head he continued, “I’m not saying I disapprove the action, as grisly as it is, for speaking ill of one’s mother.  But not in the city walls, or within sight of it, for that matter.”  Lahrcus paused for quite some time, thinking.

“After you left for quarters, Davolet got up and made some comment to the effect of, ‘If he ever got squared off with you properly, he would trim your wet nose.’  But then you, Master Hoscoe, you said something which intrigued me even more than the incident.  You told Davolet, and I quote, ‘Do not try it.  He is more seasoned than you are, and is ten times the swordsman.’

“Davolet was flustering when you added, ‘I have seen him take punishment you could not comprehend and keep getting up to fight.  I was there when he killed a more dangerous man than the four of you together, with his bare hands.  And I have watched him stand his post and buckle down against a horde of orgs until the battle was no more.  He is worth more than twenty of either of you.  Now, go fix your nose.’

“I remember you telling me when you first got here,” Lahrcus was looking at me, “that your favored weapons were your fists.  I wasn’t sure to take you seriously.”  He grinned sardonically, “I’ve changed my mind.”

Lahrcus fidgeted with a letter opener and looked from one of us to the other.  I had no idea what he had in mind, and surely didn’t expect what he said next, “On the extreme side of things, as combined military commander and chief of city civil protection, I can kick you out of the city walls with threat of death upon re-entry, for implying your own threat of grisly action within city walls.  I can put you in stocks for refusing to obey a direct command from an official of the law.  I can have you whipped for assaulting an officer of the military, regardless of your intent. Legally, you should have reported the matter and let it be tended judicially.

“Or … I can write you a special appointment as a scout for the Crown of Keoghnariu.

“You won’t have powers of command, at least not in the beginning, but you will be somewhere between foot-soldier and officer in terms of deference.  Which means you would answer to your assigned officer, not a sergeant, unless the sergeant is the surviving field commander.”

His glance went from Hoscoe to me and added, “The two of you would have to come to an outside agreement as to completing apprenticeship.  We have a war of survival coming, gentlemen.  We’ve just lost two fighting men, and we need a thousand times as many, and this morning we received news that one of our scouting patrols has been ambushed and killed.  The patrol was four to five days ride from here.  It’s getting closer.”

It was then that Hoscoe asked, “When in city, will he retain his quarters and continue his training with me?”

Lahrcus grinned, “I’m not difficult, Master Hoscoe.  As long as you assure me he doesn’t go around looking for reasons to defend the elderly and ladies in distress against obnoxious soldiers.  I don’t think our army can afford it.”

___________________________

 

Field Major Lamen was well experienced in the outlands where we were headed with three platoons of four squads each.  Each squad consisted of six men with a corporal as squad leader; each platoon headed by a buck sergeant with one field sergeant over the force.  Lieutenant Citsan and I, the appointed scout, made seventy-nine men commissioned to go out, find and flush the enemy, and lend support to fighting or surviving troops we may find.

Hoscoe did not agree with the strategy, nor the outfitting, but what to do?  We were being outfitted by the king’s mandate.  As a para-military man, I was not required to go out with standard issue equipment.  It was up to Hoscoe and me to make sure I was outfitted with specialized tools I might need, although, we had full access to any gear available through the quartermaster of the city force.

Every man had a standard issue sword, dagger, light crossbow and twenty bolts.  The swords and daggers were of standard grade metal, except for Ander’s blade, which was of high tempered Brosman Steel.  The Kiubejhan Light crossbows had an effective range of one hundred and twenty-five rods, and were among the best crossbows built.  The general idea of combat was to shoot your cross bow as many times as possible before the enemy closed on you, then go to arms. 

The heavy crossbow was a more stout, somewhat larger version of the light, and an effective range of between two hundred and two hundred and twenty rods.  Chitivias held the Vedoan theory these were great siege and city defense weapons.  Again, these were incredibly well built for the era, and we were taking a couple along for hunting, but our unit wasn’t being outfitted with these because they took much longer to reload than the lights.

One man of each squad carried something they called a resounding crossbow, which essentially was a portable ballista.  It was a huge crossbow and was carried in two parts.  One man couldn’t pull it back by hand, it had to be cranked with a special wind-up mechanism, and it used longer ammunition.

The cross section was made with multilayered wood in a laminating process, and although heavy, the action was fast.  It was somewhat unwieldy for a man to use at hand, but it was equipped with a fork rest to stabilize it on the ground.  The range was incredible for its size and had some wicked knockdown power.  It could penetrate any armor used of the time at three hundred rods, and every operator had to qualify four in five marks into a human target at that range.

Merle carried a Resounder, as it was referred to, and I had seen him practice with it hand held.  He was strong enough to do it, and he was in Ander’s platoon.  It was Ander’s first time out as a buck sergeant.  Dudley was over another platoon and Izner was with him.  The third platoon sergeant was Montao, a seasoned soldier from West Gate Barracks who came to the pub often.  He was big, strong, quiet, and had been at the pub the first time I played.  He always requested the Red Haired Girl song.

And thinking about red haired girls, I saw Riana before leaving.  She had heard about the fight outside the pub and I had worried how she might react to it, she was always telling me how sweet I was and all.  But she told me how proud it made her; that I would stand up for an older person like that, in spite of the odds. 

Her real concern, however, was the fact that I was going into war.  Things were more dangerous than they had been.  Her father had been a soldier before his hand had been mangled, and her oldest brother and sister’s husband had been killed fighting the cognobins years ago.  Her thirteen year old brother was sure to have to go and fight in a couple of years, if this wasn’t resolved soon, and it didn’t look like it would be. 

She was having a tough time of me going out, but she understood and was being brave.  We stood for a long time, that night, just looking into each other’s eyes.  It was with a heavy heart that I left, and she stood tall and proud as I did.  But I heard her begin to cry as I rounded the corner out of eyesight.

My band brothers gave me a package of forty ceegars, as the Dom called them.  I humorously remembered the first time I tried smoking one.  Let’s say I had to learn they were not to be inhaled, but puffed upon for flavor.  Handsome also handed me a trinket and said, “Here you go, Fonshune, I been carryin’ that for many yahrs an’ it’s brought me good luck.”

It was a small, slim, silver colored casing which had a flip top.  He showed me how when you thumbed a little wheel, fire would ignite from a tiny wick.  When you closed the casing it put the fire out.

“I find it one time when I camped by a ruin.  I don’t know why, ain’t no magic on it, but it ain’t never run out an’ it always works until I close that cap.”

“Thank you, Handsome … I don’t know what to say …”

“You done said it.  Now go out there and cut some ‘nobin gizzard.”

It was Hoscoe who touched me the most.  He had been fidgeting, something he wasn’t given to do, and helped me get my backpack and rig together.  I had my rucksack, supplies, slicker, blanket roll and ground sheet, jerked meat, etc.  A possible pouch I would carry slung over my right shoulder and down my left side; it held a big pack off coffee, cigars, small packets of dry tinder for starting fires, a couple of spare crossbow strings and a few other choice articles the others would not be likely to have.

My boots I had made myself.  For the first time I tried making footgear, based on what my momma had showed me long ago.  As I worked, I tried to push warmth and energy into them, just to see what would happen.  So far, they looked no different than anything normal.  It had taken me months to make them, but this would be the first time I put them to use.  They had three layers of sole and were supposed to be as tough as foot soldiers marching boots, but they were still as supple as regular wear-about soft sole shoes.

They laced up the front, but came up over the calf and were worn over my leggings.  The top folded over once tied and six inch long fringes hung all around.  Knife sheaths were inside the boots, one on each outer side of the leg, and there were a couple of little surprise pockets on the inside as well.

The rucksack was rigged to hold a sheaf of crossbow bolts on the left side, and my sheaf would hold three dozen, more than the rest of the others.  My sword could be slung easily under the rucksack where I could grab it from above my right shoulder.  Again, this was different from the standard outfit, where the other soldiers would draw from cross body.

As I was preparing to go below and join the company, Hoscoe stood before me face to face and said, “I am proud of you.  Do not forget that.  As you know, this is not a patrol.  You are going to war.  Keep your mind straight, focus on the prize, and the prize will change from time to time.

Keep an eye out, young sir.  I do not trust the wind.  Something more is amiss, only I cannot identify it ... yet.”

He looked down and around the room, and then let out a long sigh, “There seems to be many things I cannot identify, anymore.  But, when you shoot … when you shoot … make your aim true.  You are going to need all the help you can get.”  He walked over and brought me his crossbow.  Hoscoe held the magnificent weapon with reverence, and then said, “This is the Beckerson Mark VII, perhaps the finest weapon of its kind ever built.  Old Man Beckerson, himself, built it before he died.  It was meant to be a prototype, and this one he built just for me.”

Hoscoe showed me some features I didn’t know, would have never imagined it could have.  Not only did it have a unique over and under slide carriage, but internally there were counter springs which made it redraw with a flip of a finger lever.  Its range was comparable to the Resounder, Hoscoe believed.  He had picked off unarmored moving targets at three hundred rods, for sure.

The Mark VII could be used many ways; as a single shot conventional weapon, two bolts at once, or you could fire one as the other automatically redrew, allowing you to fire as fast as you could reload.  And there was more as well.

He handed me the weapon and I took it in my hands, speechless.  “I … I wish I were setting out with you.  You have no idea ...”  I thought his eyes were going misty and there was a faint tremble in his voice, he wasn’t looking me straight on.  “I am a warrior.  I belong in the field.  I would rather pass with honor, than sitting back as … well … no matter.”  He snapped to and with full carriage he looked me straight and snapped with a crisp salute, “Gondishaey!”

Breathing in deeply, and with all the dignity I could muster, I snapped to and returned his salute, “Gondishaey!”

___________________________

 

Days turned to weeks as we moved deep into the interior.  We explored the site of the patrol massacre, and then we found the remains of a lone farming keep.  There were no signs of people or livestock of any kind.  The doors to buildings had been knocked in and we saw where a stew had been boiling at time of attack.  I found an ancient ruin up on a hillside, but nothing else.

More than once, Major Leman had us split company as each of the three platoons went off in separate directions to converge at distant points.  The Major took command of one platoon, the Lieutenant had another, and the Field Sergeant the last.  I usually had free reign to travel alone, but if I wished I could take someone with me.  Izner and I worked well together, and he was light of foot, so he was my usual partner.

It was Izner who noticed I left little to no footprints, and I could tell my feet always felt cool and comfortable.  Once I waded through a small stream just to see what would happen, and my feet stayed dry.  When I walked across sticks, I could feel them as well as if I was barefoot, but my feet were protected at the same time.  They didn’t make me sticky footed like a lizard, but they helped when I climbed up rock and such.  I smiled.

“I just know woodsmen walking,” I told Izner.

My mind kept going back to that ancient ruin.  I had felt something there, a tingling.  Magic, I asked myself?  I wanted to go back and take a better look, but that was days ago.  From now on, I would take as long as I wanted to check out anything.

Six weeks out and our company had been split up.  I was with Ander’s platoon and we were last to make rendezvous when we noticed a much bigger camp than we were used to.

“Aldivert …” I whispered to Ander.  I could see him walking around and putting on airs, and off to the side he had a horse picketed.  Leave it to him to be the only one with a horse while his men all walked.  “… This can’t be good.”

“Damn, Wolf.  He’s supposed to have a lot bigger company.”

I didn’t like it, or him.  I had learned that he was supposed to have had the first dance with Tancine at her ball, and he was livid with me.  Shael’s, I didn’t know.  No one had told me and it happened so smoothly.  I couldn’t tell she was complaining, either, nor did he dance with her the whole rest of the evening.  He was also mad because I had worked over his second and hadn’t been whipped.

Aldivert had been advanced to Field Major some time back.  What was it, maybe two years ago?  But he was acting like he was in charge, and I could see an unhappy face on Major Leman’s face long before we got there.  As we walked in, Dudley’s face was looking our way with a hopeless expression.

“Well, men …” Aldivert came striding our way.  And then I saw the insignia on his collar, he had been promoted to Lt. Commander.  “You took long enough.”  He passed me a glare and asked with a hint of distain, “Did the scout get you lost?”  Turning to Ander before he could respond he ordered, “Make your troop at ease, and then report to me at once.”  Aldivert didn’t even let Ander get an acknowledgement voiced before he turned and strode to his tent.

I wasn’t allowed to attend the meeting with sergeants and officers, but Aldivert’s story was that he had been made Lt. Commander to govern that region.  He had been on mission when his company had been attacked.  Only the twenty-six he had with him had escaped and he was now taking command of our company as reinforcements.

My hearing is good, but I had been trying to extend my hearing over greater distances.  It took a lot of concentration, but I was getting to where I could *Listen* four to five times farther than most humans.  While they were in meeting, I overheard three of Aldivert’s soldiers making plans against Dudley; something to get him into trouble.  I just happened out of the brush and asked what they were talking about.  Turning on me one said, “None of your concern.”

Smiling I replied, “I just made it my concern.”

Another, a soldier named Traevos, suddenly held up his hands and said, “Alright Wolf, alright.”  He was being smart.  “But you be careful.  No one can protect you out here.”

“No, you be careful,” I replied, “You might need to rely on me one day.”  With that I walked back to the fire for some food and told Izner what I had heard.  Later in the evening I saw Traevos talking to Aldivert and then Aldivert passed me a mean glance while nodding his head.

For two days we marched with no apparent destination, and then I saw we were headed toward the jungle.  These boys were conditioned to obey orders.  I could understand, because I had come up that way, too.  But Hoscoe had been teaching me to think for myself.  This was wrong, and against what we were outfitted for.

Aldivert passed the command that we were to maintain absolute quiet, and he kept me away from everyone.  He didn’t speak, but he wanted me up front with him.  Several times I felt eyes watching us, but there was nothing I could see.

It was interesting, hadn’t Aldivert reported he had been attacked with most of his command lost?  He didn’t act like someone who was looking over his shoulder.  His surviving men didn’t seem to be nursing any wounds, either.  And they weren’t tired and downcast as if they had just run from a defeat.

On the second evening, Aldivert had us make camp on the forest edge.  Nothing about it felt right to me.  Across from the fire I started winking my right eye, as if it were a twitch.  Then I would rub it.  Izner was across from me at the fire and caught on quickly.  We had worked out a play-around code in which we communicated through eye blinks.  Ander and Merle had never gotten into it, but Dudley had, and he caught what I was saying.

I had been ordered into sack with the first watch and I guess I was supposed to have fallen asleep.  But I was *Aware* of vibrations in the ground long before the attackers came, and they weren’t cognobins, either.  Everything was quiet, no sounds of anything, but I knew they were there and they were good.  But I was better … Suddenly I jumped up and yelled “Engage!”  As I came up I had my crossbow aimed on my target and I was pulling the trigger.

Chapter   43

________________________

 

 

EVERY MAN-JACK ONE of our original company had been trained by Hoscoe, and he taught far more than individual skill-at-arms; he taught team tactics and procedures.  Aldivert’s men were still in their sacks when the rest of the camp was up and fighting; something I wondered about afterward.

When I had yelled, a foliage covered human stepped out of the forest with a crossbow aimed where my bedding was.  I asked no questions and gave him one where it matters, then quickly I turned to another emerging opponent and put one into his chest.  A third was running up behind me and leveled his weapon at me from thirty-five feet away.  He wouldn’t miss, but neither did I. 

Hidden inside the stock of my weapon was a small barrel with a coil-loaded spring.  Hoscoe called it his Ace in the hole.  A specially barbed dart was inside this barrel.  Its maximum effective range, he said, was fifty feet, give or take, and I let this man take it in the neck as he stared at me in total disbelief.  I made the world seem to *Slow* as his weapon discharged and my own conditioned reflexes took over. 

I had learned that the world didn’t really slow down, but somehow I was able to alter my own perceptions and channel energy into my body to make my actions faster.  So, to me everything in my immediate area seemed to slow, but in reality, it was me who was speeding up.  The real effort was in making my body speed up, it was like forcing myself to move fast inside a barrel of thick molasses or honey and took a lot out of me.

This was one effect I practiced as much as I could.  It still didn’t work every time, and I couldn’t keep it up for long, but Hoscoe determined I could move between four and five times faster than normal.  The practice really paid off in that camp attack.

My target died standing up and I could see his own bolt coming at me in slowed motion.  Torquing my body hard to the side, I caught the bolt, and then spinning to find another opponent I loaded my auto-redrawn top carriage, aimed at a fourth mark who was taking aim on Ander and drilled him in the head.  The *Slow* effect was already wearing off and I could feel the fatigue as I dropped the weapon to my bedroll. I did an aerial barrel-roll up and over a bolt I couldn’t have caught, and pulling my hatchet in mid air, I landed on my feet and hurled it into the chest of yet a fifth opponent. 

‘Whew,’ I thought as I felt a heady sensation, the after effect of power usage made me a touch dizzy.

Fighting was going on all around as to my side Puffer was dispatching his man, Merle had a long piece of wood he was clubbing heads with, and Ander had practically taken command.  I couldn’t remember pulling my sword and short blade, but after downing one man something new entered the fray. 

The snarling of big cats, angry, gadwaur, big cats, came to my ears and I heard two men scream along with the sound of the yells of a wounded gadwaur.  Then as my reflexes warned me, a large fur covered antagonist made contact with me as I rolled over fast. 

My move threw the Gadwaur over me and we both came to feet at the same instant. There was only a spilt-second for me to try, and try I did … to *S’Fahn Muir* with this creature, and communicate with it.  She hesitated for a moment, and then I felt an unnatural struggle within her beast’s brain.  I focused hard and felt the turmoil … and I pushed inward, feeling myself enter her thoughts from ten feet away.  Once more I *Pushed* inward, through our mental rapport, against this strangeness she could not label or comprehend, and then it was gone.

She was beautiful, strong, and deadly, but with an animal’s intelligence and lack of ability to resist powerful influences outside her natural instincts.  Clearly in her honest and unguarded recent memory, I saw her crouched over a recent kill preparing to feed.  Then a human I had never seen stood before her, tossed some glittering dust onto her face to breath, and began uttering words.  Everything after was a muddle of anger and rage, awaiting a word of attack, until now. 

The voice of the one giving the word I had not heard before.  It was different from the caster, but I would forget neither face nor sound.

[Leave,] I tried to communicate to her.  Then she looked into the fray and leapt back into the forest.

Turning, I saw Ander, Vensi and some of the others staring at me.  One of them was Traevos.  The battle was over quickly and decisively.  Twenty-eight sneak attackers were dead.  A few had gotten away, and some of us were ready to run them down.  But Aldivert said to hold.  “Going into the night, scattered, is not a good idea,” he said.

As we took account of our own losses, five of our own were dead and eight more wounded.  Among the dead, however, were Major Leman and Lieutenant Citsan.  Leman was being examined by one of Aldivert’s men, and only three of them had gotten up for the fight.  None were among the wounded, none but Aldivert who was standing back waiting his man to pronounce Leman dead.

I bent down and examined the crossbow sunk deep into Leman’s back, then the slashed right arm and neck.  His sword had a stain of blood on it, not much, but it was there.  Leaning low I smelled deep of the scent on the feathers, and looked at Aldivert and his scratched face.

We met eyes then, and he knew that I knew what had happened.  Aldivert had murdered Major Leman, and I couldn’t prove a thing.

Aldivert casually walked to me and asked, “Is there something you would like to say, scout?”

Accusing an officer of something so serious, without evidence, was subject to penalty of death.  I had no fear of this man, but I needed substantiation before I could make my case.

“Come on.  Speak up.”  He taunted. 

I spoke so all could hear, “There is a wizard involved.”

His mouth moved and caught in mid-word, “H-how could you know that?” His manner, his hesitation and surprise at my words, all rang of pre-knowledge to me.  He should have been curious that I thought a wizard might be involved, not how I could know.

“If I see him, I can identify him.”  I said, matter-of-factly.  He didn’t like it, or me; not one bit.  He was enraged, but cool.  This man was dangerous on more than one front.  Other than timing, nothing here could directly connect Aldivert with the surprise attack or the wizard, but in my gut I was now sure they were.  Aldivert had an agenda, and it had nothing to do with defeating cognobins, or at least not at the moment.

His blade was still drawn, but so was mine, and he dearly wanted to run me through.  But as much as he prized himself a swordsman, he knew how well I had taken his men at the pub.  I knew then Aldivert hated me as some men hate without any particular reason.  He wanted me dead, but he was a sure thing operator.  Everything must be in his favor, and he wouldn’t take a chance with me.

He was not afraid. In fact, I don’t think he was afraid of anything.  There was something reeking of insanity in his eyes.  But he was shrewd as well.  Whatever his goal might be, I may or may not be in his way, but my existence vexed him.  I had outmaneuvered him this night, and I did it accidentally.  Aldivert was used to winning, and this he would never forget.  More than that, I knew something, and he didn’t know how much.  And his dilemma would be … how did I know?

A burial detail was ordered immediately the next morning, and then we were moving.  We seemed to be headed back to the north, and I wondered why.  Aldivert said he was in charge of the diamond mine country, which was south and east.  Talking was not allowed, but he didn’t know who my friends were.  He only knew I was well liked.  Therefore, he could not let me spend time with anyone.  As soon as possible, he would need to have me killed.

We followed the forest line for quite a ways, but on the third day the weather patterns were acting strange again.  Hail hit us with savage lightning and thunder and everyone got pelted, some with skin splitting wounds.  A stand of trees with the right growing arrangement was found, and we made quick work of bending their tops in and weaving shelters.

There was no way to keep me from being enclosed with someone, so he made sure I was with several of his own men.  Merle was in my shelter, however, and I had an Idea.

___________________________

 

You couldn’t hear anything outside of the shelter, so we had a meal and then I pulled out a reed flute I had made and began to play.  Only I played some gentle lullabies, and *Channeled*.  I hadn’t tried this before, but it was worth a shot.  I felt that heat rise up from So’Yeth, despite the cold outside, and I put all I could into wanting these guys to *Fall Asleep*.  Soldiers, wicked or good, are still flesh and blood and they like to relax when they can.  It wasn’t long before everyone, including Merle, was fast asleep.

Easing over to him, I woke him up, or tried to.  Merle was a heavy sleeper who snored.  Waking him up became a major challenge, but I finally did it by pushing a blade of dead grass up his nose.

He came around kind of funny like, but we didn’t have any time for humor.  “Pssst …” I whispered at him, “Merle?”

He was startled at seeing me so close, but I kept him quiet and said, “Listen mate, I’ve got to talk to you.”

We were no longer just good friends; we were soldiers who needed to depend on each other.  I opened up and told him some of what I could and couldn’t do, how I could sort of talk with animals, and that it was important to tell Ander.  But only he, Ander, Ize and Dudley; nobody else could know what I was telling him.

Ander was always the one with the great plans and strategy during games, and I, we, needed him to come up with some ideas, if possible.  I also told Merle what I surmised about Aldivert, how I saw into the Gadwaur’s mind and saw the wizard, and everything like that.  I didn’t go into my past, and wasn’t going to, but only the relevant things I felt Ander and the chums should know right now.

Coming up with ideas, yes, I could do that.  But I was lacking in experience, and I was smart enough to know it.  We needed to work as a team, and right now I didn’t know how to go about making that work.  Also, everyone looked at Ander as a leader, not me. 

Having the squads lay in just the right way, my yelling the word engage, the whole thing had been Ander’s idea.  When he looked and saw the major on the ground he naturally took command.  So he would have to be the one to take charge, now.  I didn’t know how Montao or our field sergeant, a hard core soldier named Dannon, would take to it.  We would have to shoot that target when we saw it.

Merle was sometimes slow in his speech, but he was smart and had no problem grasping what I said.  I would have to trust him to find a way to get the information to the others.

The hail hammered down upon us all night, the next day, and into the following morning.  But then the storm suddenly broke and in no time the sun was out bright and shinning.  Everything was icy, but we got out of there and spent much of the next day double-timing our march.  I wondered where we were going so quickly. 

Distance was measured in days of travel, not miles, and it was a good thing.  A couple of those days were hard going and we didn’t get very far, maybe a dozen miles. This wasn’t flat land and often involved rugged hills.  I had expected much arguing between Aldivert’s men and our original company, but everyone was usually too tired to care.  We were pushing that hard.

On our fifth day after the hail, we were again on the edge of the jungle when Aldivert had us start making a camp at the top of a small mesa.  The back side was almost straight up and down and there were only two places where a person could comfortably go up.  The top was only about six to six and a half acres with signs someone might have tried making a dwelling up here.  There was a rise of rock off to one side where a bubble of ice cold water streamed out into a little pool.

We were going to make camp here, and I have to say it was a good choice.  Once at the top you could see maybe eight or nine hundred rods in any direction.  There was no shelter up here, however, and I wouldn’t want to be up there in a storm of any kind.

While camp was being made, Aldivert had four of his men to choose three troops each to go out and explore the outer perimeter.  One of the men I caught plotting against Dud, a man whose nose must have been broken more than once, named Tarrin, picked me, one of his buddies, and Patriohr from West Gate Barracks and Montao’s platoon.

I thought Montao was going to bust when Patriohr was picked, and Tarrin smiled.  Something else going on … something I had no knowledge of.  Patriohr, I thought, Izner had once called him the guffous from Malone.  He was quiet, did his job, but otherwise not a spectacular individual.

We were sent into the jungle, of all places, and without backpacks or crossbows.  Aldivert said in the dense jungle, the structure of the bow’s cross section would be a hindrance amid the deep undergrowth.  I would have preferred the hindrance and was at once fairly well alarmed.

My ability to sense things through the ground was far from being well developed, and there were several large critters in there.  I couldn’t distinguish much apart from … wait a minute.  The sensation of four-footed sharp strikes upon the ground; it couldn’t be a horse, could it?  Was that the distinct sound of saddle leather creaking?

We had been scouting around, seemingly endlessly, for maybe three hours, when we came upon a huge tree with what must have been the world’s largest honey bee hive in it.  I looked up, and then stepped back to get a better view as I remembered the honey in my momma’s and my quarters when I was a child, when a crossbow bolt whipped by just inches from my neck.  Tarrin whipped out his sword and lunged at me when a roaring sound like a big, angry beast came from inside the brush.  Tarrin and I just stopped and looked at each other, off to the left Patriohr and his partner looked around, and I could have sworn I heard a horse suddenly gallop away. 

Stumbling out of the brush, holding his behind with a bolt sticking out of it, was seven and a half foot of pissed off cognobin.  By the look of things, he must have been relieving himself.  He stopped and stared at us, we stared at him, and then we all started yelling.  I passed a thought to those bees in hopes they might want to lend a hand here, but didn’t stay around long enough to find out if they did. 

Patriohr and his partner had a head start on us, and we were still running when we made it out of the forest’s edge.  I passed Patriohr, then his partner and was making hard time toward the encampment.  Behind us were the yells of more cognobins than I wanted to know, and then I looked back to see where my fellows were.  Patriohr was way back there and had fallen down.

That magical seeing-things-real-close-up effect happened again, and it was like Patriohr was right in front of me and I saw he couldn’t get up on his left leg.  His buddy looked back but kept running for the mesa, and then I saw a vision of Bernard riding hard for me, No man left behind, he said to me, so many years ago.

Behind where Patriohr had fallen in the clearing three, no four … By Cherron’s Beard … there was a whole mob of the hideous cognobins emerging from the forest and I knew he would never make it.  The first of the cogs would reach him in moments.  With a sudden rush, I felt that animal rage within me.  Tarrin was coming up the hill my way and he made as if to avoid me as I stepped in front of him.  Reaching around him as he tried to run by, I grabbed the sword from his sheath and drawing my own I began running like never before toward Patriohr, a sword in each hand.

I could see no way I could beat the cogs to where Patriohr was still trying to get up … but I had to try.  I felt the wind in my hair and I began to growl like an enraged beast as I ran faster, *Faster* toward the cognobins.  One threw a javelin at me and I leaped into a sideways spin to avoid it, landed and kept running.  The growl in my throat had turned into a primal roar as somehow I beat them to Patriohr’s position.  I *Leaped* past Patriohr, a fantastic jump of almost thirty feet, and onto the first of the charging cognobins; my blades cut deep into the thigh and torso of the fiendish creature as I went berserk ...

I cannot tell you what moves I used, for I don’t know.  My swords moved with the fan patterns taught me by Hoscoe and they bit deep as I struck and killed.  The first went down and I rolled to slice another.  Then stepping up on a cognobin knee, I vaulted into the air to catch a third unguarded across the shoulders and through the neck. 

From off to the side, and just rods away from me and the cogs, Patriohr was trying in vain to get to his sword.  I could hear him yelling at me to watch out behind me, to leave and save myself.

Whirling, I put both blades against a hamstring here, a torso there, and somewhere along the line I saw a head fly off.  One of my blades broke, but I don’t know how.  My obsession was only to stay between the enemy and my teammate.  I began wielding my remaining blade in two-hand fashion with a series of spins, leaps and rolls.  ‘Faster-harder-*Faster*-press-press’ I thought.  It was as if So’Yeth couldn’t feed me enough of her power; with every touch of my foot against the ground a new surge of energy rushed through me.

Again my blade broke as I hammered hard into a huge leg.; their bones were just too hard for this plain steel.  Seeing the javelin of a slain cog, I grabbed it up and ran one through the midriff.  It wouldn’t come out, so with a maddened yell I wrenched it and broke it off.  As I did, however, the wood began to hum in my hands.  What was this?  No matter, I now had almost six feet of stick in my hand … I began to wield the broken weapon like the iron tipped staves of the Nahjiuese Hillmen.

I could almost feel a wave of vigorous power coming from the broken stick, invisible to see, but it was there.  Smashing it into a cog’s knee, I felt the satisfying crunch of bone as he began to howl in pain.  ‘My prize,’ I thought, ‘what was my prize?’  There were just too many, thinking was hard to do as all I wanted was to lash out and destroy.  Wait! ‘Patriohr,’ he was the prize.  I had to get him out, but how?

Spinning about I smashed another cog’s leg and felt the bone shatter as a bestial elation washed through me.  Bending over I whirled my staff behind my back to change grip and leaping up like a tornado I crashed howler-cog in the head and he dropped like a stone.  Reversing my spin I saw shatter-knee hopping on his one good leg; I hit that one low and against his shin, again I felt bone shatter and he went down hard on his back.  Another whipping spin of my empowered staff and with a primal yell of defiance, I *Channeled* a surge of power into my weapon as I struck down, onto the prone creature’s face with a crunch. 

One more came up quickly to engage with me, I deflected his own thrown weapon then whirled to the side, catching him in the solar plexus with the butt end of my staff so that he rose up and back several feet.  Running in, I planted the stick down, vaulted up and over his dazed head with a back flip, and as I landed behind him I *Pushed* my energy into the stick, making it grow into a wicked, pointed barb on the end.  I ran him through from behind, and then caused the barb to momentarily close as I yanked the stick back out.  Looking to the next cog coming to bear, I made the barb grow once more into a foot long, thorn-like wooden blade with serrated edges and needle point tip, and hurled the weapon.

I saw my *Thorn Blade* javelin hurtle sixty-five rods and impale the surprised cog as he caught the missile in his chest; the force of the projectile stopping him in mid-stride, causing his feet to fly out from under him, and he landed on his neck and shoulders.  Another hundred rods past him a rush of the creatures emerged from out of the jungle, and I felt myself begin to tire, quickly.

Turning to find Patriohr, I saw him lying fifteen rods from me.  The mesa was five hundred rods from our position, but I saw Dudley running full tilt down the mesa’s slope with a crossbow and several sheaves of bolts in hand to get into firing range.  Following him was a wave of Resounder teams with Ander taking command and setting up two ranks of crossbowmen.  At the top of the mesa, Aldivert showed up and was yelling at the men below, but it was too far away for me to hear. 

No sense in me looking behind us, I had to get Patriohr, there was no time to lose.  I rushed to my buddy’s side, looking as I ran at his wrenched leg I saw it was snapped at the ankle.  I couldn’t take time to heal him, and he would never make it if I helped him to his feet.  I did a diving roll and caught his arm as I went down.  Curling him up as I went, I got to my feet in one movement.  I reached deep into So’Yeth for strength, and up to So’Yahr as well.  The two energies met somewhere inside me for the first time and I ran. 

I extended my legs and felt as if a flaming wind was pushing me; my strides covering more distance than humanly possible.  The mesa was so close, yet so far away.  Focus, I had to focus.  *Run like the Wind*, I thought.  Run, Wolf, run.

My *Awareness* warned me to swerve, and I did as a javelin hurdled past me.  I saw Dudley aiming, and then he fired, and then again.  He was using my crossbow.  The Resounders were also starting to fire, Merle holding his like a standard weapon.  Again I had to swerve as one javelin flew overhead and another one cut past my ribs.  And then I caught a sight to sooth any soul, a company of cavalry led by Lahrcus, himself, sounding a horn and coming around a ridge to head directly into the wake of cognobins.

Running full out with the last of my strength, I crested the top of the mesa and dropped both of us when we reached center.  Turning to Patriohr, I saw his white face and felt of his leg.  Yup, the ankle was shattered.  Gasping for air, I said, “It’s only a bad sprain, Patriohr.”  And I put all the energy I had left into his leg.  As I felt it come back together, I pulled his sword out of its sheath and with sheets of sweat pouring from my body I said, “I’m going to borrow this for a while.”

___________________________

 

The entire engagement lasted no more than maybe three-quarters of an hour, but in a life and death situation even one minute can seem like an eternity.  Commander Lahrcus scoured the area with his mounted troops while the rest of us tried to square away our camp.  A few cognobins had retreated back into the jungle, but their dead were left behind.

The wounded troops were cared for as chow was being set up.  Hot tea and a bowl of stew was medicine in itself.  But well off to the side, Aldivert’s face was wrathful as he berated Dudley.  For several minutes that went on, and then pointing a finger at Dud, he said, “The bottom line is, you disobeyed a direct order to NOT leave the mesa for ANY reason.  You have a history of repeat offenses for flagrant violations of …”

“Stand down.”  Lahrcus said with a stern voice as he walked up from around the mess tent.  “Sergeant, go take your chow.”  Aldivert had been too busy laying into Dudley to notice the cavalry’s return.

Dudley replied, “Yes sir.”  At least, that’s the way Dudley told it to me as we were eating.  What Aldivert had against Dud, no one knew, or at least no one ever said.

Truth to tell, Dud had scored with every shot he fired, was the first off the hill and into the battle, and the last to come back in.  When his bolts ran out he pulled his sword and engaged.  Ander had taken charge of the line fighting and was calling out maneuvers as if calling plays in a game of sports.  Loud and clear, intense, yet as cool as could be.

Sergeant Dannon has assembled a squad of swordsmen for just in case, and sure enough, three of the cogs actually made it through to the top of the mesa.  Dannon was first to engage and got two hard slices in before a strike with a morning star caved his chest in.

I tried to re-summon that berserker rage, but I was played out, the biggest part of my fight was over.  Still, I had my skills and I pushed to the utmost of my limits; beyond, actually, but no more than several others.  The soldiers now knew these things could die and their moral was high.  The teamwork strategies taught by Hoscoe worked well here and it was Ander who yelled out to use circle-baiting-and-draw method on these things. 

Puffer, Izner and I were the fastest, and we kept taking the point with nip-and-tuck fighting as others slashed hamstrings and Achilles tendons; and it worked.  I have to give credit where credit is due; Aldivert was Storm for Thunder with his sword, which is a Keoghnariu phrase for pretty damn good. 

It was Patriohr who saw a weird, purplish glow over on the cliff side of the mesa.  We had all but finished the three in camp when he looked over and shouted, “There’s five more coming up the side.”  Patriohr took post with a crossbow, and Merle caught one of the slain cog’s morning stars and waylaid them as they came up.  One he took by himself, and you could hear the bones cracking as Merle hit him four hard times before he finally went backward.

Ander called his men in and we surely met them coming. Only one made it all the way up to set foot on flat ground, but he looked like a pin cushion growing spines as he kept soaking up bolts, then finally falling over the cliff.

We lost forty-one men all totaled; including six of Aldivert’s men, including Tarrin, who I really wanted to talk to, and eight cavalry-men.  Everyone had wounds of some kind or another, but luckily no more than four were actually incapacitated.

Everyone was worn out, so talk was low.  But I kept hearing how crazy I was, how fast I ran, and killing six cogs in stand up fighting, and then the throw.  I was something of a hero that day, the way I went back for Patriohr and carried him back.  Izner and several others were sure I was running as fast as a horse.  But I was far from being the shining star. 

Everyone worked hard, but if I were to pick the single most important man, I would have to say Ander.  He’s the one who held it together under fire, and was in the middle of it as well.  I remembered how Hoscoe talked him up, years before.

Commander Lahrcus must have thought so too; he wrote Ander out a battlefield commission on the spot.  “Lieutenant Ander, I am charging you with getting these foot-men back to Kiubejhan.  Sergeant Dudlemoore,” We chums all looked at Dudley, “you are being promoted to Field & Battery Sergeant.  You will act as Lieutenant Ander’s second in command.”

And so it was.  Izner and Puffer were made Buck Sergeants and the remainder of the foot-company was divided into two platoons.  Montao had been killed.  The next morning saw three divisions moving in different directions.  Aldivert with his remainder marched back to the mines, and since Aldivert’s horse was killed, he was on foot.  Ander, with cavalry for support, marched for home. 

Before they left, Traevos walked up to me and said, “You’re alright, Wolf.”  With that he joined his rank and file.

Me?  Lahrcus had come to me and asked, “Can you ride?”

I looked at him blankly and said, “No sir.  Those horses are bigger than me.  The last time I was on top of one I fell off.”  But it was true, I wasn’t lying.

He stared at me for a long moment, and then started laughing.  It was obvious he didn’t believe me and he said, “I need to see where those things went, and I want you to go with me.”  Motioning to a soldier leading a mount my way, Lahrcus said, “Here’s your horse.”

Seven of us were riding out to follow the trail of those who got away.  They brought me a beautiful mount which was fully packed and loaded.  Watching each of them get up, I took the horse’s bridle in my hands and put my head against his and tried to reach out and *S’Fahn Muir* with him, [Horse, I need your help].  I think the horse laughed at me.

Chapter   44

________________________

 

 

LAHRCUS WAS SERIOUS, it was to be just him and me.  The other five were for support in case we needed it, and on horseback they would be able to come in quick, hopefully; in the meantime guard our own horses while we explored.  Me learning to ride on the spot was a whole ‘nother story, but I did the best I could.  Thankfully those cavalry horses were well trained, but this one I’m sure had a mind of his own.  He didn’t make it easy, but at least I didn’t fall off.

We rode all around the mesa, but there was no sign of cognobins running, marching, or anything to the back side.  Climbing around some at the base of the cliff, we found a scorched place about fifteen feet in diameter, and then huge footprints going to the rocky side.  Those things had gone straight up without any problem.

Lahrcus had a hunch, and we rode around into the jungle by an ancient trail.  Looking down and studying the trail, however, Lahrcus was alarmed.  “Was Aldivert back here for some reason?” 

I hesitated, and he looked at me.  “What’s up, Wolf.  You can talk to me.  Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I have no evidence, sir.”

His expression was grave, “Speak your suspicions, then.  Whether they may be true or not, what you believe and why.”

So I told him.  In full details I disclosed what I saw and experienced from the day Aldivert joined and took over our camp.  I also gave my opinion; contemplating whether to mention the Gadwaur and the wizard or not, I decided to go for it.  “I can communicate with animals, sir, to a certain degree.  The Gadwaur had a memory of a wizard, I believe it was a wizard and not a sorcerer, putting some kind of spell on her and two of her almost grown cubs.  The face was clear.  I have never seen the man before, sir.”

Lahrcus took it all in and thought, and then he asked, “Wizard or sorcerer?  What’s the difference?”

I started to speak, then stopped and shrugged my shoulders, “It is rather difficult to explain, sir.”

“Fair enough.  Can you describe this wizard?”

“Yes.  He had somewhat greasy dark hair, long sideburns, a scraggly goatee and a scar down the left side of his face; a jagged scar.”

“Soyvette,” said Lahrcus, “His name is Soyvette, one of the Witch Queen’s aides.  He got that scar when Lady Joniece smashed a flower vase against his head for undesired gestures.  Apparently she has a charm which resists magical influences.  She told me she got it from a friend, long ago.  Soyvette was exiled from the kingdom when he was caught making grisly sacrifices years ago.  He hasn’t been seen since, until now.  He’s a manipulator, not a conjurer, which makes me wonder ...” Lahrcus didn’t finish his thought.

Looking back to the rest of our party he instructed, “Keep special eye for potential wizardry.  If you see a hand move, shoot the person moving it.”

We rode until off in the distance I saw a structure in the jungle.

“Okay Wolf, it’s you and me,” and he dismounted and got his crossbow.

Moving carefully he explained, “This is an old ruin, dates back to the days of the Mhn’O’Quai, the people this jungle, even the Jho’Menquita Territory is named for.  They disappeared maybe twenty-five hundred years ago.  Left all kinds of structures, cliff houses, just up and vanished.

Suddenly I was *Aware* of the presence of human sized somethings, and our troop were way back with the horses.  I put my hand on Lahrcus’s shoulder as a signal.  He had his crossbow in hand, I had my sword. 

‘Whew …’ I thought, ‘… by Shael’s I’m still energy wiped out from yesterday.’  Just then I saw a shape move from behind a tree, a lizard-man shape with a blowgun coming to his lips.  Moving fast I jumped up and planting both feet against Lahrcus drop-kick-pushed him hard as three darts hurtled through the air where we had been.

They blended with the foliage and were hard to see, so I focused in on their body heat and could just make them out as I threw a dagger into one neck.  Lahrcus shot another and I got my crossbow around and took two more as fast as I could locate them.  Something burned in my back and Lahrcus caught number five with his sword, in moments they were all dispatched, but I was feeling weak, fast. 

It was hard to think, ‘where was I?’  Lahrcus had my tunic off quickly and the barb of the dart took flesh as he pulled it out.  He splashed some liquor on it and it burned to Hades.  “Come on Wolf, hang in there!” 

By instinct I felt the heat come into my hands.  Why my hands?  I was hanging onto the foliage.  I absorbed the heat, the energy of So’Yeth, into my system, attempting to collect this peculiar cloudy feeling and *Push* it out the way it came.

“What the …?” I heard Lahrcus say, as the poison came oozing out of the wound.  He kept splashing it with the liquor and then the wound closed.  He just looked at me, and then asked, “Are you alright?”

Weakly nodding my head I said, “Yes.”  Indicating the bottle I said, “That burns.”

Again he gave me the blank look, and then quietly laughed.

We got ourselves back together, and with extra caution made our way around to an old collapsed dome shaped structure.  Actually, there were several dome shapes.  But I felt a tingling sensation, like the ruin I had scouted before.  I said as much to Lahrcus.

“Then let’s follow it.  You take the point and I’m right here beside you.”

Crossbows out, I found a broken-in piece of wall and I could smell the odor of cognobin.  The tingling, however, was strong.  Carefully stepping in we saw a big, round pit.  Something about it didn’t look right, almost like there was a heat wave or subtle shimmering down inside.  As I looked I could recognize runes etched into the walls, runes drawn in the ancient elvin symbols, symbols not used anymore.

As we stood there, the blur faded away as did the tingling sensation I felt.

Lahrcus and I looked at each other.  Neither of us wanted to step down into that thing.  He finally said, “I have what I wanted to know.”  And then we went back.

___________________________

 

King Chitivias wanted to see me.  Great!  I kept champing at the bit, worried.  Standing outside of his smaller courtroom, I waited in a holding chamber beside the great hall.  There were mirrors and I appraised myself for a moment.  Today I was dressed in a loose tunic and leggings, but I had come to really like my boots which I wore all the time.  In here I had to turn in my weapons, which made me feel uncomfortable, but, this was the king I was coming to see.

When I was let in, Chitivias waved the attendant out.  It was just the two of us, us alone, my mouth was dry.  I saluted him with a proper bow, but as Hoscoe taught me, I never took my eyes off of him.  He wasn’t sitting down, he was walking.  He grinned at my salute, and tilted his head my way in acknowledgment.

“Would you like a drink?”

Hoscoe had told me if he offered me anything, accept it.  To not do so would be an insult.  “Whatever you’re having, Your Highness.”  He wasn’t my king, I was just here for now serving him, Hoscoe instructed me, nor was he my lord.  But courtesy was of utmost importance.

He poured us a drink, and then offered me a crystal glass.  The king never handed anyone anything, I had been told.  Don’t even offer to touch him. 

Chitivias said, “I used to be a soldier once, you know.  I served in Malone, and in Vedoa.”  He sipped his wine, and I mine.  It was really good.  “I even served on a ship for a couple of years.  We were corsairs. 

“My father was a farmer.  We were simple folk and I grew up with a simple life, learning simple values.”

He was walking around casually, “But, my gallant friend, life is no longer simple.  You, you are a brave son-of-a-bitch.” 

He kept walking around the room, and it made me nervous.  He asked, “Do you like Patriohr?  Is he a friend of yours?”

“No your highness.  I mean, no, he isn’t exactly a friend.  But he’s okay, I mean alright.  He’s a nice enough guy.”

“Is he a good soldier?  Is he yellow?”  There was a sharp edge to the word yellow.

“He does his job and doesn’t shirk, Your Highness, if that is what you mean.  But he isn’t yellow at all.  When I was down there fighting, down where he was hurt, when I went to get him … he was trying to get his sword out to help me fight.  When we got up the mesa, the first thing he wanted was a crossbow and a pile of bolts. 

“He’s the one who saw the cognobins coming up the back side of the mesa, and he fired the first bolt down and didn’t back off until it was over. 

“Patriohr popped, I mean he shot one, a cognobin, right in the eye at point blank range.  No, Your Highness, he could use more work on his wrist action and his footwork isn’t the greatest, but he’s definitely not yellow.  In fact, I would say he has a lot of grit, and he stayed cool the whole time … Your Highness.”

Saying Your Highness so much was tangling my tongue, but Hoscoe said better too much, than not enough.

Chitivias eyed me carefully, “So, why did you go back for him?”

That one stayed with me for a bit.  Then I answered, “Because, your highness, once somebody came for me when I was down.  I felt it was the right thing to do, your highness.”

He walked around the room a bit, touching this object and that, and then gripping the back of a chair he asked, “You’re a Man … or should I say … Elf of Honor, then?”

On the desk before him was an old book.  It was closed and something like a wooden bookmark protruded from the bottom.  I thought I could read part of a word, “—ua,” but it was none of my business and I tore my eyes from it and answered, “I don’t know, Your Highness, but I didn’t feel he should be killed if there was a chance to save him.”

Chitivias had been looking at something or another, but he turned suddenly at my answer, “So, are there those who you would have had no problem being killed?”  He watched me carefully.

Deliberating hard, I looked the king in the eye and answered, “Yes, Your Highness, there are.”

He kept going to one object after another, telling me where he got some of them and how.  I felt as if he were a very lonely man.  And then he said, “Tancine likes you very much.”  He glanced at me, “… says you are charming.”

I became cautious, exceedingly cautious, I might add, as I answered, “I’ve only seen her the one time, Your Highness, but she seems very nice, and attractive.”

A slow, but calculating grin came across his face.  Ambling over to me, he got to within touching distance, and with thumbs looped in his belt he leaned over to me and said, “You teach Patriohr what he needs to know, get him through this war safely … and you can have Tancine for your bride.”  He straightened and nodded at me, “With all ranks and privileges according.”

Standing dumbfounded, my mind went all kinds of directions.  My first thought was Riana.  But then, Tancine was the heir, wasn’t she … suddenly I knew … all the little threads wove themselves together and I understood.  Pursing my lips and chewing my jaw in thought, I leveled my gaze at the king.  “Your highness, if you’ll permit me?”

He tilted his head, his face in a curious wait.

“With all due respect, your highness, I have a girlfriend … but I also have an idea …”

___________________________

 

When the king and I finished talking, I went looking for Hoscoe and found him standing on top of the barracks, viewing the beauty of the night sky.  Walking up beside him I said, “Good evening.  You weren’t in your quarters, so …”

He turned my way and saw me with the Mark VII and said, “Good Evening.  How did it go with the ki- …” he looked at the weapon and he became distracted at the manner in which I was carrying it, “… what is the matter.  Is it damaged?”

Handling it a moment, I said, “No, but I thought you might like it back.”

“Why would I … I gave it to you …”

Handing him a rolled piece of parchment, he looked at it, and then broke the seal.  As he read it he looked up at me and I saw a growing smile and moisture in his eyes.

“You better get packed.  We leave in three days, and I don’t think they’ll appreciate the kingdom’s new Field Marshal being late.”

Hoscoe grabbed me by the shoulders, and then after much hesitation gave me a manly hug I thought would break my spine.

___________________________

 

The mesa where we had our fight was named Wolf-Nobin Mesa, after me, and the fight was named the Battle of Wolf-Nobin.  They were even writing it all down in their history books. ‘Sheeze! What about the rest of the boys,’ I thought, ‘I was just …’

“None of that!” Bellowed Sergeant Cudty when I sat at the bar taking about it in Baldwin’s.  “The rest did their job and with valor.  But you, Wolf,” he slapped me on the shoulder and gave me a hard shake, “you went far above and beyond your duty.  You singly handedly gave every soldier in this army, Shael’s, in the whole kingdom hope; hope of actually beating these bastards.” Cheers were everywhere in the pub, and there was no buying my own drinks.

“That’s right,” said Sergeant Deakir, a long-timer who cut his fighting teeth in the Clan Battles, “no one really believed they could bleed, before you got in there and started cuttin’ their hay.  Master Hoscoe was the only one sayin’ he’d seen bodies, and while he’s well respected … no one else had been able to validate what he’d been sayin’.  There’s a lot of proof and belief in somethin’ you see right off.”

Someone else said, “Six, boys, he took six all to himself …”

“No, Johqu, seven,” another voice said, “He threw a javelin and got another.”

“Hey Wolf, you gonna keep comin’ in here?  You a captain, now ain’t you?  That makes you an officer.”

I wish he hadn’t said that, not that it was a secret or anything.  Commander Lahrcus himself had awarded me and lots of others.  I was now officially Scout Captain for the new command, being put together and outfitted as we sat here in the pub.

“Unless you run me out, I’d kind’a like to keep coming in …” I started.

“Hey,” a voice shouted out, “you’re one of us, and don’t you forget it.”  More cheers, hurrahs and what not rang through the pub.  Proud as I was, I have to admit I still felt awkward.  Maybe it’s my background, but even today, getting special recognitions makes me feel odd.  Not that I outright don’t like it, it’s just …

And these were mostly seasoned boys, men, grown-ups.  I was still a kid, from the human standard, that is.  I still couldn’t shave, yet, sort-of, although I wasn’t sure I ever would be able to.  I would be giving orders to some of these men and it worried me.  How would they take to it, how would I, for that matter.  Only four, five years ago I was a slave, now I was a commissioned captain at the age of … by human standards what would it be?  Sixteen, seventeen, something like that.

I was already feeling a lot of responsibility settling on my shoulders.  What had Hoscoe told me, manhood, or adulthood, wasn’t the age of the person, but how they made their decisions and carried out their duty.  He knew of a fellow in history who led a local militia of farmers into battle, and won, and he was only fifteen … and human.

Tobin yelled out, “Hey Wolf, you want to play us one tune?  For old times sake.”  There was a grin on his face and I couldn’t help thinking, it had been scarcely a year ago since I played that first tune in there.  So much had happened, it did feel like old times.  Looking around at these fellows, several were going out with us, and some weren’t coming back.

“Yeah,” I smiled, “where is that guitar?”

___________________________

 

Seeing Riana was tough.  I’d been wanting to see her, but I was feeling troubled.  Was it a premonition or something?  The thought was in me I may not be coming back.  No one in their right mind wanted to die, and lots of folks are convinced it can’t happen to them, especially younger folks.  I was of elvin blood, and could live hundreds of years.  Of course that’s contrary to what a lot of tales say, about elves living forever and all; supposedly elves were related to fairies and other fey-folk.  I shook my head at that thought, br-r-r-r-r-r-, fairies.  Who comes up with these ideas?

But when I went to see her, she had prepared a special place for us to meet.  I took my guitar with me, and while I don’t want to go into details of that special time with her, it was a night I will never forget.  She was eighteen, now, and most young ladies were married by this time; having children, making a home, planning a future.  But I was half-elvin.  The common belief was that half-bloods were sterile, that’s why we were called mules.  Was I being fair to her?  Was I even coming back from this mission?  The odds were strong that most of us, maybe all of us, wouldn’t survive.

I wanted to speak to her about it, but she put her hand upon my mouth and wouldn’t let me talk.  “No words,” she said, “Let us just be …” and she looked at me with those beautiful eyes, her hair falling long about her shoulders. Her touch was a magic of its own and her lips sweeter than honey on new fallen snow.  Was this love, I wondered?  We made music to the stars and our harmony was perfect in its rhythm and flow.

When the time came for me to leave we passed no words of sorrow.  “I want you to keep this,” I said, “Until I return.” With that I handed her my guitar and the Medals of Merit and Bravery I had just been awarded. 

She put her arms around me and said, “And I want you to keep this, for all time.” And she kissed me long, sweet, and tender.  “Return for me if you can, Timber Wolf of the Ahnagohr Mountains.”  Riana placed her hand upon my heart and I felt a power unlike anything So’Yeth or So’Yahr can lend.

Taking her hands and touching her forehead with my own I said, “If I can, and if I am able, I promise to return for you.”

I’ll not speak of the beauty of the night, for it was a special time for us alone.  The sky was clear, moons shining brightly, and we spoke little … allowing the majesty of the stars to speak for us.  We watched the sun rise with glory and splendor as the dawning of a new day was born.  The lingering of our parting kiss filled me with warmth and radiance and the breeze made her hair dance as I walked down from the rooftop.

I was not going out to save a kingdom, I was going out to protect one, I was going out to protect Riana.  It was with this thought in mind that I attended briefing after briefing throughout the day.  The next morning we would set out on a mission to hunt, seek and destroy … for as long as it took.

Every official in the city was there as talks went on about city defenses, weakness and strengths of the cognobins, and the possibility of an uprising of Clansmen wanting to oust the king.  As the one who had the initial engagement with several cogs, I spent much time talking.  Their bones were nearly impervious to the common soldier’s blade, and I discussed the points on their body which had done real damage.  Of course, I couldn’t talk about the energy I had used through my staff.  I still needed to examine that, and was pleased to have my mentor along with whom I could work things out.

Hoscoe once more got to voice his views, and this time he commanded astute attention.  His purpose, serving as the first Field Marshal, was not only to help organize the overall forces, but to discuss new strategies and tactics with newly promoted Lieutenant Commander Eppard. 

Watching him take the floor and approach the city officials in such a grand manner, you would think he was delivering an oratory presentation before a council of kings.  As an old expression goes, I just sat back and took notes.  Hoscoe contended long and hard on his final point to mount the entire force on horseback, “It makes no sense, gentlemen, to send out a strike operation which is slower than the enemy.  We can cover much more territory, quicker; retreat and regroup for counter attack if necessary, and there is plenty of forage and water the country over.”

One person contended, “These men are not trained in the art of combat riding, and many have never been up on a horse before.”

Another argued, “But we need those mounts, here, in the city.”

“Why?!” Hoscoe argued back, “To protect them?  So you can mobilize the population and run for the vast wilderness?”  He circled around so as to see every face, “Where would you go?  These warriors are putting their lives on the line to protect this city.  These are your primary line of defense.  Give … them … what … they … need, I implore you!”

Commander Lahrcus suddenly spoke for the first time, “Gentlemen of the council,” everyone turned and gave him their undivided attention.  Leaning back in his seat, his hands were closed with index fingers together and pointing upward while tapping against his chin, “Do you remember the tales of General Tyorrin Val’Ihrus of Dahruban?”  Hoscoe passed me a glance, a concerned “did you say something to somebody,” type glance.  I flashed him one back saying, “No, I’m as surprised as you are.”  Nobody saw our looks at each other; they were all trained on Lahrcus’s speaking.

Continuing, Lahrcus said, “He utilized horseback warfare to a high end, ultimately making the city-state the most powerful of its kind in history.”  Still gently tapping his chin, he added.  “Everyone from Shudoquar to Vedoa, N’Ville to Kohnarahs Bay, I’ve even heard that military leaders on other continents have studied his tactics.  I, myself, have emulated those ideas in our own cavalry.  I say Sword Master, Field Marshal Hoscoe has the right idea.  I say we outfit everyone with a mount.”

Several voices started to speak at once, some of them in argument, and then Lahrcus interrupted.  It was interesting to have his soft spoken voice quell the others so quickly and efficiently.  “We don’t have to send everyone on chargers.  Those are property of the cavalry division, small enough as it will be.  But some of the plow and team horses, they are hardy, are used to arduous labor, and will make packing supplies easier as well.”  He wrinkled his chin and forehead, “Due to supplies in the city, I have been concerned about maintaining so many non-combat mounts in the occurrence of a siege, in any case.”

Before anyone else could speak, Chitivias slapped the table and everything was quiet.  Holding my breath, I passed a glance at Lahrcus, I saw him slide a sideways glance in my direction.  I could have sworn there was a hint of a smile.

Chitivias rolled his fingers on the table.  ‘Horses,’ I thought, ‘yes, it could mean the difference, but the king was so possessive about them …’ I wasn’t that great a rider, yet, but I spent a lot of time communicating with my horse while riding with Lahrcus, and trying my best to learn what I could by watching these cavalry riders.  Chitivias suddenly spoke, “Field Marshal Hoscoe, do you think you could teach horsemanship as well as you teach the sword and ground tactics?”

Hoscoe gathered himself and responded to the king with an air of authority, “Yes, your majesty, I know I can.”

The members of council looked poised to argue the issue further when the king said, “Then, we must win.  Commander, see the men, all the men, are equipped with mounts.  Now, on to the next order of business …” It looked to me like the issue of horses was resolved. 

Lahrcus left for a time and matters of provisions, a blacksmith, whether or not to send a unit to cook and such were discussed, but the bulk of meetings were concluded.  As I was leaving, Hoscoe, Eppard and a couple of others were kept for a final briefing with the king, and to receive their written orders.  Lahrcus casually fell in beside me as I was walking out.  It was just the two of us in earshot, and I mentioned, “The king really listens to you, doesn’t he?”

Lahrcus said nothing, and then while in step he nodded to me to follow him.  I followed him into a small office where he closed the door, then walked to a rack with many volumes and tomes.  Pulling an old tube from one shelf, he opened it and removed a small, newly sealed scroll.  Handing it to me he said, “In case it goes badly, and something happens to Commander Eppard, you make sure Master Hoscoe gets this.  He’ll know what to do with it.”

There was a pause, “Do you have any idea how fortunate you are to be trained by him?”

I returned the pause, not wanting to suggest anything, and then I answered, “Yes sir, I surely do.”

Getting to know Lahrcus, I had learned he was a soft spoken, and by nature, a very gentle man.  He was probably better liked than the king and was respected by everyone.  In another time or place, he might have been a gardener or something of the like.  He gave a slight smile and said, “It took a while, but I finally figured it out.  Do you believe in fate, Captain Wolf?”

I didn’t know how to answer that.  And when he called me Captain Wolf, it had a strange ring to it.  I was an officer, now, it was a heady feeling.

He saw my hesitation, “I believe everyone has a destiny to fulfill, a purpose in life.  It is our choice whether to fulfill that destiny, or abandon it, or even worse … misuse it.”  He studied me closely, “You saved my life Wolf, so I am going to give you a warning.  The Shaman Lady, she has a particular interest in you, and I’m not entirely sure that is a good thing.  Wahyene was afraid of her, and the Witch Queen wanted her sought out and killed, but that doesn’t make her benevolent.

“When I was a boy, my grandfather used to tell me stories of how she first came when the Great Drought was upon the land.  That was over two hundred years ago.  She’s not an elf, and I don’t think she’s human.  The tale is it was she who brought the Lihtosax and put them around the ruins in the heart of the Mhn’O’Quai Jungle.  The Tiskites run from her and she seems to get around faster than anyone can imagine.  No one has actually seen her do anything unusual, but when she makes a prediction it comes true, when she says someone is going to die, they die.”

“The king must respect her, he sent for her to look at me.”

“No, Wolf.  He didn’t send for her.  No one knows how to find her.  She came to me and asked me to bring her to you.  We implied she had been sent for to explain how she suddenly appeared in the main keep without notice.

“She once pointed up to the stars and told my great-grandfather, Wihlabahk is coming, make ready.”  I felt a touch of nausea and the room seemed to wobble.  But I focused inward and tried to keep everything under control.  He saw me breathe in deeply and I must have gotten a little pale.  He asked, “Are you alright?”  I nodded and he added, “Does this mean anything to you?”

I remembered Hoscoe saying only he and the Shaman Lady heard my ramblings about Wihlabahk.  It didn’t sound or feel like Lahrcus was fishing for information, so I said, “I’ve heard the saying in times past, but I don’t know what it means, either.”

Lahrcus seemed to be trying to fit pieces of a puzzle together, but wasn’t having much success.  He then continued, “My great-grandfather was never able to understand what she meant, and he was a clan shaman.  All he could figure was that she implied a being from way out there, a forgotten greater god, maybe, was coming and bringing great change.  After she saw you, she told me, “He is here,” only she didn’t say who he was. 

“I don’t know what any of that means and she often speaks in cryptic messages, but I think she has a plan for you, so be careful.  The old ones used to say she came to the area looking for someone, but she never said who.”  He then shrugged his shoulders as if suggesting that was all he knew.

“Thank you, sir.”  Curiously, I asked, “Does she come to you often?”

“Only three times; once to tell me that by my hand would a throne be established, once to have me bring her to you, and then to point me to your battle on the mesa.”

My eyes raised at that last one.  “Oh?”

He crossed his arms and answered, “She came up to me alone and said, The Blood of the Vile shall be shed three days hence, but the steeds of war shall be required to turn the tide.  Ride hard fair warrior, for a king awaits you.”

“Thank you, thank you again, sir.”

“No, thank you.”

I was about to leave when he said, “There’s one more thing.”  Stopping, I turned to listen as his expression became very grave and his voice low, “If all seems lost, if it seems you have no chance to win, get Patriohr to safety.  Get him out of there and get him back, somehow, and get him back alive … at all cost.  Do you understand?”

If there had been any shadows in my mind concerning Patriohr before, they were gone now, “Yes, sir.  I understand fully.  Does anyone else know?”

Lahrcus had that wry grin again, “Not officially.  It has been kept tightly secured, and Eppard doesn’t know.  He’s a damned, good man.  But he would be over protective.  Patriohr must come up through rank and file.  The king requires him to be a man’s man, not some slobby-nob boy like those in Vedoa.  He’s been placed under your command for a reason, but don’t coddle him.”

“You said not officially …”

Lahrcus kept a steady gaze, with a chuckle he answered, “I am wondering if Aldivert knows, but I don’t know how.  And I’ve a hunch Master Hoscoe knows.  He’s a canny one and his mind is always working.  These people here are good people, but they aren’t ready for him.  Dahruban could swallow this city many times, and he was General of the Army for what, twenty, twenty-five years.  I can’t begin to imagine what he has seen and dealt with.”

“How did you figure it out?”

He smiled, “Many things.  Not any one particular clue, but I’m a fair hand at sleuthing, myself.  I have to be to do what I do.  I didn’t put it all together until in there, it finally came to me.  I had heard of his defending a rebellious duke, or something, which he had actually fought, defeated and brought in.  He spoke with power and eloquence, as the story goes.  For me, hearing him speak in there, as well as everything he says, does, and how he does it … the speaking was an important piece of the puzzle.  As I sat there it just suddenly clicked.

“As I said, be careful.”