A Quick Sun Rises (37 page)

Chapter Twenty-Nine 

Wess cursed at the casual pace taken by the Calandrian refugees as they swaggered their way toward the keep. No amount of threatening or force could get them to move any swifter as the line had come to an almost complete standstill. The fact that Bedler’s Keep was created for defense and not for ease of entrance made the situation even worse. The only way in was toward the back of the peak that held the lofty castle above the stretching plain. One long, narrow stairway circled the mountain on its steep climb to the top. Wedged between great rocks that seemed to have broken away from the rest of the keep’s base was the entrance that was only wide enough to admit a single wagon’s width. The large oak doors that held fast the entry had been thrown open to admit the refugees but most were either too tired, too ignorant, or just plain too daft to rush through to the only place that offered any amount of safety. Few, if any, had seen for themselves the army that nipped at their heels and would soon be howling for their blood, creating a malaise in the refugees at having been forced from Calandra in the first place.

Wess checked the sun’s position. It had been four hours since the first person entered the keep and the line hadn’t seemed to get any shorter. The whole process had been further disrupted by the townsfolk adding to the confusion while jostling for position, but at least they had responded quickly and with fervor. Wess spat from atop his horse and glared at the people as they shuffled pass. At this rate it would be well past nightfall before they got them all safely in, if they even had such a luxury of time. He glanced at the distant tree line that marked the last sheltered area before the keep and felt instinctively that those woods would soon heave a froth of trolls, orcs and goblins; then he would see these people move, though he feared that by then it would be too late to save them.

Moving his gaze northward, he felt a sudden jolt of trepidation as the distinct form of a dust cloud began to appear and grow. From this distance, he couldn’t make out the shapes that were creating it, but his nerves prickled with the promise of a coming fight. And whether they were friend or foe, he needed to raise the alarm that might, in fact, be the answer to get Calandra’s lazy people moving. Turning his mount toward the keep he kicked his heals sending his horse into a quick gallop. Lowering his head, he pressed it harder to reach the front of the line where he hoped to place the proper amount of fear in them. To have done so at the back of the line would have only invited greater mayhem and the likely trampling death of far too many innocents.

Passing the soldiers spaced along the line to keep order, Wess finally reached the front where four men were stationed to try to keep the line moving up the narrow entrance. A merchant was stopped with his wagon, screaming at one of the guards who had confiscated some of the man’s goods which had previously been ordered left behind. Wess, wanted to lop the man’s head off knowing all too well that this was the type of thing that had kept the entry into the keep at a snail’s crawl. The large heap of tables and chairs and other unnecessary items that littered the area testified that this certainly wasn’t the first person to place his possessions over his own life or that of his family and the hundreds of people he held up in their escape.

“Get moving into the keep, now!” Wess shouted as he quickly dismounted and pushed the man forward. “The enemy is at our doors and you haggle over a rug?”

The man, who had stumbled forward and tripped on the first few steps, lifted his bulbous body from the ground with great effort and then, turned on Wess and his men. “How dare you touch my person!” he raged, his round face turning darker shades of red with every breath.

“I dare,” said Wess, his voice dangerously low and venomous, “because the enemy is upon us this moment, and you are blocking the way with your rotund body.”

The man was beside himself. “There is no enemy,” he insisted. “Other than some false king trying to steal from his own subjects while herding them like cattle to a place he can better control them.”

“No enemy, eh?” Wess countered, his hand gripping his sword’s hilt so tight that his fingers turned white. “Then look to the north and behold the false enemy that chases,” he said pointing to the dust cloud that was growing steadily larger and more ominous.

All eyes followed his gaze and a sudden howl went up as people started to cry out their doom. Wess barely got himself back into his saddle before the line of people that had been within earshot lurched forward in a sudden press to reach the entrance and safety. Looking back to where the merchant had been arguing only moments before, Wess just caught the flash of his back end as it turned passed the first corner up the steps, his wife and children crying after him as they tried to catch up. Turning to the guards, who suddenly found themselves almost overrun by the panic, he barked out his orders. “You best get atop your mounts so you don’t get caught in the rush, but keep this line moving forward at a quick pace. If any slow to argue, direct their attention to the north, and if that doesn’t work, pull them from the line and make them wait until the last. And if they try to cut back in, kill them.” He didn’t wait for the guards to respond before he was galloping back down the line calling for the rest of the shoulders to mount up and follow.

The refugees in the back suddenly became restless as the soldiers that had been spread out along the long column suddenly appeared at a hard gallop and started forming up behind them. Voices began to rise in confused discussion and fear when someone suddenly screamed above the din, “They come, they come! Look to the north! We are doomed!” All went silent as hundreds of eyes turned to take in the materializing figures that were fast approaching the line. Then, as deafening as thunder following lightning, all seemed to cry out at once and began to push forward. In moments it was bedlam as a crashing wave of bodies pounded against those in front swelling the column on either side as fear rippled through the line sending everyone forward in a rush.

Wess did not allow himself, or his men to sit and watch the horror as people trampled over one another as the fear of death finally gripped them. Barking out orders, he called the men to form up as others still galloped in and then turned to lead them forward to meet the enemy. His only concern was for the four men left behind who were now forced to fit a title wave into a bucket.
At least they
’
re moving
.

Setting the pace to a quick gallop, he tried to put some distance between the refugees and the coming attackers to give them space enough to retreat as it was needed. Wess knew what they faced and held no fantasies that his small detachment of men could hold back the enemy, but loathsome as they were, he had to give the people as much time as possible to get safely into the keep. He was on the verge of calling for his men to draw arms when the dark shapes that approached suddenly began to materialize into men and horses. He held up his hand to slow the charge before finally calling for a halt allowing the others to close the gap that separated them. Soon he was able to pick out Jack and Ranse among the mass and raised a signal to hail them.

“Well met,” Jack said, pulling up his horse next to Wess. Looking past him, he squinted. “I see the people are still not free and clear of the field.”

“Not yet,” Wess replied, “but your approach lit fire to their britches and they now fight one another to make the keep.”

“Good,” Ranse offered. “They will need to squeeze in quickly if they hope to survive.”

“Zadok’s army is soon upon us,” Jack finished, answering the questioning look on Wess’ face.

Wess’ visage turned dark. “You know as well as I, Jack, that they will attack as soon as they break from the wood and see the exposed ground and the sheep’s pen open,” he said, referring to the remaining refugees still outside the keep.

Jack nodded. “We’ll just have to slow them down then,” he answered, the look on his face belying what all knew; this would certainly end with their deaths. They were close to a thousand strong, but Zadok commanded at least ten times that number and should the skies grow dark with his flying beasts, all would be lost in mere moments.

Wess nodded back, a slight smile breaking over his face. “It will be good to kill trolls with you again.”

Jack grinned. “It looks like the raven has come for us at last. We will meet him with red blades.”

“What have you got planned?” Ranse asked.

Jack looked at the prince and then at the men that surrounded them. All seemed anxious, but not with the anxiety of fear, rather, they held the look of men who were prepared to die and were restless to get to it. “No plan,” he finally answered and then yelled so the others could hear. “We meet them on the open field and take them head on!”

A sudden cheer broke from the soldiers as swords rang out of scabbards and were lifted into the air.

The people were still fighting to squeeze onto the stairway that led to the keep and safety when Jack and his small army lined up a mere hundred yards from the trees that swallowed the eastern road. Carts and possessions that had moments before been worth more than life itself had been discarded all along the field where the battle would soon be joined. Though the people they were about to give their lives to protect didn’t merit their blood sacrifice, these were men of honor who followed even greater men. They would see it to the last for those few that they loved but even more so for the duty that bound them to their country and king. It was one of the prime absurdities of war that the greatest among the people were the ones who gave their lives while leaving the dishonorable and morally bankrupt to live as they hid behind their self importance and cowardice.

“Wess,” Jack called when the line had been formed, “when they first break from the trees, you take your men to the left flank while Myles, you take a third to the right.” Gesturing to himself, Ranse, Jace, and those closest to him, he finished with, “and we will drive straight down their throats.”

Wess merely nodded before breaking away and racing left to gather his men. Myles, on the other hand, saluted and then looked as if he wanted to say something more before merely bowing his head and turning to gather his men.

“Finally,” Jace suddenly said, shocking both the prince and Jack. And when he noticed them staring at him he merely shrugged. “One tires of the diplomacy of the court and all its pretty talk when it’s killing that needs being done. Some only understand the language of steel and blood and I intend to preach them a sermon they won’t soon forget.”

Jack felt the smile crawling across his lips and had to stifle a bellowing laugh that was suddenly rumbling in his chest. He didn’t think he’d heard so many words put together by Ranse’s bodyguard since he first met him in Haykon. And then, just as suddenly, he felt sad. Not because he knew that his life was about to end, but because he would miss out on getting to know better such great men as Jace and Ranse. He wanted to be able to share a pint of ale with them in some worn out, back alley pub where they could reminisce and tell stories of bygone years when all was glorious; where they could pick a fight with the locals and later laugh at how funny they each looked with broken noses and missing teeth. He wanted to see Thane again, the boy who felt more like a son than even his own flesh and bone had had time to before he was taken. He wanted to see Dor and Tam wed, and bounce upon his knee their babies and tell them the story of their parents and what they had been through together. No, it wasn’t death that burdened him so much as the life that he would miss.

He finally let the laugh out, trying to add mirth to its sound but it still seemed somewhat hollow. “Now that is a language, my friend, that I can understand.”

Jace stared at him briefly and then bowed his head. “Then we will speak it together!”

“And I,” Ranse added, pulling his sword as the first of the enemy broke from the forest.

As one, the men along the line drew their swords and then, as if by some unseen signal, all leaped forward with a war cry on the lips as they galloped forward as if racing to be the first to meet the enemy. As the soldiers fell upon them, the font lines of Zadok’s army were just beginning to start their own charge and were swallowed in the onslaught of men and horses, Erl taking down the first adversary with a quick snap to his throat. Like a clasping fist, Wess’ and Myles’ men converged on either flank as more goblins, orcs and trolls race out of the forest along the narrow road. It was easy pickings for the battle hardened men as they kept their line tight and their formation steady, the only thing impeding their death blows being the already dead bodies that were quickly piling up at their feet. It was a complete route as the unsuspecting army continued to move forward into the gauntlet of death that had already cut down many of their number. It seemed all too easy when suddenly the left flank bowed and then began to crumble as the enemy finally realized their predicament and started attacking from along the trees working their way around to the backside of the line. Wess recognized the danger his men were in as they were suddenly forced to fight along two fronts. Calling for retreat, Myles and Jack pressed their lines forward to pinch off the fight from the road and then all turned back toward the keep, retreating another hundred yards where they stretched out and formed the line again.

The refugees who had been in the back had a full view of what was coming after them out of the woods creating an even higher level of panic as it became obvious that the soldiers would not be able to hold long enough for them all to reach the keeps innards safely. Mayhem erupted as renewed effort was made to try to press those in front forward at a faster pace but no matter how hard they tried, the way was blocked by the mass of fear stricken Calandrians.