Dawn of Wonder (The Wakening Book 1) (55 page)

Aedan screamed and struggled like a wild animal
but the men were too strong for him. His kicking and writhing did no more than
draw laughter. Both men now held him with strong fingers.

At the edge of his vision something flashed. The
soldier who had sat so close to Liru had given her access to his dagger. In a burst
of movement, she drew it, plunged it into his leg and darted from his grasp.
The howl caused the other soldier to drop his guard. It was a momentary
distraction but it was all Aedan needed to plant an elbow in the man’s nose and
slip away. It tore him to leave the diary behind, but he knew there was no way
he could wrestle it free and still make good his escape.

He flew up the slope, springing from root to root
where the soil was too soft, and darting through the undergrowth like a ferret.
The uproar behind him was immediate. A mistake now would cost him his last
chance at freedom.

He caught up to Liru and sped past her to lead the
way, choosing the quickest path, reading the ground as effortlessly as he might
read the words of a story. Here he was at home in a way that none of his peers
would ever be. Liru mimicked how he moved from root to root, leapt upwards from
the stems of trees, and spread his weight over crumbling soil when there were
no better holds.

The heavy churning of boots began to drop behind.
Calls became shorter as the men found their lungs burning. Aedan was just
beginning to think he could stop to catch his breath when an arrow cut through
the air and crunched into the bark of a tree near his head.

He moved behind a screen of thick bushes and
continued climbing. He was feeling the effects of the poison now, but he pushed
on, leading Liru to just beneath the crest of the hill. The last twenty feet
would leave them exposed, but as another arrow plugged into the soil near him,
he realised that staying put was no option.

“We need … to make a dash … over the top,” he
managed between breaths.

Liru nodded. She was panting too.

Aedan kept his head down and led the way through
the long grass. As they reached level ground, he broke into a full sprint over
the exposed hilltop, Liru at his heels. But he had not made it halfway across
when three mounted soldiers appeared on their right and cantered to intercept
them.

The distance closed. They were so near to freedom,
but he knew they would not make it.

Then he recognised the sound of a familiar voice
calling his name. He looked up at the huge soldier whose eighteen-hand-high
charger stamped and ground to a halt before him. Aedan’s wild eyes settled just
enough for him to recognise the man. He sank down in the grass, rolled onto his
back, and gave way to the exhaustion.

Liru’s terrified eyes appeared above him. He grinned
and pointed at the soldier. “General … Osric,” he gasped.

Fergal and a tall, middle-aged woman in military
uniform now joined the first three horsemen and dismounted. The woman showed
impressive balance as she sprang from the saddle. The placement of her feet was
precise; there was no tottering step. Her eyes were quick and they caught Aedan
staring – slender figures and long copper hair were hardly common sights within
a military regiment. He wondered what kind of woman this was.

“Wait here with Fergal and Tyne,” Osric ordered,
and rode towards the centre of the hilltop with his two uniformed companions. Aedan
had never before seen Osric fully armed. It was a frightening spectacle. He
would have dwarfed standard weapons, so he bore bigger weapons which he dwarfed
anyway and carried with the greatest of ease. His two companions, though not
nearly as large as the general, were no less fierce or stern. Aedan now
recognised them as Merter, a ranger-captain, and the renowned Commander Thormar.
It was a high ranking trio, and for any soldier, a terrifying one.

Aedan saw a ragged group of pursuers crest the
hilltop and stumble to a confused halt as they saw the three mounted officers.

“Fall in!” bellowed the commander.

Exhausted as they were, they scurried over and
lined up. The rest of the soldiers did the same as they arrived. Captain Senbert
was the last to appear, and he rushed to take a position at the head of his
men. Osric left the commander in charge and walked his horse back to where the
others waited.

Liru stepped close to Aedan. “You never said he
was
that
big.”

Osric dismounted with a thump they all felt.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

Aedan shook his head.

“Liru?” The general knelt down before her, and
even then he was taller by several inches. She appeared confused. It was the
first time Aedan had seen her fumbling for words.

“Sir, no. Thank you, sir. No, I am not hurt.”

“You have nothing to fear from me,” he said in a
voice that, even now, rasped and growled.

“I’m not afraid,” she said. “It’s just that I did
not expect you to know my name, or care what happened to me.”

He regarded her. “After how you have been treated,
I am not surprised. Nevertheless, my concern is sincere, and if any man here
attempts to harm you, I shall hang him from the nearest branch. It is shameful
that you were not given a woman for company so I have brought someone very
special to escort you. You will have learned of Tyne, daughter of Vellian,
during your studies.”

The tall lady offered Liru a kind smile.

A strange croak came from Liru’s mouth. She
blinked and coughed and tried again. “Thank you.” It was hardly more than a
squeak. For once, her complete self-possession was crumbling.

Aedan guessed it was the unexpected kindness in
the wake of such prolonged dread. He stepped back and gestured for Osric to hug
her. The big general’s face registered a combination of confusion and panic. Aedan
tried again, but by now the moment was past and Liru’s display of emotion was
gone as quickly as it had appeared, a summer cloudburst, over in a blink.

Osric got to his feet. “Now, much as I would like
to bind that lot and send them directly to the barrack prison, we are going to
need them very soon. There is trouble in these hills that will find us and I’m
afraid we now urgently require numbers. Even soldiers like these will
understand the need to unite against a common enemy. Commander Thormar is explaining
the situation to the men. I’ll do the same with you, but first we need to find
a defensible position. If you are camped in the comfortable and hopelessly
exposed dale ahead of us you will need to collect your horses and equipment
with some haste.”

“Osric, there’s one thing that I need to ask you
now,” said Aedan.

Osric raised an eyebrow.

“The soldier with the scarred face, that one,
fourth in line, emptied my pockets and took Kalry’s diary.”

Osric turned and roared across the hilltop,
“Commander!”

Thormar turned around and the whole line of
soldiers flinched.

“Send me the fourth in line, now!”

Thormar snapped an order at the soldier who
saluted and ran towards Osric. He came to attention somewhat further away than
was customary. His face was pale, hands shaking; he looked ready to faint. Osric
closed the distance with two giant strides. His voice was not loud, and it was
all the more frightening for it.

“Do I need to ask questions, or are you going to
come out with it?”

The soldier swallowed. “I took some of the boy’s
things, sir. I was only toying with him though. I’ll give them back as soon as
we get down to the campsite.”

“Good. Because, as a soldier, thieving from those
entrusted to your care is a hanging offense.”

The soldier’s knees were shaking. He knew.

Osric lowered his large head until his eyes hovered
in front of a pair that were blinking rapidly. “Don’t give me so much as a hint
of doubt about you,” he growled, taking his time over the words, letting them
bore in.

The soldier was leaning away, almost falling over.
“Yes, sir – I mean no, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Osric dismissed him with a thrust of his chin and
the man scampered away. He remained looking at the line before Thormar,
frowning. Aedan was close enough to hear him mutter to Culver who had come
alongside, “I recognise most of those soldiers. They will give us trouble
before the end.”

Culver nodded his grey head.

“Now,” Osric said to the others. “Let us inspect
the lay of the land and find a better position. We have much to do. This night,
I’m afraid, will be a desperate one.”

It was the first time Aedan had watched Osric at work
as a field general. In Castath, the man had always appeared too big, too stern,
too calculating, and far too intimidating, but here he belonged. Here, he was to
those behind him what a reef is to a small island in a tempest. The peril of
their situation rose like dark water and broke against his unmoving form, then
reached the others only as a deflected spray. The colossal depth and gravity of
his confidence, and the breadth of his planning, however urgent the situation, formed
a shelter behind which the soldiers clustered.

But though the disorder of mindless fear was held
at bay, the urgency was felt by all. No observer would have missed the frantic
haste of preparations in the dwindling light. Rushing past each other, they
hoisted and lugged boulders to a stone wall that grew beneath a rocky overhang.

It was the ranger captain who had found the broad
hollow in the rock. Though it was a vast improvement on their previous camp, it
was no fortress. It had one strategic advantage – the hollow sank into a wall
of a narrow valley, so the entrance could only be stormed from across the
riverbed over an uneven, rocky approach.

Once the wall had reached a height of three feet,
the horses were tethered at the back near the supplies. The men set about
arming themselves and filling their tight stomachs as best they could – Osric
insisted on it. The preparations had been exhausting, and they would need their
strength before the night was done.

Osric dropped a heavy sack at Aedan’s feet. “For
you and Liru,” he said. “You mentioned that Dun had not armed you properly.”

With a sigh of relief, Aedan pulled out shields,
helmets, plated hauberks, bracers, gloves, blades and bows. He wondered if he
might need to help Liru, but she strapped on the armour and checked her weapons
as comfortably as a cook arranging kitchenware.

Aedan had been given a short sword, a midsized
shield that could be buckled to an arm, freeing both hands, a long dagger, a
knife, and a choice of crossbow or bow. He opted for the bow. Loading a crossbow
under pressure was not something he enjoyed. The daggers were like needles, the
sword a razor, and it suddenly struck him that this was to be the first time he
would fight with sharp tips and edges. These were not training weapons; they
would do a lot more than bruise the enemy. He dropped the sword back into its
scabbard with a frown and sat on the cold floor, head in hands.

The last time he had travelled through this area,
some four years back, he had formed a purpose – to stand against tyrants. Tonight
he would do just that. He should be brimming with fire. But all he felt was the
desperate hope that his weakness would not announce itself. Not with Liru,
Osric and Culver to see – and soldiers who would spread the word to every
occupant of the barracks.

Osric called him. Liru was there, waiting.

“You two should know more than the outlines,”
Osric said. “After you left the town, Fergal remained under the pretence of illness.
As soon as you were gone, he located the innkeeper – a Fenn spy – bound him and
made a tour of the hamlet. It was not just the condition of the inn that had
kindled his and Culver’s suspicions. Perhaps you noticed it – there was only
one chimney putting out smoke on the day of your arrival, a cold day. He found
what they had expected. All the homes were empty, their occupants’ bodies
hacked and hidden in shallow graves. Under interrogation, the spy revealed that
it was the work of Fenn war scouts who had made Eastridge a base for their operations.
The worst hornet’s nest we’ve ever found. You were very lucky to arrive when
the scouts were engaged out to the west. Even as we left the hamlet, we saw a
large party returning.”

“How are they not on your tail then?” Aedan asked.

“They were. Merter’s bow gave them cause to stay
well back. I suspect they are waiting for the rest of their number to gather
and prepare for a full assault. These men are ruthless but they are not hasty
or foolish. They will attack in strength. It will be their intention to kill us
to a man, and I fear, to a woman, in order to preserve their secret.”

“Will the innkeeper not give away our numbers and
weak condition? We were food poisoned,” he added in response to raised brows.
He avoided looking at Liru.

“Ah. I thought the men appeared worn for only a
few days out. But no, the information will not have been passed on. The
innkeeper was party to capital crimes. He was sentenced and hanged.” Osric
showed no emotion and Aedan glimpsed how vast was the difference between this
war-hardened general and himself. He could not even stand up to a corrupt
student. His eyes dropped to the floor.

“Aedan,” said Osric, “there were women and
children buried behind those homes, even babies. These men will show no mercy,
not even to Liru. If they defeat us tonight, more innocents will die brutal
deaths in other towns. The arm of justice punishes and it protects. Holding it
back suspends both punishment and protection. If you find it difficult to swing
your blade, think of all those who stand behind you.”

Aedan understood it well, but Osric had misread
the doubt in his eyes. Conscience was not where his worry lay. It was better,
though, to let the misunderstanding remain. Much better. Osric could not know.
Neither could Liru. He tried to steel his resolve and turned to her. “Are you
going to be able to defend yourself?” he asked.

“That depends on what I face.” She drew the
slender sword that Osric had brought her. “This is a good weapon,” she said, holding
it out and catching the pale gleam of a dying sky on its blade. “But the greatest
advantage I have is that I will be underestimated.”

“How do you feel about killing?”

“I would willingly kill men who slaughtered
families, as General Osric said. But I do not fight for your prince. He has
betrayed me and it will not be forgotten.”

“He’s not
my
prince,” Aedan said, his voice
rising with his temper. “You keep calling him my prince as if I have some part
in this betrayal.”

“Then who is your leader?” she retorted, her own
voice rising on a tide of anger and fear. “Who are your people? What are you
even training for?”

Aedan opened his mouth twice but no words came
out. He turned away from her and moved to an empty section of broken rocks
where he sat, stood, pulled his hair, sat again and bit his fist until the dusk
began to pool in the back of the cave and hid him from view.

Osric had spent the afternoon preparing for many
contingencies. He now went over final instructions with the soldiers, making
sure each man knew how to act. The ill-discipline that had characterised the
men up until now was gone, smoke in the wind. They stood straight, attention
fixed on their general. It was more than respect. Osric, as frightening as he
was, represented survival. Their shallow breathing and wild eyes revealed how
few of them had been tried in battle. And the odds tonight would be bad, even
for experienced campaigners.

Merter, the ranger-captain, returned. He slipped into
the cave like a panther. Aedan had been watching him over the afternoon and was
no longer surprised that he was known as Captain Murder. It seemed he was only
pretending to be civilised, and that he was barely accustomed to the society of
others. He peered around him with the complete focus and deadly intensity of a hunting
cat, and though he was not a big man, his prowling movements told of uncanny
strength.

Aedan overheard his report to Osric. “I counted
forty,” he said, “but there could be as many as fifty. They are well-armed, all
mounted. They will reach us soon. Their armour is mostly plated leather but
they carry heavy weapons. Here are two I picked up.” He held out a deep
leaf-bladed sword and a large mace. Aedan wondered if the previous owners had
even seen their attacker. Osric felt and tested the weapons, asked a few more
questions about the armour and other weapons, and passed them on to Thormar who
examined them and handed them along to the rest.

Aedan dried his palms again. He and Liru waited on
the far left of the cave, in a slight recess. Merter and Tyne stood in front of
them; to the right were Osric and six soldiers; and further down, Thormar commanded
the remaining men. Tyne and Liru made a very careful inspection of the captured
Fenn armour.

Aedan spotted the thieving soldier, known to him
now as Holt, standing nearby. Holt had returned Aedan’s belongings, and even
made a gift of his own dagger in apology. After Osric’s reprimand, he had looked
genuinely sorry, as well as heartily frightened for his skin, and had promised
he would do what he could to look after Aedan and Liru in the battle.

Aedan had seen this kind of change before. Some
men could be so pliable under the influence of leadership that they all but
mimicked the leader’s character. It was quite a change from Senbert to Osric,
and Aedan was not complaining. Holt looked over now and saluted. Aedan returned
the gesture.

The other soldier, the one Liru had stabbed, had
made no apology. The wound appeared not to be troubling him much, and Aedan had
even caught him grinning at Liru. He wished now that they had spoken of it to
Osric, but he knew the soldier would claim he had only intended to be friendly.
He would accept a reprimand and then haunt them with his eyes. Such men were as
slippery as eels and just as poisonous.

Osric was completing his final inspection and
stopped before Aedan and Liru. He spoke quietly. “It is best that I do not
stand near you as I shall probably be targeted. Merter and Tyne will try to
shield the attack, but it is possible that men will pass them. Liru, if you
have not yet told Aedan how far your training reaches, now is the time. He will
need to know how to work with you.”

“How do you know about my training?” she asked. “I
thought only our order knew of it.”

“All on the war council know.”

“And I will not be tried or punished for speaking
of it?”

“Not under these circumstances, not to Aedan.
You’d best not speak of your final purpose, mind you, only your weapons
training.”

Aedan couldn’t help feeling a little offended that
secrets were being kept from him. Liru’s abrupt and snappy manner wasn’t
helping either.

She drew him away from listening ears and
explained. “We are taught many of the same weapons as you – I think you will have
guessed that already – but using different styles. With the sword, our
technique involves much movement. It is almost like dancing. We try to move out
of the line of effective strikes. We only block when desperate, otherwise we
dodge, deflect and counter-attack, almost always with the point and often for
the hands and arms – even gauntlets have chinks. Think of a bird attacking one
of those giant spiders.”

“It sounds like it would be best if I took the
initial attack and you ‘pecked’ from the sides.”

“That is one of the ways it is meant to work.”

“With your style of fighting, what are your
weaknesses?”

“I will tire quickly if I have to keep up that
kind of movement, the uneven ground here might work against me, and I am light,
so even with a shield a direct hit will stun me or knock me down.”

Aedan considered. “We can deal with one of those
problems by clearing the ground of rocks,” he said, and they set to work.

Soldiers checked the preparations for the last time
and took their positions, then Osric called for silence and the waiting began.

The last traces of day vanished from the sky, and
night fell. A half-moon hidden by clouds gave a dull, pale light that made
shadows indistinct and shapes unclear. The view from the cave mouth revealed a
boulder-strewn valley, and on the far side of the river, a sheer rock wall. It
meant that the cave could not be attacked from a distance or from cover. Even
archers would need to show themselves before being able to release a single
arrow.

Aedan searched the shadows between boulders. Sometimes
he thought he saw movement. Once, he was sure there were shapes crawling over
the whole river bed, but then all was still for so long that he decided he must
have imagined them. Water gurgled, insects screeched, a pair of wood pigeons
cooed a ghostly duet nearby. The grip of Aedan’s sword was now so damp he was
sure it would fly from his hand at the first swing, but he dared not release
the handle to dry it.

There was a sound, a single click as a pebble
dropped down onto the ledge in front of the cave. Dimly, mostly in silhouette,
he saw Osric pointing up. Loose pebbles and course sand had been strewn on the
crest of the rock wall. Movement above the cave was now betrayed. Osric made a
looping hand signal and two soldiers readied themselves beside the horses.
Another pebble dropped on the far side. Then a gentle hiss of sand spoke from
several points along the newly built wall and more pebbles dropped.