Rohvim #1: Metal and Flesh (11 page)

“Son, what is happening? I heard the horns. Is there really a muster? What is going on?” She rushed behind the boy as he searched the outlying buildings.

“Yes, there is. A vast army has been sighted to the east, heading this way. No one knows from whence they come, or even if they come here, but the lord of the city takes no chances.” He looked in the bathhouse, and saw a servant preparing a bucket of warm water. He pointed and sternly barked, “Come with me immediately, Will.” The man bowed quickly and followed the other three.

“Are they sending the families out of the city to the west? They can’t stay here during a siege!”

“If we send them to the west, and the army indeed does not come here but also continues west, then what?” he asked her as he opened the door to a storage building. Apparently empty, they continued on to the next building.

She responded, “Well, yes. There is that. Why now? We’ve had peace for over one hundred years! I was born at the end of our war with Franckland, and even that was not so much a war as us teaching them a lesson in respecting one’s borders.”

The next building proved empty as well, and the four re-entered the house. Aeden turned to his friend: “Priam, could you check the cellar? Or do you need to return to your parents?”

“I’d like to be with them, but I will check the cellar first. Goodbye, friend.” The two clasped hands, and Priam turned to leave, before pausing. He looked back at Aeden. “Be safe. And give ‘em hell.”

“You too.” Aeden regarded his friend, his one and really only true friend. The other boys in the city constantly swarmed him, invited him on hunting trips, gave him gifts, and prattled on and on about their fathers’ latest acquisition, but Priam was his friend, who he could confide in, who he laughed and shared his dreams with. They nodded curtly to one another and parted.

Aeden turned to Will, “Go see the steward at once. He has duties for you. When you complete them, return here and equip yourself in armor and a sword, and wait for my father.”

“Yes, my lord.” The servant turned and rushed to the front gallery where the steward still sat, quickly scribbling out more muster orders. Aeden, head held high and a bounce in his step, ran up the stairs, thinking he could get used to barking out orders in emergencies. His mother followed, and he finally replied, “I do not know, mother. Even the master healer knows nothing about this army, and he travels widely throughout the kingdom and the neighboring lands. Where is Cassandra?”

The lady emerged from the stairwell and replied, “In her room. I ordered her quite sternly to stay there when I heard the horns.” They strode down the hall, each poking their heads in to the rooms lining both sides, directing the servants to receive orders from the steward. Behind Cassandra’s door he heard murmured singing and jabbering—his sister talking to herself as she always did when alone. When the estate had been searched and they returned to the main level of the mansion, she looked at her son tenderly, “Aeden. I’m surprised. You’ve turned nearly overnight from my boy that sleeps in past breakfast into a seemingly grown man who keeps his head.”

Aeden blushed a bit, sweeping his hand through his hair, “Well, uh … thank you?” he grinned, the teenage boy peeking through the façade of a man in charge.

She continued, “Go now and finish preparations. I have other business to attend to.” And she spun on her heel and marched back up the stairs.

He re-entered the gallery just as the last servant bolted out of the room. The steward rose out of his seat, shaking his sore hand. “All are sent out, my lord. What next?”

“My father ordered us to prepare the armory. We are to bring as many sets of armor and swords and lay them out here, so that as the men arrive they can equip themselves as quickly as possible.”

The two stomped down the stairs to the cellar, and entered the armory. They heard the front door slam open, and Aeden ran back up to see who had arrived. His father, accompanied by a servant, was in the gallery unloading a collection of armor sets from their shoulders. “Thank you, Edward. Now return to your lord.” The tall, skinny young man bowed quickly and ran out the door.

“Where did you get these?” Aeden asked.

“From Lord Markham. When we concluded our business, he mentioned he had extras.” The man grunted as he picked at the knot of the rope tying several sets together.

“What was your business?”

“Mainly to arrange a safe place for Lady Rossam and Cassandra to stay, but I will tell you the rest when the crisis is over.”

The two, father and son, worked frantically for an hour or so before their men started to arrive from their fields, stores, and houses. After an hour and a half, twenty-seven men and several women stood in the gallery, equipped for war. Lord Rossam turned to the steward and commanded, “We leave now. Wait here and give orders and equipment to the stragglers.” He raised his voice and announced, “We can wait no longer. We march to the castle! Your orders are to defend the castle, and protect the lord and his family at all costs. Go!” The small crowd of people ran out the door and burst out into the front courtyard, aiming for the center of the city. As the gate crashed open, they heard yells and horns coming from the eastern edge of the city. Lord Rossam turned to his son, “They have sighted the army, no doubt. We have little time. Son,” he stopped and grabbed Aeden’s shoulders, “you must take your mother and sister to the Markham estate, and help the guards there protect the innocents assembled and …”

Aeden protested, “But father! I will defend the castle with you! It is my place!”

“Do as I command!” The lord breathed deeply, and controlled his anger. “It is your place. But, as a champion of the city, I want you there protecting your mother and your sister. I trust no one else. Will you do this for me?” He looked sternly into Aeden’s eyes, who met his gaze, and looked down.

“Yes, father. I will protect them,” he murmured.

“Good. Farewell, my son. We will meet again. We have a great work to do when this is over. We will meet again. Even if it be upon the golden fields—I will meet you when you come.” The lord turned and strode off, catching up with his company.

Aeden rushed back into the house, just in time to see Lady Rossam descend the stairs, fully girded about in warrior’s armor, a sword strapped to her back. His jaw dropped. “Mother?” he said in awe.

“What?” she said as she reached the ground floor. “I’m not going to leave this house to a bunch of brigands!”

“We are not staying here. Father has made arrangements for us to seek refuge at the Markham estate. Is Cassandra ready?”

“Yes. I packed you a bag as well, in case we must flee.” She tossed him a small backpack. “Cassandra! Come down at once. We must leave.”

Aeden looked outside. Dark clouds hung heavy in the sky, threatening rain. The family left the house, locking the door and the gate behind them. Mid-afternoon approached and the city was in an uproar as people rushed about. Various companies marched to fulfill their orders while vendors closed down their shops, shuttering the doors and windows. The activity rose steadily until the city was in complete pandemonium.

“Mother, I’m going to the east gate to see what’s happening. You two go on to the Markham estate.”

She stared at him sternly, “If I know your father, he would have commanded you to stay and protect me and your sister.” She drew his sword and shook it at him. “And protect us you will!”

“Just for a few minutes, mother, I’ll meet you at the estate within twenty. The army is still half an hour away at least.” He turned towards the east as his mother looked after him disapprovingly. He ran down the streets, which were slowly being depleted of people, and saw clumps of citizen warriors in groups of threes and fours taking positions in alleyways, behind doors, concealing themselves to fall upon any invaders that made it through the gates into the city. He approached the eastern wall, which loomed tall ahead of him.

“Aeden!” He whirled around, looking for who called his name, and saw the master healer in an open market with several other healers. They had rearranged the display tables, the owner of the goods having already hidden them away somewhere, and some were unloading the contents of boxes that looked like they contained healing supplies—white cloths, string, splints, among other materials.

“Master! What are you doing?” Aeden ran over to the market.

The old man motioned with his head, “The lord ordered us to set up a forward clinic here near the east gate. As the casualties come in, we can quickly heal some of them and send them back to defend the gate. Jonathan! Put those over there!” he barked at a young man holding a stack of cloths, who then placed them under a table in the center.

“What did the lord talk to you about when he took you aside?” Aeden asked.

“Mainly plans for this setup here. He asked how quickly a healer could mend a wounded warrior, and I told him that it depends on the wound. For blunt blows to the head, or even swords through the belly or lungs, I can within a minute heal someone such that they will not die, and under normal circumstances quickly recover, though here we will send them out again, with diminished capabilities, yes, but at least able to defend themselves. He also asked about my knowledge of the lands to the east and north.”

“And?”

“I have travelled very little to the east, and know only that beyond the mountains lies a vast wasteland. I know none that have travelled it. To the north lies the kingdoms of Volda, Vaasa, Ramala, and other smaller kingdoms, though to their east as well lays the same wasteland. I travelled some in the north several years ago, but there were no rumors of war then. I tell you this army appeared out of nowhere.”

Aeden followed the man as he went about the market, ordering his healers. “Priam told me something strange. His parents were in the eastern mountains and witnessed the army pass. They were close, and saw that the army appeared very … well, the words they used, they said they all had stone faces.”

The man stiffened and looked up. He said nothing for several moments, only looking at Aeden in shock.

“Master. Does this mean something to you?”

He staggered back and sat on a table, murmuring slowly, “Yes, it does.” He breathed in. “It means, that there is one at the head of that army that knows his true nature. He is a master of his rohva self, and has imposed his will upon what appears now to me to be several thousand innocent men and women. Those people are drones. They are under his, or her, control.”

“We can control others? Not just talk to their minds and enter, but control them?” Aeden’s voice steadily rose in alarm.

“We can indeed. Though only very talented rohvim can do so. I know of perhaps fifteen, maybe twenty that are capable of it. But those that I know would never do this. There must be someone we have not met that has the true knowledge.” He sprang to his feet. “This changes little for now. We must defend the city. Go to wherever your duty lays, Champion of Elbeth!” He flashed Aeden a grim smile, and returned to his business.

Aeden withdrew from the market and approached the east wall. The city guard arrayed itself in formations before the gate, supplemented by men from the first five noble families of the city. In total, less than six or seven hundred men and women stood before the east gate of the city of Elbeth, as fifty or so stood upon the walkway of the city wall itself, preparing the stones and boiling oil to cast down at the coming siege. Years of peace had been kind to the kingdom, but in prosperity they had neglected to build up their defenses. With no apparent enemies in all those long years, and a steady increase in wealth, the nobility, and most of the populace, had become quite lazy indeed. Aeden watched as scores of men and women handled their swords awkwardly, not quite sure what to do with them.
This will be a bloodbath,
he thought, as he realized that the preparations were too little, and woefully tardy. He decided to run back and inform the people assembled at the Markham estate that they should flee, rather than wait for a victory that would never come.

“The army approaches!” cried a man on the wall. He shouted again, “They approach quickly!” He held his hand over his eyes, squinting, calling down again. “Alas! They march not, but run towards us, swords already drawn! Such speed in a mass of people I have never beheld!”

Aeden waited for a massive roar that he always dreamed would accompany the charge of a massive army, but the air was strangely silent, except for the whimpering of several men and women who looked terrified. The man called out again, “They are but five hundred yards off now. Wait! They divide themselves into three groups … they are surrounding the city!”

Aeden’s heart sank as he realized that their escape would be cut off. He decided it was time to return to defend his family.

“They have climbing ropes! Hundreds of them run forward now with climbing ropes, all around the city! Doom is here!” The desperate voice re-echoed through his mind as he sprinted to the south.

Chapter Seven

“… weep not, my fair one, but if thou weep, weep with me. Cry not, my dear one, but if thou cry, cry against thine enemies, and on the shoulders of thy friends …” —Consolations, 1:3