The Exodus Sagas: Book III - Of Ghosts And Mountains (59 page)

“Sir Karai?” Cristoff sighed atop his stallion.

“Just over that in the foothills, my lord.” Karai patted his mare.

“How far is it if we retreat to Gillian, father Garret?”

“Five days at a quick pace, Lord Cristoff.” Garret was nervous, four hundred ogre from Bloodskull now stood between them and the west.

“And to Belbeyre, how far past them?”

“Maps say about six days, my lord. We could head north, to Acelinne, it would be but three days. Tis’ a safe distance.” Capitan Broushelle added.

“No. If we leave north, we expose ourselves to another side, open ground. They would surround us quick. Charging cavalry would be useless, remember the women, the children, all those that cannot fight. We keep close to the mountains.” Cristoff watched another scout, this one on foot, run up and take a knee. He was covered in sweat and gasping for air.

“My…Lord!”

“Easy son, rise, what did you see?”

“Stormbats, leaving another…score of ogre…like messengers…another two hundred…coming from the …western…slopes!”

“Six hundred ogre? The bats must have informed them of our coming. I knew they were pets of someone.” Sir Karai drew his rapier.

“Likely about our numbers and supplies. Tis’ summer, near harvest, that is when the ogre raid I have heard. We have even numbers, but one on one against an ogre, we won’t last but a few hours before they…” Broushelle paused and sighed.

“Reach the people.” Sir Leonard finished the words for him.

“If we were not loaded with wagons and commoners, we could charge through, over and over, break their morale. But, if we do that, they could come directly for the supplies and the defenseless, which is what they want.” Cristoff looked to the west, seeing the first of the massive beasts cross the tradeway road. Within moments, he saw hundreds. Over ten feet tall, spears in hand, stringy hair and bloody skin banners, the ogre covered the road from the foothills.

“Bloodskull is said to have ten thousand ogre up in their city in the cliffs. If we delay, more will come.” Father Garret held his feathered cross tight.

“I heard twenty thousand.” Sir Leonard retorted.

“Never mind that, we have minutes here to decide. More will come, especially if we run. If we take heavy losses, the caravans will be slaughtered. We need to form a slow moving wall of horsemen, followed by the footmen with halbreds and spears. Every man with a shield if possible. Put the archers in between, keep them low and covered. Once we fire, we keep a slow withdrawl back until we are out of arrows, then we stand. Not one ogre breaches our wall, understood?” Cristoff worried for Rosana and the unborn boy, his people, and that one ogre in the ranks of the caravans would kill dozens.

“And if they overrun us, what then?” Sir Leonard drew his sword, nodding for his squire to gather his men.

“Open combat, drive them to the mountains, corner them, do all you can. God save us.” Cristoff drew his longsword, the pyramid pommelled blade from the elven mercenary.

LCMVXIILCMVXIILCMVXIILCM

It was their spot, their kill, their take of any and all that was here. Ullirut Blackeye knew that this could bring his tribe great respect in the city with what these little men had. His bats had been killed, so he sent more, they returned and told their old witch, his mother, that human men came from the east with small swords and horses and supplies. An easy kill it would be, plenty of slaves and food, and human treasures that would all be his, all for the Blackeyes.

Ullirut stood, twelve feet tall, the tallest in his tribe. His one eye of seagreen gazed to his family, all in bits of steel armor, hides of most anything, all dyed black, and all with their right eyes burned out at birth leaving a blackened socket. He saw the army, maybe six hundred men, easy for his tribe to kill, a good fight it would be. The Deadspears would not go to the low grounds to hunt, neither the Mountaintusks, the Rottenclaws, or the Bonefaces. Only the Blackeye were bold enough, and the Bloodskulls.

He wanted the glory, wanted the name of the city in the mountains to change, it had been Bloodskull for many generations. Ullirut was tired of giving to the chief of chiefs that sat the mountain, the tribe that held the name. Kahamut Bloodskull was the seventh one of his tribe to keep the city and his tribal honor. No more. Ullirut knew that treasures, victories, steel, and glory would allow him to challenge Kahamut Bloodskull. If he won, the city would be named Blackeye once again, and he could be the chief of chiefs in the seat atop the mountain over the city.

“
Nethtut, Kirrut, Aggund, Lutto, hergi ughth newarst ukathi!”
Ullirut, strongest and tallest, chief of the Blackeye, ordered his brothers and sons to walk with him to give greeting to the five that rode their pet horses ahead on the road. Five came, so five would greet. He knew men would beg and offer treasures, they always did.

LCMVXIILCMVXIILCMVXIILCM

“What is going on, my queen? I hear the people talking, they are frightened.” Kaya could talk much better now, her jaw had healed over the last week, thanks to father Garret.

“Roasana, call me Rosana please. I am no longer a queen.” Rosana, heavy with the discomfort of the wagons and restless child in her womb, peeked out again from the flaps. The caravan had stopped, it had been nearly an hour. She saw the ogre now, she had never seen one before, only heard stories. From such a distance, she could only make out that they were tall, hide wearing savages, nothing more.

“Very well, Rosana then.”

“Ogre they say, from Bloodskull. Lord Cristoff, Garret, his knights, and Broushelle are riding out to them. The army is in a line, waiting. I do not think Cristoff would allow a fight, not with all of us so close.” Rosana held her belly, the kicks were neverending, the heat here was suffocating without the ocean breeze.

“Ogre? Tell them they need to charge, charge the leader or the tallest ones, kill them first…get them back!” Kaya tried to stand, she could not, her legs were still bandaged and healing, her hips were wrapped tight, and her left arm as well. So much had been broken.

“How would you know that, a lady and all? Rest, you need your rest Kaya.” Rosana patted her head, eased her with stroking her hair, and peeked again.

“I fought ogre, many a time. They do not negotiate, they do not greet, and they only follow the strong. Trust me…
ahhhh!
” The strain of her blood pumping harder hurt almost everywhere. The pain settled her down regardless of her struggle.

“Calm yourself, calm. The men will handle it, I am sure. I know Lord Cristoff, he will not let harm come to us. You fought ogre? Truly? Where?” Rosana peeked again, the men getting closer to the ogre. Five of the tall beasts were walking to greet them now.

“In Southwind, Chazzrynn, my homeland. I have killed many.”

“What sort of lady are you, a soldier, a mercenary?”

“You could say that I suppose. And you, Rosana, what sort of woman are you?”Kaya laughed, it hurt, but she laughed.

Rosana chuckled, the pain and pressure was not pleasant, but the laugh felt good anyway. “Not like you, no. I am not brave, nor trained with a blade. I was never allowed. I grew up in the palaces of Caberra. Dresses, courts, dinners, jewelry, and my fathers’ rule. There was no fighting for his daughter, only his sons, my little brothers. I did kill a man though, more accident than anything.”

“How is that? An accident you say?”

“Yes, it is a long story, but I found myself hiding in a stable. There, the dying nephew of my husband, a knight, he gave me his blade. There was an assassin behind me, he thought I was someone else. When I turned, he had stepped closer to grab me and the rapier just went through him. I had my eyes closed, I could not have hit the wall had I tried, but I killed him.”

“And the knight, he lived then?” Kaya smiled, thinking of how her blade rarely missed its mark, eyes closed or no.

“No, Sulian Lisario, no, he died there. He died saving me, just like my husband, Savanno. Swords and war kill so many in Harlaheim, it is, it is very sad.” Rosana wiped a tear, just one, remembering all that had happened months ago.

“I am sorry. Chazzrynn is much the same. I am afraid my past has had its fair share of bloodshed.” Kaya was somber, forgetting the ogre threat, thinking of Southwind Keep.

“You are wanted, perhaps in exile?”

“You could say that, yes.”

“Then no worries, dear Kaya. For here, we are all running from something or someone. Is that why you were found the way you were, the past caught up?” Rosana stroked Kaya’s hair, then picked up her brush from her vanity box.

“Yes, I finally had nowhere left to run.” Kaya was crying, she remembered now, the chase, the kiss of Norrice, the jump.

Rosana brushed her hair, trying to calm the broken woman, broken like she was in more ways than one. “A new beginning awaits us, believe in that. At least you are not married to a king in another country, no?”

Kaya laughed, they both did, it hurt but they could not help it, tears streamed from pain and laughter the same. “No, that I am not. Nor am I with child, though at least you can walk.”

“Soon Kaya, soon you will walk. Then, maybe you can show me how to wield a blade like a real woman.”

“Yes, I could do that. It would be an honor, Rosana.”

“Honor is for men. Let us make it, fun, like sisters. I never had a sister, only brothers.”

“Same for me, only a brother, and I was the eldest as well, though not by much. Sisters it is.” Kaya smiled.

“My last name will surely follow me in many ways, and yours?”

Kaya thought hard. “Yes, mine will have quite a price on it.”

“Then, we shall take Lord Cristoff’s,
Bradswellen
. Sounds regal and noble, what do you think?” Rosana chuckled.

“I like it, Rosana and Kaya Bradswellen, sisters.”

“Now, to get him to agree to that, that is the difficult part.”

“He loves you, still all these years, I can tell when he speaks of you.” Kaya looked to Rosana.

“I know he does, I know.”

LCMVXIILCMVXIILCMVXIILCM

Cristoff Bradswellen the Third held the reins tight, his steed was not like his well trained stallion, Leonis, that perished on Soujan Mountain. This animal had not been around ogre, the dead, or anything but other horses and men. It was jittery as the beasts approached. Capitan Broushelle was sweating in his armor and old age. Sir Karai and Sir Leonard stood stoic, mounted, staring as the setting sun glared across their shaved heads. Father Garret, youngest of them all, seemed as calm as the breeze.

“Whatever they say, let me respond. Remember, we have nearly eight thousand people back there, their safety comes first.”

“Yes sire.” Both exiled knights of Saint Tarumin and the old Capitan of Saint Erinsburg acknowledged their lord.

“Do you speak ogre, Lord Cristoff?” Garret was praying, asking Alden to bless his pious knights of the saint of sacrifice, the loyal capitan, and their leader.

“No, does anyone here?”

Shaking heads answered that for him. “Then while you are at it father, pray that one of them speaks Agarian.”

“I already did, my lord.”

Five ogre came within fifty feet now, walking slow with long strides. They seemed uncomfortable, being so far from their numbers, as did Cristoff and his men. The horses whinnied, the ogre tensed, and the hot sun stole the breath from everyone. No one moved.

Cristoff looked to the ogre in the middle. Yellow tusks shone, two from each jaw, straight and bestial. They were all nearly twice as tall as any of his men, dark tan and filthy, and wearing only hides and bits of piecemeal armor here and there. Wooden spears as long as two men, decorated with blood and bones, much like their oily hair, and all of them had but a black hole where their right eyes should be.

“
Rather savage and primitive I would say, sire
.” Broushelle whispered.

“No argument here, but they have reach, position, and sizeable numbers. We talk first.” Cristoff held up his hand.

“Let us pass, we mean no threat or harm. We are en route to Evermont in Shanador.”

Ullirut looked to his brothers, no one understood a word this man said. He understood, he had dealt with human slaves and learned the tongue from his witch mother. “You no pass here, horse man. You give to Deadeye.”

“Give what, a toll or tithe? Very well, if these are your lands and your road, we will pay a tax then. How much?” Cristoff would normally never barter with an enemy, but avoiding a battle here would save many lives.

“Five hundred and five wagons.” Ullirut smiled.

“Seems steep, I offer three hundred, and three wagons, three empty wagons.” Gold they had plenty of, wagons they could replace in Belbeyre or Evermont, Cristoff was surprised that it would be that easy.

“Four and four then, but not old ones or sick ones, strong and young with more women than men.” Ullirut Deadeye bartered as well, knowing he would take what was freely given, then take the rest with bloody force after.

“Four hundred…
strong and young
?” Cristoff paused.

“
He means people sire, not gold
.” Garret whispered.

“You want, my
people
?”