(Chapter Eleven: Wildmen, cont.)
“Wait, what?” Ean turned to Chadwick. “You’re a ranger?”
The Ferex Rangers were once the sole custodians of law in the remote settlements of Viridas, before the kingdoms had their own soldiers and outposts. Although their number had dwindled over the generations, they were still revered for their knowledge of wildlife and nature.
“What makes you say it like that?” Chadwick asked, offended.
“You style your hair and shave every morning.” Ean was pretty sure that obsessive grooming would disqualify someone from the rangers. “And I did spy on you while surveilling the castle. No one said anything about you being a ranger.”
“Because I’m not a ranger.”
Ean turned to Asali, confused.
“He was raised by rangers,” she clarified.
“They have rangers on the Suyon Peninsula?”
“It was after I came to Eastmere,” said Chadwick. “My father got married. He and his wife were trying to start a family. They thought it would be better if I were out of the house, so they sent me off with the rangers.”
“You mean your father re-married,” Ean corrected.
Chadwick glanced over; Ean gestured to his necklace. Chadwick quickly wrapped a hand around it, hiding the family pendant from view. He didn’t offer any explanation, but Ean could fill in the blanks of his story. The duke’s new wife realized that Chadwick was a threat to her children’s titles and inheritances and sent him into the wilds to be rid of him.
But rangers were rugged folk, more comfortable outside than in. Rumor said that they could talk with wild animals, sometimes even command them. The more fantastic legends said the best rangers could take on animal form. None of that matched what Ean knew of Chadwick.
Chadwick pointed to a dent in the long grass. “See that? That’s a black-banded fox trail. Their legs are nearly twice as long as the common red fox of Eastmere. Their coloring is different too, dark fur on the legs and bands about the snout and tail.”
Ean didn’t care about foxes, but that didn’t stop Chadwick from waxing scholarly about them and other animals of the moor. As dull as Ean found the lecture, it did offer a distraction from the darker thoughts that stirred in the back of his mind. Was Leo still safe? Would the Wildmen fall for their ruse?
Chadwick found them a small cave to sleep in that night. Ean took first watch and then roused Chadwick to spell him. With the grueling pace they’d set over the past two days, it was easy to drop into sleep. Asali woke him in the morning, dragging him out of a deep, dreamless slumber. He grumbled out a half-dozen curses and she returned them, waspish and terse. The pace was taking a toll on all of them.
They moved out at dawn, craning backwards as they walked to see if any of the Wildmen had followed them. They saw no one. Chadwick swore. Asali whispered a prayer. Ean said nothing, but kept glancing back all day, hoping to spot even a couple of bandits giving chase. The path behind them remained empty.
Chadwick quickened their stride, pushing on as night fell. They stumbled through the dark, only stopping when travel became truly hazardous. They built a fire and ate a grim meal.
“I told you it was a stupid plan,” Ean said, unable to stop himself.
“Shut up, Ean,” Asali said.
“I can’t help it. I’m insufferable when I’m right.”
“Keep it up and I’ll give you suffering,” Chadwick muttered.
It was an empty threat. Everyone was too tired to fight, and the threat of battle loomed before them. Ean dropped back onto his bedroll and pulled in a deep breath.
“We made good time at least,” Chadwick said. “We should hit the pass tomorrow morning and we’ll reach them by early afternoon.”
“We leave at first light,” Asali said. “We travel fast and hard. We reach them before the Wildmen do.”
Ean met their gazes. “Agreed.”
* * *
Chadwick woke Ean and Asali as the sky was fading from black to charcoal. He had tea already boiling. Ean grabbed his blades from his pack and strapped them on. It only took a moment, the task familiar and bracing. They moved out into the pre-dawn light, tripping over rocky terrain until the sun rose further, half-hidden behind gray clouds. The wind swept through the hills, pushing at their backs, urging them to move faster, faster.
Chadwick slowed about an hour after sunrise, his eyes firmly on the ridge to their left. A few times, he ran ahead, clamoring up a fissure or following a fox trail, searching for the crossing that he’d seen on Ward’s map. He returned from each scouting trip looking more and more anxious. Ean had a hundred angry accusations on his tongue. He bit them all back because they would serve no purpose.
They kept travelling. No one spoke, but Ean knew his fears were echoed in their heads. Had they missed the crossing? How far should they walk before doubling back? What if there was no crossing at all? The sun kept rising, nearing mid-day. Panic rose with it. Ean was just about to suggest that they split up to search for the trail when Chadwick’s hand jerked out.
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“There!”
He pointed to a crevice in the ridge, deep and straight, like a giant had scoured a knife through the stone. It was hard to tell from this angle if it continued all the way to the top, but there was no doubt in Ean’s mind that this was the crossing on the map.
“Thank the Father,” Asali breathed.
The fissure was narrow and craggy. In some places it climbed straight into the air, at other times the ascent was gentler. There were plenty of hand and footholds. They scrambled up as fast as they could, sometimes relying on momentum alone to propel them up the face of the rock. They paused at the top to catch their breath. The wind was stronger atop the ridge. It cooled the sweat from Ean’s body. He looked out towards the east, hoping to catch a glimpse of the others, but a small wood of scraggly trees and spindly shrubs blocked his view. He couldn’t see any sign of Leo or the Wildmen.
Chadwick pulled out his waterskin. “Five minutes for food and water. We need to keep our strength up.”
It was good advice. As much as Ean wanted to keep moving, there was no point in reaching the others only to be too exhausted to fight. He chewed through a flat of jerky while stretching out his arms and legs, then rechecked his knives. Asali strung her bow. They drank their fill of water, then dumped the rest to lighten their load for the last stretch ahead of them.
Chadwick led the way down the ridge, traveling at such a pace Ean thought he might trip, but his footing was sure. He and Asali did their best to keep up, jumping down boulders when the distance was manageable, at times crouching and sliding down the steep rock face on their heels, loose gravel kicking up beneath them. They sprinted down the last mild slant of the ridge and came out onto a grassy stretch of hill. The river was straight ahead. The grass dipped down to meet it, forming a muddy shore. The water ran quickly, bubbling over rocks and rapids, and for a moment, all Ean could hear was the rush of the water.
A shout carried from the south, where the grassy shore rose up to form a small hill. The incline was steep enough to hide the source of the noise from view. A clang followed the shout—a sword meeting a shield.
“Shit!”
Ean’s curse was echoed by Chadwick. The three of them sprinted up the hill, the river dropping away to their right, creating a cliff of twenty feet. The ground plateaued and the battle came into view. It wasn’t a true battle—not yet. Leo, Roarke, and Flora were being run down by a chase group of Wildmen that had broken off from the main horde. Ean’s eyes went to Leo first. His arm was around Flora; she was limping heavily. Roarke covered their backs, fending off the first of the bandits to reach them. The larger throng of Wildmen was only a hundred paces behind.
“To Leo!” Asali shouted, pulling out her bow without any falter in her stride.
Ean didn’t need any encouragement. Roarke was fighting well, but they were being herded towards the edge of the cliff. Even as they ran to assist, Leo was forced to draw his sword. Ean’s breath hitched, then eased as he noted the efficiency in Leo’s parry and thrust. He’d been trained well.
A few of the Wildmen in the larger party pointed at them as they approached, but the chase party didn’t notice their arrival, not until Asali let an arrow fly. It sailed straight into the chest of the bandit fighting Leo. He stumbled backwards and fell to the ground.
The chase party broke off from their attack and the battle halted. The larger posse drew nearer, stopping about thirty paces away. Asali slowed, another arrow already nocked. Ean and Chadwick paused beside her.
The Wildmen sized them up and Ean did the same, casting a critical eye over their appearance and weaponry. He counted thirty-one men in the larger group, sixteen in the party that had attacked Leo. They were all able-bodied men, no visible injuries or maladies among them. Their clothes were travel-stained and sun-faded, cut from sturdy cloth, but without any padding or armoring that he could see. They carried a variety of weapons—axes, maces, and spears. Nine had broadswords. The weapons were old, some visibly dented, rusted, and dulled, even from this distance. That meant they weren’t trained in the martial arts. No true fighter would let their weapon decay like that. No, these men used brute force and numbers to overwhelm their prey, and that worked to Ean’s advantage. But five of them in the chase group carried short bows, which posed the greatest threat to Leo’s safety.
“Chadwick, get to Leo,” Asali said, voice low. “I’ll take the archers first.” Her eyes flicked to Ean and paused. She didn’t know what to task him with.
Ean pointed to the larger group. “I’ll take those.”
She huffed a dark laugh, not realizing he was serious.
Ean stepped forward and called out to the Wildmen. “Greetings to the party!”
“Greetings to you,” a man shouted back. He pushed his way to the front. He was an intimidating figure, tall and brawny. His hair and beard were dark gray, both worn long. His clothes were black except for a red sash and a large necklace of seashells and gold. That was a pirate’s necklace. He’d either been a pirate at one point in his life, or he’d killed one and claimed the necklace as a prize. His weapon of choice was a large battle-axe. He rested the heavy blade of it lazily on the ground. He was obviously the chief. “Are you here to join the fun?”
“You attack our friends,” Ean said. “Step away and we will let you pass without harm.”
The chief threw his head back and laughed. “Step away from the Crown Prince of Eastmere? But I will be paid so handsomely for his hide!” His men laughed with him, jeering and hefting their weapons.
Ean looked back to Asali and Chadwick. The chief had confirmed what they had both feared. There was a spy somewhere in the royal court of Eastmere.
“Leave the Prince to us and we will give you a sporting chance to live,” the chief called. “A full day’s run before we hunt you down. What do you say?”
The bandits laughed louder. A few made crude gestures.
Ean took another step forward. “I am Ean, Walker of Shadows. I am duty-sworn to protect His Royal Highness. Consider him defended.”
His proclamation silenced the laughter. He could see some of the Wildmen turn to each other, uncertainty on their faces, and he pointed at them. “Put down your weapons and I will not pursue you. But if you choose to raise your hand against the Prince, you will meet Death this day.”
The worried looks turned into murmurs.
Shadow-walkers gave a warning for three reasons. First, to allow any civilians in the area to run before the fighting started. Second, to give the opposing force the opportunity to surrender their quarry and leave peacefully. Third, even if the enemy didn’t surrender, the warning made them nervous. Ean watched a few Wildmen shift on their feet. Others re-gripped their weapons. Sweaty palms. Easier to disarm them.
The chief laughed again, but not in humor this time. It was arrogance. He hefted his axe and leveled it in Ean’s direction. “I have seen Death, Shadow-walker. He and I are old friends. He tells me it is you that will meet him this day.”
Ean twisted his wrists, dropping his knives into his grasp. He held them hilt-down, the blades pressed lightly against his bracers. “Haven’t you heard? Shadow-walkers are not just friends with Death; she is our mistress. I’ll send you all to greet her.”
And then he charged forwards, hoping to draw out the larger horde of bandits. It worked. The Wildmen raised their weapons, shouted their defiance, and rushed to meet him.
