The Deathless Ones, page 22
"A troop of Semil's soldiers are coming to this village."
Sadjah paled. "We've to alert the villagers."
"I'll do that. Are you up to riding? Do you know how to?"
Sadjah nodded.
"Then you should ride to Mirrel, get help from Lord Syamin. Tell him it's only a small force, around forty or fifty men only. Take my horse. He's fast and he's well rested."
"What will you do?"
"The village is too open to be defended, but there are woods nearby. I'll manage something. Can you fight? Do you have any weapons?"
"Yes to both," Sadjah said. "I wanted to be a soldier at one time. There was this old woman we met on the road once, called Meia. We travelled together for a while, and she taught me."
"Meia taught you?" Layla was astonished.
"Yes. You seem surprised. Do you know her?"
Layla turned her back as Sadjah started to dress. "I know her," Layla said. She hesitated and then asked, "Did she tell you anything about the Sisterhood?"
"Yes. She told me, but I was very young then, and thought it was but a tale. Only in later years did I come to know it was real. You may turn around now."
Sadjah still looked slightly pale and Layla said anxiously, "Are you sure you're up to this, Sadjah? Perhaps we can send someone else."
Sadjah shook her head. "I can do this. You’d better start alerting the rest of the villagers." She paused. "Should I take the children with me?"
Layla shook her head. "They'll be safe enough with me. You'll need to ride hard. They'll be in the way."
Sadjah nodded. "All right. Take care."
"You too," Layla said as Sadjah went out of the room. Layla went to wake the children first. She thought of the water she had heated and the breakfast she had made, but there was no time to worry about all that now.
She woke them and told them, "Some big bad soldiers are coming here. You stick close to me, and if I tell you to hide, you hide well so that none can find you. Can you do that?"
The girls nodded.
"There's no time for breakfast. Do you think you'll be too hungry?"
The girls shook their heads. Layla smiled at them, took them by the hand and led them outside. The girls had not spoken a word in the time Layla had known them. She didn’t know if they used to talk earlier. It seemed as if they hadn’t talked in a long time.
Layla went to the village square. There was a gong there, that anyone with sufficient reason to attract the attention of the villagers might ring. Heavy penalty was there for those who rang it for frivolities. Sadjah started ringing the gong. One. Two. Three. The sound it made was an ugly one, but it carried. Layla hoped that the soldiers hadn’t heard it too. The villagers came to the square in ones and twos. Once Layla judged that sufficient number was there, she pointed to the soldiers. The villagers gasped.
"Those are Semil's banners!" An old man said fearfully. "We need to send someone to King Syamin!"
"Sadjah is already on her way," Layla said. "But those men will reach here before she's halfway to Mirrel. If you people want to survive this attack until Syamin's armies come, you'll do as I say."
"And who are you?" A young woman asked. "Why should we listen to you?"
"My name is Layla, and I'm a friend of Sadjah. You'll listen to me if you want to live. If you prefer to face the soldiers, that's your choice."
"Tell us what to do," A middle aged man said.
"Which of you know the woods well?" She asked.
"Mikas does," The young woman who'd spoken earlier said. "I'll go and fetch him."
She soon returned with a young man who was small and thin.
"Mikas," Layla asked. "Is there any place in the woods where we can all hide without being seen? And is there any place where the soldiers can be ambushed?”
"Oh yes!" Mikas said. "The woods are full of such places. The ambush will be easy, but the hiding won't be. There are too many of us."
"What if we split up?" Layla asked.
Mikas considered. "We'll need to split into at least seven groups, and I don’t know if we have enough time to go deep into the woods. If we hide anywhere else, they'll find us."
"And the places for ambush, are they deep inside too?"
"Some are, some are not."
"Mikas, you'll lead us all to the woods, to the spot where the soldiers can be ambushed. Then from there, you'll go deep, leave a lot of footprints so the soldiers will see. You'll then double back into the village and wait for Syamin's armies. Make sure you don't leave any tracks for the soldiers to follow, and stay hidden till all fighting is done. I'm hoping that most of the soldiers will go deep into the woods in an attempt to follow you, and might get lost in there for a while at least. I should be able to take care of the ones that stay behind."
"Let us help you, my Lady," a young man said. "It's our village, after all."
"I know you want to help, but I've been trained to fight. You've not. So, it'll be better if you do as I say. But you may help me in preparing some traps for our friends out there."
Preparing the traps was slow work, but the four young men and two young women who'd volunteered to help her were good at understanding her instructions and following them. They were also eager and enthusiastic. Layla smiled to herself as she realised that this was all an adventure to them. They had probably lived in Dell all their lives and so had never been affected by the war. They were far enough into the woods that they could not hear what was happening in the village, but they still kept their voices down. The two girls she had rescued had been entrusted to the care of a woman named Leta who was Sadjah's neighbour.
"Are there any Vriks in the woods?" Layla asked suddenly.
Vriks were not very common in Terrin, but it was said the woods at the foot of Nadais were their home. Vriks were dangerous, but only when hungry or threatened. They generally steered clear of humans, but in exceptional cases had been known to attack them. Vriks lived and hunted alone, were large, and agile with foot long fangs and shaggy coats that changed colour with the environment.
"They are very deep inside," Hega, one of the girls, said. She was Mikas' sister and though not as knowledgeable as him, was still familiar enough with the woods.
"Can we attract them to those soldiers?"
One Vrik had been known to be able to kill as many as twenty men. Most weapons couldn’t penetrate their thick hides. Arrows made of pheyt were the only weapons known to penetrate their skins. Pheyt was so rare, expensive, and heavy that most warlords equipped their men with normal arrows whose heads were made of pheyt. Malleable as it was, pheyt didn't bond well with other metals, and such arrows had been known to break off when they were pulled off, leaving the pheyt head inside the Vrik's body. Most troops in these areas made sure that each of their men carried at least two such arrows, but did Semil have that much forethought? He had sent his men to the villages, he could not have expected them to run into Vriks.
Hega was thoughtful for a moment, then she said. "Normally, Vriks are repelled by the scent of humans. That's one of the reasons why they nearly go berserk when they are near humans. They just want to escape the scent."
"But in this case?"
"It's really easy with soldiers, and the best thing is, we don't need to do anything. The herbal paste the soldiers carry for treating their injuries on field contains a herb that attracts Vriks. It masks the human scent unless the Vrik is close enough. Lord Syamin's troops use a different paste from the rest of the empire, but these are Semil's troops. Just get them deep enough, and the Vriks will be on them."
Layla nodded. "We should hide now, and wait."
The Plan
Amrose sat in the small dark room. He wasn’t worried. He was where Semil wanted him to be, in Aster's mansion where Marian was. He might need to ensure she had recovered from her illness before he broke out of here. He fingered the small bottles in his hidden pocket, as also the dagger that Semil had given him. One of the bottles contained a stronger variant of the all-eater they had used back in Lykos. A drop of it would melt away the lock on the door, if not the door itself.
Soon, someone would come to question him: either Syamin, Aster, or perhaps both. He had no fear of them. He had panicked earlier, but it was the magic of the place. That was a factor Semil had not taken into account because he didn’t know it, and how could he have? He was no magician, but inside here, the magic had been dampened somehow, and Amrose could think clearly. He knew he needed to extract the information about Marian before deciding on his move. If Marian was well, his task would be that much easier. If not, he was prepared for that too. His hidden pocket held two more bottles containing substances not ordinarily found in a magician's pockets, but the alchemists' solutions could come in handy. He just had to be careful not to kill anyone.
He knew when he had to make his move. Semil's attack on the outlying villages was bound to reach Syamin's ears. There would be some panic and confusion. He would add to it by escaping. Semil had charged him with finding a way to kill both Aster and Syamin. With Marian's help, it presented no problems. Without her, it was difficult, but not impossible. He had noticed the way Myra and her men looked at Syamin. Perhaps he could use their animosity to his advantage. Aster was an old fool, and it would be an easy thing to get Marian to kill him, but all that was in the future. All he could do now was wait.
His cell was a small room, with a metal door with a small opening at eye level. There was also a flap on the door, a little above the floor. The room had a bed, chair, and table. There was a screen made of pheyt just inside the door, so that one could open the door from the outside, see the prisoner inside, and talk to him without fear that the prisoner might escape. Pheyt made for distorted viewing, but was the safest metal to hold a dangerous prisoner. Even Pheyt wasn’t immune to the corrosive properties of the all-eater.
Amrose heard footsteps outside the door. He closed his eyes. He could guess what was coming, but not even Syamin or Aster would dare harm a magician; so, he had nothing to fear. It was for the same reason that neither Myra's men nor Syamin's had treated him roughly or searched him. They knew that magicians were forbidden from killing, so they probably believed themselves to be safe. He was forbidden from killing, but that didn't mean he couldn't arm someone who had nothing binding her.
The door opened. It was Syamin who stood there, just as he had expected. Aster was with him, and so was Myra. That was unexpected, though it shouldn’t have been. After all, it was Myra and her men whom he’d attempted to have killed. Semil had expected the plan to fail, and he had anticipated that Amrose would be in Syamin's or Myra's custody. He had expected Cadgen to be killed, but he had also expected Cadgen to kill Myra. That was the only one of his calculations to go awry, and Amrose had to acknowledge that Myra had surprised him. He hadn't expected her to be a good warrior, nor an intelligent one, but she had proved to be both. The former wasn't surprising if she had had the benefit of Syamin's training, but the latter was all her own, and he could admire her for it. If she had forgiven Syamin, then he would need to come up with another plan for the man. He didn't think Marian was capable of defeating him or Myra. Marian was better than Cadgen, but she was not very intelligent.
"You know why we're here," Syamin said.
"I have nothing to say," Amrose responded.
"You are powerful in magic," Aster said quietly. "Anywhere out of the shadow of Nadais, you'll be a force to be reckoned with, but if you persist in your obduracy, you shall spend the rest of your days here, buried in this cell."
"I've nothing to say," Amrose repeated.
"Can't we do anything to make him talk?" Myra asked impatiently.
"It is forbidden," Aster said. "And never have I regretted that rule by Nadais as much as I do now."
"Amrose," Syamin said quietly. "If you don't tell us what we want to know, I'm going to have you taken out of this dungeon, and have you tied up in the square outside my barracks."
Amrose felt a sliver of fear pierce him. The quietness of Syamin's voice told him he meant every word, and if he did that- if he took him outside- a shudder ran through Amrose's body. Technically, Syamin wouldn’t be breaking any laws, man-made or divine. Amrose knew he couldn’t weaken. He could not, but he could not allow Syamin to carry out his threat either.
"Where's Marian?" He forced himself to ask finally, through trembling lips, and a tight throat.
"She's under guard too," Aster said. "So you cannot expect a rescue from that quarters."
"Think about it," Syamin said. "You've until tomorrow night to make up your mind. If you're not ready to talk by the time the last moon rises, I myself shall drag you from here to the square and leave you tied up there!"
The door closed, as waves of pure panic hit Amrose. He couldn't go out there! He just couldn't! He tried to control his panic, but all rational thought was swamped by fear. He would die first! He was aware of tears coursing down his cheeks and loud sobs escaping his throat. He started banging his head on the wall, as he wept.
The Message
Hardin was a new city, built in the image of Albin, the city that Semil had destroyed along with its master when its heir was just a boy. The ward of its late Lord Kaylas had thwarted Semil's designs by successfully defending the remaining parts of Lord Kaylas' dominions, until Aadron, his son, came of age. Aadron proved to be even more of a thorn than his father's ward, successfully evicting Semil's forces from his father's dominions and capturing some of Semil's own provinces. The city of Hardin was built by him in one such captured province, and Aadron had declared it his headquarters almost as if to thumb his nose at Semil. Hardin was a fortified town with a strong military presence, but its people were never harassed by the soldiers, there was no curfew, and though its people still looked askance at the soldiers, none of them ever felt afraid to approach them for help either.
As he rode into town, Radik was feeling his exhaustion catch up with him. Three transportation spells in two days in addition to the riding was too much even for him. He had chosen to ride into town instead of transporting himself directly into it to avoid giving Aadron any reason for feeling threatened. He wished he knew what was in the sealed missive Syamin had entrusted to him. It was to be given to Aadron only, Syamin had told him. Radik had no fears that he might be arrested or stopped. He was a magician after all, and no longer in the shadow of Nadais. He was also not afraid of being denied admittance. He had been lord Kaylas' magician once, and during those days, he had assumed that once Aadron came of age, he would join him, but when the day came, he had found himself riding with Syamin for Mirrel. Aadron hadn't been angry with him, though, just remarking playfully that he wished he could go with Syamin too.
Radik was not stopped, but still it was with an escort of soldiers that he was led into Aadron's presence.
"Syamin's magician, my Lord," one of the soldiers announced.
Aadron looked up from the map he was looking at which was spread on a table. The room was almost an exact replica of Kaylas' war room in his mansion at Albin, though the house itself was different.
"I bring a private message from Lord Syamin," Radik said as he produced the sealed scroll.
Aadron strode forward to take it, reminding Radik forcibly of his father. Aadron was not as tall as the late lord, and the scar on his cheek and the stubborn jaw made him look different, but Radik could see the similarities. His eyes, nose, lips, forehead, everything was exactly the same as his father's. So was the frowning expression on his face. He took the message from Radik, but did not open it immediately.
"Leave us," he told his men.
"But my Lord," one man protested, whom Radik took to be a captain. "He's a magician!"
Aadron smiled at the man. "I appreciate the concern, Hiren, but I'm quite safe. I assure you."
Hiren looked sceptical, but one of the older captains laid a hand on his shoulder, and all but pushed him out, bowing to Radik as he passed. Radik returned the bow. Krast was one of the few men alive who had served under Lord Kaylas and later under Syamin. Most of Lord Kaylas' men had perished along with him, and of the men who had served under Syamin, some had chosen to accompany him. Of those who chose to stay with Aadron, some had retired, some had died in the war, and only a few remained now. It occurred to Radik that apart from he and Krast, there were less than a handful of people who were aware of the relation between Syamin and Aadron.
Once the soldiers had left, Aadron grinned and embraced Radik.
"How are you, you old fraud?"
Radik grinned too as he hugged Aadron back. It was Syamin who had named him old fraud after he had refused to show him magic tricks, telling the boy witheringly that magic was not to be trifled with. Though Syamin reverted to it only occasionally since the death of Lord Kaylas, Aadron used to call him nothing else.
"I'm well," he replied. "You look a lot like the late lord, your father."
"Yes, so I've been told." Aadron pressed his lips together as he looked at the unopened scroll in his hands. "Any idea what it's about?"
Radik shook his head. "You'll have to open it to find out, I'm afraid."
"How is Syamin?" Aadron asked as he broke the seal.
"He's well."
Aadron frowned as he read the missive.
"Radik," he said abruptly. "Has something happened in Mirrel?"
"Syamin did say something about Semil planning to attack Mirrel. Why?"
"He wants my help in defending Mirrel."
"And are you going to give it?" Radik was almost afraid to ask. He could not blame Aadron if he refused. It was not as if Syamin had any claims on him. They were both adversaries in the war after all.
"Of course!" Aadron said, sounding surprised. "Do you doubt that? Make yourself at home, while I go and apprise my captains of the situation."
Radik nodded. Aadron had left the message from Syamin on the table. Impelled by curiosity, he went to look at it. He frowned as he read it. It made no sense to him. It contained only two words.
"It's time."
Time? Time for what? How did Aadron deduce from this that Syamin needed his help? He moved away from the table and sat down on a chair. It was probably a code. Something that they developed during their boyhood. After all, it was not to be expected that Syamin would be sending a message that anyone who intercepted it could understand. Though it was being sent through someone he trusted, Syamin could not take any chances.
