The Deathless Ones, page 24
Niya looked at him. "No. Oh no. He can't ask that of us!"
"He did, and I agreed."
"How could you, without asking us?" Niya demanded, moving away from him. "You should've asked us! That was why I left! And you just agreed?”
"There was no time for any discussions," said Kal patiently. "Would you have rather I let your children die?"
"No, of course not," Niya sighed and looked at Kal. "I'm sorry, it can't have been an easy decision for you."
Kal smiled sadly. "It was, actually, once I considered the alternative."
"Do they know?" Niya asked.
"No," Jiv said. "After all, the mortals are yet to make their choice."
"It'll be only a matter of time, though," Niya murmured. "Things are coming to a head in their world."
Jiv laughed suddenly.
"What?" Niya asked.
"I was just thinking that we surprised you. It must be the first time in an eternity. You are in charge of destiny. You normally know these things before us, or anyone else."
"You know it doesn't work like that," Niya said. "Destiny is not something set in stone, except things like the span of a life. All mortals have various destinies based on the choices they make, and while I'm aware of every possible destiny that a mortal life could take, specifics are hidden because I never know what choice they would make. It's like walking a path that's being illuminated one step at a time." She gave him a grin. "I pretended that I wasn't surprised all those times. But this.... it was too big to pretend."
Kal laughed. "So, you were fooling us all these years?"
Before Niya could answer, there was a flash of light, and Aster's face appeared in the light. "I need your help!" He sounded anxious. "Semil's almost at the gates of Mirrel, and I've a healer named Sadjah here who bears the marks of Nadais."
“Sadjah?” The exclamation came from Madh who had walked in on Aster’s message. “She’s in danger?” He turned to the Elementals. “I have to go to her!”
“Madh,” Kal took him by the arm. “You can’t just go there. Semil can’t hurt her, not if she’s by herself. He needs both of you, and it’s not a good idea for you to be there as well.”
“She’s my sister!” Madh said angrily. “And just because she can’t die doesn’t mean she can’t be hurt! I’m not going to just stand around and watch her fall into Semil’s hands!”
“Madh,” Jiv joined them. “Semil doesn’t even know who she is.”
“He’ll know as soon as someone kills her,” Madh said. “Besides, you said staying here was my choice. I choose to leave, to help my sister.”
“It is your choice,” Kal agreed. “But if you leave the Valley and our protection, we cannot help you further. We cannot interfere in whatever is going to happen. Even the Elemental magic is not going to work in the shadow of Nadais. So, you can’t use that either.”
“I have lived all these years without your help or your magic, without being found out by anyone. I think I can help my sister without it. I am going.”
“Madh, you’re strong and able, we don’t doubt that. You’re powerful enough in magic, and your connection to Nadais will ensure that the shadow doesn’t drive you crazy, but even you can’t take on an army by yourself. Remember that you’re a magician, and forbidden to kill. We’re just trying to keep you safe.”
“You’re trying to keep yourselves safe!” Madh snapped. “I’m not blaming you for this mess, but you’re not going to stop me because you can’t find any other way of cleaning it up!”
“Let him go,” Kal said. “Even if we can’t help you, we’ll be with you, Madh. If you call on us, we’ll be there. We can’t directly interfere in things, but we can still advise.”
“As long as it isn’t telling me to escape to the Vale,” Madh said, not very graciously. “Now, send me to my sister.”
“So be it,” Niya’s voice was quiet and resigned. “There’s nothing more we can do now.”
The Deliverance of Dell
The village of Dell lay quiet in the late morning sun. It was going to be noon and it seemed that the inhabitants had chosen to stay indoors rather than risk the heat of the day. The leader of the small group of soldiers paused before entering, wondering at the complete silence that reigned there. He was a swarthy middle-aged man of mild aspect. He was tall, and the lower part of his face was covered by a luxuriant beard. His eyes were small, and shrewd. He noticed that there was no smoke coming from any of the chimneys. He swore softly. It seemed that they had been spotted and that the villagers had left the village.
He turned to his men. “They have deserted the village. Prelk, Sord, you will go inside and search the village to be certain. Then we'll move to the woods. They couldn't have gone far.”
The two soldiers went to the village. Everywhere there were signs of hasty departure. Half eaten food, dishes not washed, cold food on the stoves, clothes strewn on the floor, doors not locked- wherever they looked, they could see that the people must have stopped whatever they were doing and just walked out. They searched from one end of the village to the other, thoroughly, methodically, but there was no sign of any people anywhere.
"Let's move to the forest." The leader said. "Spread out and look for them. Stay in the fringes, do not go deep. It is rumoured there are Vriks in the forest. Lord Semil would be displeased if we lost any men this expedition."
"What if the villagers have gone deep?"
"That's their lookout. We don't go deep. If we can't find them, we set fire to their village. Then we lure Syamin's men into the trap meant for them."
They spread out and searched the forest borders with no luck, but they found some tracks that indicated that the villagers had gone deep.
"We don't follow them in," The leader said. "No unnecessary risks, Lord Semil said."
"But Geeot, won't he be upset if the villagers survived?" Prelk asked.
"He said the villagers were not to be harmed unless they resist. Besides, he's more likely to be upset if we fail in our mission."
“Do you think there are Vriks here, Geeot?” Sord asked in a hushed whisper.
Geeot was an experienced man, but he was still not familiar with the terrain in this area. “I don’t know,” He said. “I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never seen one. There’s a rumour that... that Lord Semil was attacked by Vriks once, when the war first started. It is said he tried to march his army through the forest, to ambush Lord Kaylas’ army. He barely escaped with his life, his left arm was nearly cut off, and no one else survived.” He paused. “We don’t go deep.”
“Where did this happen?” Maltern asked.
“It’s said to be a bit towards the north, but you know what they say, all forests are one forest and Nadais created the Vrik to guard the forest.” Geeot replied.
“Just as he created the Nakra to guard the ocean, and the Grut to guard the air. Yeah, I’ve heard that tale,” Prelk said. “It’s just a myth, if you ask me. I mean maybe Vriks are real, but Nakras and Gruts?”
“Nakras are real,” Geeot said. “I come from Feyorn, you know. It’s a fishing village. Every time we venture too far out into the ocean, the Nakras attack.”
“What does it look like?” Maltern asked.
“Blacker than the blackest night,” Geeot said. “Long scaly body like a snake, but larger, much larger. It has a round golden head, with two large curved horns. It can crush a boat by coiling around it. Nothing can pierce its skin, they say pheyt can, but it’s not possible for fishermen to get any, and the head... they say nothing can hurt the head. It has a small mouth, but with sharp teeth that can cut a man in half with one snap of its strong jaws.”
“Are they like the Vriks too? Are they loners?” Sord asked.
“Nakras move in groups,” Geeot said.
“But they’re found only in oceans, right?” Maltern’s voice was shaking slightly.
Geeot shook his head. “They’re found in all water bodies, deep rivers and lakes, but of course the ones found in rivers and lakes aren’t as large as the ones we find in oceans, though they are large enough to crush a man to death.”
“There are spells to keep them away from boats,” Prelk said. “I’ve heard there are spells that could make them attack your enemy too.”
“That’s a load of crap,” Geeot said. “They say there are such spells for Vriks too, but I haven’t seen anyone tame a Vrik with a spell.”
They were moving into the forest as they were speaking, but they were not aware of the eyes that watched them. Layla and her small group were well hidden, and Layla could see that her plan for getting the men attacked by Vriks wasn’t going to work. The men appeared to have had strict orders regarding their mission, and their leader was obviously experienced. She could still lure them to the traps she had created. The risk was great since she and her small band were outnumbered and other than her, none of them knew how to fight or were armed, but if she didn't do anything, these men would lure Syamin's soldiers into a trap. That could only be bad for the people in Ceatin, especially the women.
Layla crouched down and whispered to Mren, one of the young men with her. “Pull that rope,”
Mren nodded, pulled and there was a rustling of leaves and the sound of something falling could be heard a few feet to the right of where the soldiers stood. Geeot was suddenly alert. It could be one of the villagers. Inexperienced people trying to hide in woods always gave themselves away. They never realised that even the slightest of movements could be heard. He gestured to two of his men, who went cautiously towards where they heard the sound.
Layla listened with bated breath and there was a muffled shout, a thudding sound and then silence. They had tripped the trap, and been caught in a cage covered by blankets that muffled sound. That trap had taken a lot of time to set, but it prevented others from going to their aid since they couldn't know what had happened to them. Layla strung her bow, and took aim, and fired a shot at a tree behind her, where a stout piece of wood hung strung up by a cord. Her arrow neatly severed the cord in two and the wood fell on to the back of another piece of wood which tripped a mechanism that fired arrows at the soldiers from another direction. That was the trap that took the most time, and the chances of the arrows hitting the soldiers were rare, but in the commotion, Layla managed to shoot a few arrows that hit their marks. The firing mechanism also prevented the soldiers from learning their correct position.
Geeot swore as he peered from behind a tree. He couldn’t understand how these simple villagers got bows and arrows. Their aims were off, of course, though a few lucky shots had found their marks.
“I think we better get back to the village,” he said to his men. “We can't afford to lose any more men.”
“But-” The men started protesting. They didn’t want to run away. Their blood was hot and they wanted to battle, to punish these insignificant villagers. Geeot could understand that, but he knew they had to be sensible here. Their purpose was different. They had a mission, and it had to do with Syamin's soldiers rather than the villagers. They slowly and cautiously rose, formed four circles with their shields out and started moving back towards the village. Layla bent down to pull another string that suddenly grew taut, catching some of the men on their knees, making them fall on to their fellows. One of the circles was broken, and there was some pandemonium which Layla used to run to another side, firing arrows as she ran.
The men were snarling in anger, but now they could hear another sound in the distance. It was the sound of a horn. Syamin's men had come. Layla sighed in relief as she used the men's distraction to climb a tree. She could see Syamin’s banner—a great peak with a white cloud circling it, against a green backdrop—flying in the wind, and she slumped in relief. Geeot's men regrouped themselves and started running towards the village.
The Armies of Rhenon
Mylwin was feeling his shoulder throb slightly by the time the gates of Rhenon came into view. Pelmeya had transported him from beyond Lykos to just beyond the gates of Rhenon, but the ride to Lykos had been fatiguing. Mylwin was tasked with bringing the armies from Rhenon to defend Mirrel. A rueful smile appeared on his face as he thought of Syamin's visit to Lady Myra when he had told them Semil was about to attack Mirrel and that he needed their help.
Lady Myra had given him a disdainful look before asking, “What help can a prisoner offer?”
Syamin had grinned at her, not at all discomposed as he had said. “Semil has sent some small forces to attack the villages that lie on the outskirts. I'm taking some men and going to their aid. I need you, my Lady, to take charge of the armies here, with Vasry as your second-in-command while I'm gone. It’s not likely that Semil's armies will reach Mirrel before I return, but in case they do, you'll be in charge not only of defending the city, but of ensuring the safety of the populace.”
“Syamin!” Lady Myra had exclaimed, all haughtiness and formalities forgotten. “You can't be serious!”
“I am.”
“But... Syamin, this is no exercise! This is your city!”
“I know,” he had said. “And I've full faith in you.”
“Do we have enough men?”
“Hopefully, once Mylwin goes to Rhenon and comes back with the armies there.”
“You want me to go?” He had asked, more outraged than surprised.
Syamin had nodded. “It has to be you or Miran, and I prefer Miran to be near Myra.”
Mylwin had wanted to protest, but Pelmeya had intervened asking, “Why Mylwin, my Lord? Why not one of your own men?”
“Because I want someone those men will follow,” Syamin had said.
“Mylwin shall go,” Lady Myra had said. “Those armies could make a difference,” she had paused. “What are you not telling us, Syamin?”
Syamin had looked grave. “Semil has sent almost his entire force against Mirrel, my Lady.” he paused. “And regardless of all that I said, if you wish to leave Mirrel, I can arrange to have you and your men sent back to Rhenon.”
Lady Myra had shaken her head. “We thank you for the offer, but I think we'll stay. You protected my city, my people. This is my chance to return the favour.”
Syamin had bowed. “Thank you, my Lady.” He had then turned to Pelmeya. “My lady, can you transport Mylwin to Rhenon?”
“I think it'd be better if I transport him to just before the gates,” she had said. “So that they can see him coming.”
Syamin had smiled. “You're right, of course.”
He had bowed to them, and had left, and Mylwin had run after him.
“Wait, Lord Syamin!”
Syamin had stopped and turned around. “Yes?”
“If Semil is sending his entire force against Mirrel, the armies of Rhenon might not be enough. We'll need to leave enough people to defend Rhenon and the rest of Lady Myra's provinces in case of any attack from the slavers or bandits.”
“I know,” Syamin had said. “Don't worry. I've sent Radik to my foster-brother. He'll be sending his armies too.”
“The foster-brother, whom I remind you of? He has armies?”
“Yes, to both,” Syamin had smiled as he put a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you for doing this. I know I don’t deserve this.”
“Syamin? Why Lady Myra? Why not Vasry?”
“Because Myra is more intelligent, and against Semil, that'll be required.”
Mylwin was still confused as he thought back to that day. Syamin had left the same afternoon, and he too had left the next day, leaving Lady Myra and Vasry to make plans. He wondered what was so important that Syamin had to go himself to deal with Semil's forces, leaving the defence of his city to others. Of course, Vasry was his general and Lady Myra his student, so it wasn’t as if he couldn’t trust them, but it was still a big risk. He was probably confident that Semil wouldn’t reach them before he returned.
It was Bale who saw Mylwin first, and who ran to open the gates. Mylwin rode to the captain in charge of the city. Nyolin was a bulky man of medium height with a gruff voice and a rough manner of speaking. He had joined the army under lady Myra, but had been trained by Syamin in the guise of Lyam and was probably more loyal to him than to lady Myra. He read the scroll Mylwin had brought and listened to his account in silence.
“He says we are to leave behind enough men to defend Rhenon and its provinces,” he said. “And I'm to stay behind to be in charge of them.” He fixed Mylwin with a piercing glance. “You're going to lead the forces to Mirrel. Here,” Nyolin handed over a smaller sealed scroll to him. “This is for you. Your instructions, I should presume.”
Mylwin opened the scroll with a frown. This was beyond his wildest dreams. He had always wanted to be a captain—who didn't—but he had not expected it to be in this manner. The scroll simply said. “Don't forget any of my lessons.”
Mylwin grinned. It was just like Syamin to say something like that. He turned to Nyolin. “How do we go about dividing the army?”
“Don't worry about that,” Nyolin waved his hand. “The greater part will be coming with you, of course. This city is easier to defend, as Lord Lyam already showed us. You'll need the men. I took the liberty of keeping them ready when reports came in that Semil was moving his men in small chunks through lady Myra's lands. We'll go meet them now, and I've put Bale with you. Edd is staying back, lady Myra’s orders.”
“Thank you,” Mylwin said gratefully. “I really appreciate what you are doing.”
“I figured it's what Lord Lyam would want, and I hope you won't disappoint him.”
“I won't,” Mylwin said, smiling. He was feeling happy, even though he realised that the armies didn't yet know that Lyam was Syamin. He knew the situation was serious and that he might not even survive this coming battle, but none of that mattered. He was going to lead the men to Mirrel. He was going to be in charge of them. He sobered then. He was responsible for their lives now, and he had to ensure that they would run no unnecessary risks.
“Don't forget any of my lessons,” Syamin seemed to speak to him.
“I won't,” he spoke aloud as he followed Nyolin to where his men waited. His men! It felt so good to say that.
