Brother, Betrayed Page 24

  “What news?” Syah questioned as the heavily breathing scout bowed before him.

  “A band of Dikartians have passed the eastern border. They travel this direction.”

  “Do they know of us?” the prince asked.

  “Tell the men to fortify the perimeter,” the general ordered to the group of knights waiting behind the scout.

  “I’m not sure, Prince Syah, but they were moving quickly. They were lightly armored and lightly burdened. They must be a raiding party,” the scout explained.

  “So why do they not travel north to Parmin, or south towards Shal? They would have no purpose to be traveling this uninhabited route, unless…”

  “We will tighten the perimeter of the camp, which will deter any attack from their raiders tonight. In the morning we can pursue them.”

  Syah turned to the general sharply. “What if they know we are here?”

  The general reflected a moment then answered, “Even if they did, no raiding party would be so bold as to attack a full squadron of Arnith’s soldiers.”

  “And what if it’s more than a raiding party?”

  “Sir, I only saw a band of ten or twenty.”

  Syah gazed out at the camp of soldiers and knights, livening into action. “The forerunners. They could have an entire league of fighters behind them. Why else would they be moving this direction? The only target beyond us would be Anteria.”

  The soldiers around the prince all breathed uncomfortably. “No Dikartian force would dare attack the capital,” the general spoke for them.

  “Which means they only dare to attack us. They plan to ambush us,” Syah said as he moved his gaze to the darkening forest beyond the light of their fires. “Tell the men to abandon the camp.”

  “But sir, there is no indication…”

  “Do it quickly. We are too vulnerable in the open, they can easily surround us.” The general and knights began to hear him. “Give orders. The soldiers will disperse into the darkness of the forest and wait there. If I am wrong then we will only be losing a short time of rest before we all sleep and you can jest at me afterward. But if I am right and the Dikartians have a large enough force to attack us, then out maneuvering them could save many Arnithian lives tonight. Set the soldiers in a wide perimeter. Tell them to remain still, and quietly attack anything that passes them.” Seeing that he had their complete attention, Syah drew his sword and stepped to the fire. “We will let the Dikartian ambushers sneak past us, then on two blasts of the king’s horn we will counter their attack, and catch them in their own trap.”

  The general gave a quiet breath, but then nodded. “Very well, if they do plan to attack us, they will be in for a surprise. Stoke the fires and then we follow the prince’s plan. Two knights will guard him on the western edge of the camp.”

  The prince watched the knights and soldiers begin their tasks. “Hurry,” he ordered, “they could be upon us soon.”

  An impenetrable black surrounded them, aside from the stray glimpse of star beyond the canopy above, and the firelight from their deserted camp, a flame to beckon the moth. The silence and stillness of the forest caused more anxiety than a thousand crackling footsteps over the brush would have caused. He could feel the tension between him and the knights. They wanted to communicate their doubts about a pending attack, but did not speak them out of respect. Still they were vigilant, watching and listening as much as he was. It is better to be cautious, he told the scolding voices in his head and accusations of unwarranted paranoia.

  Then his thoughts were interrupted by a noise, or a feeling, from the forest beside them. The soldiers sensed it as well, Syah realized, as they drew their swords and turned in silence. It was the muffled sound of a struggle nearby, the feeling of dread as life struggled for dominance and survival. The soft sounds and their terrible purpose faded, but their attention was drawn away, to shadows flickering over the fires from their deserted camp. Distasteful fulfillment overcame Syah as he realized he was right. They were here. The shadows moving toward their camp were the would-be midnight assassins.

  Syah looked over to the knight in the forest’s darkness and nodded. The knight removed a curved horn from his shoulder and then blew two lingering blasts that were the voice of a forest giant in the night. The prince could hear a unison shift of forest through the distance. He looked back to the hint of campfire light through the brush. “Come,” he ordered and straightened, “let’s join them.”

  “Wait,” one of the knights said as his arm caught the prince, “it is safer to stay here.”

  Syah stepped back, recognizing the mannerisms but dismissing them impatiently. “The others could use our help. We should…”

  “It is our duty to protect you, Prince Syah. You have done enough. We will wait until the victor is determined.”

  “Your duty is to protect Anteria, and you can do that better where your enemy now engages your comrades.”

  “Hush, listen,” the other knight ordered as they turned back to the camp. Sounds of battle began from the clearing: shouting and clamor, the sounds of the intruders scrambling for a defensive stance. The young prince relinquished the desire to join the fight, sensing that which had already begun without him would finish the same. He did not know if he could will himself to face it now. And so the prince waited, his guardians diminishing their watch towards him as they realized he no longer desired to enter the danger of the battle before them.

  The sounds of combat soon faded and were replaced by a silence of anticipation. Then it was relief when they heard the ‘All’s well’ call from the camp. The knights then let the prince pass and begin to lead their return. Syah nervously anticipated the unfamiliar carnage, but when they came into sight he saw Arnith’s soldiers had already begun to remove the fallen enemies. None of his soldiers, he noted, were counted among them.

  “How many were there?” the prince asked a soldier passing them.

  “Thirty, thirty-five,” he answered, pausing to report.

  “Where is the general?” Syah asked next, and saw him as the soldier turned and motioned to the other side of the camp.

  “He is with the captured Dikartians,” the soldier answered. Syah noticed the group of defeated Dikartian soldiers on their knees, with Arnith soldiers and swords drawn above them. “Is that all sir?”

  “Yes, continue,” Syah answered and started for the general. He was aware of the knights still keeping a close sentry over him but forgave them of their cautiousness as he approached the prisoners.

  The general was standing over the prisoners, appearing to be deciding his next action. He turned when he noticed the soldiers over the prisoners react to the prince’s approach.

  “How many casualties were there?” Syah asked before the general could comment on his prediction.

  “Few, our soldiers only had minor injuries. It would have been much worse if these Dikartian scum had been allowed to sneak into the camp undetected.”

  Syah nodded, looking to the angry but subdued captives before him. He stepped up to them and studied their armor, demeanor, and the glimmering sweat of their cheeks, trying to distinguish which of them was the superior.

  “Why did you attack us?” the prince demanded, walking in front of them. A few of them shifted but none replied.

  “You were asked a question,” one of the soldiers warned as he nudged the prisoner in front of him with his knee. The prisoner muttered something in the brisk, subjunctive language of the Dikartians. Another prisoner near the general replied.

  “Speak in the common tongue,” the general growled as he motioned to the prisoner warningly.

  “I don’t think he can,” the prince said after a moment as he approached the captive. He stood above him leaning down towards him. The knights and soldiers tensed as Syah reached to touch him, but soldier behind the prisoner quieted their fear, and the spark that lit in the rebel’s eye, as he laid his sword at the prisoner’s neck. Syah grabbed the prisoner’s face and turned it, the man visibly forcing h
imself to remain still.

  “You see,” the prince said when he exposed an intricate tattoo of black curves and foreign signs splayed across his neck and down his back, out of sight. “He is of their warrior cast. He has not been taught anything of languages, only combat.” Syah stepped back before his soldiers forced him to.

  “Ignore him, he is one of their king’s bastard sons,” another of the prisoners muttered in their foreign tongue and was whacked for it.

  Syah let the commotion settle and then replied, “Being the king’s son may be in your good fortune.” The prisoners all looked to him in surprise, and his men in concern that they did not understand the conversation he now held with their enemy. “For I may be the only one who will allow you to leave here alive.”

  “Curse this Arnithian thwart for profaning our sacred Dikartian words!” one of the prisoners shouted and began to stand, but a sword’s punishing hilt silenced him as he fell to the ground unconscious. Again Syah waited as the other prisoners tensed and then looked back to him.

  “I may spare your lives if you tell me your mission. Why were you heading east through the Romain forest?”

  “We would rather die than betray our blood oath,” another prisoner stated, calmer than the former but still tempting the sword of the soldier behind him.

  “Wait,” Syah ordered and saw the soldier hold as he moved to the captive. He stared into the man’s hot, clear eyes and tried to read his thoughts from their dark shades. “What were your orders?” the prince asked with deliberate words. The captive made no response, aside from raising his head and tightening his jaw with defiance.

  “It’s no use, sir,” the general said from beside him, “they won’t cooperate.”

  The general stopped as the prince drew his sword. The prisoner barely flinched as Syah threatened the sword above his chest. “Speak, or you will die,” the prince warned. “Are there more Dikartian troops moving west? Where is your target?”

  “I am proud to die. Plunge your blade into me. You don’t have red enough blood to kill me yourself.”

  The prince paused, contemplating his words. “Perhaps you’re right,” Syah told him, and watched the man’s eyes narrow. “But my men will obey my command. I will tell them to spare you, and your comrades, if you tell me your purpose here.”

  “You and your men do not have long in this world,” the man told him in an angry tone, his face snarling.

  “What?” the prince demanded. The captive tightened, obviously repealing his threat. “So,” the prince surmised from his silence, “you have betrayed them still. As agreed, I will release you.” Syah released the man from the point of his sword and stepped back from the line of kneeling prisoners. “Brand them,” the prince ordered his men, “I have all I need.”

  “Brand them, sir?”

  “Two deep cuts crossing on the shoulder. The mark of a traitor.” Syah looked down to the prisoner who threatened him. “Your wounds will be light,” the prince told them in their tongue as he watched his soldiers draw back their swords, “and you will return to your people unharmed, if you dare. But if you are ever spotted within Arnith lands forthwith, your death with come swift and unmerciful.” The soldiers found their targets on the prisoners’ arms and the prince and the general watched them gasp and flinch, without an attempt to dodge or flee. “You are now marked as traitors, and you will be unwelcome in any land,” Syah said as the soldiers delivered the second stroke. “Release and escort them deep into the woods. They will not dare return.” His men nodded to his commands and forced the prisoners to stand with a firm and swift jerk to their arms. The knights left to help escort them out of the camp. Syah was left with the general watching their removal.

  “What did he say to you, sir?” the general asked him.

  “We must leave as soon as they are out of sight,” Syah answered softly, letting his concern come to his face.

  The general turned to him. “What worries you, Prince Syah? Your plan thwarted their attack and the camp is secure.”

  The prince shook his head. “I believe the entire Dikartian army is preparing to attack.”

  Concern and alarm disrupted the general before he could reply. “In all of the cycles that we have been engaged in war, the Dikartians have never attempted a full assault.”

  “No, but now when our kingdom is occupied with another war they may have calculated our vulnerabilities.”

  “What reason would you have to believe this, Syah? This attack could have simply been a misfit band of passing raiders, figuring our resting camp to be an easy target.”

  “It was what they divulged when I interrogated them. They seemed confident in their imminent revenge. They spoke as I would have… if I knew my army was short to arrive. The Dikartian army, hearing of us, could have sent this band of soldiers to dispatch us before we could warn the capital of the coming danger.”

  “Prince Syah, even if…”

  “If I’m correct, there is no time to discuss it. We must gather the men and leave at once to fortify the capital. Imagine it, general, that every brother, son, and cousin of every Dikartian you have seen fall in the battles you have fought as a soldier of Arnith were to attack Anteria. Those alone would be enough to overwhelm the walls of the city and overtake the castle.”

  The general contemplated the prince’s words.

  “And even if I’m wrong,” Syah said as he looked away from the prisoners and soldiers disappearing into the darkness of the forest, “it would be better to err out of caution than blind arrogance. Returning to the castle will do no harm if there is no impending attack.”

  “Very well sire, if you feel we must.”

  “I do.”

  “I will prepare the men.”

  Syah nodded. “And send some scouts to follow our released captives. Even though they have been humiliated, if there is a force about to attack then they will be duty-bound to report their failure. Then the scouts can confirm or refute my suspicions.”

  “Yes sir,” the general bowed and left him. Syah, alone, looked back to where the prisoners had disappeared into the night, and was reminded of the captive’s dark angry eyes, as impenetrable as the forest but with potential of danger.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  BATTLE OF TRIBES

  “A battle is fluid, my son. We do not plan for a single moment, but a series of possible events.”

  “Yes Father,” Oman answered.

  “Commander Lenpece, you will lead the majority of our mounted troops behind the Marrian army and wait until we engage them. Then you will herd them towards the hills, where Oman will be waiting with a company of fighters and archers. We will keep some cavalry with the main force in case they decide to send archers to the hills to the west. And I will await them, blocking their way to Bafonville. They will perceive us as a possible victory, a fair fight, and perhaps they will grow spine enough to engage us in open battle.”

  Oman watched his men gather around him as the king left, awaiting orders. The king looked back to him after mounting. “Shall the skies shine on our victory today,” he said and tugged on the reins.

  “We shall let the king and his army gain ground. When the Marrians see him they will slow their advance. We desire our presence to be secret, so we will approach with care, and gain the opposite side of the hill, out of sight. It will be imperative that they see the king’s army first and decide to match them. We will attack at the opportune moment, giving their army a chance to pass us. When the king’s army tears them down and they retreat, they will be exposed to our attack from the hill. Mount, we will ride until we can see the eastern hills in the distance. Tell the archers to follow behind us. Be wary of enemy scouts crossing the area.” The prince mounted and was followed by his host of soldiers and knights.

  Mounted and riding swiftly the prince kept a close vigil on the men and the landscape around them. Tainted relief tempted him as he rode and thought about his offer to lead these men to the Dikartian border, about his desire to prove himself as
a worthy leader.

  “Prince Syah, a messenger approaches,” a knight told him and he slowed his horse. The whole company of soldiers stalled to hear the news. They, like him, were all wondering if his worries were founded.

  “Prince,” the scout said, bowing as he slowed before him. “Forgive me, but there has been no news from the scouts we sent to follow the prisoners.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They never arrived at the meeting point we arranged. We feared they were discovered when they were overdue. One of us remained at the site and I rode to inform you. Sir, I don’t believe they are coming.”

  Syah’s eyes narrowed. “Send some men to the north of here, have them journey at an angle back towards Dikartia. We must know for sure if we are being pursued, and if the Dikartians intend to attack the capital.”

  “Yes sir,” the messenger replied and turned back to the east, followed by several soldiers.

  “And what if there still is no word from them?” one of the knights asked from beside him.

  “Then we prepare for the worst,” Syah answered and resumed his course towards the capital. “Come, we must make haste.”

  “Do they seem to be about to retreat?” Oman asked as he approached the top of the hill with the scout, crouching to avoid being seen.

  “They have not moved since the king blocked their advance. Neither they nor the king have signaled to parlay.”

  “No,” Oman said as he gained the summit and looked down to the broad valley below, “Father said that he would not bother with offering them a surrender. He wants them eliminated as a threat, not imprisoned. Besides, the Marrians are probably too uncivilized to adhere to the laws of diplomacy.” The prince paused, observing the two armies occupying the expanse below them. He saw the king’s army to the south, organized into a square formation, with the Arnithian heavy soldiers in front with thick shields and slow weapons, blockading against enemy advance or attack. He saw the enemy army, a loosely organized group of fighters, yet their numbers matched the king’s. As the prince was studying them, he noticed the signal from his father’s side, and the front lines came to attention and began to advance. The enemy quickly grouped, and Oman tried to make out their leaders.