Death Rises Page 10

  The man’s horse plodded on ever northwards until they reached the pass known as Reach Pass, the only valley that cut completely through the Great Mountains at its narrowest point where it met the Glass Mountains. The man pushed back his hood and looked over his shoulder. From here he could not see the outpost as a thick mist had rolled in. He pushed on. Shortly, he reached the wall and gate that the Rhaurns had built across the narrow valley thousands of years earlier. Very little snow had fallen here, but the ground was frozen and crisp. The man approached the dark grey wall that stood about twelve feet high and five feet thick. Over the centuries the wall had been repaired countless times, but the lower parts were still the original stonework. At this point the pass was a V-shaped valley with very steep slopes extending high into the range so the wall was not too long, thus easily defendable. Guards were permanently stationed at the wall and the traveller was stopped at the gate by one of four men on duty. He noticed the other three guards were huddled together in a small, grey-stoned gatehouse keeping out of the bitterly cold wind. House is the wrong description, thought the man. It was a very small, single stone room with a small hearth built beside the gate. Their horses were tethered to the south of the building, under a lean-to built against the wall with the hearth for warmth.

  A guard stopped the man by raising his gloved hand. “State your business.”

  The traveller dismounted from his gelding and smiled warmly at the guard. “I have some family business to attend to just north of the Great Mountains.”

  “Do you have a pass?”

  “A pass?” asked the man.

  “All travellers through Reach Pass should obtain a pass with the baron’s seal, so they can re-enter the Kingdom without any problems.”

  The traveller reached into his saddlebag, produced a parchment, and handed it to the guard. The soldier studied the parchment, then gazed up at the traveller. He looked at the parchment again, then turned and walked into the building. The traveller assumed the guard would show the document to his senior officer. A different soldier exited the gatehouse and walked to the traveller.

  “We are not used to seeing such documents, sir,” explained the guard.

  “Not a problem, it’s good to see that your man is so scrupulous.”

  “Thank you, sir. How long will you remain in the Rafftonia?”

  “No more than a couple of weeks, I want to be back before the snows.”

  The soldier pushed open the iron-gate and beckoned the man through. “Do not stay too long sir, else you will have to spend the whole winter north of the mountains and I do not envy you that.”

  “I won’t,” replied the traveller, walking his horse through the gate and over a small walkway spanning a deep, wide defensive ditch. The man looked back when the guard closed the gate and studied the wall. From the south side, it was easy to reach the wall with many staircases taking soldiers up to the narrow rampart. The north side was different. A wide deep ditch dug in front of the wall made it twice the height. Attackers, charging the wall whilst manned, would suffer huge losses when they ran into or placed ramps to cross the ditch. The traveller scanned the side of the valley and soon concluded that they would be of no use. Walking his horse farther north, he stopped, turned, and faced the wall. With one hundred men on the wall, it could be held. But if enough men charged the wall the sheer number of attackers would—should—prove victorious. Turning back, the man mounted his chestnut and rode north, his mind visualising different attack strategies possible for taking the wall. The man decided on one option—a head-on attack.

  ***

  Jayson, a scout from Mandeville, had spent most of his soldiering life in the bleak cold of the Great Mountains. Not broad across the shoulders, life as a tracker and scout rather than a wielder of a sword or axe suited him. His one disappointment in life was falling sick during the final tests to become a legendary Royal Lancer scout. The rules stated a Rhaurn could only try up to the age of twenty-five. Jayson’s only try was at the age of twenty-four when he made the trials. He should have qualified. He was the best tracker that year, but sickness struck him on the last day and cost him dearly. Yet Jayson was not a man to mull over the past. The Baron of Mandeville had noticed Jayson’s skills during the trials and employed him while on his sick bed. Ten years had passed and Jayson had started to enjoy his life in the mountains being an advisor to the baron.

  Today, the scout travelled alone north of the Great Mountains. The Rhaurns did not usually travel this far north, but something nagged him. He kept close to the tree lines, his eyes searching furtively. Something worried the scout, but he did not know what. He had travelled through Reach Pass, turned east, and trekked for a further three days. On open ground, Jayson would be farther east, but he wanted to hide among the trees. He reached a hollow in the woodlands where he sheltered from the wind and decided to camp. In enemy territory, the scout made a cold camp and chewed on strips of dried beef. He looked up through the tree canopy and saw dark-bunching clouds obscure the moon. Leaving his horse, Jayson walked out of the hollow to a nearby tor where he could see over the rolling hills of Rafftonia. Reaching the hilltop, Jayson lay down on the damp, moss-covered rock and looked around. In the distance, to the east, he noticed a glow. The distinct orange glow radiated from many large campfires. Jayson’s mouth suddenly became dry and his breathing shallow. He slithered back to his horse and silently rode the animal to the east. When he got close to the camp, he dismounted and tethered his horse deep in nearby woodlands. Stealthily, Jayson left the safety of the trees and stalked up another hill overlooking the camp. His worst fears were realised . . .

  ***

  The traveller rode through Reach Pass, then turned east once beyond the northern exit. The man dismounted and walked his horse. He stood in his homeland and his heart leapt. It had been a long time since he had last been back. Only now did he realise how much he had missed it. Night fell across the land and the man camped. Lighting a small fire, he thought over the problem of the pass. He finally decided that sheer numbers would win the day for them. Then they would take Mandeville, before travelling south, on to Teldor and complete their conquest.

  ***

  Jayson gazed down into the camp—an army camp. The distinct features appeared obvious. A large picket where horses were tethered dominated the middle of the camp. Surrounding the pickets, a geometrically placed sea of brown tents. Thousands of tents, each bedding six or more men, covered the shallow valley. Between the tents, several cooking fires had been lit and men gathered around them. Jayson was too far away to hear any conversations, but the buzz from the camp filtered through the cold air. Jayson crept back down the hill, entered the woodlands, and gathered his horse. Immediately, the scout headed west, back towards Reach Pass.

  ***

  The traveller made good time the following day, but his horse was tired and lagging. This did not worry the traveller as he had time. He started thinking of future issues. The attack on the pass would have to be swift, surprising, and total. They did not have time for a long siege due to the possible closing weather. The traveller, lost in thought, did not see the man hidden in the tree line watching him pass.

  ***

  From his hiding place, Jayson watched the man pass. He had been lucky. The man had crested a hill just in front of the scout, giving him time to hide. Once the man passed, Jayson pushed his horse on towards the valley. Not stopping to rest during the night, he reached the pass early the next morning. White fog slowly rolled down the valley slopes, making visibility very poor. When he reached the gate, he shouted at the guards to open it for him. He passed through the gate and travelled swiftly towards Mandeville to make his report.

  Jayson reached the gates of Mandeville and walked his tired horse into the outpost. Inside the walls, the outpost began to wake to start a new day. People moving in the streets ignored the exhausted horseman, busying themselves with their early chores. Jayson headed straight for the main building in the centre of the outpost. The building
was the local baron’s home—the home of Baron Daviton. Jayson approached the house and a lackey helped him from the saddle. As soon as his feet hit the ground, his legs almost buckled underneath him. Jayson stretched his limbs and back, then walked up to the house. He knocked on the wooden door and waited patiently. A servant, an old man named Jermon, opened the door and squinted out into the wispy mist.

  “Yes?” snapped the old man, looking annoyed at being woken this early. He glared at the travel-stained man who stood before him.

  “It is I, Jayson. I need to speak with the baron urgently.”

  “He’s asleep and I will not disturb him,” said the old man, closing the door.

  Jayson wedged his foot in the door. He reached in and grabbed the old man by the collars of his house-robe.

  “Jermon, I have been riding non-stop for two days and nights. You tell the baron that Jayson has to report to him urgently. Tell him that I believe there is a force amassing north of Reach Pass. You tell the baron I’m here, and let me in so I can freshen up before I present myself to him.”

  The news shocked the old man and he nodded to the dishevelled tracker. Jermon took his weight off the door and allowed the man to enter. He showed the scout to the kitchen, then walked through the house to wake the baron.

  Jayson washed, and the cook, who was already awake making bread, gave the man some hot tisane and some toasted bread with honey. Jayson had just finished his small meal when Jermon entered the kitchen again.

  “He will see you in his study, sir,” said the servant more amiably.

  Jayson rose and followed the old man the short distance to the baron’s study. The old man knocked on the door and opened it for Jayson to enter.

  ***

  The weary traveller reached the Rafftons’ camp and was immediately taken to the councillor’s tent. The man entered the large tent and was warmly greeted. The councillor told the man to freshen up, then they would talk and share a meal together. The traveller left and a soldier escorted him to another tent. It was nearly as large as the councillor’s fabric rooms and inside servants rushed about preparing a bath for the man. The traveller soaked in the scented bath with flower petals floating in the steaming water. A servant washed his hair and poured warm clean water over him. The man rose from the bath and the servant wrapped him in warmed towels. After being dried, he got dressed in his military uniform, then walked back to the councillor’s tent. The traveller was shown into the tent and his entrance announced . . .

  “Councillor, it is General Conn.”

  ***

  Jayson did not wait for the baron to tell him to sit and sank wearily into a red-cushioned wooden chair. The baron, dressed in a thick green house robe, watched the man sit down, but did not voice his annoyance. Daviton was a small man, but very cunning and clever. He had amassed a fortune for himself from trading ventures with the Kharnacks, and in turn, the Kharnacks did not attack his outpost.

  The white-haired baron rose from his chair and looked out his study window at the waking outpost. “So, my friend, what is this news you have of a gathering army?”

  “Sir, I travelled into the Rafftonia, through Reach Pass, then headed east. About three days from the pass an army is camped, apparently waiting.”

  “Camped?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “It could just be training,” said the baron, turning from the window to face the scout, his face grim and set, but his eyes bright and alive.

  “I don’t think so, sir.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Sir, I have been to many training camps and they are formal, but the men are allowed some leniency. This camp was prepared with total authority. Whoever is in charge of the army is making no mistakes.”

  “How many men?”

  “I would estimate that there are ten to twelve thousand men in the camp.”

  “That many,” said Daviton, turning back to the window, thinking swiftly. “We will need help if they come this way.” The baron paused. “King Zane is calling men to march across the Steppes to help the Phadrine. He is camped north of Evlon.”

  “That means he could be here within five days.”

  “Yes, if we can get a message to him.” The baron turned to face the scout again. “Jayson, I need you to travel to our liege as you have seen the army. I know you are tired, but you are the only man I know who can make the journey swiftly. I will write a message to our liege for you to take.”

  Jayson rose and bowed to his baron. The slender man sat at his desk and pulled a fresh parchment. Jayson left the room to prepare for his journey to Evlon to see his king.

  ***

  General Conn sat opposite Councillor Rigden and smiled broadly. “It’s good to be back home.”

  “Yes, you have been a long time away from home.”

  “Too long,” commented Conn, studying the small councillor. Councillor Rigden was dressed in a purple silk shirt, deep blue, pleated woollen kilt, and calf-length soft leather boots. The two diners ate a meal of spicy meat with mashed sweet potatoes and thick dark gravy. The men drank watered red wine during the meal and just wine when the plates were being removed. The servants were dismissed, and left the two men to sit, discuss, and plan in privacy.

  “So, how was your stay in Teldor, my friend?”

  “I learned a lot about the Rhaurns and actually began to like a few of them. I even married a woman to maintain my cover.”

  “You did not mention that in your reports,” said the councillor suspiciously.

  “I thought you would have worried about me if I mentioned the marriage.”

  “What was she like?”

  “Soft,” said Conn, then he changed the subject, which did not go unnoticed by the councillor. “Zane, the king, is away from Teldor with his armies. Only a token force was left behind to protect the city. There should be no problem taking it.”

  “Will he be able to come to their aid?”

  “No, he will be too far across the Steppes to come back, and anyway he won’t hear about our invasion until after we’re sitting in his throne room at Teldor.”

  The councillor sipped his wine. “How soon do we march?”

  “I would say a couple of days. We need to ensure we travel through Reach Pass before the snows arrive. They’re late this year and that has worked in our favour. The omens are good and nothing should stop us.”

  “Do not be over-confident, my friend. The report you sent about this Zane pictures him as a great and cunning man. He should not be taken too lightly.”

  “My friend, he’s out of the picture. He won’t figure and there will be no need to alter our plans.”

  CHAPTER 5

  KING ZANE GATHERED his army around him in a camp north of Evlon. He had travelled to Ubert and paid his respects to the dead, especially Waid who he himself had put in charge of the outpost’s safety. Zane had been told of the atrocity at Ubert when he arrived at Thade’s home a few weeks earlier and was utterly gutted at the loss of a man he would have happily called a good soldier, a loyal Rhaurn, and a friend. Now, the Rhaurien king waited in his tent for the new count on numbers of men to come in. Bored from the constant pitter-patter of the rain on his canvas tent, Zane rose and walked out into the rain, using the water to smooth his pounding headache.

  Zane had been literally to Hell and back over the past couple of weeks. As part of a deception to trick the Dark One, he had emptied Teldor of citizens and waited outside the walls with a token force of horsemen to face the Dread. During the brief clash the Dark One, wielding the Blade of Yallas, cut Zane. Being a Child of the Light, Zane’s soul was slowly being ripped from his body, to be held in the dungeon of the Dark One’s home in Yallaz’oom for eternity. Near Thade’s home, Zane and his four friends, Dax, Thade, Tanas, and Rayth had been put into a death-trance by the magic-master Gan-Goran and sent to the Grey Path. There, with the help of Captain Jamie and his companies of axe-wielders, they had managed to travel to the Black Palace in Yallaz’oom and recover
their souls. Only Tanas had not returned with the other four. On his return, Zane had sent his mother, Queen Larene, together with Aurillia, his fiancé, Sasha his sister, and Cara to Teldor to plan his wedding.

  Before leaving Thade’s home, Gan-Goran had asked Zane, Dax, and Thade to join him outside the cave where Tanas remained in his death trance. Here the magic-master explained more of what had happened to the men and the Kingdom.

  “Before you go and face the Dark One, there are a couple of issues that I should bring to your attention. Please do not disturb me until I have finished. Firstly, you should know that the Dark One was once a normal man named Frazellon. He was born across the Endless Seas and travelled to the Rafftonia where he learned all there is to know about dark necromancy. Exactly how and where, I still do not know. Anyway, he returned to his homeland and somewhere somehow during his journey became the Dark One. What I have learned is that he led his countrymen, the Cecillians, and annihilated a race of people they called ‘barbarians.’ They wiped them out utterly, without mercy. Then he turned his countrymen against each other and they sadly killed themselves. He then travelled to Yallaz’oom where initially, I understand he created his four bodyguards. They all wear silver armour and are warriors with no peers. They are masters with all weapons and should not be taken lightly. There was one, the Dark One’s champion, who the Divine One somehow used to defeat him at Rhamagabora, Teldor.

  “Three of the four bodyguards are back with the Dark One now. Caution is the primary word you should be thinking when and if you face these men. Of the fourth, no one knows what has happened to him,” lied Gan-Goran, looking into the three men’s eyes. “As you know, the Dark One also created the Mines of Moranton and the Dread that are made up mostly of Talon Hunters and Shadows. However, there is part of the Dread only you have seen. They are huge warriors that ride dark horses born using necromancy. These powerful warriors are the Dark One’s elite and these creatures, the Caynians, you should seek to destroy first. Destroy them and the Dread can be defeated.