Chapter Fourteen

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Despite repeated questioning by the various members of their group, he’s still unable to recall anything but a vague feeling of unease about the dream of the night before. Finally he just quits trying.

It doesn’t take them long to pack everything and be on their way shortly after sunrise. James continues checking his mirror frequently for any forces which may be heading in their direction. The force behind them that had trailed them throughout the day before continues to keep a discreet distance behind them. From what the mirror shows, their number has swelled dramatically through the night. Their plan must be to crush Black Hawk between their force and those waiting for them at Al-Zynn.

James scrolls the mirror as far south as he can and finds units moving in the general direction of Al-Zynn. It appears all is going as planned, the Empire believes they intend to sack Al-Zynn and are moving every available unit there.

They keep a moderate pace, neither rushing nor being too slow. As best they can, they try to maintain a course that will take them a little west of Al-Zynn rather than directly toward it. If the Empire realizes they are not entirely on a straight heading, with any luck they will simply write if off as they don’t know the exact way.

By late afternoon, James has been able to acquire Al-Zynn in his mirror. The flurry of activity surrounding the town shows that they believe an attack is imminent. Troops are moving toward it from all directions, including a sizeable force from the direction of Korazan.

“Hope that’s the majority of the garrison at Korazan,” Illan says when James informs him what is transpiring there.

“With any luck, they won’t realize what we are up to until it’s too late,” replies James.

“When they do,” comments Jiron, “everything at Al-Zynn will be sent after us. They aren’t likely to allow us much time at Korazan for what we intend.”

Nodding, Illan says, “That’s why we are only hitting the slaver’s compound, killing all the slavers and freeing the slaves. Those who wish to come with us we’ll arm with the weapons found at the compound.”

“Can’t imagine anyone wishing to remain behind,” states James. “They would only be made slaves once more.”

“Never know,” Illan replies.

All day long there are no further opportunities for attack. The caravans and patrols must have been diverted to prevent them from falling to them as they head south. By early evening, it’s determined that Al-Zynn is a little over four hours away. Scouts have reached the city and reported back that breastworks are being dug between where their force now lies and the walls of Al-Zynn.

James turns to Illan and asks, “From their perspective, would it seem reasonable for us to stop here, seeing as how our scouts have returned and reported what they saw at Al-Zynn?”

“Yes it would,” he replies. “Now that we ‘know’ what we are up against, it would be reasonable for us to stop and assess the situation.”

“Very well,” James says. He checks his mirror for hostiles in the area and finds more units stationed in and around the town of Al-Zynn than previous. To the east and west of their position is fairly clear, the only units he discovers are smaller bands on their way to reinforce the town. The force that’s been following them remains at the same distance they’ve been since the chase began.

“Looks like we may be okay until the morning,” he tells Illan as he puts his mirror away.

“By then it will be too late for them to do anything,” Illan replies. Raising his voice, he hollers out to the rest of the riders following along behind, “Bring ‘em to a halt! We stop here tonight.”

As Devin begins to take his tent down from the pack horse to set it up, James tells him not to bother. “No tent tonight,” he tells him. Lowering his voice he adds, “We’re not going to be here all that long.”

“Yes, sir,” he says.

They get fires going and cooks begin working on dinner. Bedrolls are laid out nearby and it isn’t long before everyone has had a quick meal. Other than the sentries and the scouts riding the perimeter, everyone turns in early, well before the setting of the sun.

Before climbing into his bedroll, James checks the status of the various forces before and behind them. The one behind has stopped and made camp as well, the forces by Al-Zynn still look to be on alert and ready. He grins as he puts the mirror away and then lies down to sleep.

It isn’t long before a tired looking Devin awakens him. “Illan said it was time,” he says. When he sees James stirring and then gives him a nod, he gets up and begins to prepare James’ horse for travel.

With eyes longing to close after such a short rest, James sits on his bedroll as he tries to come completely awake. The camp is a flurry of activity as everyone readies themselves for travel. Despite the hustle and bustle there is relatively little noise as they ready for a quick push to the west to take the enemy by surprise. If they can get away without anyone noticing, by the time sunrise comes they’ll be many miles away before the enemy realizes what happened.

Earlier, Ceadric had some of his men comb the countryside surrounding the camp in an attempt to locate any of the enemy who may be keeping an eye on them and take them out. A few men with fast horses will remain to keep the campfires lit and to give the overall appearance that they are still here.

Despite the number of men and horses being prepared for travel, the noise level remains subdued. Unless an enemy scout is close, they may not notice anything out of the ordinary. The number of campfires they usually have were reduced by two thirds to lower the light level in the camp in the hopes of keeping their move more secret.

Illan appears out of the dark and walks toward him. “We will be ready to ride shortly,” he says as he comes to a stop near him.

“Any sign of enemy scouts?” James asks as he gets to his feet. Once up, Devin comes and collects his bedroll to secure it behind his saddle.

“Ceadric reported that a half dozen or so were taken out earlier,” he replies. “He thinks they got them all.”

“Let’s hope so,” James states. Glancing around the camp, he sees indistinct shadows moving about as the men make ready to ride. A horse rides close and Delia comes to a halt before him.

“Our folks are ready,” she tells him then glances over to where Devin is finishing securing his bedroll. “That is, when he has your equipment stored.”

“Good,” he comments with a nod. Terrance appears with a plate of rations which he takes with a ‘Thank you’ and commences to eat. To Illan he asks, “How far is it to Korazan?”

“A day or so,” he says. “Are you sure you still want to go through with your plan?”

Nodding while chewing a mouthful of food, James then swallows and says, “Yes. A nation the size of the Empire can lose soldiers and hardly bat an eye. But you mess with its economy and they’ll feel it.”

“As you will,” replies Illan and then his attention is taken by the approach of two of Ceadric’s men.

Finishing his meal, James walks over to one of the campfires set away from the tents where some of those from The Ranch are congregating while they await the order to get underway. Terrance is one and he hands his empty plate back to him.

Stig looks up at his approach and grins. “Is it time for a little payback?” He has his mace in one hand while absentmindedly thumping it in the palm of the other.

Of all those associated with James on this venture, only the pit fighters whom he had bought out of slavery are completely in favor of taking out the slaver compound. The indignity and abuse they endured while in their hands demands retribution.

“Shouldn’t be too much longer,” he replies. They stand there sharing the fire until the word comes a few short minutes later that all are ready. Devin approaches him with his horse in tow and holds the reins while he mounts. Once mounted, James begins moving toward where he knows Illan will ride at the head of the column.

He doesn’t get very far before the force begins to move away from the campfires still burning in the dark without a word. James glances back to the men left behind to maintain the illusion they are still there as they walk to and fro in the fire’s light. Returning his attention back to the fore, he quickly moves through the riders to join Illan and Brother Willim in the lead. The rest of the Hand of Asran rides further back in the column with the others.

As the campfires disappear further into the distance behind them, his anxiety peaks as he waits for any indication the move has been found out. But as minute after minute passes uneventfully, he begins to relax.

A force this size doesn’t exactly move silently and the noise from the horse’s hooves seems to reverberate throughout the night. The tack on the horses prone to jingling has been muffled with cloth to prevent it from making any sound.

They ride in silence for several hours, scouts reporting in periodically only to report that no other forces have been sighted ahead of them. When the sky begins to lighten and still no sight of the enemy has been made, James realizes they may have just pulled it off. By now, their pullout had to have been detected by the enemy. The enemy scouts that were posted around their encampment will not be reporting back in and by now others have most likely been sent to investigate. The men who were left behind to make it appear they hadn’t left were to leave and race to catch up when the sky first began to lighten.

“Should be to Korazan by early tomorrow if we keep a steady pace,” Illan says, breaking the silence. He glances to where James is riding beside him and asks, “Can you check for hostiles?”

“Sure, but they’ll know where we are,” he replies.

Shrugging, Illan says, “Doesn’t matter much now. They know we didn’t go north or south, east would be pointless, so they’re going to send everything this way. Probably will try to crush us quickly with all they have.”

“Alright,” agrees James and then reaches for his mirror.

“Scouts say there’s a road ahead of us a mile or two running north and south,” he says as James gets his mirror into position.

Nodding, James gazes into the mirror and lets the magic flow. The image clarifies and he sees their force from a bird’s eye view. Scrolling the image, he first looks to the west to see what’s ahead. It doesn’t take long to find the road that the scouts reported. “There’s traffic upon it,” he says to Illan. “Regular people and a few caravans.” Glancing to Illan he says, “I don’t think they were expecting us to move this way.”

With a grin, Illan replies, “Good.”

Returning his gaze to the mirror, he scrolls the image still further. As the image moves further from his position, the drain of magic increases. “Doesn’t look like anything ahead of us will present much of a problem,” he says. “There are a few forces on the move but nothing we can’t handle.”

Moving the image, he begins to scan clockwise. To the north rides a band of horsemen heading in their direction, looks to be two score doubtful if they would even try anything against so overwhelming an army. About an hour behind them to the east he finds those riders they left behind at the camp riding hard to catch up. Two to three hours behind them follows the force from Al-Zynn, easily twice the number of those riding with James. The force is entirely made up of cavalry, three brown robes ride with them.

“Our riders made it safely away,” he tells Illan. “They’re about an hour behind us.”

“That’s good news,” he replies.

From behind, Ceadric asks, “What about the force from Al-Zynn and the one that was following us?”

“The army from Al-Zynn rides several hours behind our men, and they’re twice our number with three brown robes,” he says as he scrolls the image to locate the force that had been trailing them. “The others are moving to join with them.”

“Three mages?” Brother Willim asks.

Nodding, James turns his gaze to him and says, “Three.”

“That will make things interesting,” he says.

“Where do they get them all?” James asks as he returns his gaze to the mirror to check to the south.

“They periodically test children and those who show an inclination or talent toward magic are taken to their School of the Arcane,” explains Illan. “From what we understand, not many make it through the training process.”

“I take it that it’s not exactly a voluntary choice?” he asks. The south looks fairly clear of any immediate threat so he returns his mirror to his pack.

“Actually, most desire the prestige and honor that goes with being a mage for the Empire despite the risks involved,” Ceadric adds. “I suppose a few don’t want to go and they’re probably the ones who fail to survive.”

Just then they see ahead a scout returning. As he pulls up to ride beside Illan he says, “The road is just ahead.”

“Are they aware of our approach?” Illan asks.

“Not yet Black Hawk,” replies the scout. “People are still traveling along at a normal pace.”

James gazes to the horizon ahead in the morning light and can just begin to make out those traveling upon the road.

Illan turns to Ceadric and says, “Take your riders and secure the road. Take out any caravans but leave the people alone. We’re not here to kill innocents.” He glances to James and receives an approving nod.

“Yes, sir,” Ceadric replies. Behind him ride two of the four men he’s designated as Raider Captains, both rode with Illan in his earlier campaign. One is Nerun, a grizzled old timer who still retains his strength and wits. The other is Wylick. Six foot six with just a peppering of gray in his hair, he still gives an imposing appearance. The other two captains ride further back with their men, protecting the rear of the column.

Turning back to them he says, “Nerun, take your men to secure the road to the north. Wylick, you take the south.”

“Yes, sir!” Wylick says before he hollers to his men and they race to the south. Nerun and his men gallop to the north.

James watches as the two bands of riders, over two hundred strong each, near the road. The travelers soon take notice of the approaching riders, at first thinking they are forces of the Empire. But then when they finally realize they aren’t, panic ensues as they begin racing for their lives.

Neither of the bands of men strike down the civilians without provocation. A few are taken out when they try to fight them off in a futile gesture. By the time Illan, James and the others reach the road, it’s been cleared and secured. To the north the sound of breaking wood is heard as Nerun’s men begin destroying a twenty wagon caravan.

One of Nerun’s men returns down the road with one of the wagons trailing along behind him. When he reaches Illan he comes to a stop and says, “Nerun thought we might want to save this one.”

“What is it?” Illan asks.

The driver of the wagon, another of Nerun’s men pulls back the tarp and reveals a hundred crossbows with accompanying boxes of bolts.

“Nice,” states Ceadric approvingly.

“Get them distributed among the packhorses,” Illan tells them. “We can’t afford to linger here.”

“Yes, sir,” the rider says. Then he and the wagon move to the center of the column where the packhorses are kept for safety. With the help of others they begin the transference of the crossbows and bolts.

“That’s going to come in handy,” states Jiron. Having come up behind James while they were paused on the road, he saw the wagon load of crossbows as it headed for the packhorses.

“More is always better,” agrees James.

By the time they’ve been transferred, the men who were left in camp finally join up with them. While waiting to resume their progress toward Korazan, James goes over to Brother Willim and the rest of the Hand.

“The force from Al-Zynn rides a few hours behind us,” he says as he draws close.

Two members of the Hand nod as Brother Willim replies, “That’s not going to leave you much time at Korazan.”

“I know,” states James. He glances from Brother Willim to the others and then his eyes settle back on Brother Willim. “I have an idea of how to slow them down.”

“Oh?” says Brother Willim questioningly.

“Are you game?” he asks.

“What do you have in mind?”

 

Illan continues with the rest of the force while James, the Hand of Asran, and Jiron with his fighters from The Ranch stay behind to set up a few surprises. James was at first annoyed by the lack of help from the Hand when he first began to lay down what he wanted. He saw what they did against the warrior priest back at Lythylla and expected them to do something similar now.

“We do not kill men,” Brother Willim states adamantly when asked if they could do something against the approaching force. “The warrior priest was an entirely different matter.” But they work out a few things they could do without compromising the sanctity of life.

Now, two hours later, they wait just within visual distance of the section of the road where the caravan lies destroyed. Jiron figured the Empire’s men would take a few moments to examine the wreckage before they continue the chase on the off chance someone was left alive.

“Here they come,” says Stig as he returns from his lookout position by the road.

The force comes into view with the three mages riding in the lead. Coming up behind the mages is a force of cavalrymen over a thousand strong. Their foot soldiers are still hours behind, following as best they can.

When the mages take notice of the destroyed caravan and the dead bodies of those who fought back, their approach slows. Moving closer to the wagons, soldiers begin dismounting as they search for survivors.

“Any time now,” whispers James under his breath. To Brother Willim he says, “When it begins, that’s your cue.”

“We’ll be ready,” he replies. He and the rest of the Hand gather together, a subtle green glow springs into being around them. James can feel the unmistakable tingling of nearby magic as the Hand makes ready.

At that time, one of the mages suddenly sits erect in his saddle as he gazes in their direction. “One senses the magic,” he tells them. “I just hope he…”

Crumph! Crumph! Crumph! Crumph!

All along the road in the vicinity of the wrecked caravan, crystals which James had secreted earlier, respond with violent explosions when they detected the mage casting a spell.

James glances over to Brother Willim and gives him a nod indicating it’s time.

The green glow surrounding the Hand intensifies tenfold as they summon the power of Asran. Cries are heard from the horses as ants, millions of ants, swarm out of the ground and up their legs. Green shoots also spring out of the ground from the seeds which the brothers had sowed earlier, causing even more confusion and panic.

Horses try to run but their legs become entangled in the rapidly growing thorn bushes. Men scream as their horses rear and throw them into the carpet of ants covering the ground. No sooner does a man hit the ground then the ants are upon him, crawling inside the armor and begin biting. Nothing lethal but these are fire ants and each bite brings pain.

The dust which had been thrown into the air by the explosions begins to dissipate. One mage lies on the ground, the one who had initiated the blasts in the first place, and it doesn’t look as if he’s getting back up. The other mage who was near him at the time of the explosion is rolling on the ground, his hands flying fast as they try to get the ants off him.

The remaining mage was bucked off his horse when the explosion happened and managed to land without injury. He now stands safely just outside the perimeter of the ant swarm. James can feel the tingling spike as he works to counter the magic wielded by the Hand.

“How long can you keep this up?” James asks Brother Willim.

“His power is not nearly as great as ours,” he replies. “As long as you require.”

Jiron comes to him as he continues watching the events unfolding by the road. “Are you thinking what I think you are?” he asks.

“One mage down, another incapacitated by the ants, and the third locked in a duel with the Hand,” he says and then turns his attention to his friend. “We may never have a better chance.” The enemy force is in total chaos. Between the ants and the thorn bushes which continue to grow, most of the force is out of action.

Jiron gives him a grin and turns to the rest of the riders. “Mount up!” he yells.

“Yeah!” shouts Potbelly as he jumps into the saddle and draws his sword.

“We get in, take out the mages and then retreat,” James says to the others when he gains his saddle. “Now ride!”

With a whoop and holler, the fighters from The Ranch break into a gallop and charge. The enemy mage is quick to take notice of their attack and halts his attempt to counter the Hand. Turning his full attention to the attackers, he raises his hands and a greenish black globular substance forms before him. Moving with incredible speed, the substance flies toward the approaching riders.

James summons the magic and forms one of his protective barriers around the airborne mass, completely encompassing it. Nudging its trajectory slightly with another burst of power, he has it hit the ground far to their left. Once the barrier encased goo comes to rest on the ground, he releases the spell and sets the goo free where it sizzles and burns upon the ground.

He feels another spike when they are halfway there and this time the ground shakes violently, their horses begin to lose their balance and footing.

“We got company!” Shorty hollers out as a force of several score enemy riders appear riding hard from the rear of the force around the edge of the ant swarm.

A memory comes to mind and rather than attempting a direct confrontation with the mage, he selects a point within the swarm of ants.

Crumph!

Letting the magic go, the earth erupts in a massive explosion sending dirt and a cloud of ants into the air. A portion of the flying mass of dirt and ants is headed directly for the mage. Just then, Scar’s horse loses its battle with the shaking ground and stumbles, sending him to the ground.

When the mass of dirt and ants hit the mage, James feels the tingling stop as hundreds of ants begin crawling and biting all over the mages body. No one could possibly maintain concentration while beset by hundreds of stinging fire ants.

Their horses once again pick up speed as the ground quiets. Potbelly slows and glances back to his friend Scar who’s already off the ground and has his horse’s reins in hand. “You okay?” Potbelly hollers back to him.

Swinging into the saddle, Scar yells, “Of course!” Kicking the sides of his horse, he’s soon caught up to Potbelly and together they ride to catch the others.

“Uther, Jorry,” James yells to the pair. “You two stay with me.” Then to Jiron he says, “Take out those mages, we’ll slow down the riders.”

“You got it,” Jiron replies.

Turning to face the onrushing riders, James reaches into his pouch. Pulling forth one of the two remaining crystals, he makes a conduit from the darkly glowing crystal to himself. Feeling the power rush into him, he immediately sends it forth to a point directly before the oncoming riders.

Ka-Boom!!!

An explosion of massive proportion detonates under the leading edge of the force. Riders, horses and debris are thrown into the air, their screams and cries only silencing when they slam back into the ground.

James glances back to Jiron’s force and find them already at the mages. Unable to defend themselves with magic, they fall quickly. Many of the soldiers, covered in hundreds of welts from the bites of the fire ants, have managed to disengage themselves from the thorns and are beginning to engage them.

A quick glance back to the settling dust of the massive explosion, he doesn’t see anything moving. “Let’s go and help our friends,” he says.

With a cry, Jorry and Uther turn their horses and the three race back to the growing battle. More and more of the soldiers are extricating themselves and are moving to engage Jiron and the others.

All three of the mages lie still upon the ground, their heads severed from their bodies. There can be no doubt now as to whether they will pose a future threat. When James comes within shouting distance, he cries out, “Disengage! Retreat!”

As he slows down and pulls a slug from his belt, Jorry and Uther race past him. Scar and Potbelly are faced off against six opponents and they race to their aid. Seated upon their horses, they are able to keep the enemy soldiers at bay but are unable to disengage without grave risk to life and limb.

Just as Jorry and Uther reach them, a slug flies past and takes out one of the enemy soldiers. Charging through the enemy, they allow Scar and Potbelly the opportunity to disengage. Scar strikes out at his remaining opponent with his sword and severs the man’s left arm.

“Let’s go!” Jiron yells.

James launches three more slugs and then the rest of his men are able to break away safely. A quick count shows no one was lost, many have wounds seeping blood but nothing that looks life threatening.

“Think that will slow them down?” Yern asks with a laugh.

Behind them, the scene remains one of confusion and chaos as horses and men continue in their attempt to rid themselves of burning, biting ants.

“I would think so,” laughs Shorty.

Back at where they left the Hand, they find them already in the saddle and waiting for them. The green glow that was present when they left is now gone.

“Where did all those ants come from?” Stig asks Brother Willim.

Indicating the ground he says, “In the ground beneath our feet are countless insects and animals. They are Asran’s creatures and will do his bidding.”

“Fascinating,” remarks Jorry. Uther nods in agreement.

“Let’s save this for later,” Jiron announces. “We better catch up with the others before too much longer.” With that, he kicks the side of his horse and breaks into a gallop. The others are quick to follow.

Behind them, the enemy riders decide not to give chase and begin giving aid to their comrades.