Chapter 13
When
Railon awoke he did not, at first, know where he was or why he had fallen
asleep at all. The sand was bright with sunlight, causing him to blink several
times as he tried to get accustomed to the glare. Slowly he came to realize
that he was bound to a spear pole lodged in the sand, within sight of the oasis
pond. There were palm trees growing by the waterside, but the shadows they cast
did not reach the spot where he was tied. Staring at the trees through blurred
vision, he guessed, judging by the length and direction of the shadows, (for
his face was not turned toward the sun) that it was before noon. Having
established this, he immediately began wonder why he was not dead. As he cared
less for his own freedom than for that of any man who resisted the ruthless
empire-builder in the south, he had in fact forgotten that he himself was
personally being hunted by the man’s soldiers.
As
he gradually became more fully awake and was able to take better notice of his
surroundings, he confirmed his first projection of the time and began to look
around, wondering if anyone had been told off to guard him. By twisting his
neck around as far as the bonds would allow, he was able to catch sight of a
man sitting a short distance away with a cloak over his shoulders and spear in
hand. As his voice grated painfully on his own ears, Railon mustered the effort
to call to the guard.
“You
over there! Go tell your chief his prisoner’s awake. Maybe he’ll have the
decency to see that I don’t die today.”
With
evident bad grace, the Naibern soldier rose from his position and disappeared
beyond Railon’s field of vision. Moments later, Railon heard the sound of heavy
boots coming up behind him. Suddenly, his head knocked hard against the pole he
was tied to as the Naibern, whom he still could not yet see, slapped him by way
of greeting. His skull pounding from the contact, Railon gingerly brought his
face forward again, hoping only that the man had enough decency to end the
beating with that blow, for the moment at least.
In
the intervening seconds, the Naibern captain had come around to a position
where he would be visible to his prisoner. He was clean-shaven, tanned, wearing
a short-sleeved tunic of a dark shade (Railon could not decide if it was meant
to be blue or green) a broad belt, dark leggings and the heavy boots. His brown
hair was drawn back in what would be called a mullet, and a long sword was
belted at his side. He spoke sharply to Railon as soon as the Gairbairn had had
a moment to breathe.
Although
Railon was a great traveler, he did not immediately recognize the dialect his
interrogator was using, in part because he was still dazed. However, with bound
hands he could not make this clear to his enemy, and so he only sat dumbly
staring as the man tried again.
This
time Railon was able to understand, as his head had cleared, and he replied
“That I wouldn’t tell you. Am I the only
one you captured?”
“I
would say that it will go hard for you, but I have not yet decided if you are
going to live to the sunset. The Emperor has placed a price on your head. He
did not say it had to be on your shoulders when he next saw your face. The men
you led are all dead and buried behind our camp. You cannot accuse us of
barbarity now, can you?”
“I
would say staking a man in the sun without food, shade, or water was barbaric
enough, but then I would die, wouldn’t I?” Railon’s last words were forced out
with a gasp, as his throat was too dry now to say any more. At a signal from
the captain, a soldier took a water bucket down to the pond and filled it.
Coming back, he threw most of it in Railon’s face before pouring the rest into
his open mouth.
“Perhaps
the Emperor will find a use for you, if you can stay alive till we come to him.
Have you roused the natives to resist us or was that paltry force all you could
muster?”
“...Told
them you were coming. Taljun only gave me the score you killed...”
“They
are easy marks then, the Emperor will be pleased at that. I believe I will keep
you alive. Your head would have begun to rot by the time we rejoined the
Emperor’s legions.”
“Then
you were not sent to invade this country?”
“As
brilliant a general as they say you are, and you thought that? We were sent
only to gauge the strength here, and to hunt for you. And that has been long
and hard. How could fourscore riders capture a country?”
“Perhaps
I could do it, if you let me try.”
The
Naibern snorted loudly at this absurd suggestion, which had been delivered with
the gravity due to a serious proposition. “And how could you do that, if you wish
to make yourself sound even more foolish?”
“Having
scouted the position before, one attacks from all sides silently in the dark.
Capture the general or the ruler. He will usually be fearful enough for his own
safety that he will order his men to stand down. Then you are in control.”
“And
what is the defense against such tactics?” the Naibern general asked, now
half-believing that this Gairbairn could accomplish such a thing if he tried.
“The
only defense is proper vigilance. With the gift of unreliable watchmen, a score
of men could achieve such a thing before anyone could draw their blades,
provided there was a spy on the inside. It nearly worked several times against
your own emperor, a failing for which he would most likely blame you and your
comrades. If only he had less men we would have done it.”
The
Naibern captain could not immediately find the words with which to respond to
such a candidly negative appraisal of the legions of the Emperor Kalveston,
who, with them, had probably already swept all the lands in the south under his
banner of the flaming wheel of doom. But here was a man, a prisoner, boldly
claiming that he had nearly held Kalveston at knifepoint several times already.
The Emperor would be glad to hear of this, but it would surely mean an awful
death for him and all the other officers of the legions. The Emperor’s attitude
toward failure was well-known. But he himself would be the one credited with
capturing this insolent mercenary, and had the Emperor not said that the man to
bring him back would become second in command and be showered with riches? But
if the prisoner spoke it would be the death of him. But perhaps it would also
be the death of the prisoner...
Eventually,
the man’s ambition won over his fear, and he ordered that Railon should be
unbound, and fed and watered enough to travel.
When
the ropes had fallen from his wrists, Railon stood up and brought his arms back
before him again, slowly swinging them back and forth to relieve the stiffness
and help restore the feeling from his shoulders to his fingers. As he stood
within arm’s length of the spear-pole he had been bound to, two soldiers
brought him a small portion of traveling rations and a proper water-skin. He
ate and drank gratefully, without acknowledging the presence of the Naiberns,
who left while he was thus occupied, taking the upended spear with them. Railon
noticed this with disappointment.
“That’s
unfortunate. I could have done some damage if they had forgotten it still had a
blade. But the captain would probably decide to kill me here for a rash move
like that. Perhaps I can make my escape on the move.” Still standing, and
holding the food in one hand and the water in the other, he silently watched
his captors breaking camp.
The
striking of the camp was done quickly, even more so because several tents had
been ruined by Railon’s attack and were simply left where they had fallen. When
this task had been completed, the Naibern captain returned with two more men,
one of whom was holding a long length of rope. At a signal, Railon’s wrists
were again bound together and the remaining length of rope was tied to one
wrist of one of the soldiers, so that they would know immediately if the
Gairbairn made any attempt to escape en route to the emperor’s camp. Having
done this, the soldiers maneuvered him roughly towards the area where their
animals had been grouped together. After the previous night’s battle, there
were several unburdened mounts available; Railon was forced up onto one which
appeared to be meant for baggage rather than a rider. The soldier whose wrist
was bound to those of Railon climbed aboard one of the animals close at hand
without saying a word to the prisoner.
In
all this time, no one had said a word to Railon, which in itself did not
concern him much, since he had not expected better as a prisoner. Yet he was
curious to know just how long he would be riding in such a manner, so he called
out a question to the captain to this effect.
The
answer was delivered in the same derisive manner as the captain’s earlier
statements had been. “Wait and see. Perhaps your ride will be shorter than ours
if you make a nuisance of yourself on the way. But surely one as old and wise
as you do not need to be told that.” The captain laughed at his own cruel jest
and rode away out of earshot.
Now
more than ever did Railon wish he had turned back toward his own country. It
was all very well to be traveling in the south upon knight-errantry of his own
will, and to slow the pace of the empire-building of a man who was beginning to
think himself the lord of life and death. But Railon had never once anticipated
that he might be captured and also left alive, to be brought before the face of
the man he had so long defied, who was liable to order him killed the moment
the news of the capture reached him. Therefore, Railon decided, it would be
best to set his mind to contriving his escape, as soon as could be
accomplished.
However,
no opportunity to loose his bonds presented itself to Railon between the day of
his capture and the day he was brought to Kalveston’s camp, fully ten days
afterward. Having arrived, he was barely given time to relish the change in
posture and regain his legs before he was hurried off in the direction of
Kalveston’s tent, an oversized mass situated in the center of the horde like a
fortress over a trade route.
Railon
noted that as he passed, he was being stared at by many of the soldiers he
passed. No one said anything he could hear, but it seemed to him that there was
a mixture of both satisfaction and disappointment at his capture. He could not
think why men of this horde would be disappointed at his capture, unless those
who watched him thus had been men who followed him, now doomed to destroy their
own lands in the service of the conqueror. This Railon did not think likely,
for when he had departed not a man in his command had yet been taken alive by
the emperor’s forces. One other reason came to mind then; the idea that his
enemies had, in grudging respect for his prowess against them, begun to attribute
to him levels of size and ferocity that far outmatched their opinion of the
abilities of the real man now being marched past them. But not a man reacted
any further, and Railon was still left to face the ruthless emperor alone.
As
they approached the warlord’s tent, another soldier standing guard over the
entrance hastily thrust aside the flap, looked in, and announced “Lord, a
patrol approaches with a prisoner.” Then the man removed himself from the space
more quickly than he had entered it, as Kalveston’s voice called out that he
should do so, and to send the prisoner in posthaste.
Railon
noticed that the captain who had captured him was allowing a smug look to come
over his face at these words. There was no doubt that the man was sure of what
he would get the moment he made his announcement. Railon was not so sure, and
was racking his brains for a way which would allow him a stay of his own
execution. A few steps and a stray thought later he was thrust through the
opening of Kalveston’s tent at the sharp end of a spear, his wrists still
bound, only just loosely enough that he still had hands.
As
he was forced to his knees before the warlord, Railon stole one look at the
contents of the shelter, as much as one quick turn of the head would allow. The
tent itself was made of fine silk, dyed grey inside and out. Kalveston’s armor
was on display in a far corner of the room, and his flag was displayed across
the wall which faced the tent opening. There was a cot, a map table, and two or
three chairs in the space. A guard stood, conspicuously silent, in the slight
shadows alongside the armor. There was no sign of food on the table; evidently
Kalveston had been resting when they arrived. Since it was now mid-morning,
Railon knew this meant that the warlord had been waiting on his arrival and had
no intention of moving the army until his prisoner’s fate had been decided.
Railon
let his head hang limply, calculating that this posture would allow him to
escape Kalveston’s notice for the moment and have a few more seconds to think
of a possible plan. Soon he heard the warlord’s voice from above, addressing
the troop captain who had come in behind him. “Who are you, and who is this
prisoner?” The Naibern warlord was using the tone of one who has resigned
himself to the task of dealing with men of simple minds.
“I
am Reynault, sir, of the far west coast of your empire. I trust I have pleased
you with this prisoner.” The captain did not sound proud; he only sounded
hopeful, as if he was suddenly much less confident that he would receive what
he wanted. Perhaps he had come at a bad time.
“I
don’t care where you’re from, man! Your name, and the name of this prisoner,
are enough, before I decide that you are wasting my time.”
Railon
felt himself kicked, none too lightly, either. Reynault spoke again. “Sire, the
prisoner calls himself Railon. He claims that he led the rebels and could have
killed you many times.”
Suddenly
Kalveston’s feet moved out of Railon’s vision. Then he heard the warlord’s
voice again, more sharply than before. “Fool, a claim like that does not make
me afraid of a man, it tells me I have fools as captains! If he could have
killed me, why hasn’t he? Clearly I am the better man, yet you believe him! I
would have you killed, but I like to watch the spectacle, and I haven’t the
time to watch a worm writhe on the ground. Guard, take him away!” Scarcely a
moan was heard from the shocked Reynault as he was dragged away by the guard
who had been watching.
The
Naibern’s lower legs returned to Railon’s field of vision and he heard the man
say “Get up. Or collapse and lie there like a dog if you prefer to. I’ll not
have anyone aid you.” Hearing this, Railon began the process of rising. Owing
to his bound hands, it was more difficult than it should have been, but
eventually, after two unsuccessful attempts, the Gairbairn was standing upright
before the Naibern, who was now seated in one of the chairs. Railon made no
move to take a seat himself, even though his legs were aching horribly after
his ordeal.
“I
caught your pitiful army not long ago and crushed them utterly. I hope that
disappoints you. Did you think they would really survive?”
“Word
always passes somehow. Soon you will meet another army. And they will fight.”
“Farmers
and tradesmen? Ha. Why do they continue to fight me? Everywhere I go, they
fight. Most men would have learnt sense by now. I don’t care if they keep their
miserable lives. But they fight me. You were their general for a time-tell me
why those men fought.”
“Because
most men do not believe in being destroyed without a struggle. If you had
devised a way to take control without the use of armed might, perhaps no one
would have noticed until you worsened their lot. But some men have to prove
that they are the strongest...”
Calling
for a guard to bring him food and drink, Kalveston said “I am ahead of you
still. I am no stranger to other methods, for I had been planning this entire
venture since i became the chief general of my homeland, protecting fat and
lazy lords who did not know a gauntlet from a greave. I sent forth men loyal to
me, all to subvert the North in various ways. And even were you to escape, you
would be no help to your people, for my men have been long in the north and
cannot be told from the loyal men until they strike the fatal blows.” Draining
the drink which the guard had just brought, he gestured carelessly with the
other hand. “It amuses me to watch your hopes die so quickly. Perhaps you
thought you could mask your feelings? Worry no more, for soon you will have no
more worries. Take him away, and bind him with that captain who brought him
here. Before sundown one will die. It will be fine entertainment.”
At
the command, Railon was grabbed firmly by the guard and marched out of the
imperial tent. One hundred yards further along, they came to a small circular
open space in the center of which had been set several tall poles for the
restraint of prisoners. At a glance, Railon noticed that the erstwhile captain
Reynault was bound to another post several feet removed from the one Railon
himself was being led toward. When they had come within range of the post, the
guard removed the rope from one of Railon’s wrists, while at the same time
keeping a tight hold on that same hand as he pulled the rope around the pole
and quickly rebound the hand he had held, so that Railon’s jaw was pressed
against the pole and he had his back toward the warlord’s tent and was secured
in a prime position to be whipped. Railon counted himself fortunate that they
did nothing more to him and that his face was turned toward his fellow prisoner
so that he could, if he dared, talk to the other man and perhaps devise a way
of escape. But for the present, he would be silent, for he needed what little
rest he could gain.
He
remained silent for several hours, but then, hoping that the men on guard
nearby would not notice, he spoke in the tone of a secret conspirator, trying
to get the attention of his fellow prisoner. “Reynault...Reynault...If you will
hear what I would say, take heart. We are both doomed to die before dusk. If we
were to work together we may yet escape this doom. What say you?”
Reynault,
who was tied in much the same way as Railon, answered him after a pause. “Only
this morning we were sworn enemies, and now we are to live or die together? I
shall have to take the hope you offer, for no man has ever regained the
emperor’s favor from here. Still, we have to know the manner of our death
before we can hope to help each other out of it...A guard approaches!”
Both
men instantly fell silent as a guard carrying a water jug and two small pieces
of bread came within earshot of their secretive tones. The man stopped first at
Reynault’s position and poured the water over the prisoner, seeming unconcerned
as to whether he was able to drink all of it. Then he took a biscuit from his
other hand and shoved it at the prisoner until Reynault had it between his
teeth and was struggling mightily to chew it without the support of his hands.
Railon knew he would get the same treatment, and that there was nothing he
could do except to clench his jaw in preparation to hold the biscuit tightly.
When
both prisoners had received what food and water they could get, the guard
stepped away and spoke. “Savor it. I think that’s all you get for a while. If
you’re lucky you may get another drink before your death comes.”
Having
forced down as much as he had been able to keep in his grip, Railon asked “Do
you know, how we are to die?”
“I
don’t, but I’ve heard that it will be before sundown. When the emperor comes
out, then you will know. Pray to your god, if you have one.” With that, the
guard left.
It
was, in fact, not long after this episode that Kalveston emerged from his tent
to a burst of fanfare and proceeded directly to the prisoner’s clearing. He
stopped only a few from them and announced their impending doom to the waiting
horde. “One of these men is the fearsome rebel Railon, the northern mercenary.
Some of you may have begun to think he was actually dangerous. Such an attitude
can be dangerous to yourself, and as proof of that, there stands a man who was
once a captain among you; Reynault of the west, who was so foolish as to admit
to his emperor that he believed the empty boasting of a wanted rebel. For that
they will both die, as a lesson to those who would doubt me.”
When
his name was mentioned, Reynault had begun to struggle, and at the accusation,
he cried out “I never said I believed him! I’m not ready to die!” Then a guard
struck him with the haft of a spear and he went silent. Kalveston finished his
speech.
“They
will both take 30 lashes, and when that is done they will be cut loose to fight
to the death with swords. The survivor might join my ranks or try to escape if
he dares, but where would he go?” The last statement was greeted with a
smattering of forced laughter from those nearby. Kalveston stepped back and
signaled that two soldiers holding whips should step forward.
Railon
braced himself as best he could, but the shock and pain was like nothing he had
ever felt before, because there was nothing that compared to it. At the first
blow, he was unable to hold back a moan of despair and shock. However, he was
determined that nothing more would be gotten out of him for his enemies’
satisfaction. Before the next blow landed, he filled his lungs and emptied them
again more slowly. Having regained some measure of self-control, he took the
rest of the blows without any audible reaction. By the time the count had
reached twenty-five he had passed out under malnourishment and pain.
Only
a few minutes later, he was revived by a trickle of water from a ladle being
held over him, and at the same time he felt the bonds on his wrists finally
loosen and fall off. “Oh that time has come...” he
thought. He was so dazed and hurt that he could barely think. Staggering away
from the whipping post, he slowly looked around through eyes nearly blinded by
pain. It was evening, and tent shadows had nearly spread their welcome shade
over the entire area near the prisoners’ clearing. Now there was a full ring of
guards surrounding the impromptu arena, armed with spears and shields.
Kalveston was seated inside the ring so as to have a clear view, but the rest
of the horde was being held behind the guards.
At
a word of command, two soldiers advanced from either side of the ring and thrust
swords into the hands of the prisoners. By this time Railon’s head had cleared
as much as his ordeal would allow, and suddenly a desperate plan of escape came
into his mind.
But
his next thought was preempted by his enemy. The Naibern’s sharp command to
begin the fight broke upon Railon’s ears like the toll of a bell. Obediently,
Railon and the doomed Naibern captain advanced on each other and traded
half-hearted blows, each trying to save some energy for future life. Soon, it
became apparent to the hostile horde that neither prisoner felt inclined to
strike a death-blow, and the crowd began to voice its displeasure. This was
what Railon had been waiting for, and he took the opportunity to press close to
his opponent and say a few words under cover of the noise.
“He
who wins will also die. Together we might escape. Emperor thinks himself safe.
He is their spirit, and sits unguarded. Are you with me?” When Reynault nodded
in agreement, Railon added “force me back toward him, and we will make our
move. Then cover my back.” With this he broke away as if beaten off, while
Reynault followed, seeming to press his advantage. Even while selling a
desperate defense of his life to the audience, Railon was willingly giving
ground, and the fighters drew closer to the emperor’s chair at a measured pace,
with Railon offering a few missteps as proof that he was overpowered.
But
when the two fighters had finally drawn within steps of Kalveston’s chair, they
finally revealed their true plan. With a final thrust, Railon was propelled
over the last few feet, whereupon he grabbed Kalveston by the collar while
menacing him with the sword he still held. As he did this, Reynault turned in
the other direction to guard his back. In as loud a voice as he could muster,
Railon proclaimed their demands while glaring into the expressionless eyes of
the warlord.
“We
want our freedom, and the means to keep it! If one man so much as lifts his
weapon off the ground, I will behead the invincible emperor! You don’t want
that, for you will then be nothing more than a crowd of smaller armies.” Railon
paused for breath. This speech was draining all his will to stand. “My
companion here can tell you; your emperor promised riches and power second only
to his own for the man who captured me! When this was done and the proof
brought back, what did this man do? He sentenced your captain to death on the
first excuse! There are men among you loyal to Reynault of the west, if they
haven’t all been killed. Will you save your captain!”
Kalveston
himself had not actually shown any visible reaction to the imminent threat to
his life, and had allowed Railon his speech without so much as a word. But now
he spoke, even as the sword hung inches from his head. “Who do you follow? An
emaciated rebel or the emperor of the land? Slay all those who make a move to
help these two. It is no matter to me that they threaten my life, for I know
that they have not the strength to do it. Kill them!”
There
was no immediate response to the warlord’s command. It seemed that each soldier
in that vast horde was thinking over the words of the prisoners and the cold
command of the emperor, and deciding in their own mind which beliefs they felt
more loyalty to. On one hand, they were following a man who took no counsel and
executed them for deviating from his plan, whose death would splinter them
against one another by his own design. On the other, he was still their
commander, but he had ordered them to kill their comrades if any helped the
prisoners. The emperor Kalveston was leading them to great power, but it only
now became apparent to many of them that he did not care how many died to
consolidate the power of one man.
In
the silence, Reynault whispered to Railon “I can’t take more of this. If they
don’t move in a moment I will die. Only the chance of freedom is sustaining
me.’
“I
feel the same. Stand strong. I suspect your men will join you, but only if you
still live.”
Some
men had come to a decision they could accept. Suddenly a commotion started up
deep in the ranks of the horde as men of conflicting loyalties chose to obey
the conflicting orders and began to fight each other. The combat spread like
fire through the ranks, until even the spearmen guarding the clearing were
fighting among themselves and against others they had been holding back. One of
the guards took advantage of the confusion to disregard Railon’s warning and
threaten him as he stood over Kalveston, who was smirking at him now. Without a
word Railon gave them both a warning, breaking the skin of the emperor’s neck
with the sword he held. this wiped away the smirk and caused the guard to step
back.
Finally,
when the prisoners felt they had been drained completely of their strength and
were about to fall on the ground and die, several soldiers broke through the
ranks, leading mounts and calling for their captain. They brought the steeds
alongside the two prisoners, who had not moved for several minutes, and helped
them climb aboard the animals.
“We
will keep you alive until you break out of the camp. After that I cannot say
that any will be alive to aid you further.”
“May
you be kept alive for the choice you have made today. Point me to the nearest
edge. Your captain and I will find our way to my home from there.” Jerking his
mount alert, Railon called back to Kalveston “And ill fortune follow you,
murderer. When this ends you will have to kill a hundred more of your own men
to make the rest follow you anywhere.”
Kalveston
could only sit and take this last insult, for he could do nothing about it. His
army was destroying itself, partially by his own doing, and his prisoners were
riding away alive and guarded. As he sat and glared he vowed that the insolent
Railon would be found and made to die a horrible death.
By the time Railon and Reynault broke out of
the camp on the east side, dusk had come and the abrupt desert change from heat
to cold had come with it. Fortunately, Reynault’s men had also provided them
with a pack animal to carry several more days of supplies. Railon did not want
to think of the trials those men had gone through to procure three animals and
supplies, and then bring them all both directions as they had done. He felt
that, had any survived, he would have owed them a debt that nothing short of
saving their lives in return could repay. But the last of them had died at the
edge of camp, just as Railon and their captain had broken through. Then those
two had ridden on for a short time to gain some distance, stopping only when it
began to get truly dark.
On
dismounting, Railon and Reynault, who during their ride had both regained just
enough strength to save themselves, first opened the supplies and each took a
little water and a little food. This done, they advanced to a fire and a
shelter. Finally, they sat by the fire and cleaned each other’s backs.
When
this grisly task was done, they both felt considerable relief, but they were
far from fully healed, for they had both been bleeding slowly all evening, and
had begun to feel dazed and light-headed the moment they had first escaped the
ranks of the hostile horde. They drew lots for the first watch and it fell to
Railon. As Reynault went inside the shelter, Railon seated himself with his
back to the fire, facing in the direction they had come from. To keep himself
awake through the dark silence he fell to thinking about his home and family.
In truth it was a desert scarcely more hospitable then this one, being but the
northern part of it, but it was now the one and only place he wanted to see.
But he could not go home for a long time yet, for a warlord such as Kalveston
would not allow an insult such as Railon’s had been, even were it merited, to
pass unchallenged. As surely as the sun would rise in the morning, Kalveston
would send men on their trail as soon as he had regained control of them. And
knowing that, Railon could take no chances. He would have to wander far and
long before turning his steps toward home again.
