Chương 102: Maneuvering

Finger briefly recounted the events of the past few weeks for us, and I listened intently. He said, "Galliard received notice from a Subtle Man, someone named Birstan. There was a farm, he said, which needed retaking. We sent out some scouts, and sure enough, it looked doable. Usually, the 5th would've kept watch, but with them gone, we had to do our best. So we mustered a few squads. Then when we arrived, these yelloweyes surrounded us. Far more than the scouts or the Subtle Men reported."

I blew out a long puff, then crossed my arms. If the Subtle Men had a hand in whatever was going on, that wasn't a good sign.

"And you didn't send out a call for help on your own?"

"No," Finger replied.

"They surrounded us too quickly, and there was nothing we could do."

"Why didn't that Shaman get closer and overrun your position?" I asked.

"It only arrived this morning," Finger answered.

"And I had Fox scan him. Only a Steel."

"That's what we thought too, but he used more than fifty Presence. No way was he just a Steel," Anchor replied. Someone had known this attack was going to happen, and how it was going to happen, before we even arrived. That was the only way to explain the timeline.

"We weren't keeping track perfectly," Finger said.

"Well, let's check it out," I said.

"The shaman's body is just up there." I led the way, stepping over the top of the hill until we reached the Shaman's corpse. Nudging it with my foot, I flipped it over onto its back.

"That collar. Any idea what it is?" Morph, having transformed into his regular, human-shaped form, leaned over the orc shaman's corpse, holding Sage closer. She went pale.

"A suppression collar."

"I take it that's a bad thing?" I asked.

"It's a sign," she whispered. Then, louder, she said, "A Black Captain would use it to control branches of an army separately, and from a long distance. It would transmit the captain's will directly into the shaman, and suppress the shaman's own desires. It also veils them slightly, making them appear weaker in a Path-walker's arcane senses."

"A sign of what?" I asked. She glanced at Finger, then back at me, then whispered, "The last time men saw suppression collars was at the end of the Dark Age." I scowled.

"Right. Not good, then. But that still leaves the issue of the rider. If you guys didn't send one…that means someone wanted Lord Ceonwin to send out a party."

"And someone is directly controlling the orcs, too," Anchor added.

"A coincidence?" Brawl tried. I glanced back at Finger, and the Dupe shrugged. He said, "You lot are the sappers, not me." I went through what I knew in my head. A Subtle Man had summoned Finger's squads here. It had been a trap, and there was an orc shaman with a suppression collar, being controlled from a distance. We, on the other hand, had been summoned here as well, by someone who knew Finger's men were trapped—and exactly how it would play out.

So it had been planned out beforehand, and by someone on our side. Someone who was working with the orcs. I rubbed my forehead. It didn't make sense, not yet. But if the Subtle Men were behind this, then that could have come from on high. From the Warlord himself. And if that was true… what did that say about the messenger who was supposed to be coming? First things first, then. We had to find that messenger before it was too late. If that messenger died, it would be our asses on the line.

"What's the nearest major road?" I asked.

"Urcia road goes north and south," Finger said.

"You can take it north to Eraen-Kalora if you like."

"That's what a messenger would use," Anchor added. I nodded.

"Then let's go. We'll find him. Me and my squad will go north. Can we take a squad of your men with us?"

"Take them," Finger said. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"I need you to send the rest of your squads along the road south. Make sure we didn't miss the messenger, and make sure he's not already south of us."

"We can do that," Finger confirmed.

"Send a runner to me if you find anything," I said.

"But we don't have any time to waste." ~ ~ ~ We mounted our horses and trotted north as quickly as we could. We couldn't gallop—they were already exhausted, and if we pushed them any harder, they were going to get hurt. But it was still faster than walking. We led the horses to the Urcia Road, which was in about the same condition as it was between Castle Urcia and the 294th's camp. Ancient bricks over gravel, with weeds poking through the cracks.

Grass encroached on the edge, and muddy bootprints left streaks down the road. The Urcia Road had been built by the old empires many years ago, not by Gate. It was just too convenient to use, and the networks of old roadways were easier for our horses to trot on. Once we made it to the road, we rode north. I gave a quick sweep behind us, then kept moving. Finger's squads hadn't brought any horses, so the squad he sent with us was much slower, and it lagged behind, sweeping back toward the farm.

They'd keep up the rear in case we missed anything. We continued along the road for a half hour, weapons at the ready, waiting for any attackers. Orcs or otherwise. The farther north we travelled, the more the ground dipped up and down with hills. By now, the forests were almost exclusively pines, and they clung to the edges of the road, making it difficult to see more than a few paces out beyond the treeline. Then, ahead, I spotted a glint of steel, light from the canopy shimmering off armour.

Something was up ahead, in the very distance.

"Anchor, what is that?" I asked.

"Looks like one of our men," Anchor replied.

"No, a group of them. Someone, and four guards. Mounted. Their shields have the warlord's crest on them—a circle with three black bear heads facing inward." Nodding, I said, "That's gotta be it. Let's check it out." ~ ~ ~ Birstan lay in the bushes beside the Urcia Road, waiting, watching. The messenger's horses had tripped the northern rune-lines a half hour ago, giving him warning. Soon, they'd be in range. He readied his bow, nocking a standard sapper arrow.

It had pale, sand-blue feathers instead of the average orange feathers of Gate's regulars. Someone had to take the fall for this. As he waited, he adjusted his black cloak, ensuring the orange raven sigil was turned away from any onlookers. The messenger drew closer and closer, his guards' armour clinking, their horses' hooves clacking on the ancient road. Birstan's enhanced, Silver-tier senses picked up on it. In a matter of seconds, they'd be in range of his arrow, and he never missed.

But at the same time, hooves clomped to the south. Men breathed heavily, chainmail jingled. An arcane pressure swelled in the back of his mind—Steels, and four of them. Three Dupes and a druid. Birstan scowled. They weren't supposed to be so fast. He was promised that they would be tied up with their rescue mission for a little while longer. But still, they weren't fast enough. The messenger trotted in-range. Birstan aimed at the man's neck, drew back his longbow, and fired.

~ ~ ~ The twang of a bowstring rang out deep in the woods. I inhaled sharply, and my gut tensed. I tried to find where it was from, but I couldn't. At the same time, I braced for impact, expecting the arrow to race straight toward me. Instead, it rushed into the distance. Something thudded, and men shouted.

"What was that?" I hissed.

"The messenger!" Anchor yelled.

"They hit the messenger!" Tightening my legs on Burr's back, I whispered, "Sorry, but we gotta gallop one more time." I wished I had my shield with me at the moment, but there was nothing. Anchor didn't have one either. I curled my arm up around my head, hoping the chainmail would protect me before an arrow could penetrate my helmet. The rest of my squad kept up, maintaining the formation, but nothing flew at us. Another arrow raced out of the forest, this time from a different location.

It struck one of the messenger's guards in the neck, where his armour was weakest. The man fell off his horse, gasping and gurgling.

"Sage!" I yelled.

"Can you heal the messenger?"

"That is too much damage for a regular druid to heal, brother," Brawl warned.

"I'm no regular healer, dustbrain," Sage countered.

"Get me close, and I can save him!" The three remaining guards—Dupes—dismounted from their horse, forming a shield wall in front of the two fallen men. Another arrow flew toward them, but one of the guards caught it on his shield.

"We're here to help!" I shouted. I jumped off Burr's saddle, ducking behind the shield wall, but it didn't matter. The arrows stopped flying. Those weren't orc arrows. I glanced back at Anchor and yelled, "Find the shooter. Sage, keep the messenger alive! Brawl, stick close to me." I motioned to the remaining Dupe guards. They were average Dupes, Irons, and there wasn't much that they could do to help. I instructed, "Stay here. Keep the messenger safe. Keep up your shield wall."

"Levi!" Anchor shouted.

"There!" He pointed into the forest, where a swirl of black fabric whirled, moving away from us. An orange raven was emblazoned on it. A Subtle Man. ~ ~ ~"There!" the archer shouted. Birstan heard, but it didn't matter. It was too late. A druid couldn't fix that wound, and as long as the messenger died, and it looked like the squad Lord Ceonwin sent did it, that was all that mattered. He sprinted back toward his horse, desperate to get away.