The Black Sword Trilogy: The Poacher (19 page)

              The next morning, he had, perhaps the finest breakfast he’d ever tasted.  It was fried eggs, sausage and potatoes and it was so delicious, he ordered another serving.  He didn’t need to pay for any of it as the tavern keeper reminded him that the coin he’d paid the night before was more than enough for what little he’d purchased.

              Before he left, he asked the tavern keeper if the road he’d just come from would take him to Bayton.

“That it will, sir,” he said with his pipe still sticking out of his mouth.  “Three days on the road and you’ll be there.”

Kenner presented the tavern keeper with another gold coin and as he turned to leave he heard the keeper begin to shout.

“Alright you filthy buggers, get your asses out of my house!  I’m closed for the next week!”

Chapter Twenty Three

              Kenner followed a steady flow of people moving away from the town.  The crowd moved easily along the road towards the west, but occasionally there were some delays caused by overturned carts, stubborn pack animals and people who were just slower than others.  He saw some religious pilgrims going the other way towards the mountain pass and when they asked, he gave them a coin from the ones “Shadow” had packed for him.  Upon seeing the coin, the pilgrims all began jumping up and down and shouting.

              Towards the end of the day, the crowd began thinning and he found himself in a more wooded area.  Thinking that this was as familiar as the hills from which he came, he left the road to camp amongst the trees; however, he didn’t stray too far from the road, so as not to get lost.  He started a small camp fire; ate a fine meal of fruit, cheese and bread and settled down for the night satisfied that the worst of his journey was likely over.

              Sleeping with his back against a tree, he was awoken by the same high pitched ringing noise that he had woken to at the inn.  He awoke with a start and saw in the flickering firelight, four men standing near him; two had bows and drawn arrows pointed at him.  He started to reach for his sword, but the leader of the group stopped him.

“I wouldn’t do that.” He said grinning.  “These boys are a little twitchy with their bows.”

             
The leader (Kenner presumed) was tall and round with short, black, dirty hair and a scruffy beard.  Kenner could see several teeth missing in his sinister grin and in his hand, he held a large mace.

              Kenner slowly rose to his feet with his hands held up. 

“You’ve been awfully generous with those pretty coins of yours,” the leader said.  “We thought you wouldn’t mind if we helped ourselves.”

“Take what you want and go.” Kenner said.

“Listen to who thinks he’s in charge lads,” The leader laughed.  The other men laughed with him.

“Don’t worry young man.  We will take what we want.  That includes your coins, your food, your armor and that fancy sword of yours.  In fact, I think I like those boots of yours as well.”

“I don’t recommend trying.” Kenner growled.

             
The leader laughed again, which sounded like a crow screaming in the night.

“Looks like we’ve got a defiant one here, boys!” He joked and the others laughed with him.  Then he looked at Kenner with greedy eyes.

“Oi!  Ripley!” He said over his shoulder.  “Get this young man’s sword and we’ll see how defiant he really is.”

One of the men stepped towards the sword, which was still leaning against a tree.  He grabbed it with his hand and then let out a blood curdling scream as; what looked like bolts of blue lightning wrapped around him.  The two archers shot their arrows; which merely bounced off of Kenner’s armor.  Then the sword jumped out of its sheath and then Kenner found it in his right hand.  He was so surprised at what had just happened, he didn’t notice the leader swing his mace at him.  The head of the mace hit Kenner squarely in the chest and then shattered like glass with Kenner barely feeling anything.  The three companions all ran into the woods with the leader standing frozen in front of Kenner.

“I think your friends have the right idea.” Kenner said glaring at him intently.  The man then turned and ran as fast as he could.  Kenner then looked at his sword and his armor, as if examining them closer.

“You two are kind of handy to have around.” He said, as if talking to two new friends.

             
Kenner fell back into a shallow, but restful sleep.  He was dreaming of his village, sitting around a roaring fire and a girl with curly brown hair and sparkling brown eyes when he awoke to the sensation of hot, smelly air being blown on his face.  He opened his eyes and nearly jumped at the sight of the huge cat’s face only inches from his own.  Shela made a low, moaning noise and then pressed her head against his body.

“Good morning to you too.” He said to her.  She then put her heavy head over his shoulder and purred as he rubbed the thick fur on her neck.

             
He started to take some more food out of his pack and then heard her grunt.  He looked at her and found her sitting back on her haunches with a look in her eyes that seemed to say, “Look at me.  I’m pretty.”  He tossed her his last three apples and she ate them happily.  After collecting himself and his belongings, he climbed on her back and they returned to the road.

              They had no trouble or delay on the road as everyone traveling in both directions made way for them.  He heard a few people say, “Look at that.  A battle cat.”  He also heard a few women scream as well as some men squealing like little girls.

              Riding the enormous cat was surprisingly smooth, Kenner thought.  She trotted along effortlessly with seemingly less motion than a horse and also her paws made almost no sound as they plodded along the road.  As evening fell, he began to see more and more people making camps along the road, but not too far away from it; unlike he had done the night before.  The road turned to a corner, but Shela ignored it; instead heading straight into the woods.  For a reason he didn’t fully understand, he was not concerned about this detour as he had a strong feeling that she knew where she was going.

              Once more, he made camp, only this time, he kept the sword closer to him than the previous night.  He ate the last of his cheese and bread and listening to the sounds of the forest, he dozed off again into sleep and his dream of his village.  The next morning, he awoke and found Shela lying down behind the half-eaten remains of a stag.  The look on her face seemed to say, “Look what I brought for you.”

“Good kitty.” He said to her dryly.

             
They had barely traveled an hour before coming out of the woods and back on to the main road.  It was thick with exhausted looking travelers all carrying small bundles.  There were more children among them than the previous set of travelers and on the sides of the road were soldiers appearing to be directing them.  He asked one of the soldiers what was going on and the soldier informed him that these were the refugees from Calderon.  There was a long line of them stretching back over the road for as far as he could see. 

Before long, he and Shela began to enter the town of Beyton.  Like Mobrey, it was stretched out along the river with boats moored along its banks.  There were several smaller boats along the bank with their captains calling out, “Ferry to Mobrey!”  He approached one of the captains, who backed away frightened from the sight of the huge cat.

“I need to get across,” he said to one of the captains.

“No room for the animal.” He stuttered.  Shela answered him with a low growl.  Kenner pulled out of one of his coins and tossed it at the captain.  He looked to be in awe as he examined the coin and then he ordered three men off of the boat.

             
It took the better part of an hour to cross the wide expanse of the river.  Shela moaned sadly during the journey and at one point coughed up an enormous hairball, spitting it out on one of the soldiers crossing the river.  Kenner looked at the captain as if to apologize.

“No need to worry good sir,” the captain told him.  “I’ll have it cleaned up in no time.”  The captain then looked at the cat and laughed nervously.

             
When they reached Mobrey, Kenner and Shela crossed through the busy city and back on to the road he knew would lead to Kallesh. They moved much faster than they had before and Kenner felt excited.  Would Terri be there?  Would Captain Krall be waiting for him?  Had they made it?

              Captain Krall had made it sound as if he expected, at least one of them to die.  Kenner hoped it wouldn’t be true.  However, he also understood the danger of the routes they both had to take and tried not to think of their chances.  He looked toward the sky and said, almost as a prayer, “please tell me they made it.

              By nightfall, he could see the White City in the distance with its white walls seeming to glow in the light of the nearly full moon.  There were still thousands of refugees camped along the road, all intermingled with soldiers.  These were probably reserve soldiers from Calderon; but he hoped that some of them may be soldiers from Post One.  He was reminded that Post One would be the next to be attacked and hoped that some warning had reached them; perhaps from the refugees or reserves.  He was then reminded of the battle he had fought and the awful outcome of all those brave men dying as they had.  Surely, Post One had escaped such a disaster, he hoped.

              In the morning, they continued their journey until they found themselves entering the Iron Gates of the White City.

The Second Causton War.

              Following his defeat, Causton and his few remaining followers disappeared into the hills bordering Walechia and The Blackwoods.  Feeling that these would eventually die out over time, King Philas made no attempt to capture them.  He also feared that expeditions to find the fugitives would lead to even further bloodshed that he felt was unnecessary.

              However, as years went by, rumors began to circulate about the nature of the First Causton War.  Conspiracy theories began to grow that it had actually been King Philas that had destroyed Kasabbah in order to justify the killing of a peaceful group of religious pilgrims.  While most Walechians dismissed these theories, hundreds began to believe them and called for investigations.  Seven years after the end of the first war, one of Causton’s followers named Hescil (who did not actually participate in the first war) was elected to the Congress and called for an investigation into the so-called conspiracy. When his calls went unanswered, he claimed a cover up.  During this time, hundreds of Walechians left the cities, farms and villages and disappeared into the hills in search of Causton; whom they saw a religious leader and prophet.

              Ten years after the end of the first war, farms and villages began being attacked by unidentified raiders.  They were hit and run style attacks that left virtually no evidence of who was responsible.  Many looked to the King for action; however, Congressman Hescil claimed that it was the King who had ordered the attacks; punishing those disloyal to the crown.  Again, he called for investigations and again he was largely ignored.  However, there were those who believed him and he began to attract a large following.  He even attracted support within the Congress.  When it was discovered that Hescil was frequently visiting the Hills and may have known the location of Causton, he was arrested.  This caused considerable backlash.  In demonstrations not unlike the protests that occurred outside the walls of Kallesh that led to the first Causton War, hundreds stood outside the city’s walls calling for his release.

              King Philas was determined not to make the same mistake of his father.  He had Hescil put on trial by a panel of “independent” judges for treason.  Evidence was discovered that, not only did Hescil know the location of Causton; he was also secretly conspiring with him to destabilize the government in preparation for another war.  Hescil was found guilty and the panel and sentenced him to death.  Philas, however commuted his sentence and banned him from Walechia.  When Hescil was released from prison, he led a procession of over two thousand into the Hills.  Meanwhile the attacks on farms and villages persisted with still no evidence as to their authors.