From Across the Clouded Range (74 page)

As Ipid had hoped, Arin had proposed
that the Darthur split their forces at Gurney Bluff into two
prongs, one heading north toward Thoren, the other south toward
Wildern on Orm. As with every other proposal put to them that long
and fateful day a week prior, the plan had been unanimously
approved, and the army had moved out in two directions that very
same afternoon. Arin, Ipid, and many of the village boys had gone
south with about two-thirds of the invaders. In the time since,
they had marched steadily toward the end of the Great Western
Forest. Riders moving ahead of the main force had brought back a
steady supply of food and boys, starting with nearly two hundred
head of livestock from Holstead that were promptly slaughtered and
eaten by the hungry army.

Other than the boys, food, and a few
other mundane items, the Darthur showed no interest in the usual
plunder – gold, silver, jewelry seemed to hold no value to them.
They killed any villagers that happened to be in their way, stole
every scrap of food they could find, and took the boys as slaves,
but – barring Gurney Bluff – they did not seem to seek out
slaughter and, remarkable for an army this size, did not touch the
women.

Arin had once said something about
warriors conserving their power for battle. From that and other
comments, it appeared that the Darthur thought that sex diminished
their strength and thus remained celebrate while on campaign.
Further protecting the women, te-adeate were viewed as so far
beneath the warriors that raping one would be viewed with the same
disdain as a man who rapes a sheep. And it appeared that these
rules extended to the non-Darthur who accompanied the army. In
fact, Ipid knew of only one incident of a man raping a village
girl. The offender had been stripped of his weapons and thrown to
the villagers to join them as a te-adeate. The next morning, his
body had been swinging from a tree.

“
I brought some food.”
Ipid held out a bundle of the doughy cakes the Darthur favored as
bread and the remnants of a mutton joint. It appeared that the army
was now looting enough to keep itself fed, which meant that more
trickled down to the boys, but they were still starving, and Ipid
brought them anything he could scavenge from Arin’s table. This
little bit would not sustain them, but it might keep a few of them
going for a few more days.

“
Thanks,” Jack whispered.
He motioned to one of the boys sitting by the fire. They ranged
from smooth-faced boys of ten to young men with scraggly beards and
joining pendants. They were thin and ragged except the notable few
who had been captured very recently. Those still looked plump by
comparison even if they had only been peasants’ sons scratching out
a subsistence while they waited for the coming harvest – even that
hard life now seemed princely in comparison to life with the
Darthur.

A boy of no more than twelve darted to
Ipid and relieved him of his bundles then sprinted them back to the
fire. He and the other boys who remained awake tore at the food and
shoveled it into their mouths as if it might be snatched away at
any moment. But Ipid’s mind was still on the wide, desperate eyes
of the boy. No child should ever have eyes like that, and he knew
that they would haunt what little sleep he managed that
night.

“
. . . should prob’ly keep
some fir yirself.” Ipid realized that Jack was still talking and
turned his attention back to him. “We got a good stack from the
black-robed fellas taday, and ya look like ya could use it.” Jack
caught himself and added, “No offense, sir, it’s just you’ve lost a
lot o’ weight.”

Ipid had lost most of his once
sizeable paunch, and it felt as if his skin was hanging from his
face, but it was more from exhaustion than lack of sustenance. In
any case, Jack’s apology was not needed because Ipid had not heard
a word after the mention of the black-robed te-am' eiruh. “The
te-am’ eiruh brought you food?” Wonder filled Ipid’s voice. He
still did not know much about the sect other than what he saw of
their leader, Belab. They were reclusive, hiding their faces and
rarely speaking. The other members of the army, including the
Darthur, seemed to fear them, giving them a wide berth whenever
they happened to walk through the camp. And Belab had a strong
influence on the Ashüt. When he chose to speak, the others fell
immediately silent no matter the passion they had expressed moments
before, and his proposals, which typically represented the most
measured and reasonable solution, were always adopted without
further discussion or dispute.

“
They . . . I mean, they
didn’t bring it personally,” Jack stammered. “When the new guys
came back from their testin’, they each ‘ad a bundle o’ food ta
share. They said the te-am . . . whatever gave it to ‘em. That’s
usually the case. No offense, Lord Ron . . . I mean, Ipid. Sorry
sir, but if not for them, we’d ’ve starved a long time ago.” Ipid
flinched at the mention of his title and searched the darkened camp
for anyone who might have heard – not that any of the Darthur
beyond Arin would have known the word. Jack must have noticed his
reaction. “Sorry, sir, about yir name, sir. Sometimes. . .
.”

“
Don’t worry about it,
Jack. None of the Darthur would understand anyway.” Ipid put his
hand on the boy’s shoulder and started leading him back toward the
fire. “I’m more concerned about the te-am’ eiruh. Why haven’t you
told me about this?” Ipid sounded upset, but he was more curious
than angry. He knew that all of the village boys were tested by the
strange sect, but none of them could ever remember what the test
entailed. What was known was that some of the young men never
returned. No one knew what happened to them, but everyone feared
the worst. The thought sent a pang of guilt through Ipid – Rynn was
one of the boys that had not returned.

“
I don’t know.” Jack was
defensive. “It didn’t seem important. I just figured it was like
the rest o’ the food we get, scraps off their table.”

“
It’s alright, Jack.” Ipid
patted his shoulder. He thought of Jack almost like another son
now, and the boy seemed to respond to the attention. Jack was the
son of the shopkeeper in Potter’s Place, and under Ipid’s tutelage
he had assumed leadership of the village boys that had accompanied
this arm of the Darthur. He was a clever boy, well-liked by the
others, and mature beyond his years. He was able to lead the other
boys without seeming like he was better or a taskmaster. He
responded well to Ipid’s suggestions but was confident enough to
make his own decisions when necessary. In all, Ipid liked him very
much and tried to convince himself that it had nothing to do with
his similarities to Dasen. “You are right to take anything you can
get. Just be sure to think about the strings that are
attached.”

“
Right now we’d
practically take it if it’s connected to an ‘angman’s
noose.”

“
Fair enough.” Ipid gave a
hearty laugh that made the gathered boys jump. Their eyes searched
the tents to see if the sound had drawn the attention of their
masters.
Such a cruel
world
, Ipid thought,
where boys must be afraid of laughter.

“
Did anybody see anything
useful today? Did the new boys bring any tidings from the outside
world?” Ipid changed the subject. And silently hoped that his son
would not be part of the news. Thus far there had been no sign or
word of Dasen. Ipid continued to believe that he was safe, but he
worried every night that he would arrive at the fire and see Dasen
staring back at him with those same haunted eyes.

“
Te-adeate Ipid!” A
booming voice echoed over the camp before Jack could answer Ipid’s
question. With the sound, every boy in the area, including those
that had been asleep a second before, bounded to his feet and
started working on something. The Darthur did not believe the boys
should ever rest and would punish them if they saw them sleeping or
sitting.

Ipid spun to find the intruder but
kept his eyes down to avoid the warrior’s gaze. “I am here but to
serve and learn,” he called back as soon as he identified the large
man walking toward him. It was Turgot, one of Arin’s regular
guards. He was an extraordinarily stupid man, but he was not cruel
without purpose, and Ipid was used to his summons.

“
Come.”

Ipid wondered if it was the only word
Turgot knew but fell in behind the warrior without looking back at
the boys. They expected nothing less.

#

Ipid followed Turgot through the rows
of tents surrounding what had once been the village of Greenspot.
It was a sizable town situated just to the east of the forest and
seemed well named given the lush fields of wheat, corn, and beans
it was tucked between. The army had emerged from the forest the day
before, after an extra day spent in Holstead while outriders
secured the villages ahead and dispatched the garrison in Elmvale
to the south.

At their current pace, it would be
another week before they reached Wildern on Orm, the capitol of the
Kingdoms, but to this point the army had faced no resistance and
none seemed likely until they reached the Kingdoms’ largest city.
The advanced units that secured the roads ahead of the main force
had reported only abandoned farms and villages for the past few
days. Even Elmvale had been empty when the riders came, the
garrison there having pulled out days before – as fast as those
riders moved, word of the invasion moved faster.

Of greater concern to Ipid was the
northern arm of the Darthur. According to the daily briefings Arin
somehow received from the army that was several days hard ride
away, they were supposed to arrive outside Thoren today.

Ipid could only imagine that those
updates were carried by the flying creatures. The thought sent a
shiver down his spine. Over the course of the past week, he had
seen dozens of the things in the skies over the army. He had also
seen hordes of similar non-flying creatures, but those stayed well
away from the main army, mostly slinking through the forest
parallel to the roads, and no one ever approached them. He could
understand why the soldiers were wary. The creatures he had seen
looked like cruel aberrations that were singularly designed for
destruction. The te-am’ eiruh were the only ones who would go near
the things, and the common soldiers seemed to fear the strange sect
of men even more than the creatures.

One of those creatures
must have arrived with news from the north
, Ipid thought. That explained the summons. Ever since they
had split the army, Ipid’s every spare thought – of which there
were few – had been on Thoren. It would be the site of the first
true battle in the war. And though, the city would never hold
against the Darthur, it was not defenseless. Most important, it
would take time to capture. And that time was critical. It could
allow the Kingdoms to move people and supplies out of the invaders’
path, for the Morgs and Liandrians to muster, for word to spread
and the world to prepare. To that end, Ipid had tried to build up
Thoren’s reputation in Arin’s mind, lauded its defences, and
exaggerated the size of its pathetic garrison in a hope that the
young leader would opt for caution, a protracted siege, maybe even
negotiations. Yet Arin had asked him almost nothing about the city
to this point, and when Ipid offered, he seemed entirely
disinterested. Maybe that would change now that the army had
arrived, so Ipid ordered his thoughts, prepared the subtle
deceptions that would buy his world the time it needed.

Walking up the slight hill that housed
Greenspot, his eyes drifted over the sea of flickering fires
stretching as far as he could see into the nearby fields like the
night sky reflected in a dark pool. Despite the fact that it had
already split once, the army filled every field and farm within
sight. A few hours before, it had looked like a great patchwork
quilt spread across the countryside. Each of the dozen vassal
armies that accompanied the Darthur appeared to have their own
customs that dictated not only their tents but also their uniforms,
weapons, leadership, and marching formations. It gave the army a
makeshift appearance, but Ipid knew that it was only that. The
leaders of those units reported daily to Arin and the Ashüt – four
of them were te-ashüte – and from what Ipid had seen, Arin knew
everything about those forces. He was also always respectful of
their leaders, and they appeared to return the respect with
loyalty. Still, Ipid was waiting to see what would happen to the
patchwork army over the course of a long campaign. The vassals made
up the great majority of the invading army, and if he could turn
them against the Darthur or sow dissention between them, it might
be enough to tear the entire army apart.

A moment later, they arrived at a huge
stone inn standing in the center of the town. Turgot signaled Ipid
to stop then stepped into the common room and announced him with an
unnecessary bellow. Ipid followed as soon as he heard Arin’s
approval and spared a downcast look around the room. It had been
cleared except for a single long table. Around it were enough
chairs for every te-ashüte but only four were occupied. He was
shocked to see the black robe and cowl that defined Belab in one of
them. The te-am eiruh leader was influential, but Arin did not like
him and never invited him to his late night strategy sessions –
Ipid sometimes wondered if Arin ever slept.

Ipid was still trying to understand
the implications when Arin looked up from the map before him. His
eyes were cold, and he looked tired. "Te-adeate Ipid, I have an
important task for you.” Arin spoke in Darthur with a hint of
frustration. It was unusual from the stern man, who prided himself
of being in absolute control of every situation. “Your success may
decide the fate of all the people in this country you call your
home."