Questing Sucks (Book 1) (49 page)

Alan moaned, grabbing the sides of his head. He leapt at the papers, and again Patrick was too slow to stop him. The man literally dove at the table, sliding across it on his stomach. The rest of the men were too shocked to stop him as well. Before anyone could shout a word in protest, Alan was back on his feet, jumping off the other end of table. He bolted to the fireplace and tossed the stack of papers into the fire.

“Alan!” Patrick shouted.

“You fool!” Saerina added.

Patrick advanced on him—and stopped. When Alan turned around, his eyes had again changed. Now they were filled with even more determination, even more confidence. Patrick was frozen in awe. “W-Why did you do it this time?” he whispered. “These were your plans the men were writing down.”

“Because,” Alan said. “In war, plans change. Nothing is certain, nothing should be written in stone.” His usual mirth was gone as he spoke, replaced by a hard, gruff stoicism. “Patrick, I know you want to do what’s right. I know it! But understand this, and understand this well. I am Alan Marshall, the drunk, the fool, and several times in my life the beggar. But I am also Alan Marshall, the single greatest tactician this kingdom has ever known. Before we fight in the morning, I must know my enemy.”

Alan tilted his head, taking in every man present. “This is what I am—this is what I do, and I don’t care how intuitive the princess is, or what magic spells she knows. War is my art, my passion, my
life.
You want to win? Do you want to save your kingdom? Obey me, then. Obey me, and you just might. I must come to know this man that commands them. I must send him a message.”

Patrick forced saliva into his mouth. His stomach churned while he listened to the man’s words. The more he spoke about war, the more he changed, the livelier, more real, and bolder he became.

Was this what the princess saw in him?
Patrick wondered.

“What message would that be?”

Alan grinned. “That he isn’t dealing with you, my prince. He isn’t dealing with any of you. He’ll know he’s dealing with the one man who’ll have his head on a pike. But for that I need to know him. I need to see how he reacts. This game is only half won with force. The other half is in here.” Alan poked himself in the head. “Patrick, quit undermining me and let me do the only thing in life I ever been good at.”

Patrick rubbed his eyes. Could he really allow this man control of everything? It wasn’t fair, having to make these decisions. Ultimately, whatever happened, whoever commanded, history would place all blame or praise on Patrick. If he allowed Alan to control his army and the man failed, Patrick would be forever known as the prince who destroyed his nation.

No,
Patrick thought.
There won’t be a history. Not for us, anyway.

“Do it,” Patrick said. “Do what you need.”

Alan stepped away from the fireplace and stared across the room at Saerith. “And you?”

Saerith shrugged. “Just tell me what you want my Elves to do.”

“I want them to say hi,” Alan said. “It’s time this ‘commander’ knew who he was dealing with.”

 

 

“Move it!” Calen ordered. “When we get there, I don’t want a single one of you making any sound. Use the night as your cover, and kill without regard. Understood?”

The men shouted their understanding down the line. Calen beamed his pride at the men accompanying him, men who only days prior looked upon him with disgust. The Naris clan looked down on weakness, more than any other trait, and after Sehn had humiliated him, Calen feared he’d never again regain his honor. But now, as men he knew as boys navigated the shadows alongside him, Calen spotted the look of trust in their eyes. This was his chance to prove his worth. This was his chance to again be respected in the Naris clan.

The valley of Hahl was beautiful, even in the complete darkness of night. It was beauty neither seen nor heard, but rather smelled and tasted. The flowers tickled his nose with their soothing aromas, while the smell of fresh grass and hot springs wafted into the air.

The order had come only two hours prior before, and Calen wasted no time questioning it. He was to take two hundred of his men on a trip with one sole purpose—to kill, and kill, and kill. And when no more killing could be done, they were to retreat while dealing death to all those who pursued. And when those who pursued learned they could not outrun his Elves, he was to again turn and kill.

“Attrition,” Calen whispered. “A battle of attrition.”

A young Human soldier approached him from the side. He looked odd in the dark green Elven garb, but for their purpose, heavy armor would be a waste. They needed to be fast, efficient, and able to move unhindered.

“Why did you choose to come?” Calen asked. “This was meant to be for Elves alone. Besides, don’t you and the other Human have a battalion of your own to lead?”

“We will,” Daniel said. “Lira and I are determined to survive this.”

“And if we don’t,” Lira said. “Well, there are plenty of other dashing young men to lead our forces.”

Daniel laughed and kissed her on the cheek. Calen couldn’t help but smile at the two Humans in Elven light armor. His men accepted the two Humans, honored to share in the Humans’ willingness to die with them.

“Still, wish I could use a sword,” Daniel said. “A dagger and a bow—will this really be enough?”

Calen opened his mouth to respond, but the woman, Lira, was quicker. “It better be,” she said. “Because a sword will only slow us down. If you’re feeling frightened, my sexy Daniel, don’t be afraid to turn tail and—”

“Hah! As Sehn would say. The Great Daniel will be having none of that!”

“I really must meet this Elf you won’t shut up about.”

Calen laughed. “I’m not sure you want to.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow and gave Calen an amused look. “So, judging by your tone I see you’ve fallen victim to him too, haven’t you?”

Calen grunted. “You could say that. He beat me up and stole my sword.”

Daniel nodded. “You got off easy then, you did. That crazy Elf set me on fire twice.”

“And now we are to die for him, are we? It’s strange how the world works.”

“Indeed, it is.”

Calen signaled and the men moved out. All carried the same equipment, as instructed by Alan Marshall, who—much to Calen’s dismay—claimed to know more about Elven warfare than the Elves did, insisting on their choice of weaponry and clothing. Just a dagger and a bow, and barely enough arrows to make do. Calen didn’t bother to argue the point, no, it would’ve been foolish. Calen had always known when he was dealing with an unmovable force, and Alan Marshall certainly met the description of one. At any rate, every arrow fired needed to be a kill, at least if Calen’s men—and woman—were to have any chance of success.

They began at a sprint, slowing to a steady walk after an hour’s travel. Calen signaled behind him, ordering his men to lie prone on the ground. Two hundred men slithered along the valley’s short stalks of grass, as quiet as the night itself. They crested a rocky hill roughly ten feet above the valley, overlooking a large, open field with ponds and a river running across from them.

Calen, still lying on the ground, crawled around to turn behind him. “Expect combat shortly,” he whispered. “Pass it back.”

Daniel spun around and whispered to Lira. “Expect combat shortly, pass it back.”

Whispers could be heard a few feet behind Calen, eventually becoming inaudible. Calen removed the bow from his back, feeling a burning jolt of fear travel across his body, but he wouldn’t allow it to show on his face. For the first time in his life he was leading men into battle. He would succeed. He must, succeed.

They smelled the enemies’ encampment long before they saw it. Horse dung and Human feces filled the air, a rotten stench that caused Calen’s eyes to tear. When the first of the enemies’ forces finally came into view, Calen’s stomach tightened further, and he had to force himself not to vomit. Not from the stench, no, but from the sheer number of Humans sleeping ahead of him. Aside from the few guard patrols, most were enjoying the night’s rest, waiting until morning to destroy the Human city of Hahl.

He crept to the edge of the rocky hill overlooking the encampment. He fought the urge to whimper. Their numbers were massive. So massive, Calen wondered what good a mere two hundred men could do against such overwhelming might.

And this isn’t even all of them,
he thought.
Even if by a miracle from the Gods themselves we win, there’s still a larger force out there somewhere.

Daniel crept to his side, bow in hand, Lira following just behind. “Gods,” Daniel whispered. “It’s almost three times what I brought to Hahl yesterday. How…how is this even possible?”

Horses were tied to the river stretching across from the camp. Some drank, while others slept. The few guard patrols lazily checked their surroundings, and Calen hesitated for a moment as he took in the enormity of the marching army.

“Gods, Daniel,” Calen whispered. “They just go on, and on, and on, for miles. There’s a sea of people out there. Where did they come from? This shouldn’t be possible.”

“Shouldn’t,” Lira agreed. “But is.”

Daniel grinned at the Human woman, leaning in to kiss her. She held out her hand, and his face met her palm. “No way, buddy,” she said. “Not unless we make it out alive. That’s the rule.”

Daniel curled his lips in mock, playful sadness. “I guess we’ll just have to live, then.”

Calen, quietly, spun around and signaled down the line, asking the men to spread out horizontally along the edge of the rocky hill. Only a hundred could fit on the narrow ledge, so the men up front had to crouch down, allowing the hundred forming in a second line behind the first to fire over their heads.

“Awaiting your command,” an Elf said.

“As am I,” Daniel agreed.

Calen ran his right hand along the smooth pine of his Elven bow. He’d never killed a man before, Elf, dwarf, or Human. He ran his left hand slowly up his shirt, caressing his body, taking a moment to pray for his safety to Goddess Helena. His hand continued, over his left shoulder, gently touching his neck, before sliding into the quiver on his back. He removed a single arrow, placing it on the drawstring and pulling back.

“Ready arrows,” he whispered.

For a moment Calen feared the noise would be a bit too much, as two hundred hands removed arrows from quiver and loaded them into their bows.

“We…” Calen’s voice broke. “We…”

“It’s okay, Calen,” Daniel said. “Don’t hesitate. Believe in yourself.”

Why am I afraid?
Calen wondered.
I shouldn’t be. I was trained for this. I am supposed to be able to do this.