To Be Grand Maestro (Book 5) (22 page)

“Uncle Carlton will not turn away people in need, particularly family, although he might gripe just a little before agreeing since he doesn’t know we are coming,” Andrew replied, while wiping long strands of red hair out of his eyes.

“Less than half of us are related to you,” Slim responded to the mention of family. “He might not take a liking to strangers knocking on his door.”

Andrew glanced at the refugees on the back side of the hill awaiting information. “Then I will do the knocking,” he replied and jerked his head toward the restless group, “and you should go tell the people to hunker down and be quiet. No one is to light a fire. If we are discovered, none of us will make it into Ducaun.”

As his friend moved away Andrew began thinking about why these people trusted a young man of twenty years to lead them, why they were willing to enter Ducaun, a nation most people sought to avoid, and why they expected to find refuge. The answer was family. Grandaunt Lillian Trelan married into the Dupiron family on the other side of the border and had five children, Carlton, Mallory, Barsum, Kaleen, and Miriam.

Aunt Mallory married a merchant on the west coast of Battencay and Uncle Barsum currently operated a fishing boat on the Taltin Sea. Aunt Kaleen married a Ducaunan and lives on a ranch near Bolover. Aunt Miriam married Ronn Benhannon and it is their son being blamed for most of the upheaval in the world. Of all his Ducaunan relatives, Andrew had only met Carlton and Kaleen, they being geographically close by. He knew most of the people in the group were counting on his famous cousin to refrain from harming kinfolk or their guests and so were willing to make the trip. Parts of Lobenia have already been invaded by the tri-national forces led by General Kall, whether the Lobenian Queen knew it or not, and Battencay was no longer safe. There was no other place to flee. Andrew knew his cousins followed him because he had visited Uncle Carlton in the past and they had not. Considering the responsibility weighing on his shoulders, sometimes he wished one of the others had met the Ducaunan side of the family.

The front of the procession passed out of sight and three trumpet blasts sounded what Andrew knew would happen, a stop for the night. Behind him, downhill, people came to their feet, steeds and pack-horses stomped their hooves, and a low murmuring began to rise. Slim made his way up the hill and into the bushes. “Have they found us?” he whispered.

“Not yet,” Andrew replied, while trying to make up his mind about what to do. “You stay here and keep watch. We have some decisions to make and staying where we are is not one of the options.”

“So we aren’t waiting a mark or more after all,” Slim concluded correctly.

“I figure they will be sending out patrols soon, if only to learn what is on this side of the hill, and so we best not be here when that happens,” Andrew replied, and then made his way down to the others.

His wife Regina was the first to reach him. “Andy, what do those trumpets mean?”

Soon he was surrounded by his fellow travelers. Mister and Mrs. Sweeny, the oldest couple who brought along their seven grandkids, Brill and his wife Laouna, and Junifer, whose husband disappeared and is presumed to be among the Condemneds. These were all faces Andrew knew from his youth. His own four young ones were over by the horses and playing with their cousins. A good many of his relatives, including his parents, chose to stay on their land no matter what, and he respected their decision, even though he disagreed with them. Ten of his adult cousins were around him now, some were older and some were younger than him, but they all awaited his answer. 

He looked into Regina’s ocean-blue eyes, even though in the dark he could not distinguish the color or her red hair. “The train has called a halt for the night and we need to move south as quickly and quietly as we can before they send a patrol over here.”

“I thought we were headed east,” old Mr. Sweeny spoke in a gravelly voice.

“We must go around the train. Since the front is closer than the rear, I figure we should go south a bit, and then east, all the way to the border,” Andrew replied.

“We could go west,” Brill mentioned, but there did not seem to be any conviction in his tone of voice to back up the suggestion.

“Back where we were, to be condemned?” Junifer said, horror reflecting in her eyes. “You can go back if you wish but me and my babes are going with Andrew.”

“We are all going with Andrew,” Laouna assured, while fixing a firm gaze on her husband, who quickly stroked his beard and nodded his head in agreement.

“Shorter is better than longer, so I say south,” Regina stated firmly, and soon had all of the other adults agreeing with her.

“Someone go get Slim. We need to be moving now, slow and quiet as a mouse in a room full of sleeping cats,” Andrew told them and headed for Clover, his gray mare.

Within a tenth of a mark everyone was ready to go with the children all in the saddles and the adults leading the horses on foot. They used packhorses instead of wagons to carry their belongings and the decision so far proved to be a good one, giving them greater stealth and mobility, even though it reduced what could be brought on the journey.

As he led the way between the trees with the hill to his left, hiding them from the main road, Andrew peered into the night. The sounds of nocturnal life filled his ears, along with the occasional snorting of a horse and the creaking of saddles. He could barely make out the path in front of him and was forced to go slower than his nerves otherwise demanded. At any moment a patrol could be upon them and yet he dared not go faster. The ground was uneven and a fall could result in a broken leg for man or beast. He continued south and passed beyond the protection of the hill and was glad to see they were now ahead of the train.

Regina led Snowflake forward and matched stride with Andrew. Katie and Barbie were on her horse while Lowen and Micah were on Clover. “Should we head east now?” she asked in a soft voice.

“I think we should go now,” Jaffy, his slightly older cousin spoke up while approaching on the right. The taller man was leading a horse with three kids on its back and his wife was farther behind leading one with two more lads.

Andrew peered at the main road and could see no sign of a patrol, nor did he hear any sound of horses, other than those beside and behind him. “Alright, let’s go east,” he agreed and led Clover to the left.

It took a tenth of a mark to get everyone across the road and into the woods. The tail end of their procession could not have been more than fifty strides off the road when a baby started crying. “Junifer, quiet your kid,” Brill called out, nearly as loud as the infant.

“Halt!” a deep voice shouted from behind.

There was no time to lose. “Jaffy, keep them headed east. Slim, Brill, we’ve got to deal with that scout,” Andrew said while placing Clover’s reins in the hand of his cousin.

He ran to the rear, heart pumping, blood whooshing in his ears, as everyone but the ones he named ran forward.

“I said, halt!” the deep voice shouted, with the owner galloping forward on a horse, and a sword in hand.

Andrew came to a stop, placing himself between the fleeing people and the horsemen, brought fletching to ear, and waited with a shaft ready for the man to get closer. “I’m halted. What do you want?”

“You and those people are not authorized to be in the area. Relax that bow string or I will kill you on the spot,” the man in uniform demanded. He, in his chainmail and helmet, was a shadow in the dark, but at this range would not be difficult to hit.

“Since when is someone who grew up in this region not authorized to be in it?” Andrew asked, hoping to give the others more time to get away. Adrenalin strengthened his muscles and sharpened his senses. There was no chance this fellow would give up the notion of making an arrest.

The scout let out a growl, evidently not one for long conversations, and charged forward. His broadsword swept down in an arc, Andrew let fly, his arrow sailed into the area above the scout’s jaw. Another arrow bounced off the man’s helmet, and a third hit him in the knee as he toppled out of the saddle, those two shots had come from Slim and Brill.

Slim ran up to the scout and bent down. “You put that arrow into the back of his throat,” he said and then pulled on the shaft, causing the dead man’s head to jerk forward as the arrow ripped free. “You sure gave him a mouth full.” He added while handing the shaft to Brill, who was between him and Andrew.

A trumpet blasted and Andrew knew a full patrol was on its way. “I was aiming for his eye, but he moved his head. I don’t have enough arrows to feed a full squad so we better get going”

“No argument from me,” Brill replied, gave Andrew the bloody arrow, and they all took off running.

A short time later they caught up with their fellow refugees. Two additional trumpets sounded and Andrew knew there was more than one squad pursuing them and worried that his friends and kin might not escape. “Keep running, all the way to the border,” he told them and dropped back to the rear to protect anyone who might be falling behind.

They continued running, Andrew’s breath came in quick gasps, yet he dared not stop. Hounds were barking and might soon be nipping at heels of the refugees before they could cross the border. Children, atop horses, screamed and cried in terror while trumpets to the rear added to the fear pushing them all forward. Blasts to the left and right indicated some of the patrols were trying to get ahead and cut off their prey. Andrew lost track of time and did not know how long they had been running, only that the border should be close, and so were their pursuers. They kept going, passing bushes, navigating around broad tree trunks, and he was sure they had crossed the border into Ducaun a hundred strides back. Miraculously, the three patrols had not yet managed to get ahead of them, but the horsemen merged into one large group and lessened the miracle, for they did not stop. The pursuit had to be slowed down or none of Andrew’s family or friends would make it to safety.

He hid behind a tree with an arrow ready to fly. It seemed as if the forces of darkness were at work in the night and Andrew became certain when wolves began howling. He did not expect to survive. Slim and Brill made bird-like whistles from the neighboring trees and seventeen other avian calls answered back. Andrew whistled acknowledgement and took his stand with the nineteen men willing to do whatever it took to stop or at least slow the pursuit. These men had courage, even Slim who is often a bundle of nerves. Andrew noticed a clearing to his left but decided it would be a death trap if he and his backers fought in the open rather than scattered among the trees.

The hounds came first, since the horsemen dared not charge their mounts and risk being swept from the saddle by low hanging branches. The first canine lunged at him and Andrew drew his knife. “It isn’t your fault dog, but I can’t allow you to maul me,” he said and then stabbed it in the throat just as the slavering jaws were about to bite down on his arm.

Brill sent an arrow into the hound that came at him and soon all ten dogs were dead on the ground, some by arrow and others stabbed. The patrols, sixty men, trotted into range, Andrew relaxed his breathing, and then began launching arrows. His friends and cousins did the same, each knowing they had no real chance of winning, but the sacrifice would allow the other refugees to get away.

These patrolmen had shields and none of them were being felled by the arrows. Andrew and his friends were spread out among the trees so the horsemen broke formation to go after individuals, three on one. The trio coming after Andrew galloped closer, shields in one hand, broadswords in the other, and a pack of wolves shot out of the bushes. Sharp teeth bit at the horses’ flanks, ripping into flesh, causing them to kick out, and their riders struggle to remain in their saddles. Shields were lowered, Andrew took advantage of the opportunity presented and let fly, sending three shafts in a matter of moments. All of the arrows struck, but none hit a vital spot. One of the horses threw a rider and the wolves dove on him, pawing and pinning him down until one managed to bite into his throat.

Around him Andrew could see his friends watching the timber wolves harassing the patrolmen. Like him, they all had fletching to ear, ready to send an arrow, waiting for the bucking horses to slow enough to make a steady target.

The sound of a hundred whips cracking at once drew his attention to the clearing and a sense of dread went up his spine. Strangely, the wolves grew silent and then retreated into the woods. Seven cloaked men stood in the midst of the clearing and pointed at the patrolmen, who promptly fell off their horses like limp sacks of grain, and did not get up.

Andrew’s skin began to crawl as it occurred him what these cloaked figures were, Aakacarns! Balls of light, each brighter than an oil lamp, sprang into existence and illuminated the area. He kept the arrow drawn and aimed as the shortest of the seven wearing blue silks walked over to him.

“I am Samuel Cresh, a Conductor of the Atlantan Guild, a Two-bolt Accomplished. The Maestro has authorized me to launch lightning raids against any immediate and present dangers upon discovery. Even though there are no Serpents among this particular group, they are allies of Tarin Conn, and have made the mistake of crossing into Ducaun. May I know your name and where you are headed?”

“Andrew Trelan. I, my family, and some friends are on our way to visit my Uncle Carlton who lives on Mount Piron. Who is your Maestro?” He answered, heart still pounding, and without having yet decided whether or not to lower his bow. Slim and the others came out of concealment and surrounded the Accomplished. They stood little chance of surviving this encounter but would not go down without a fight, knowing the delay would allow their families time enough to get away.