By the time they reached the spot where Howland, Ezu, and Amergin had met their escort at the beginning of the night’s adventures, the vision of all three men was nearly fully restored. They circled wide and came upon the trench, with its fearful hedge of stakes and earthen rampart.
“Who goes there?” called a voice tentatively from the darkened defenses.
“Fangoth!” Howland replied.
“Is that you, Sir Howland?”
At his clipped affirmation, a plank wobbled over the rampart and fell across the trench. Malek and Nils tottered across. Howland came last.
Khorr, backed by wide-eyed farmers clutching cut-down lances, greeted Howland heartily. They were likewise delighted to see Nils and Malek again. The happy reunion palled, however, when Khorr looked behind them and asked, “Where’s Amergin and Ezu?”
“We got separated,” Howland answered grimly. “Keep a sharp lookout for them.”
On Nowhere common, nervous villagers crowded around to hear Howland’s account of the mission.
“Rakell lives,” he said heavily. Groans followed. “He never had any intention of parleying with us. He only agreed to the meeting so he could capture and decide our fates first.”
Raika asked about Amergin and Ezu. Howland told them everything, from Ezu’s powerful “sneeze” to their rescue by Marren uth Aegar.
“Ezu a true wizard? I don’t believe it!” Robien said.
The other hired fighters were not so skeptical. Raika, remembering her special gifts and the uncanny way Ezu came and went, found it easy to believe the strange foreigner had hidden powers.
As for Marren, older folk like Caeta recalled when he first came to Nowhere. Weak and wounded, his clothing and horse had marked him as a man once of substance in spite of his diminished circumstances. Nilea, a village woman, had nursed him to health. She subsequently became his mate and the mother of Laila. Marren survived but never prospered. The wasting sickness took hold of him, and he spent twenty years dying a hair’s breadth every day.
“So Marren was a Knight,” Nils mused. “If Laila becomes your wife, will that make you noble, too?”
Malek saw no humor in the question and glared fiercely at his older brother.
“One more thing you should all know,” Howland said in a low, shamed voice. “Just as Marren and Rakell were old comrades in arms, so too were Rakell and I.”
No one responded until Malek said, “You spoke of your service to the Dark Order. You were forced to do what you did. It was not of your choosing.”
“No, I was a sergeant in the army of Lord Burnond Everride. I was never a Knight, much less a general. I lied about that. I’ve misled you all this time. You should have an honest commander, not someone like me, and I recommend you choose Robien.”
“Nonsense!” said the bounty hunter. “No one here could have commanded as well. No one has more experience of war than you. You are our commander, Knight or not.”
Caeta agreed. “We don’t care what you were before you came to us. Since the battle began, you’ve proven again and again you deserve our trust. If you are not a Knight, so be it, but we have made you our general. No one else.”
Howland looked away, ashamed to let anyone see the color in his face. If ever there was a time for a blindness spell, this was it.
Just before dawn, Amergin returned. He rose up from the uncut grass and ran to the barricades on the northeast side of the village. Easily vaulting the tangle of fences and vines, he stole up on the two farmers on guard there. Both were sleeping.
He tapped one on the shoulder. The scruffy, yellow-bearded man awoke with a yell and grabbed the spear leaning against his shoulder. His shout aroused his comrade, who dropped his spear, tried to pick it up, and promptly tripped over the shaft of the other man’s weapon.
Amergin clamped a slim brown hand over the yelping farmer’s mouth. Eyes wide, he saw he was facing the Kagonesti forester, not a bandit sneak attack.
“Know me?”
The farmer nodded, slowly.
“Don’t shout. Yes?”
Again a nod.
Amergin took his hand away.
“Happy day!” exclaimed the not-so watchful watchman. “We feared you were taken by the enemy!”
The fallen guard got up and likewise expressed delight upon seeing Amergin. “Howland returned with Malek and Nils,” he said. “Did you know Sir Howland was not a real Knight? They say he used to be Rakell’s bootblack, or something-”
“No, stupid, he used to groom Marren’s horse!” He added for Amergin’s benefit, “Our Marren was a real Knight-”
The elf left them arguing. Beyond the line of huts, Amergin came upon Raika’s spearmen, deployed to intercept anyone who emerged. They’d heard the guards’ cries and taken up positions without waiting to rouse their captain from her bedroll. Some deeds were more dangerous than others.
The forester quickly found himself surrounded by a bristling ring of spears. The farmers knew Amergin, of course, but they were so shaken by their ordeal that the elf had to calm them before they lowered their weapons.
Robien arrived. Howland was still resting after his busy night, so the bounty hunter was in charge.
In Elvish, he said to Amergin, “Glad to see my bounty is still safe.”
Amergin did not deign to respond to this sally. In the common tongue he said, “So Howland is safe.” With rare emotion, he added, “What of Ezu?”
“There’s been no sign of him,” Robien answered. Nor had Marren or his daughter Laila turned up.
When the sun was well up, a shout of dismay went up from Carver’s lookouts, posted on the hut roofs. Their cries awoke Howland, who left the shadow of the old well and asked what it was the young sentinels saw.
“The bandits! They’ve staked someone out!”
Howland, Robien, and Malek clambered onto the nearest hut to get a look. Sure enough, the bandits had erected two poles on the plain, out of whippik range. Between the poles was the dark outline of a man, tied to them and hanging limply.
“Is it Ezu?” called Carver from his perch.
Robien shaded his eyes. “I don’t think so. Whoever it is has white hair-”
“Marren!”
Malek asked, “What about Laila? Where is she?”
Howland had no comforting reply. The general of Nowhere slid down the thatch and dropped to the ground. Robien and Malek followed., “I wonder what did happen to Ezu?” the old soldier mused. “I don’t think normal bonds can hold our friend the traveler.”
Malek broke away, running to a stand of captured arms. He sorted through a pile of swords, trying to find one straight and sharp. Each blade that failed to measure up he tossed aside violently. The others followed him, exchanging looks.
“Going somewhere?” asked Howland mildly. The angry youth ignored him.
“You escaped once by the fortunate intervention of a wandering wizard. You won’t be so lucky a second time.”
“Talk about luck!” Malek said, eyes blazing. “You went to kill Rakell and failed. Then you got lucky and escaped. I will not fail, and I do not care about your brand of luck!”
He found the best of the hard-used blades and shoved it through the rough sash tied around his waist. Howland and Robien did nothing to stop Malek as he stormed to the south barricade and started climbing over it.
“You won’t get to Rakell, you know,” Howland said.
“I don’t care about Rakell or my life! I must save the woman I love!”
“If you’re killed, what good will your sacrifice do?”
Malek faltered. Howland pressed on. “If you’ll stay here and put that fury to good use, defending your neighbors, I’ll make you a pledge,” he said.
Malek halted atop an old rail fence. “What do you mean? Speak plainly!”
“Just this: If you remain here and fight like a soldier instead of a love-struck berserker, I pledge that I myself will kill Rakell and do my best to free Laila. She hasn’t been punished like her father. I’ll wager she is safe for the time being. The coming battle will decide everything, and I pledge to you that I will trade Rakell’s life for my own. Is that plain enough?”