Dawn of Wonder (The Wakening Book 1) (8 page)

Getting onto the first branch was terrifying.
After he finally wrestled himself around it, he began to move up with chameleon
hesitation. He hadn’t thought dead branches could sway, but he felt movement as
he edged out, higher and higher. Beads of sweat that slid down and dropped from
his nose seemed to take half a day to reach the ground. At least if he fell he
would have time to think matters over.

He reached the ropey arm of the creeper and began
to edge it along the branch with him as he moved further out. It was completely
rigid, retaining the curve of the oak branch where it had rested at its death.
Pushing it along by giddy inches, Aedan finally reached what he hoped was a
position directly above the fireplace. He tested it by breaking off a withered
chunk of the creeper’s bark and dropping it. It fell a yard short. He advanced
a yard, tried again and was rewarded with a dead-centre hit.

The creeper dangled a good fifteen feet above the
ground, too high for anyone to reach or, he hoped, notice. He secured it over a
knot in the branch and edged his way back down again. Reversing the climb was a
little less terrifying though far more awkward. By the time he reached the
ground, Aedan was grazed from chin to toes as thoroughly as if he’d been caught
under a wagon and dragged.

He strapped his makeshift shoes back on. Supplies
needed to fuel seventy people on a sustained march would have been hidden somewhere.
The cave was the obvious place. It was more of an overhang than a cave, but
deep enough that the interior was dim. Aedan had thumped his head on the roof
here before, so he walked carefully, hand outstretched, as his eyes acquainted
themselves with the darkness.

A pile of flat rocks caught his attention. He lifted
them and found the sacks of food. At first he worried he would not find what he
was looking for, but eventually he came across a metal container that looked
about right. He pried the lid off, tasted the contents, and smiled. The vial
from his pocket was promptly emptied into the container and the powder mixed
in. Then he packed everything back as before.

Not far off, a branch cracked. An instant later,
men entered the clearing – the advance scouts. They looked around for a moment,
then dropped their light rucksacks and began collecting firewood.

Aedan crouched in the shadow. He would never be
able to slip out the cave now, so he crept into a dark hollow behind a large
boulder. He was only just in time. One of the men entered the cave and made for
the food store. A projection on the roof caught him just above the eye, unleashing
a string of poisonous-sounding words. He sat on Aedan’s bolder to nurse his wound,
and remained there until Aedan, unable to move, was so cramped he wanted to
scream. The Lekran was close enough to smell, and smell he did, carrying the
unmistakeable odour of one who had not washed for weeks.

While the afternoon slipped into darkness, Aedan
worried and hoped that nobody would discover his shoes. He had left them behind
a bush, intending to recover them after making his preparations, but there was
nothing he could do about it now. Then he realised he had not cleared his
tracks from those first few steps either. He gritted his teeth and inwardly
named himself a royal idiot.

He began to think about Lanor and the men
following the trail through the forest. There were no trackers among them; they
were village folk and would probably be lost by now. He silently lashed himself
again, wishing he had thought more carefully. He should have waited and led
them here. His plan had tried to accomplish too much, and it had made no
allowance for the people involved. Hadn’t he just read the words of one of the
great generals – Osric or Vellian – saying that a battle plan unable to bend
would shatter? He had made just such a plan. A slight deviation would bring
failure.

Yet, there was one frail chance.

Crunching footfall preceded the arrival of the
rest of the party. The injured man made his way out into the open, still
holding his forehead.

Aedan let his breath out and stretched his aching
limbs. Unwrapping his shirt and jacket from his feet, he pulled them over his
cold skin and edged forward to see where the captives were dumped on the far
side of the clearing. Two men stood guard. The rest settled themselves around
the fire that had just begun to crackle. Aedan slipped back as four of the Lekrans
collected pots and food bags. Though the men were clearly relaxed, there was little
in the way of joviality – they were stern to the point of sourness.

The guards began shouting at one of the prisoners.
Quin approached and stooped down. Aedan could not determine what he was doing,
but caught his breath as he saw him stand up again, dragging Kalry past the
fire to the cave. Aedan crawled back into his hiding. Quin shouted and a man
brought a burning branch that cast a light into the cave. They dropped Kalry
against the wall and tied her ankles. She was only feet away from Aedan. If the
light had been better, they would have seen him. He shut his eyes to hide
reflections.

“You want to talk? Fine,” Quin snarled. “Here you
can talk all you want. Next time I’ll cut out your tongue.” They disappeared
with the light, bar a few glowing flakes that had dropped on the ground and
were turning black with a soft crinkling sound. Kalry was whimpering in a voice
that shook with fear.

“Kalry,” Aedan whispered.

She gasped. “Aedan?”

He crawled over and untied her shaking hands. As
soon as the ropes came loose she flung her arms around him and buried her head
in his neck, sobbing. Aedan wasn’t too sure what to do; this was not his area
of experience. He put his arms clumsily around her shoulders and held her until
she was breathing easily. She let go and sat back against the rock.

“They killed Dorothy.” Her voice quivered as if
her own words had cut her. “She couldn’t keep up so they slit her throat and
left her like an animal.”

Aedan almost choked. He heard the agony as she
continued.

“The way William screamed … I never knew a man
could scream like that. I don’t think I’ll ever get those sounds from my head.
He screamed and screamed until they clubbed him down, and then they kept on clubbing
him until he was as still as her.” She gave way again to deep, silent sobbing.

Aedan was shaking. He couldn’t speak for a long
time. It was the sheer impossibility of what he had just been told that stunned
him. He had heard of cruel deaths when cities were sacked or when murderous
gangs did their work, but such things only happened in grim histories and tales
gone wrong. They happened in other times, other places, to other people; they
were not … real.

But finally it took hold, and he tasted the bitter
ache. It hardly seemed possible, but Dorothy, gentle, playful Dorothy, and her
straight and true William were gone.

When her sobs had settled, Kalry spoke again in a
voice that was heavy and tired. “These Lekrans are cruel in a way we cannot
understand, Aedan. They didn’t feel anything. They didn’t even look angry. They
murder like they’re pulling out weeds.”

Aedan shook his head to clear it and took a deep
breath. “They might get what they deserve tonight,” he said.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I got Emroy to set the hay shed alight so the
sheriff and his men would come back. I marked the trail for them. They should
be nearby in the forest now, if they haven’t got lost.” He decided not to tell
her that he had left them to find the second part of the trail on their own.

“It will be a bloodbath.”

“Maybe not.” Aedan explained the rest of his
preparations and what he hoped would happen. It sounded good in theory.

“You know, Aedan,” she said, looking at him.
“Sometimes I think you must be the cleverest person in the Mistyvales.”

He smiled, embarrassed, slightly guilty, and she
continued.

“You were right all along. I heard about what my
father said to you. I’m so sorry. I know what he did was wrong, but I don’t
want you to hate him. Can you forgive him?”

Aedan nodded. For her sake he would try.

“You’re not a coward,” she said. “Not to me, not
to anyone who knows you.”

In the rush of preparations he had managed to
escape that awful thought, but her words brought it back, in spite of her kind
intentions. “I know … I know you don’t think I am. But everyone who saw … me …
saw what happened … they will.”

“I think they will see you as a hero when they
discover what you have been doing.” She took his arm in hers and they looked
out into the fire-lit clearing.

When the broth was cooked up, the slavers served themselves
using wooden bowls. Each captive was given half a potato and a sip from a
waterskin passed down the line. The slavers began to sprawl out on the ground
as others removed the cooking pots and built up the fire.

Aedan and Kalry watched.

For some time nothing happened, but gradually the
thicker logs succumbed to the heat and added to the blaze. The vine dangled
idly in the air currents, but Aedan knew from experience how hot it would be up
there. The flames did not reach, but the heat did. It happened quickly.

First there was a bright glow that popped into a
young flame, and then the flame began to climb. The more it climbed the hotter
it grew and the faster it moved. Someone shouted and men stood to their feet,
pointing. Suddenly Quin appeared and began bellowing orders. Clubs and stones
were thrown, but to no avail. Several men, with much confusion, formed
themselves into a hasty tower and hoisted one of their comrades as high as the
lower branch where he scrambled, slipped, and fell to the ground, landing on
his back with a jarring thud. He remained where he fell.

It was too late. The mass of knotted creepers had
begun to burn with a bright yellow glare. Leaping spears of fire lunged upwards
and branches caught the blaze. The flames climbed steadily through the boughs
until half of the tree was crackling and humming in a fire that pierced the
forest roof and lit the ground like daylight.

“That should draw them,” Aedan said with
satisfaction. It was working far better than he had expected.

The slavers, in spite of the tragedy, appeared
exhausted and flopped to the ground, contemplating the blaze from wherever they
lay.

“It looks like the sedative is working too,” said
Kalry. “I think Nulty has some dangerously strong potions. Or maybe these Lekrans
use a lot of salt.”

“I don’t think the smaller pot was salted though,”
said Aedan. “Quin and his two officers don’t seem to be affected.”

One of the branches, as broad as an ox, cracked
and fell with a swelling whoosh. Men rolled to their feet and tottered out of
the way before the impact. The branch struck the ground with a booming crack
and burst with a shower of sparks, throwing several men onto their faces where some
remained, apparently asleep. One had been too slow to react and joined the
ancient tree in its long awaited cremation.

The captives began screaming. Quin, who appeared to
be quite lucid, advanced on them with his knife drawn.

A deep bellow called his attention away. He turned
to see Lanor storm into the clearing, followed by his enraged men. Some of the
slavers reached for weapons, but they were too slow. One managed to get a
crossbow loaded and fired it at Nulty whose clattering arms drew the most
attention. The Lekran could not have chosen more poorly though, as this was the
one man wearing chain mail. The mail took most of the force. Nulty rushed at
his assailant, blocked the desperate swing of the crossbow with his ample shield
and heaved a great agricultural stroke at the man’s leg with an axe. Dark blood
spurted and the Lekran dropped. Nulty tripped and fell on top of him with a
tremendous crash. Only the storekeeper got to his feet again.

The rest of the slavers attempted to fight, but their
feeble blows were easily deflected. They were hacked and bashed to the ground
with increasing swiftness as the sheriff’s men began to sense their superiority.

“Ah,” Kalry gasped, shutting her eyes, “I can’t
watch this.”

It was over soon. A few of the Lekrans had slipped
into the darkness of the surrounding forest. Those that had been unable to
escape lay dead.

“Let’s get out of here,” Aedan said. He led Kalry,
who limped slightly, out into the open.

The yellow blaze of the oak was gradually fading
to an orange glow while shadows crept back to claim their ground. Around the
edges of the flames, women and children wept in each other’s arms. Thomas stared
ahead of him with vacant eyes – Aedan could only guess what horrible sight
still lingered. Dara was cradled in her mother’s lap, crying, rocking. Dresbourn
sat rubbing his wrists while surly grimaces pulled down the corners of his
mouth.

Kalry moved towards her father but Aedan held back.
She stopped and turned to him, raising her eyebrows.

“I need to get my shoes,” Aedan said. “All those
cinders …”

“I feel safer with you next to me.”

Aedan smiled. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

She smiled, lingering. Gratitude, friendship,
loyalty, and love. They poured from her eyes, all the more striking for the
harshness of the setting.

It was a moment Aedan would never forget.

Her face was still hovering in his mind as he reached the edge
of the forest, now in shadow. He began sweeping with his bare feet.

Nothing. That was strange.

He got down on his hands and knees and advanced
along the ground, deeper under the bush.

There was a soft rustle of branches and something
struck him on the back of the head, knocking him to the soil. A powerful hand
clamped over his mouth and another wrapped around his frame, almost crushing
him. The man held him from behind so that they both faced the clearing.

“We lucky, find shoes.” The slaver’s broken speech
was a whisper. “Captain tell me wait here, catch you, revenge. Take you, take
girl.”