Light Of Loreandril (21 page)

Gaular too, was quickly overpowered, surrounded on all sides. Try as he might, the dwarf, although bigger than most of the men, was unable to swing his hammer, with the men scrambling all over him trying to pin him down. Somehow, one of the soldiers succeeded in knocking him out with a tremendous blow to the back of the head. He fell like a lead weight.

Nymril and Eilendan fared no better, unable to put up a fight as the karzon and soldiers filled the glen so quickly and with full force. Nymril, her frame delicate and light, was taken by surprise and knocked flat to the ground as Eilendan desperately tried to defend her from the stamping hooves of the rabid horses. He killed one karzon with a swift clean hew of his blade, decapitating him, but was promptly inundated from all sides.

In the confusion the saddlebag containing the Aeonorgal was kicked to the side by the frenzied hooves, and left hidden under a prickly bush.

Cradon and Nechan became separated in the melee. They hid on opposite sides of the camp, crouched behind tree roots, watching in dismay as their new-found friends fought bravely. They felt powerless, knowing there was little they could do to help.

“Tavor!” Nechan cried, as he came within earshot.

Tavor turned, his blade drawn, and ran towards Nechan. “Where’s your brother? Where’s the Spirit Star?” he panted as he fell on his knees covering the boy as if protecting him.

“There. Cradon is by that tree!” Nechan pointed, and Tavor looked over, quickly spotting Cradon’s distinctive red hair protruding above some gnarled tree roots.

“Good!” He looked at Nechan again, leaning in closer and pressing his weight against the boy. “Which of you has the Star?”  There was a strange look in his eyes, one that Nechan had not seen before. The man who had taken them in at the farm was no longer recognisable.

Tavor scanned the frenzied commotion that filled the glen, then caught a glimpse of the gnome not far from Cradon. He was rummaging beneath a bush and to Tavor’s surprised pulled out a discarded saddlebag. He watched closely as the gnome reached inside, pulling out the Spirit Star, the silver embroidered cloth shining in the firelight. It was obvious he was not going to give it up without a fight, brandishing his axe with his free hand, ready to start on anyone who came near.

“Wait here!” Tavor commanded, preventing Nechan from getting up. The boy obeyed, fear forbidding him from doing anything else. Tavor sprang up and began to run across the glen, picking his way through the turmoil, heading for Gomel.

Cradon saw him coming towards him, and automatically assumed he was heading over to help. He clambered out from his hiding place, running out to meet him. “Tavor, Tavor! What’s happening? You have to help us! Where’s my brother?” he jabbered anxiously, trying to grab hold of the clansman.

Tavor barged past, pushing Cradon out of the way as if he had not seen him. Tavor only had one thing on his mind and that was not this silly boy. “Not now! Out of my way!” he snarled.

Cradon fell to the ground with a thud, landing hard on his elbow.
Why had he not stopped to protect him?
 

“Gomel!” Tavor roared.

Briefly, Gomel was relieved to see a fellow comrade who was still able to fight, naturally assuming Tavor was coming to help protect the Aeonorgal. He looked at the man’s face again and realised to his horror it was not that of the same man they had captured. His kind, humble smile had disappeared, replaced by a raging, angry grimace, and he was wielding his sword in the gnome’s direction.

“Give me the Spirit Star!” he shouted as their blades clashed.

Gomel spat defiantly. “You will have to kill me!”

They dropped their blades and began wrestling, even though Tavor was a man nearly twice his size. For a being of such diminutive stature Gomel held his ground, his short stocky legs and wide body helped maintain his centre of balance as Tavor pushed and shoved, trying to prise the Aeonorgal from his grip.

Cradon, still lying stunned on the ground, was shocked as he watched Tavor attack Gomel.
Had Nechan been right? Could it be that Tavor had fooled him all along?
Anger began to swamp Cradon’s mind.

Crawling on his stomach towards a broken branch, avoiding the stamping hooves, Cradon made his way rapidly across the glen. The soldiers and karzon appeared to ignore him, spending all their effort on subduing the others. Picking up the branch in both hands, he ran towards Tavor, and clubbed him on the back of his head. The man fell to the ground instantly, his head bleeding from the force of the blow. Cradon dropped the branch, amazed at what he had done.

“Come, boy! We must run!” Gomel grabbed his arm and began dragging Cradon into the woods, leaving behind the raging battle.

“Nechan, my brother, I cannot leave him!” he cried as Gomel continued to haul him deeper into the woods.

“It’s too late. I’m sorry. The others will take care of him!”

The noise of the attack faded quickly into the darkness behind them.

Nechan had not seen Gomel and Cradon leave. No one had. Amazingly, they had slipped away unnoticed as their attackers had paid no attention to the little gnome and the young, bewildered boy. Nechan, remaining hidden, watched in pale terror as the soldiers and karzon eventually overwhelmed the entire group. Gaular lay unconscious in the mud with a large gash bleeding above his eye, while the others were all pinned down at knife-point.

The soldiers that were not holding them captive were tearing apart the packages and saddlebags looking for the Spirit Star, but to no avail. A slow panic brewed as the truth began to dawn on them.

“Deal with that Aeon Elf, immediately!” ordered Govan, pointing at Nymril.

Without needing to be told twice, Javil and two soldiers grabbed Nymril, pinning her even more tightly to the ground. Eilendan and Jaidan yelled at them to stop, fearing the worst as they watched hopelessly, their bonds too tight to escape. Javil pulled out a heavy neck brace with a large black stone set in the centre. He clamped it tightly round her slim neck, pressing against the skin, as she struggled hopelessly beneath the weight of the men.

In an instance she felt her veins course with a strange magic that seemed to chill her to the core. Before her eyes, she watched as the silver etchings that decorated her skin turned black.

“That will stop you and your Elven magic!” Javil sneered, showing his yellow, stained teeth, as the laughing soldiers released her. Nymril was barely able to move. It was as if her body had been encased in a lead weight, sapping all her energy. There was nothing she could do as the rest of the comrades were searched and stripped of all their weapons.

At the order of the Vlandac, Govan began to interrogate the comrades, a growing sense of urgency in his voice. “Where is it?” he demanded, slapping Eilendan hard around the face. The elf felt the warm, iron taste of blood against his tongue. He spat it out, but did not answer the question.

“Tell me, where is the Aeonorgal?” Govan hit him hard again; this time his nose seemed to burst and blood quickly ran over his lips and down his neck. Even with blood now dripping from his chin, Eilendan remained defiantly silent as his back was pressed hard against a tree truck with a knife at his throat.

Believing he was about to witness the death of the elf, Nechan found himself unable to stifle his yelp as the soldier hit Eilendan again. Javil turned to look for what had made the cry, scanning the tree line. He caught sight of Nechan crawling away. Govan quickly caught up with him, placing a heavy, restraining boot on the boy’s back, pushing him into the ground. Satisfied Nechan was not going to resist, the soldier picked the terrified boy up by the scruff of his neck, and dropped him at Eilendan’s feet.

“What do we have here, then? A coward, hiding in fear?” Govan jeered, making Nechan lift his chin with the blade of his sword. He looked back at Eilendan who was almost foaming at the mouth with rage. “Should I kill him now, or later?”

Eilendan tried to struggle free, managing to elbow one of his captors in the stomach. He was determined not to let an innocent boy die at the hand of this barbarian, but within seconds more soldiers were upon him.

A summons from Vlandac disturbed Govan’s interest in the prisoners. The karzon was shouting at his men in a tone that Govan did not appreciate.

“Have you found it yet? Tear everything apart!” Vlandac ordered, desperately thrashing at saddlebags with his sword. “Govan! Where is it?”

Govan dropped Nechan, leaving him to be bound by one of his men, and joined Vlandac in supervising the search. The men continued searching frantically, tossing supplies and clothes everywhere, other men were moving dead bodies to check the area. One of them, realising Tavor was still alive, dragged his unconscious body back into the centre of the glen, dropping him at Govan’s feet.

Slapping Tavor several times around the face Govan stooped over him, waiting for him to return to consciousness. Tavor rolled over, blinking, still dazed as he touched the back of his head.

“That little……” he sniped through clenched teeth, remembering how Cradon had jumped him and knocked him out. His head was caked in dried blood, and already swelling.

“It’s not here!” Govan stated, staring angrily at Tavor, not offering a hand to help him up. Instead he kicked him swiftly in the leg, wanting an explanation.

“Why don’t you ask the little runt where his brother went? Ask him where he and the gnome have run off to!”

“What?” Govan spun round, anger burning in his eyes as he stared at Nechan. He stormed over, picking the boy up by his tunic, slamming him against a tree trunk. “Where did your brother go? Tell me now, traitor, and your suffering may be less severe.”

“Perhaps you should just kill him now! He looks old enough to have been drafted. He is clearly a traitor to the Empire!” Javil joined in, disgusted by the boy’s treachery.

Nechan squirmed in Govan’s vice-like grip, the gnarled tree trunk digging painfully into his back. He stared back at the soldier, recognising the distinctive shaved head and nose ring. This was the man he had seen talking to Tavor all those nights ago.

“Enough! We don’t have time for that. He’s only seventeen – believe me, it was one of the first questions I asked!” Tavor came up behind Govan, glancing a look at Nechan.

Hardly able to believe Tavor’s words, Nechan stopped struggling briefly, subdued by the shock.

“It doesn’t matter anyway! The penalty is the same: death either way!” Govan smacked the boy against the tree again, much to the dismay of the bound comrades shouting and struggling on the other side of the glen. “Tell – me – where - Cradon - went!” His voice was curt, clearly meaning business.

“I…..don’t know!” Nechan gasped, fighting for breath. “We were separated!” He closed his eyes waiting to be hit. Instead he was dropped to the ground.

Tavor staggered forward, joining Govan, dabbing his bleeding head with his sleeve. “They can’t have got far!”

  “Javil, send out scouts. See if you can pick up their trail.” Govan took one last look at the young clansman, screwed up his face with frustration and stormed off.

Javil took command and dispatched four men in different directions to begin scouring the woods.

“What’s happening?” Nechan whispered to Jaidan. “Where’s my brother? Did you see him? What did they do to Nymril?”

“Quiet! I’m trying to listen,” he hissed, concentrating on watching Govan and Tavor’s lips move. “That traitor! I knew he couldn’t be trusted!” He shook his head in dismay, cursing himself for not acting on his concerns straight away.

 “Can you hear what they are saying?” Nechan disturbed Jaidan’s thoughts again, and suddenly he was brought back to the reality of their situation.

“Gomel has escaped with the Spirit Star. He has taken your brother with him.”

“Thank goodness he is still alive. That’s something at least.”

“Shut up!” Javil kicked Nechan, swiftly silencing him. He watched, waiting for more orders, as Govan was now deep in conversation with Vlandac, discussing their next move.

“I suggest we take these prisoners back to Damankhur for torture and questioning,” the captain was saying.

There was silence for a brief moment as karzon contemplated this suggestion. He did not relish the thought of returning without the Spirit Star, although taking the Elves would help. “I agree. We will keep them alive for further interrogation. Our Lords will be interested in what the Elves have to say.”

“Perhaps they will tell us where the rest of them are!” Govan smirked, relishing the thought.

“Perhaps!” The karzon also liked this thought. “We will go on ahead. Take care the prisoners arrive alive.” Vlandac and the other karzon remounted their horses and galloped off into the night to take the news to their masters.

“Grab the prisoners. We are moving out!” Govan commanded.

 They picked up Gaular, who was still unconscious. Knowing that carrying him would be a chore, the soldiers tipped water over his head until he was wide-awake. He was angry and struggled, shaking free his right arm, sending two soldiers flying, only to be pinned down by four more soldiers until he could resist no more. They secured him again, this time with double bonds to overpower him. The rest of the prisoners were forced to stand and were bound together in a long chain, their legs and waists bound together by lengths of rope.

As a line, they were made to march through the woods, surrounded on all sides by soldiers, with Govan and Tavor at the head of the column. The comrades dared not speak; they all felt this was the end. They were being led to their death. Their only hope lay with Gomel and Cradon who were fleeing for their lives somewhere in the woods.

It had all happened so quickly. One moment Cradon had been watching Tavor attack Gomel, the next, he had found himself breaking cover, running to his defence.
What had possessed Tavor? That was not the man he knew. Why hadn’t he listened to his brother?
A sickening sensation filled his stomach and his chest tightened as he thought of his brother.
Was he dead?