Seers of Verde: The Legend Fulfilled: Book One (26 page)

3

The young man was troubled by the scene playing out in front of him. Many people in a long line were hugging and slapping his cousin, Aron Nels, on the back. Some of the well-wishers were laughing. However, others were crying, including his mother, which upset him.

Tevan Nels did not understand many of the words the old ones were saying to Aron. However, he knew the meaning of good-bye, which everyone was repeating over and over again. This was not good. Tevan did not like that word. The last time Aron said it to him, his cousin left for so many days that Tevan had lost count. He was always sad when Aron went away.

Few others let him tag along with them the way Aron did. The two would go for walks and laugh. Actually, Tevan did most of the laughing just because he was so happy to accompany Aron.

When it was his family’s turn to greet Aron, Tevan’s mother gave his cousin a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. Thella said many words which he did not understand, but he recognized “my precious boy” and “good luck.” Tevan was surprised to see tears in his father’s eyes when he warmly clasped Aron’s shoulder. Again, he heard “good luck.”

Now it was Tevan’s turn to see Aron. The two looked at each other and smiled. “Mama, Papa say good-bye. Aron go away?” Tevan asked, concern flickering in his blue eyes.

Aron nodded, while giving his cousin a bear hug. “Yes, I have to go Tevan, but I will come back. I promise.”

Tevan shook his head violently. “No Aron go, please!” The young man then got excited and started babbling incoherently, which he was prone to do when words failed him.

Tevan’s embarrassed father tried to remove him from the line, but Aron gently stopped him. “No, Uncle. Let him stand by me for a while. It may make him feel better.”

As a boy, Aron was often bothered by his cousin who never matured mentally past a young child. But as they two grew older, Aron had grown protective of his gentle childlike kinsman. Aron did not remember the incident that changed Tevan’s life.

One summer, the two boys were playing hide and seek in a giant fruit tree. Both younglings were four harvests old. Tevan had scrambled high up the tree and was laughing at Aron, who was too frightened to pursue him. As boys are prone to do, they soon started throwing fruit at each other.

The throwing match got heated when both plunked each other on the head. Tevan stood up on his branch to get better leverage, when he lost his balance and fell crashing through the foliage. During the fall, Tevan’s head struck several large branches and he hit the ground with a heavy thud. Miraculously, no bones were broken, but the little boy lay unconscious for several days.

Tevan recovered physically, but his mind was irreparably damaged. He was forever frozen with the mind of a child, even though he grew into a good-looking young man with blond hair and broad shoulders.

Now when Aron gestured for him to stand next to him, Tevan laughed with delight and proudly greeted everyone, too. The day ended with a somber farewell. A platoon of new recruits assigned to Temple Darya stopped to collect Aron. Some were archers and support troops, and the other nine were his circle brothers. The officer in charge stepped forward and called for Aron Nels to join them.

The young Defender hugged his father and mother, Lawryf and Noria, then bade his brothers farewell and waved to the crowd. Tevan watched as his cousin joined the strangers. The platoon marched away, heading for Temple Darya. The young men strode in front and were followed by a long line of supply wagons.

Much to his parents’ surprise, Tevan did not put up a fuss when Aron left. Instead, he turned and walked in the opposite direction. Thinking he was pouting, his family let him go, believing he wouldn’t wander too far. However, Tevan moved to the far edge of the crowd to watch the wagons, which looked like a parade.

Many in the crowd followed the platoon for a while, calling farewells and well wishes to Aron and the other young men. Tevan was left standing by himself. Those familiar words — good-bye and good luck — rang in his ears.

He finally understood Aron was leaving. A gut-wrenching wave of emptiness overwhelmed him as the wagons passed by and the crowd walked away from him. Tevan shook his head with grief. As the last wagon slowly rolled past, Tevan started to follow it.
Aron go away
, he thought.
Wagons go with Aron. Tevan want to go with Aron
.

In a surprisingly quick motion, Tevan jumped onto the back of the wagon and wiggled underneath the tarp covering the supplies. He had made up his mind. If Aron was going, he was, too. Tevan peeked out of a hole. Many of the people were standing and calling good-bye as the platoon proceeded down the road. He giggled. It was his best joke yet that he was playing on Aron.

¶ ¶ ¶

The swaying of the dark, tarp-covered wagon soon rocked Tevan to sleep. He awoke hours later to the sounds of men talking and food cooking when the troop and wagon train had stopped for the night. Tevan climbed stiffly out of the back of the wagon and stretched. Following the smells and voices, he wandered over to a group of men standing in line and joined them without being noticed.

The others paid little attention to him. To them, he was just another wagoneer who had arrived late. Tevan followed their example, picked up a bowl, took a mug of water and eagerly accepted the food the cooks dished out.

After he finished eating, Tevan timidly scouted the area, but he could not find Aron. Many campfires were scattered throughout the clearing where the troops had stopped for the night. Being afraid to wander too far, a saddened Tevan returned to the safety of his wagon. He listened to the men he had dined with, but understood little of what they were saying. After about an hour, the stowaway crawled back under the tarp and slept for the remainder of the night.

The camp came alive with first light. Tevan awoke to the sounds of men readying the wagons for the next day’s journey. Again, he got in line for first meal without being questioned.

A hectic scene greeted Tevan when he returned to the wagon. An old man with a huge belly was having difficulty hitching up the four horses. Two of the animals stood patiently in the harnesses, but the other two were being cantankerous. Each time the driver had almost backed the second team into place, one of the pair would spook or bite the other, causing them to bolt nervously away.

The old man was growing more agitated with every failed attempt. He was yelling insults at the horses, making them even more skittish. Tevan understood the man’s words. He had heard them many times when his father and brothers had difficulty with their horses. When this happened, they would call for him to calm down the animals, which he gladly did.

The driver glanced over to see Tevan watching him. “You there, are you a handler? I could use some help here,” he called gruffly. Recognizing the word “help,” Tevan happily lent his assistance.

Saying nothing, he took hold of the team and walked the pair around the wagon once. Tevan stopped and whispered soothingly to the horses, then turned them and walked them around the wagon in the opposite direction. Lining up the pair to its traces, Tevan patiently backed the horses into position. The wagon was ready to travel at last after he and the driver finished harnessing the animals to their saddle trees.

The sweating, bald man shook his head and stroked his white mustache, which cascaded past his chin. “Never seen anything like that, but you got the job done. My thanks.” Gesturing toward the wagon, the driver said, “You’re welcome to ride with me, son. I could use the help.”

Tevan nodded and smiled. “I help and ride.”

After guiding the wagon to its place in the supply train, the driver thumped his chest. “I’m Gristo Poller. We’ll get along if you don’t talk much. I don’t like needless chatter.”

Imitating his companion, Tevan thumped his chest and introduced himself. Not talking came naturally to him. The young man could spend hours without uttering a word, perfectly content in his own world.

Gristo nodded. “Nels, eh? That sounds familiar. I’ve heard that name before. Wasn’t one of those new troopers that joined us yesterday a Nels?” Not understanding, Tevan just smiled and shrugged. The driver grunted. “Never mind, probably a long-lost cousin. I’ve heard that name in other villages, too.”

Recognizing the word “cousin,” Tevan nodded. “My cousin Aron say good-bye. I say good-bye.”

The driver sighed. “I see. It’s never easy leaving family. I understand that.” The two rode for the rest of the day in contented silence, except to note an occasional bird or rabbit that was flushed by the passage of the wagon train.

¶ ¶ ¶

Usso and Thella did not miss their son for several hours after Aron left with the troop. The farewell gathering had taken place at the Nuven temple that was close to their home village. Tevan had walked home from the temple by himself many times. His parents knew his moods. He would hide for hours when sad, but always returned when he became hungry or was frightened by nightfall.

This time, however, Tevan did not return home. Usso and Thella frantically searched everywhere that night. Their other two sons also helped look, but they could not find him. Early the next morning, the whole village fanned out and retraced every possible route Tevan could have taken back from the temple.

After another day, other nearby villages were alerted to look for what they assumed to be a lost and confused young man. Again, all the searches turned up fruitless. By evening of the second day, word of the Sankari attack that had burned down the remote village and killed all but two of its inhabitants had spread among the Nuvens.

The search for Tevan was reluctantly abandoned as concerned villagers made plans to protect themselves from a possible surprise attack. Thella and Usso refused to sleep that night. They kept a candle burning in every window in their cabin hoping Tevan would find his way home. The next morning, Thella reluctantly extinguished the candles and said a prayer to the ancestors to protect her innocent, missing son.

4

The scout rode his horse so hard toward the troop, it appeared he would ram through the marchers without stopping. At the last moment, the young man yanked the reins so hard the animal reared up on its hind legs.

Horse and man were heaving from exhaustion and gaminuteg for air. The animal was covered in froth and the man was soaked from his and the horse’s sweat. Exhausted from a day’s nonstop ride, the scout collapsed when he dismounted.

Calling for water, Witt Peyser rushed over to the young Nuven. “By the ancestors, son, what is it? You almost killed yourself and your horse.” Arri Grion took a big gulp of water and choked. The steward admonished him to take sips, but waited patiently for the rider to get his breath.

After a few moments, Arri gasped out his urgent message. “Steward, a Nuven village five days’ ride from here has been wiped out by Sankari. Only two younglings were left alive.”

Witt frowned. “A whole village? Everyone killed? That is a new tactic by those bastards. But what has that got to do with us? We are too late to help.”

Arri shook his head while taking another gulp of water. “Sir, I saw a Sankari party less than a day’s ride from here. They were traveling slowly because they had wounded.” Witt’s eyes narrowed into fearsome-looking slits. Before he could bark out an order, someone spoke behind him.

“Steward, let Circle Sankarikiller pursue those Nuvens,” said a somber Tanzer Unota. His circle brothers stood behind him, all nodding in agreement.

Witt turned back to Arri. “How many Sankari are there?”

The scout thought for a moment. “I counted about twenty-some, sir. Half their force split off and left this group with the wounded.”

The steward shook his head. “That is too many for an untested circle. We may have to let these murderers go.”

Aron Nels knelt before Witt. “With all due respect, sir, we have been tested by the best warriors on Verde. Let us pursue the Sankari. The villagers will never be avenged if we let them slip away.”

Witt snorted. “You have never spilled blood nor had your blood spilled in battle. Killing a man is very different from pretending to kill him.” The circle of young Defenders stood up with their arms folded against their chests. Ten pairs of eyes focused fiercely on their steward. None of the warriors exhibited any braggadocio, just a quiet confidence.

Witt rose and inspected his charges with a new respect. He had watched this circle grow up. They were the most talented fighters he had ever seen. Shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what he was about to say, the steward told the circle to mount up. But before doing so, he growled out orders.

“I am in charge of this mission. If I determine it is too dangerous or we are outnumbered, you will obey me. This is not the way I had planned for you to experience your first battle test. However, you are correct, Aron. The Sankari may escape if we don’t try to stop at least some of the murderers.”

In unison, the circle shouted, “Yes, Steward! Understood!” The ten young men ran to one of the armament wagons and hastily grabbed weapons.

¶ ¶ ¶

Osald Bettinga was not happy about being left behind to bring the wounded home. The Sankari lieutenant felt he was being punished for suffering the most casualties during the attack on the village.

In a show of bravado, when the horn sounded the attack, Osald led his men in a headlong rush into the village. The arrogant young officer wanted to claim the most kills. Unfortunately for his troop, the large building they chose to barge into was filled with men who had just returned from a successful hunt. The villagers were still carrying bows and arrows, plus spears and knives.

The Nuvens quickly defended themselves and forced Osald and his troop to retreat. Only a barrage of javelins from another Sankari troop saved them. Despite many being wounded, the villagers fought frantically but were overwhelmed.

Only after Osald’s troop reconnoitered after the battle did he realize four of his men had been killed and another five wounded. Captain Erlan Telfeer was furious with the lieutenant. After the attackers had killed everyone in the village and burned it to the ground, Erlan ordered Osald to safely escort all the wounded home. This would prove to be a slow and tedious trip, which infuriated the junior officer.

During their return journey, Osald's troop came upon a gorge, which meandered in the general direction they were traveling. Traveling through the small valley could get them home faster. Negotiating a route around it probably would add another half-day to their journey.

Osald ordered two scouts to explore the gorge to ensure its safety. About an hour later, the scouts returned to report there was no sign of danger. “Good news at last,” the lieutenant muttered to himself. With a wave, he ordered the Sankari party forward.

A small stream cut through the ravine. Thick stands of trees and brush covered the sides. An hour after the Sankari had entered the gorge, they heard strange bird calls from both sides. A few of the Sankari looked up, but most kept trudging along.

A sudden shrill whistle pierced the air. Before the Sankari could react, a hail of arrows rained from the trees. All the arrows found a target; more than half of the Sankari fell wounded or dead. The survivors of the first hail of arrows tried to escape, but the Nuven Defenders furiously attacked, bringing the remainder of them down.

An arrow had struck Osald in the shoulder. He, too, attempted to escape. However, a body hurled itself from behind a tree, knocking him off his horse. Landing with a heavy thud, the Sankari officer tried to rise, but his shoulder was on fire with pain. Looking up with horror, the last thing Osald saw was a knife flashing toward his throat.

¶ ¶ ¶

The skirmish did not last long. Witt Peyser’s Defenders carried out their orders perfectly and fought with veteran skill. They quickly dispatched their foes, including the wounded Sankari. The steward wiped Osald’s blood off his knife and stood up to survey the battle scene. All ten of the young Defenders stood together, smiling at their steward. None had been injured in the fight.

“We have never seen you move like that, sir,” said an impressed Egan Pozos.

Witt shrugged. “I’ve spilled Sankari blood many times. I have not forgotten how to be a Defender.” Looking at the dead Sankari, he ordered the circle brothers to take any worthwhile weapons but leave personal belongings.

“We are not scavengers or the barbarians the Sankari accuse us of being. Respect the dead. Let their fellow Sankari take them home to their kin.”

Before leaving the site of their first real test, Witt ordered his men to attention. This time, the steward did not frown. Much to the circle brothers’ surprise, he saluted them. “Circle Sankarikiller you have performed with great skill and bravery. I am honored to serve with such fine Defenders.”

¶ ¶ ¶

Two days later, when Osald’s troop did not return with the wounded, Erlan Telfeer led a search party to find the truant Sankari. The captain shook his head with disgust when his scouts led him to Osald and his slaughtered men. A quick examination of the bodies told him what he had expected — the troopers who had not been killed by an arrow had died from slashed throats, the telltale sign of Defenders.

One of the scouts tentatively approached Erlan, handing him a pouch with a note inside. “This was on the lieutenant’s body,” the scout said, then he quickly stepped back. Frowning, the captain opened the small leather pouch and pulled out a note written in perfect Verdan script.

“These men paid the price for the unwarranted attack and murder of innocent Nuvens. Our only regret is that all the cowardly Sankari were not here to die with their brothers — Circle Sankarikiller.”

“Defenders! Damn Defenders!” the captain bellowed, his face red with fury. He unleashed a torrent of obscenities, crumpled up the note and stomped on it.

After returning to Fortress Bryann, Erlan Telfeer’s peers found him guilty of negligence. The Sankari captain was executed as a lesson to all that a victory by the Defenders would not be tolerated.