Sovereign's Wake Read online

  “I see,” Novas replied with a slow nod as accusations and conspiracy finally came to light.

  Berault would love to burn this place to the ground, Novas thought as he looked around. Novas would have liked to burn it down too.

  “Do you have a problem with that, boy?” Griff demanded.

  Novas brought his attention back to the man and tried to keep a neutral face.

  “No. I can only say that I have seen these men of yours and have been lucky enough not to become a victim,” Novas explained with an aloof shrug.

  “Indeed. If you were a victim, you wouldn’t be standing here,” Griff replied and tried to instill the serious threat with a cold, unbroken gaze.

  “I’m going to assign you to Khern’s group. He’s a ragged, mean bastard who doesn’t give a care about his men, but he gets the job done. If you can survive with him, then maybe you have a chance here,” Griff explained to Novas and finally broke his glare.

  Griff got up from his seat and walked over to the back window. He could not have seen Novas’ hair stand on end at the mention of that familiar and despised name.

  “Khern!” he hollered out the window into the mill.

  Before long, the dirty, lanky bandit appeared through the door and stood to Novas’ right. Novas thought he smelled like grease and crusted blood; Khern definitely looked like it. Khern glanced looked down at Novas, and Novas did his best to keep his face directed towards Griff in hopes to hide his identity. Novas became very uncomfortable and sweat broke out about his brow, but it was not from the heat this time. He feared that he would be recognized, and his plot would be discovered. Novas worried that they already knew who he was, and that this was the final blow. However, Khern did not respond in alarm.

  “This new whelp will be joining you on your next outing. Make sure he gets his hands wet,” Griff commanded with a wicked grin.

  With a look up and down that settled with a glare, Khern sized Novas up but appeared to not recognize him.

  “I can do that, chief. The more men the better,” Khern spoke. “We’re just about to go on a run now. We’ve got reports that a trade caravan from the eastern shores will be passing by soon.”

  “We’ll need someone with your particular skills if we are to succeed, I think,” Khern explained as he motioned to the pile of Novas’ weapons.

  The two men broke into wide grins and began to nod, and Novas tried his best to follow suit.

  “Follow me, whelp. Now,” Khern commanded with a hard hand slapping Novas’ shoulder.

  Novas collected his equipment and followed Khern outside the door. Novas’ right hand palmed the hilt of his knife, and he flexed his arm as if he primed to strike.

  “I am going to kill this man,” Novas’ voice resounded deep within him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Novas followed Khern away from the cabin to a table fashioned from a wide tree trunk where a collection of workers sat on smaller logs tossing a group of coloured, multi-sided stones into its center. By the amount of currency also being thrown around the table, Novas had to assume some gambling was taking place although he was completely lost to the game that they played. The stakes it seemed were serious; when Novas walked by, there was a loud argument and a slamming of knives into the table. Perhaps that was part of the game, Novas mused.

  “Wait here, whelp. We’ll be leaving soon. These are my men here. Try not to get yourself stabbed, or not. I don’t care,” Khern warned him with a chuckle.

  Novas noted that there were no more seats left at the table, so he began to find a place of momentary rest. As Novas scanned the surrounding area, he noticed the eyes of one of Khern’s men fixed upon him. After Novas found a seat against a raised stump, the man continued to watch. Novas had not been sitting long before the spying one sauntered over in his direction. Novas drew his knife and played at carving a bit of wood in the meantime while he watched the man approach.

  “So, you’re the new one now,” the figure stated.

  Novas looked up at the person’s face, which featured a round, obtrusive ears, a skinny mouth and jaw. Novas guessed by the fine and soft features of his face that he was one of the younger at the mill. His curly, dark hazel hair matched the leathers of his garb well, he was an inch or two shorter than Novas, and the roughness of his hands could have told tales of the work he had done there.

  “What’s it to you?” Novas questioned and looked up into the youth’s green eyes, twirling around the hunting knife.

  “Oh, oh, nothing I suppose. I was the new one until you arrived. With blades like those, I’ll probably still get stuck the dirty work,” he replied as he motioned towards Novas’ gear.

  “All these blades see is dirty work,” Novas stated as he cut deeply into the wood.

  “Right, I’m sure,” he replied.

  “The name is Zill,” the young man told Novas. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Rast. I was born in the Glass Hills before I was abandoned in the capital by my vagrant uncle. I need work, so I came here. What else do you need to know?” Novas fired off, running through a list of ideas he had complied to represent his character.

  “Well, you’re in luck. As long as people continue to use the roads, we’ll continue to rob ‘em, right boys!” Zill turned and yelled over to the men at the table.

  “Shut it, ya!” one of them shouted in reply as another slammed the table with a closed fist.

  Zill swallowed hard and shrugged his shoulders. Novas tried not to look interested in the young man’s joviality and continued to spin his knife while looking to the forest’s upper foliage.

  “Nice bunch,” Zill muttered.

  “Alright scum. Get your gear and let’s get moving. These fools aren’t gonna rob themselves!” Khern barked as he reappeared.

  Three men rose up from the table while one stayed behind to collect his winnings and pocketed the gaming stones. They left the mill from a north path. Khern led and the three others followed in suit. Novas kept up and noticed that Zill seemed to be shadowing him but paid little mind to it. They didn’t proceed quickly but moved through the woods in silence. As they continued, the trees had thinned out a fair bit, allowing the horizon to be seen from its depths, but wild brush and tall grasses still dominated its floor.

  “Where did you get that sword, Rast?” Zill whispered after he snuck up to Novas’ side.

  Novas had not planned for this inquiry and began to churn out another story in his mind.

  “I killed a man for it,” Novas replied. “He tried to rob me on my way from the capital, but I was too quick for him. I put two arrows in him before he could reach me. He was a fool.”

  “Do you know how to use it?” Zill questioned.

  “You better wait and find out,” Novas stated.

  “Shut yer meatholes before I make a new one for ya! We’re getting close to the road,” Khern yelled from the front of the group.

  Before long, another highway appeared in a clearing which seemed to wind through the forest in a curved fashion. Khern waved his arm in a circular motion to call his men towards him, and they rallied on his position, forming a circle.

  “You seasoned mutts know the drill. Rast, this is how it’s going to go down,” Khern spoke as he reached for Zill’s shoulder and pulled Zill beside him with a rough grapple.

  “This little maggot is going to be bait. He’s going to wait on the road and try his damned well best to stop their caravan. When they stop, you, Rast, will send the first arrow, and us four will take care of the rest. You will cover us and make sure no one gets stabbed in the back. Got it? Everyone got that?” Khern explained, looking every man directly in the eye after.

  The five nodded at him, and they all separated. Zill took his place on the road and rolled over into position with his back facing the direction of the caravan’s approach. Khern took one of the men to a concealed position within some bushes on the other side of the road, and the two others did likewise on the roadside closest to Novas. Novas found some pronounce
d tree roots to allow him some elevation of the scene and made his way into hiding like the others.

  The summer day burned on as the crew waited for the caravan to arrive, and light flickered on the road as the leaves above twisted in the wind. Novas took a seat, drank some water from his canteen, inspected his bowstring, and preened the feathers on his arrows. Down on the road, Zill was rolling around and becoming restless before he sat up in the dirt. A rock appeared, hurled from Khern’s direction, and it smacked Zill straight on the back. When Zill looked over, he met eyes of bloodshot fury. Zill swallowed deep and curled up in the dirt again.

  Novas sighed when he heard the sound of hooves clopping and the turning of wheels on the path. As the wagon came into view, Novas did a tally of its crew and nocked an arrow onto his bow. The caravan itself was a wooden wagon covered in cloth and drawn by two brown horses with light blonde manes. He had not seen any armed guards on the road since leaving home, but this caravan was the first exception. Two men on foot with bucklers and swords brought up the front of the convoy while one with a crossbow patrolled in the rear on horseback. The two guards in front laid eyes on Zill and hurried over to the young man on the road. One kneeled over and pulled the body towards him, revealing a seemly dead face with eyes wide open in shock.

  “Move the body so we can be on our way,” the driver commanded from his perch on the front of the caravan as he slowed the horses to a stop with a pull on the reigns.

  Novas brought the bow up to the ready and drew the arrow back. He did not want to kill those men, but figured he had no other choice. He knew he had to do anything. He said he would do anything.

  The arrow flew from the bow and landed precisely where Novas had intended: above the chest plate, below the helmet, and right into the neck. As the first guard fell, the kneeling footman unsheathed his weapon and dove towards the cart. As Zill scurried out of the way, Khern and his men emerged from the roadside with a gruff yell. Khern and his partner emerged from the far side of the road and engaged the foot soldier towards the side of the caravan. The desperate guard did his best to deflect the flurry of attacks, stopping his attacker’s vicious sword strikes with clever pacing and flexible shield work. As his arms began to tire, and his breathing became hoarse, the guard felt he was becoming overwhelmed. After a careful deflection with his shield, he drove a swift kick into the stomach of Khern’s partner and launched him in front of the caravan where the driver unloaded a crossbow bolt into the fallen bandit. Struck with pain and surprise, the wounded thief took a hatchet from his belt and hurled it with his remaining strength at the driver. The hatchet buried itself deep in the driver’s chest and knocked him off the caravan. The two died on the ground at nearly the same time.

  Shaking off this surprise attack, Khern launched a double-footed kick to the guard’s shield, knocking him against the carriage and onto the road. As he was not encumbered by the weight of any armour, Khern was the first man back up to his feet. Following another sweeping kick to the guard, he plunged his sword deep underneath his victim’s shoulder. Khern kicked the man off his sword and spat on the corpse.

  As the two bandits emerged from the side closest to Novas, the mounted one’s suspicions had paid off, and his crossbow was primed and at the ready. The first of the two bandits ran up to the guard’s left where he grabbed hold of guard’s chain mail and attempted to dismount the horseman. The bandit did not have the leverage, and he was met with a crossbow bolt that shot straight into his chest, pushing him dead into the roadside. Distracted with his target, the guard lost sight of the second thief who ran around to his right flank and delivered three quick hacks with his sword to the horse’s body. The horse whinnied in pain and bucked up high, knocking the guard from the saddle onto the solid earth. Before the guard could gather the momentum to roll over, the remaining bandit had plunged his blade deep into the guard’s face, leaving a bloody mess. As the bandit withdrew his blade from his victim, another crossbow snapped free, and a fresh bolt protruded from the bandit’s back. The bandit bellowed with rage, reached towards the bolt with no avail, and turned towards the carriage. As he stumbled towards the wagon frothing with anger and pain, a second bolt flew from the back of the caravan and stopped the bandit dead, and he fell against the solid earth.

  “ What do we have here!” Khern yelled, half exhausted and panting, as he hopped up into the carriage bed.

  After the sounds of a struggle, Khern emerged and threw a robed woman to not far from where the fallen driver was laid. She clutched a thick cloth knapsack for dear life, huddled into a ball, and cried to save her life.

  “Please! Spare me! Please let me go! I won’t tell a soul. This secret is safe with me!” she pleaded as she kicked up dust on the road.

  “Get out here, men!” Khern commanded as he wrenched the possession from the woman, her protests and cries only increasing.

  “Shaddup!” he yelled as he delivered a swift kick to her stomach.

  Novas emerged from his vantage point where he had watched the bloodshed, and Zill squirrelled out of the foliage seconds after. Zill and Novas stood around the weeping women as Khern tossed aside the bag to reveal a smaller chest stored within.

  “No, please, anything but that. It’s been in my family for generations,” the woman spoke as she continued to sob.

  Khern opened the unlocked latch and opened up the lid to reveal a rock the size of a fist secured with metal fastenings to a necklace. The rock had a light metallic core like silver and hazy blue crystal shot out from it at all angles. As Khern showed it to the light, it seemed to shimmer and refract with some brilliance. Novas had never seen anything like it.

  “By seven thunders! This is it! Zill, check the rest of the caravan and make sure we’ve missed nothing,” Khern spoke with a wicked grin as he continued to spin the treasure in the light, admiring its beauty.

  Zill hopped up into the caravan and began to rummage around in its contents.

  “Rast, finish off the girl. I tire of her inane babble,” Khern commanded, his vision still fixed upon the prize.

  Novas nodded once slow and withdrew his sword. He looked down upon the woman with a hard-eyed stare. His glare was returned by enflamed, pathetic eyes and a weepy disposition. She pulled at his pant legs and mouthed her soft protests.

  To Novas, he stood ready to strike for what seemed an age. A great divide opened up inside him, a conflict of duty and character. To defeat the Blackwoods, he needed the mission to succeed, and he needed to gain their trust. He said he would do anything. He knew everyone was relying on him. This order, however, seemed more disturbing than any he had faced in his life. Novas asked himself, did he not hate the Blackwoods for the action he was about to commit? Did he not fight for freedom, not enslavement or destruction? Novas did not want to live this way, and he did not want to live with any more innocent blood on his hands. There has to be another way, he spoke to himself.

  “No,” Novas stated.

  The word seemed to echo through the forest, etched upon the bark of those trees for all time.

  “No? No!” Khern laughed half in surprise, half anger. “Who do you think you are, whelp?”

  “Stand aside,” Khern growled as he pushed Novas aside and raised his sword to strike.

  The sword had just begun to fall when Khern saw another edge pointed towards his throat. Novas had found the strength to hold his blade outstretched, unshaking, and still.

  “No,” Novas repeated, his eyes narrowing.

  Khern yelled in anger and leapt back, parrying the blade at his throat. Novas brought the sword around and raised it in a readying position. Khern only took his eyes off Novas for a second, and he rolled and grabbed a second sword from his fallen comrade. Khern started to twirl the blades around his body in fierce and fast motion and paced forward into Novas’ range. Novas watched the path of the blades and tried not to become too hypnotized in their dance. He put his sword forward to deflect as soon as he could. As Khern’s left blade connected with Novas’ sword, the
right blade continued its slicing motion and bit sharp into Novas’ chest. The blade tore through the leather and cloth of Novas’ jerkin and left a long cut on his upper body. Novas gasped and fell to his knees, gripping his chest with one hand and holding his sword with the other.

  “Ahaha! Is that all you got, maggot?” Khern shouted before licking his lips and bearing his teeth in a snarl.

  Novas had yet to feel the sting of a blade, and it made his skin feel like it was on fire. He felt it as the pain of sickness and fever was layered and focused. Every beat of his heart spurred the fire across his chest even farther. When he pulled his hand away, it was stained with blood, and his breathing became hoarse and wheezing.

  “Now you can watch me finish off this whore. After, I’ll have to think up something slow and excruciating for you,” Khern spoke as he grabbed the woman by the hair and placed his blade on her exposed throat, which started her screaming anew.

  Novas grabbed at his chest again. He couldn’t let this be the end for her or him, he thought. Novas refused this fate with all his anger and resolve, and he clenched his teeth and brought himself to his feet. With all his might, Novas leapt and unwound a wide slash in Khern’s direction, causing Khern to toss the woman aside before the bandit could deliver the fatal cut. Khern replied with a powerful downwards strike with both swords that Novas deflected with a rising slash. Novas followed up with a shoulder butt and knocked Khern against the side of the caravan where the bandit put his elbow into Novas’ back. Novas grunted and leapt backwards, rolling to his feet and then beginning his assault again. However, with his unimpaired stamina and swifter blades, Khern soon found Novas becoming predictable. Novas exerted too much energy with his offensive attacks and fell back into a defensive stance, waiting for Khern to strike at him.