Part 32

Three and a half months of rotting in the prison.  No word.  She’d shout at the man who delivered her food; demanding to know what was happening.  They never replied. 

The only light she saw was the torch through the slot and under the door as guard walked up and down the isle.  She probably looked awful from lack of sun.

“Hey, Grez, you awake?” Tarak asked.

“No.”

“Good, didn’t want to disturb you.  But I got a question.”

“Sure.”

“How many Divine Lights are there?”

“Four, the Tetrarchy.  Then there are seven Governors that act as mediators between the Tetrachy and Mortals.”

“Do they have names?”

“Yes, but we don’t know them.”

“Why didn’t they save the Victor?”

She often spoke to them of the Victor and her faith that he’d return to them.  They had long gotten tired of the topic, or at least she had thought so.

“We’ve been over this hundreds of times.”

“No, I mean, what was their purpose in letting him get taken?”

Letting him get taken?  She had never thought of that.  They had to have known he’d be kidnapped and accounted for it.   If they had a grand plan in all of this, which she was sure they did, then she didn’t understand it. 

“Perhaps it was a test?”  She said.

“I don’t think they’d do things just to test.  I think the test part is like a…side effect, not the main reason.”

“I have to admit that I don’t know.”

“Assuming the Lost Victor is out there – and I’m not saying he is – then we need to look for the prophesized people that surround him, right? Let’s see, there was the Bull, the Raven, the Witness, the Guardian, the Princess and the Priest.”

“Correct.  The Witness will proclaim the Victor to the world.  The Guardian will protect the Victor’s life.  The Princess will marry the Victor and establish a new reign over all the lands and the Priest will record the history of the Victor.” 

“So, if we see these kind of people surrounding a guy, that’ll be him.” 

Delun spoke up from his cell.

“You want to know how I know it’s all just a pile of crap?  Because those old prophecies are so vague they can be applied to anything and only after the fact to they say; oh yeah, see?  It fits perfectly!”

“Sounds pretty specific to me,” Tarak said.

“Take the Cow and Raven.  Duke Verin has a Minotaur and a dark haired woman.  This stupid prophecy could be thrown on them,” Delun said.

It didn’t sound absurd tough.  It sounded right to her.  It wasn’t her rational mind telling her but her heart.

“Yes it could,” Greza said. 

“See my meaning?”  Delun said.

“Grez,” Tarak said.  “You knew that already.”

“I don’t know anything.”

“You’ve been thinking that, haven’t you?”

Before she could answer the light from the torch appeared and they instantly fell silent.  The guards didn’t want them talking to each other. 

The tin plate was slid through the slot and clattered on the floor, spilling some of the tasteless slop on the floor.  Every evening they’d come by and demand the plate back. If they didn’t give the plate back they would be fed. 

She heard Yulof coughing.  His cough was getting worse.  The humans weren’t as resilient as the other races and the poor diet coupled with the poor conditions were starting to wear on them.

After her meal she knelt and prayed for release, rescue or escape like she did every day. 

Then one day, about a week later, they heard several guards coming down the hallway towards their cells.  This hadn’t happened since their first week there.  She stood up and quickly put on her cestus.  Her armor lay in a heap in the corner of the cell.

The group of what sounded like four guards stopped at her door first.  She heard keys rattling. 

“Prisoner, you in there?”  A rough male voice said in that strange Roshan accent.

“Yes.”

“You’re being moved.  Don’t resist or we will hurt you.  Understood?”

“Understood.”

She understood very well.  She understood that this was her chance to escape.  She hadn’t had an opportunity like this in over three months.  She didn’t know if she was ready.  She had tried to keep fit, but there was only so much she could do.  If she tried and failed then she’d be beaten or worse and her friends would remain where they were.

Her heart began pounding and she limbered up her shoulders.  She knew this feeling well.  It was the feeling she got every time she was about to enter a match she wasn’t sure she could win. 

Four guards.  If they were well trained soldiers she could easily be killed with a quick sword thrust to the gut.  One small mistake and she was dead.

The lock turned and the door swung inward.

“Back against the wall and turn toward it,” one of the guards said.

She took a deep breath.  This was her one and only chance.  She had no other choice.

As soon as the door was full opened and she saw the first guard walking in, she launched herself forward, to get out of the cell.  She couldn’t afford to lose by them shutting the door.

The guard she crashed into wasn’t incompetent because he had was drawing his dagger instead of his sword. But he wasn’t fast enough.  She shoulder rammed him out into the hall and she pushed off of him and elbowed the next guard in his face. 

The guard she rammed into the wall grabbed her from behind in an attempt to pin her arms.  She let him push her face first toward the far wall.  She kicked her legs up and pushed back with all her strength. 

She slammed him into the wall and he leg go.  The third guard had gotten over his surprise and was swinging at her with his sword.  She stepped into it, letting the sword swing uselessly past her and used her moment to punch him in the face.  She heard bones crack against her metal gauntlet. 

The fourth guard grabbed her arm.  She in turn, grabbed his hand and bent it back further than it had been made to go.  He screamed out and fell to his knees where she kicked him in the face.

The last guard, the one that she had slammed against the wall had his dagger drawn and was in a fighting stance.  She charged him and made to swing with her left.  He began to raise his arm to block and she struck out with her right fist.

Metal collided with meat and he collapsed to the ground. 

She was out of breath and only vaguely aware that the others were trying to say something. 

“Greza?  You alright?  What’s going on?”

“If you bastards hurt her I’ll see your head on a pike!”

“I’m alright,” she said.

“What happened?”

She bent down and took the keys from one of the guard’s belts.

“I have the keys. We’re leaving.”

Part 31

They led Greza and the large man to their rear lines.  They were in a hurry and were pushing them hard through the ranks of their soldiers.  Her hands were tied and they had taken her weapons from her.  She still had her armor and Cestus though and that was all she needed. 

Her fellow captive was bleeding from a head wound but he appeared to be alright. 

As soon as they reached the enemy’s camp they were thrown in a car where three other captives were.  They exchanged glances and no more.  The tall man that had volunteered looked to be a veteran but she didn’t know about the other two. 

They had gone over what to do in the event of being capture.  Their first duty was to escape.  Their second duty was not to give away any important information.  There were rules to war that governed how captives were treated but the instructor had said that not ever country followed those rules.  She wondered if this country did.

The uniforms of the soldiers told her that she had been captured by Roshan.  They were a civilized country but she had seen how uncivilized civilization could be. 

Horns began to blow in the Roshan army and the camp was being packed up in a hurry. 

“Their getting out in a hurry,” one of her fellow captives whispered.

“They’re losing,” the large man said. 

“Small consolation,” another said. 

Greza watched their camp to see how it operated.  If she did escape perhaps she could relay some weakness to their army. 

Their cart began to move and a column of soldier filed in behind and in front.  For the time being she wasn’t going anywhere.        

She tried to get a glimpse of the battle but all she saw were a forest of pikes from the Roshan army that was obviously in full retreat. 

As the road grew long she settled in and thought.  She leaned up against the side of the wagon and put her feet out in front of her. 

What a hero she had turned out to be.  She had wanted to do her best so the Duke would notice her.  Now if he noticed her it would be on a list of prisoner exchange.  That would not impress him. 

This was pathetic.  She was on the back of a cart and was a prisoner.  This was only the beginning of the campaign season and perhaps it would be her last. 

“What’s going to happen to us?”  A Hobgoblin soldier asked.  Hobgoblins were like skinny, hairy Orks without the strength.  His yellow eyes darted around looking for any sign of hope. 

“Normally there’ll be a prisoner exchange,” the large man said. 

“When will that be?”  The Hobgoblin asked.

The large man shrugged. 

“Could be tomorrow, could be next year.  None of us are officers so I don’t think there’ll be a rush to free us.” 

That wasn’t sounding good.  Instead of gaining the Duke’s favor, she’d disappear into obscurity. 

The Divine Lights chose the wrong person.  She’d never find the Lost Victor in a prison. 

But she had already found him.  Deep inside she knew it was Duke Verin.  Perhaps she just had to accept that. 

Not that accepting it would do any good now. 

The large man taped her foot with his own.

“What’s your name?”  He asked.

“Greza.”

“Tarak.  You did good out there.”

“Apparently not.”

“I saw you.  You fight like a demon.”

“Modesty?”

“No.  I didn’t do well because I’m now sitting in the back of a prisoner cart.”

The Roshan army didn’t stop until after nightfall.  All around them soldiers began throwing up tents. 

They were taken to a spot by a tree where three guards with curved swords stood around them.

None of the Roshan soldiers looked happy.  They had lost today’s battle.  At least she could take some solace in that.  Her Duke had won a battle against a superior force.  Everything he did proved that he was worthy to serve. 

All her life she had served others and now that she was free she had found someone she wanted to serve more than anything else. 

But being a prisoner wasn’t helping him.  It weakened his position. 

Somewhere she had made a mistake.  She tried to think back to what she should have done differently. 

As the camp fell asleep around them it became obvious that they weren’t getting fed or taken care of. 

“Not even a stale crust of bread,” one of the captives named Delun said. 

“Its one meal.  We’ll live,” she said. 

“And what if it’s tomorrow and the next day?”  He asked.

“Then we go without.  There isn’t anything we can do about it so stop whining.  It hurts my head,” she said.  

“See how calm you are when you’re dying of hunger.”

“I’ve starved before.”

The next day they got a cup of water for breakfast and then they were back in the cart.  They rode all day while the remains of the Roshan army and their allies marched.  They weren’t in a hurry which meant they weren’t being pursued. 

That night, what she guessed to be near midnight, they came to a fortress.  It was an ancient fortress with one giant keep in the form of a circular, thick tower with a tall wall around it.  Upon entering the gates she saw that there were several smaller buildings surrounding the keep. 

The Roshan soldiers dragged them out of the cart and took them to the dungeon in the deepest part of the keep.  They each were thrown in separate cells.  Once the cell doors clanged shut they were left alone in the darkness.  At least they had freed their hands.

She didn’t know which one, but she heard one of the others crying. 

Back on Roristan Manor she had often been thrown in the cellar for punishment.  It was where they kept the ice and she’d be down there for days, shivering and starving.  Privation was nothing new to her. 

She tried to move her arms and found them painfully cramped.  She lay down in the moldy straw and tried to sleep.  There wasn’t much else to do and her thoughts were far more disturbing than comforting.  Back in Roristan she knew that punishment would end sooner rather than later.  Here she didn’t know if it’d end at all.  Duke Verin wouldn’t go out of his way to get back five low ranking soldiers. 

No help would be coming.  She had to escape or she’d be stuck down there forever.  She had a mission and she had to do it.  She had to prove herself to Duke Verin and stand by his side.

To do that she had to escape. 

They had taken away the small boot knife she kept there but had left her cestus.  They probably didn’t recognize the battle gauntlets for what they were. 

Unfortunately the cestus couldn’t help her escape.  With a knife she might have pried stones or bars loose. 

So, she did the one thing she could do; she prayed. 

Every morning the guards would come with their breakfast and slip the plate in through a slot.  She didn’t have opportunity to kill them or steal the keys.  There were no windows and only a small grate in the floor which smelled of the sewer that was below them. 

She tried and tried but she couldn’t find a way out.  She’d do sit ups and pushups to keep her body from weakening too much and she prayed to keep her spirit from weakening.

The Divine Lights gave her a mission and they’d provide a way for that mission to be accomplished.  She just had to be patient. 

They asked questions through the door with promises of better food or threats of no food.  It seemed to her that they weren’t putting great effort into questioning them.  Perhaps they thought they had nothing to gain from low ranking soldiers. Perhaps they had better things to do.  The questioning lasted three days or so; hard to tell due to no sunlight. After that she didn’t hear from them again.

After the first month of being stuck in a hole her patience was starting to weaken.  She tried to reassure the others that it would all turn out in the end; that they were being watched over. 

After the second month her reassurances were starting to sound unconvincing, even to her. 

Where was her Duke?

Why didn’t he come for them? 

He had left them there to rot because they weren’t important. 

By the end of the third months she wondered if her mind was slipping.  She had already heard the others’ life stories several times and knew them all completely.  They now knew her story except the mission by the Divine Lights.  That was something she couldn’t share with them. 

Not until she was sure her Duke was the Victor and not until he knew it himself. 

Part 30

Greza stood beside Richkurk on top of the hill overlooking the battlefield.  The two armies were facing each other and the number of red and yellow banners outnumbered the black and silver banners of the Company. 

Scouts generally didn’t fight in the front lines during battles.  They’d act as messengers, raiders, skirmishers and sometimes spies.  Today she was a messenger.  It was her job to run back and forth between Richkurk and the Duke. 

“I see you fretting,” Richkurk said.

“I’m not fretting, sir.”

“You are.  It’s not as terrible as it appears.  Look.”

He pointed to where the Company was waiting.  They were in a narrow space between a steep, rocky hill and thick woods.  The enemy wouldn’t be able to bring their entire army to bear and could only attack a little at a time. 

“I see the strategy, sir.  But they still have more men than we do.”

“We’re better trained and equipped.  Quality is what’s important in a battle like this.”

“Yes, sir.”

She heard the distant horns blowing in the enemy army and the long rectangles of infantry began to move forward. 

“Look there!”  He pointed to the far right flank of the enemy. 

She squinted and saw cavalry moving through the woods.  They were going to try to attack Duke Verin’s flank in a surprise maneuver.

“Our men can’t see them from where they are,” Greza said.

“Not at all.  Run to the Duke. Tell him.”

She didn’t waste time in responding or saluting.  She took off running.  She had gotten the position because she was the fastest of the scouts.

And now she used that talent to run as fast as she could to the Duke’s position.  She could see where he was due to the enormous flag that was black and gold. 

She ran through the files of soldiers and past the cannons with their crews hurrying to load their artillery.  Verin’s body guard stopped her until she said the password and then let her through. 

Greza ran up in front of the Duke’s horse and kneeled. 

“Sir,” she said.

“Don’t need to kneel in battle, scout.  Report.”

“Enemy cavalry is moving through the woods and making a wide circle to our left.  They mean to catch us unaware.”

He thought for a moment and then nodded. 

“Thank you, scout.”

A part of her wanted to stay and find out what he planned to do but her sense of duty overpowered her curiosity.

She returned the nod and hurried back up to where Richkurk and a few other scouts were stationed.  They took turns delivering his messages to different units.

Richkurk had his spyglass out.  He sent one runner off to the captain of the artillery to tell him where the highest concentration of enemy guns were. 

The white puffs of gunfire began to erupt along the fronts of the armies.  The delayed sound of their reports floated up to her.  The guns made soft ‘popping’ sounds but when the cannons opened fire they sounded more like a bass drum and a snare drum being struck at once. 

As she watched the gunfire grew in intensity until it was a constant stream of smoke and noise.    

She felt helpless to watch.  She should be down there fighting.  Ox and Burana were down there somewhere.  All she could do was pray they survived.  Her hand reached for her necklace of the symbol of the Divine Light, but it was safe under her breastplate.

“Greza, they’re moving more men to our right flank.  I think that’s where their main push will be.  Go tell the captain down there to bring up reinforcements to counter in case of a breach in the line.” 

Greza nodded and took off running. 

She entered the ranks of the army and passed by hundreds of men and women in the rear waiting for their turn at the front.  As a unit grew tired or took too many casualties they’d fall back and a fresh unit would take its place. 

She saw the fear and nervousness on their faces and wondered if she wore the same expression. 

A cannonball landed ten yards in front of her and the explosion almost knocked her over.  Her ears were ringing and she stumbled to regain her footing, but she kept running.  The brush with death would return later to haunt her dreams like they always did. 

She had to ask around for the captain’s location.  The closer she got to the front, the more chaotic everything became.  Sergeants and officers were running around shouting orders to maintain the line.  Wounded were crawling back toward the medical stations and water was being brought up for the units that were falling back to be replaced. 

The captain was on his horse shouting at two lieutenants and gesturing towards the enemy with both hands. 

“Sir, I have a message from Cpt. Richkurk,” she said.

“Out with it,” the captain shouted without looking at her. He kept his eyes forward.

“Cpt. Richkurk says the enemy’s main push is going to be here.  Be prepared to fill breaches in your lines.”

His head shot toward her.  She couldn’t tell if it was fear or anger in his eyes. 

“Tell Richkurk that we’re already doing what we can to avoid being trampled over.”

She nodded and was about to run back when a surge of yelling and gunfire erupted to her right near the woods.  She looked and saw enemy infantry coming out of the woods and attacking their flanks.  That couldn’t be allowed to happen.  If they rolled up the line from the side, the entire right flank would crumble and the enemy would pour through like a leak in a ship. 

She checked the cestus on her fists and charged in.  She had to blunt their attack to give reinforcements time to stop this. 

Greza charged into the enemy front line where the gunners were using their arquebuses as great clubs.  Some were using their long axes and a few pikemen were running up to the fight. 

It was a general melee, something she excelled at. 

The first enemy she reached had a lance.  She grabbed the end and broke it with her other hand.  Then she rushed up to the enemy soldier and shoved the spear point in his face. 

The enemy soldiers were wearing little armor and what armor they did have looked to be more decorative than useful.  Some had gauntlets and greaves.  Most had round helmets.  Only their officers on horseback had breastplates. 

She charged the next closest enemy and smashed him in the face with her gauntlet before he could raise his gun up to block her. 

A man in yellow armor and wielding a saber rushed her.  She narrowly dodged the downward slash and rewarded the soldier with an elbow to the face. 

One by one she took enemies down.  She’d crush their skulls with her fists, break their arms or smash their knees with well placed kicks. 

Three men at once attacked her with swords, a spear and an axe.  She grabbed the spear, dodged the axe and blocked the sword.  It became a mess of dodging and getting in close so they couldn’t fight back.  They had been trained to keep people at a distance and she had to move in as close as possible to break them apart. 

Then Greza looked around and found that she was alone.  She was surrounded by enemy soldiers with no friendlies in sight. 

She was tempted to curse but she didn’t have time to curse or even think.  She turned around and plunged into the enemies that stood between her and friendly lines. She grabbed men and tossed them into others and eventually found a small cluster of  axe men.  They didn’t have time to reload so they relied on their axes. 

With every army having their own colors it made it easy to determine friend from foe.  She backed up into the friendly circle of axe men and someone patted her on the back.

They fought on, completely surrounded by enemy.       

This was bad.  She wanted to break out and make a run for it, but she couldn’t leave these men here. 

“Who’s in charge?”  She called out. 

“No one!  Our sarge and lieutenant are dead,” someone replied. 

“We have to move back toward our men but we have to move as one!”  She tried to yell over the din of battle.

As her squad struggled to move back toward friendly lines she saw that there were too many enemy reinforcements coming their way.  They had to be stopped or the squad would never make it. 

“I need a volunteer to come with me and hold them off!”  She shouted out.

“I’ll come,” a large man with a crescent axe said.

She jerked her head toward the enemy and he nodded.  He came over and stood behind her. 

“Everyone, make a run for it!” She shouted. 

As the squad broke away and dashed back, she and the large man charged forward. 

She grabbed the nearest enemy’s pike, broke it and moved in on the man.  Before she could land a punch someone else was swinging at her with a curved sword.  She barely managed to dodge and shoulder rammed the swordsman.  He fell back into another soldier and she quickly stomped on his knee, breaking it. 

A spear gashed her shoulder and she ignored it.  She moved to a man with an axe, grabbed the axe before it could swing at her and kneed him in the groin.  He crumpled to the ground and she threw the axe at another soldier, hitting him in the face with the blunt end. 

She didn’t know where the large man was and didn’t have time to worry about him. She was surrounded by enemy soldiers. 

Greza grappled a man, broke his arm and elbowed him in the face.  Another she grabbed by the head and threw him into his own men. 

Suddenly something struck her in the back.  It knocked the wind out of her despite the armor and she landed on her face in the dirt. 

When she flipped over she saw several spear and sword points in her face. 

An Elf officer with a uniform decorated with gold bird icons walked up and squatted down beside her. 

“You fight good, Ork girl,” he said with a barely intelligible accent.  “But now you come with us.”

Even if she hadn’t been too out of breath to even speak, she wouldn’t have a clue what to say. 

She was a prisoner and there was nothing she could do about it. 

    

Part 29

    

Greza stumbled into the large, circular tent where men in heavy armor sat around a table.  They seemed to be deep in an argument of some kind.  They were gesturing wildly and pointing at different maps.  The Minotaur stood a good head an shoulders taller than them but he seemed to be the calmest of the ten.  The Raven girl was standing next to him and arguing in a quiet voice that could barely be heard over the others.  But the fiery look in her eyes demanded attention.

Duke Verin though, sat on the opposite side of the table seemingly lost in thought.  His head rested on his hand while the other hand balanced a dagger on the arm of his chair.

No one noticed their entrance. 

Greza looked to Onata to follow her lead, but Onata looked almost dead.  Her mouth hung slightly open and her eyes stared off into nothing as if she didn’t see the room or anything in it. 

Greza hadn’t been taught what to do in a situation like this.  She didn’t know who to address herself to or how to interrupt an argument between captains.  The only one that wasn’t occupied was Duke Verin and she didn’t think it proper to go directly to him. If Richkurk was here she would approach him, but he wasn’t. 

But she had to do something.  The news was too important to wait. 

“Sirs, I bring important news,” she said. 

She had tried to be loud but her voice came out as a dry croak instead.  She cleared her throat and looked around for something to drink.  Her canteens had went empty hours ago. 

There were no basins or pitchers of water.  The only liquid she saw were goblets of wine on the table where the captains were.  No good. 

She steeped closer to them and cleared her throats.

“Sirs, I come with urgent news!” 

This time she got looks from the captains and their conversation drifted into near silence.  Now that she had all of these captains’ attention she had to report.  Her mind tried to focus and bring everything together.

“Sirs, I am scout Greza.  I have the enemy’s location to report.  We saw them…”  She struggled to remember what the name of the place was. So she leaned forward and pointed on the map.  “Here.  They’re heading west and –“

She was about to explain but was interrupted by one of the captains.  

“West?  They were heading east!”

“Perhaps they desire to make a stand or have found a suitable ground to defend themselves.” 

She had to speak out.

“Sirs, they head east with reinforcements from Roshan,” Greza said. 

She was gripping the side of the table for support.  Her eyes kept wandering to the goblets of wine.  She didn’t drink spirits but right now she was so thirsty she feared what she’d drink to quench it.   

When she looked up she noticed that they were all silent and staring at her. 

“She must be mistaken.  The Ork doesn’t know the banners of the kingdoms,” an Elf captain with long hair said. 

“It was Roshan,” Greza said.

“Impossible.  They’re Lerichstag’s ally,” a Human female captain said.  Her hair was down in several long braids that hung down her back like thick ropes.

“She’s just an Ork.”

“But what if her report is true?”

“Look at her!  She doesn’t know the difference between Roshan and Taranka.”

“Excuse me,” Greza said with her throat feeling like a dirt road.  “I do know the difference.  I know that Roshan began as a rebel province of the Second Empire and formed a equalitarian Republic that last nearly five hundred years before civil war tore it apart. The great historian Disamalus lamented the burning of the capital as the Republic fell and the New Kingdom rose in its place.  I know that Taranka fought wars against the Minotaur clans and now have an elite core of Minotaur soldiers that pass the service down from father to son.  I know that the philosopher Serato thought Taranka was a flourishing place for heretical, rebellious and insipid thoughts.”

The captains stared at her.  Some were scowling and could barely hold in their contempt. 

Then they heard laughing.  They turned to the sound and saw that Duke Verin was sitting on this throne, eyes closed and laughing a quiet but deep laugh. 

“It appears that she does know the difference between Roshan and Taranka,” Duke Verin said.  “I’ll take your word.  You saw Roshan marching with Larica and they were heading our way.”

It took her a moment to overcome her surprise.  Her mind was muddled after all. 

“Yes, my Duke.”

“Any estimate as to their numbers?”  The Duke asked.

“Perhaps double of what they were,” Greza said. 

“Double!”  The woman captain said. 

“It’s true,” Onata managed to get out. 

“Double,” Greza said. 

Duke Verin stood up and walked to the table. 

“Show me their last location and direction,” he said.

Greza grabbed one of the red wooden markers on the map that represented army units and demonstrated for the Duke. 

He folded his arms and stared at the map. 

“My Duke,” one of the captains ventured.  “This is dangerous.  We can’t take on two armies.”

“We don’t have a choice.  They made that decision for us.”

“Doesn’t mean we have to attack them,” the elf captain said.

“If we don’t attack them, they’ll attack us,” Verin said.  “What we have to do is find a place where its advantageous to us.”

“Lerichstag.  Let them come there and we’ll have the walls to protect us,” another captain said.

“Then they’ll lay siege and we’ll be out of food before summer is through,” Verin said.

“Attack them at their weakest,” the giant Minotaur said.

They began discussing strategy and tactics and bringing out more detailed maps of smaller areas. 

Greza retreated back to where Onata stood and wrapped her arm around the Satyr’s waist to keep her standing.  She turned them around to go when Duke Verin spoke up again.

“Loyal scouts.  Please hold on.  You’ve done us a great service by bringing this news to us.”  He then turned to the Minotaur.  “Please take them to my tent and have them served a refreshing meal and plenty to drink.”

The Minotaur nodded and strode toward them.

“Follow me,” the giant said. 

The stumbled their way out of the tent and followed the Minotaur to another large tent with guards that let them through without question.  Inside were couches and beds with thick fur rugs, chests and racks of armor and weapons everywhere.     

“Take a seat anywhere.  Wait here and I’ll be back with food.  Help yourself to what you find here,” the giant horned Minotaur said. 

 After he left she looked around and saw a pitcher of water and gave it to Onata to drink first.  She gulped it down in deep swallows and then passed the remainder to Greza who finished it off. 

She could feel the water go down and spread out through her body.  It was a tangible rejuvenation. 

Eventually the Minotaur returned with a platter of cut meat, fruit and cheese.  He placed it down in front of them and sat down on a bed across from them. 

“What’s your names?”  He asked in a voice that sounded more like a low rumble than a voice.  It wasn’t unpleasant and she didn’t sense any hostility in it.

“I’m Greza and this is Onata.”

“I’ll remember those names,” the Minotaur said.

“And yours?”  Greza asked.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had to introduce myself.  My name is Tempest.”

She speared a piece of meat with her knife and bite off a small piece.  She didn’t want to eat too much too quickly. 

“You’re the new scout Richkurk told us about,” Tempest said.  “You trained many of our officers in hand to hand fighting.”

Greza looked up from her meal and nodded.

“He said you were a quiet one.  Yet tonight you spoke out more than others would have.”

“I speak when necessary,” Greza said.

“Which isn’t often, I take it?”

“Not as often as many believe.”

Tempest chuckled and then stood. 

“Stay and enjoy the Duke’s hospitality until you’re refreshed.  You did the Company a great service.”

He bowed his head in a quick show of respect and left the tent. 

Greza looked over and saw that Onata was asleep on her couch. 

Part 28

The army moved east in an attempt to corner the enemy and bring them to battle.  After their defeat, the enemy retreated back to the eastern part of the country.  Moral was high after their first victory but Onata wasn’t overjoyed.  Her and the other veterans knew it was just the first battle and they had five more months of battles to go through. 

None of them knew exactly what the over all strategy was, but they had some educated guesses. 

As the army marched Greza and the other scouts were sent ahead to search for signs of the enemy and to warn them of any potential ambushes.  It was a job that had them out in groups of two, sleeping under trees and eating cold rations every day. 

It was difficult but she had never felt more free.  There no walls, no task masters and no daily schedule.  If she wanted to walk over and see what was on top of the hill, she could.  Sometimes she had called for a rest not because she needed it, but because she could. 

Onata had point and was walking first when she suddenly stopped.  Greza crouched down and scanned the area.  They were in the forest covered rolling hills.  The terrain was rocky and the forest floor was a carpet of leaves that covered the soil with several layers. 

“What do you see?”  Greza asked.

“A stream.”

“So?”

“Bath.” 

Onata spotted it so she bathed first.  Greza kept watch while Onata stripped and waded into the calm stream.  The stream was quick and shallow, but gathered into calm pools in some places.

They had been partners for the past two weeks and so far had avoided bathing with her or anyone else.  She usually bathed in the middle of the night when no one was awake.  As soon as someone saw the scars that covered her back they’d know who and what she was.

As Onata washed herself Greza kept ideas running through her mind.  She could pass on bathing, but she needed to.  It wasn’t just her health that could be affected, it was the smell.  If she smelt so awful as to give her position away, then that was a problem.   

When Onata finished she still didn’t know what to do. 

“You’re turn,” Onata said as she strapped on her breastplate. 

Greza nodded and walked to the edge of the water.  She looked back to see Onata dutifully keeping watch and only occasionally glancing at her.  Greza kept her back away from Onata as she removed her armor, equipment and clothes.

“Greza!” She heard Onata exclaim as she was bending down to remove the pants from around her ankles. 

She looked up and saw Onata staring at her.  She quickly straightened up. 

“What’s the matter?” Greza asked.

“Your back.”

Onata began to hurry towards her.  She must have seen the scars when she was bent over.  There was no point in hiding it now. 

She came over and stood beside Greza and leaned over to get a good view of her back. 

“Greza, you were a slave?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What did those animals do to you?”

“Nothing that isn’t done to other slaves.”

Onata hesitantly touched her back and withdrew her hand. 

“Don’t tell anyone,” Greza said.

“But, Grez…”

“Please don’t.”

Onata nodded. 

Greza hurried and took her bath and dressed again.  Once they were ready they continued on their patrol. 

“Did you escape?”  Onata asked.

“I did.”

“You were a gladiator, weren’t you?”

“Now you know where I learned to fight.”

“But those scars weren’t from fighting.”

“Not all of them.  Onata, please.  I don’t wish to speak of it.  It’s like twisting a knife in my side to think of it.  If anyone found out, they’d look down on me as a slave.”

“No they wouldn’t.”

“I hear how they speak of slaves.  They use ‘slave’ as an insult and I’d be the brunt of many more insults.  I’d lose respect.”

She saw how Onata looked over to her with a look of pity.  Greza turned away.  She didn’t want the entire army seeing her like that.   

They marched until mid afternoon and took a small break in a clump of trees on the top of a hill.  Below was the end of the forest and the beginning of miles and miles of fields. 

Greza dug out of her pack a hard biscuit and a dried piece of pork. 

“No wonder you never complain,” Onata said.  “I hear these soft towners complaining of the work and the food.  The farmers complain less.  But the only people I’ve never heard complain were the former slaves.  At first I didn’t think it smart to allow runaways in the Company, but then - ”

“Shhh!”  Greza said. 

She thought she saw something. 

“What is it?”

Greza pointed out past one of the distant farms.  It looked like a cloud of dust in the distance. 

“I don’t see any…oh, yes.  I see it,” Onata said. 

“Enemy contact?”

“Maybe.  We have to get a closer look and judge their Direction, Equipment, Size and Unit.” 

“D.E.S.U.  I remember.”

They sat there and waited while the dust cloud grew bigger. Good, they were coming their way.  They’d be able to stay on the hill and observe in safety. 

It was a full hour before the enemy came close enough to gain any useful information.  Their destination was the direction of the Chimera Company.

“Why have they turned around?”  Onata asked.

“They’re coming back to renew the fight,” Greza said.

“Yes, but why now?  Why not earlier?  Something had to have changed to warrant their sudden reversal and desire for battle.”

Greza knew that an army on the run doesn’t turn and face its pursuers without good cause.  It was their duty to find out what that cause was before reporting back. 

She took out the spyglass from the leather case on her belt and rested it on a rock for a steady view.

Through the dust she was able to make out the dark blue flags of the Larica Kingdom.  Their files of infantry were marching west flanked by their columns of heavy and light cavalry. 

Everything seemed normal. 

“Maybe they grew a spine,” Onata said. 

“You know its more than that,” Greza said. 

Then Greza saw something odd.  She adjusted her spyglass and looked at the thing that drew her attention. 

Behind the ranks of Larica infantry was a unit sporting a yellow flag.  As the dust grew worse it became increasingly hard to see the specific units.  However many there were, there were more than there had been.   

Then she saw a small unit of cavalry break away from the main force.  One of them carried a yellow flag.  The flag had an eagle’s head on it. 

“Roshan,” Onata said. 

“They met up with allied reinforcements.” 

“Now we know and now we head back.”

They put away their spyglasses and began running west.  Onata kept looking at her compass and checking her map.  Now was not a time to get lost.

As she ran the realization that she and Onata held the fate of the Chimera Company in their hands. 

They stopped to rest only when it became too dark to run.  They couldn’t risk torches because the enemy had their own scouts.  Sleep was only for a few hours and they were traveling again long before sunrise. 

By sunset of the third day Greza was starting to feel the fatigue.  Onata had circles under her eyes and looked pale.  Greza’s mind wasn’t clear and she could feel her body fighting against every step.  Her legs ached and her mind cried for rest. 

“I see them,” Onata said. 

Greza looked where she was pointing and saw few lights in the darkness.  She didn’t have the clarity to ask a useful question so she just followed Onata.  As they crested a hill the entire camp spread out before them like a lake reflecting the stars.  All the fires were in clusters showing the location of each company. 

Four soldiers approached with guns leveled at them. 

“Sea Tiger,” Onata said. 

The guards accepted the password and let them through with an escort.  All too soon she found herself standing in front of the Duke’s tent.  She was sweaty, covered in dirt and out of breath.  She was so exhausted she wanted to collapse and her mind wasn’t working properly.  She could barely remember her own name.

And then the tent doors opened and she was ushered in.

Part 27

She waited behind the fallen tree in silence.  Onata was a part of the landscape next to her.  She gripped her giant crossbow but the only movement she made was the blinking of her eyes.  Greza had her flintlock ready.  Hers was loaded with shot.  The enemy troops would be close together as they marched and she wanted to injure as many as she could.  Killing was nice, but an injured soldier used up resources and manpower.  An injured man was far more damaging to the enemy than a dead one.

Two loud clicks sounded: the signal that the enemy was in sight.  The enemy, upon finding the main bridge of the highway destroyed, had split their army into three columns that would take smaller bridges and reform further down the road. 

This column had the majority of siege engines. 

The Kingdom of Larica had used a dispute over the rightful heir to claim the new king was an usurper and invaded under the pretense of establishing the rightful heir on the throne.

It was a shallow excuse and everyone knew it.  Few cared.

After a few minutes she could hear the approaching soldiers of Larica’s third column. 

Onata and she were a part of the distraction.  They would launch a text book ambush on the front and a secondary force armed with grenades and small cannons took out the siege engines being transported in carts. 

Onata silently mouthed the words, “you ready?”

Greza nodded. 

Twigs and branches were tied to Onata’s horns and Greza had branches tied like a wreath over her head. Onata had an endless supply of small tricks and techniques about scouting.  She was fortunate to have Onata as a teacher.

All they had to do now was wait for the signal that Richkurk would give.  He had insisted on leading this attack himself.  If they destroyed the engines then their siege of the city would falter and leave them trapped like birds in a cage.  

Assuming they were foolish enough to go through with the siege. 

The sound of marching feet came up to their position and moved past. Then the first gunshots fired.  That was their rather unsubtle signal.

Greza stood up and fired off a blast of shot at the thickest concentration of enemy soldiers.  They wore breastplates and helmets but arm, leg and neck wounds were all she needed.

The blast of smoke kept her from seeing how effective her shot had been and she ducked back down to reload. 

Onata fired off a bolt and ducked town as well. 

Gunshots sounded and a bullet ‘thunked’ into the tree they were hiding behind. 

“They know where we are now,” Onata said. 

“That was the purpose of this, right?”

Onata smiled and pulled out two pistols.  She jumped back up and fired while Greza hurried to reload. 

Once the ball was pounded into place she pulled the hammer back and popped back up.  The enemy were getting into formation and aiming their guns at her direction.

She quickly fired and ducked back down just as they returned fire.  Thunderous reports sounded and bullets tore through the air above her.  As soon as they were passed she jumped back up and fired into the mass of enemy infantry.

“Time to retreat,” Onata said.

Greza fully agreed.  

They picked up their things and ran further into the woods to the fall back position to continue firing.  The secondary position was behind a fallen tree where they had dug a shallow trench.  Onata and Greza grabbed the loaded long guns and they both took aim

Then she heard the sound of several explosions followed by a great deal of shouting from the enemy.  She didn’t understand their language but she guessed they weren’t happy words. 

The explosions were the grenades going off on the siege engines.  What wasn’t blown up would hopefully catch on fire. 

But their job wasn’t finished.  They had to hold their positions until the horn sounded.  That would tell them that the siege engines were in fact destroyed. 

Suddenly Greza’s head was knocked back and she fell backwards. 

“Grez!”  Onata shouted.

“I alright.”

At least she thought so.

She sat up and looked around.  Her helmet lay beside her.  There was a deep gash on the side. 

“One inch closer,” Greza muttered and put it back on. 

“Be careful,” Onata said.

“I don’t control where enemy bullets go.”

There were more explosions followed by the blast of several horns. 

“Signal!” Onata shouted.

They grabbed their guns and equipment and ran.  Bullets zipped past them, hitting trees and leaves to their sides. 

She ran too fast to think.  She just ran. 

They reached the rally point where the others were.  They did a quick headcount and ran again. 

Once back at camp they started a fire, began roasting a pig and sang.  The scouts celebrated their victory. Instruments were brought out and jokes began to be told; usually filthy ones.

Greza didn’t join them.  She sat off to the side and cleaned her guns and armor.  She cleaned the gash in her helmet and thought how pointless it all would have been if she had died then.  Why bother escaping?  Why receive a mission from the Light? 

Onata came up with a plate full of steaming meat. 

“Don’t you ever smile?”  Onata asked.

“Sometimes,” Greza said.

“I’ve never seen you.”

Onata sat down next to her and Greza picked up a piece of pork between her middle finger and thumb. 

“What food are you going to have once we get back into town?”  Onata asked.

Greza shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

“What’s your favorite?”

“I haven’t had a lot of good food.”

She’d never had good food except the few scrapes she had stolen from the kitchen.  She ate either slave food or Company food.  She hadn’t had a lot of variety in her diet. 

“One of these days you’re going to have to relax and celebrate.  We’re alive,” Onata said.

“We are alive.”

But alive for what purpose?  To find the Lost Victor?  She had to start with Duke Verin, but she didn’t even know where to start.