The Succession
Chapter 3: Smoke Rises
“Come Out! Any in there come out or we burn ye down with yer farm” The harsh voice, coarse and uneducated, roused Farmer Jones and his family from their sleep. Still sleep drunk, they stumbled to the door of the small farmhouse that was their lodgings.
As Farmer Jones opened the door, he was stopped by a cold touch to the side of his neck.
“Come out here,” the same voice said. “Kneel”
“Who are you?” Farmer Jones asked the leader of the band of brigands, a short, squat man with a brutish face. “What do you want? I have nothing.”
“Are ye a man of the Magus?”
“P…p please, I’m, I’m just a poor farmer. Please don’t hurt my family.”
“Answer, Fool. Answer, and if your answer be wrong, ye die, and your family with you.”
“Yagus! Yagus! The clatter of a horse’s hooves was heard, and another brigand rode into the courtyard. “Yagus! Gerneral Caswa is almost here! She has a thousand men, and she’s sworn to hunt down all the peasant armies!”
“Keelyn’s Duckies!” the Bandit leader swore, “Well, Farmer, ye luck’s run out.” With a stroke of his sword, he decapitated Farmer Jones and his son, and, yelling, his men grabbed the women and, after lighting the hut on fire, rode off into the night.
General Caswa, Commander of the Sheild of Kylorin, rode into the light of the burning hut. “What happened here?”
“Bandits…”
“Agares’s Breath. again? Do the Nobles really have that little control over their armies?” one of the Optios asked.
“They’re weak, Divided… They can’t pay their armies, and their armies have resorted to paying themselves from the fat of the land.” General Caswa glanced at the bodies of the Farmer and his son and bowed her head. “have them buried properly. We ride on in an hour.”
The Sun rose over the plain, dissipating the heavy fog that had accumulated in the hollows over night. The Shield had ridden nonstop since the Burning hovel, tracking the bandits. The imprint of their hooves in the soft ground were clear, and the banks of the Cevedes river showed clear evidence of a large party of men riding by recently.
As the last of the fog evaporated, One of the scouts appeared in front of the Sheild, fading out of the shadows beneath a large rock.
“General. They are camped about a Lustre northwards. Look, you can see smoke from their camp.” Indeed, smoke rose up in the clear sky, a beacon for all to see.
“How many are they?” the General asked.
“About a hundred, men and women both, armed and wearing the livery of most of the noble houses, but brutish by birth. Run off from their Masters, I’d say. Just brigands, not real soldiers.
“General Caswa looked about, at the tired horses and men. “We rest here. Get the horses watered and the soldiers rested. We strike in three hours.”
“General!” One of the Mind speakers called out.
“Yes?”
“The scouts say that the Bandit camp is placed on the intersection of a ley line. They also say that those with the powers of mind speak, as well as those with influence on water, feel their powers doubling, if not tripling, as they get nearer the camp. We could use this. The bandits would not expect anything like it. We could probably scare them into surrendering.”
Yagus sat in the sun, looking at the bandits napping and talking quietly. He sat on a stone, one of a circle of fallen monoliths. The Hallow was certainly a site of importance before the age of ice, as was testified by the network of painted caves around the hallow, with 21 openings in a circle around the spring. The mouths of all but two would once have been closed shut by the great stones that once stood. On the stones could still be seen ritual carvings and flecks of paint. The one that Yagus always preferred was one which had piles of coins carved into it.
A Shriek woke him from his reverie. A man ran out of one of the caves, gibbering. He looked around, and yelled again, even louder. He fell into a little ball on the ground, whimpering.
Around him, everything stopped, as the bandits wondered what had just happened.
Then another yelled, and fell, clutching his head. And then another. Yagus looked around him in shock, as his entire army went mad with fear. One man stood, fighting the air, parrying and slashing at the demons assaulting him in his mind. A woman next to him gazed in utter rapture in the sky, whispering, asking for forgiveness for having doubted. Another fell to all fours, and growing and bearing his teeth at any who approached him.
Yagus had always doubted the existence of the gods. He had never seen anything to justify the belief in them. But now he believed in them. For, as he looked around at his mad soldiers, he saw among them other people. People he recognized, and some he didn’t. They were all dead and rotting, their arms grasping out at him, and from their mouths came a fearful moaning. In utter terror he turned. Closing on him from behind was the rotting body of Farmer Jones, from this morning. He pulled his sword, and slashed at the rotting corpse. Though the body fell backwards, missing an arm, it quickly rose up again, lurching forwards. Searching for anything to save him from the rapidly closing circle of the dead hordes, Yagus saw an opening, right next to the path that rose up out of the hallow. Sprinting and evading the rotting and clutching arms, he ran up the path. As he cleared the ledge, a fresh moan, which sounded mere feet behind him, game him a fresh burst of energy. And then he saw an armed party of soldiers, arrayed in a line in front of him. He threw themselves at their feet.
“Please, please, save me! Please! I’ll do anything. They’re right behind me. I hear them! Save me!” he sobbed, clutching at the bottom of their robes.
A woman on a horse rode up to where he was lying prone. “Are you the leader of that rabble?”
“yes, but save me!” what didn’t they understand? The horde of dead creatures was fast approaching.
“Hang him. And all the others we caught. The crows will feed well tonight.”
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