The sky darkened as the sun gave its last few rays of light to the open fields surrounding a castle; one that dwarfed the fortress Elian and her men were stationed at. Not a single soul was in sight. Atop a horse, Holden and Frarethien observed the area.
“Why would they have patrols out?” Frarethien asked, her impatience showing. “Anyone could walk up to the gates.”
“Perhaps that is the idea.” Dismounting from the horse, Holden waited for Frarethien to do the same before leading it to a tree, and tying the reins around the trunk. The matter of infiltrating the castle was more complex if they had to worry about hiding the horse from sight. “If you see me drop on the ground, or make any other sudden movements,” he said to Frarethien, “do the same without hesitation.”
“Okay.” Frarethien’s face was hidden behind a piece of cloth, leaving only her eyes visible. Her blonde hair was hidden away underneath her hood, which would make her less noticeable to the common eye. She held onto her bow with a firm, confident grip. It was a relief knowing that uncertainty was not in her blood.
With an arrow already notched, Holden kept watch from the treeline. The dark of night slipped over the land like a veil. The stars glistened in the sky, and he would have enjoyed the view if not for the task at hand. Then, something caught his eye. Out on the fields, a small flame burst to life, before being snuffed out. Another appeared in the distance, and disappeared in the same manner before yet another appeared.
Signals.
“What could they mean?” Frarethien asked. “Did they see us?”
“No. They would be already trying to kill us, if that was the case.” Holden started to move where the first flame appeared. The darkness quickly grew thick, since the moon was hidden away by clouds. But, he managed to make out a form in the darkness. It was something that Quinarlan taught him. They would never use a source of light, for fear of giving their position away to the patrols. Drawing back his bowstring Holden took aim at the form and waited. He wanted to be certain that this was an Omian that he was killing. “Do you see that person, in the field?” He whispered to Frarethien.
“I can’t see a thing,” she muttered, her eyes still adjusting to the night. For a moment, it almost eluded Holden that she was a novice.
“Okay, just wait here.” With painstakingly slow movements, Holden approached the form, his bow ready. Suddenly, the flame reignited, casting a glaring light over Holden and the Omian sentry tending to it. He released his arrow the instant he saw the Omian’s crest. His mind raced as he watched the sentry grip at the wooden shaft in his throat. The fire had to be doused immediately, or the other centuries would grow suspicious. Opening his canteen, Holden poured its contents over the flames, quelling them quickly. Darkness filled in after the death of the beacon, and he looked over the fields, waiting for the next fire to manifest.
It did not.
Moving quickly, he returned to Frarethien. “The other sentries are alarmed,” he said. Taking her hand, he started to run across the open fields. As luck would have it, the moon rose into the sky, casting its luminescence onto the open fields. Ahead, the empty expanse yielded to a small thicket. Pulling Frarethien in with him, Holden sank into the bushes. “We’ll wait here for now.”
“And if they find us here?”
“We’ll make sure they don’t tell anyone.” Setting his bow down, Holden kept watch for the signal fires. However, no more lit the field. Instead, he saw one of the sentries running to his fallen comrade. The distance was not great, however he was not going to risk giving away their position just to kill another man. When he looked at Frarethien, his eyes widened. She was lining up the shot. Grabbing her hand, Holden shook his head. “It’d do us little good.”
“He’s going to warn the others,” she said.
“It’ll be worse if he can tell where we are exactly,” Holden explained. He tried to keep calm, but this was an enemy that was well versed in combat. These were not Rnyrtians, nor the patrols from Stal. The ugly truth was that the fate of being cut down before sunrise was very real. “We’ll have to move quickly if we’re to make it past the castle walls. Turning around, he looked to the castle. With the portcullis shut -- and likely guarded -- he would have to find another way in.
“Perhaps there is another way in?” Frarethien asked.
“Not that I can see, yet.” Grabbing his bow, Holden crept out of the thicket. With the moon shining upon the land, he was an easy target. But, the same applied to the sentries. He motioned for Frarethien to follow him, and neared the castle wall. Without anyone patrolling the top of the walls -- perhaps out of carelessness -- it made for an ideal manner of entry. The sudden screech of metal slipping against metal made Holden nearly jump. Out in the field, a light shone from a lamp held by an Omian. He rose from the earth, and ventured out onto the field; perhaps to help with hunting for Holden.
“Was that magic?” Frarethien asked, sharing Holden’s disbelief in what just happened.
“Had I another explanation, I would use it.” Approaching where the Omian had appeared, he saw nothing to betray evidence of what he just witnessed.
“I remember back in Okeluiso, my mother told me that all the street magic was little more than illusions.” Frarethien knelt down to examine the earth. “She said that it was all illusions.” She stopped her hand after a moment, and started to lift something from the earth. The metal screeching resounded in chorus with her labored grunts.
Reaching into the darkness after Frarethien’s hands, Holden found himself gripping onto a large, metal disk. Lifting it up with Frarethien, the entrance to an underground passage was revealed, lamplight filling the passage inside the ground’s maw. Setting the disk down, Holden slung his bow and drew his blade. It would do him little good if the soldiers were too close. He turned around, and looked at Frarethien. If things took a turn for the worse, he did not want her to be dragged into the mess. It would be hard enough, trying to keep himself alive. “I need you to wait here.”
“Not happening.”
“I need to clear the area ahead,” Holden explained; a bold lie. He did not want to be responsible for her catching the sharp end of steel.
“If somethng happens in there, it will take both of us to survive.” Frarethien drew her sword, and proceeded down the entrance.
“I won’t be able to keep you safe.”
“I don’t need to be looked after, Lieutenant .” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I’ll manage on my own. Now, are we going to work together?”
“That’s not how it works,” Holden explained. “A scout is a lone force. There is nothing to save you, should--”
“This isn’t a scout’s mission,” Frarethien said. “It’s an assassination.”
With a sigh, Holden looked into her eyes. They were filled with some undiminishing determination. Fighting her to prove her worth was like fighting an angered wyrm. “The instant our life is in jeopardy, you’re leaving.”
“Understood.” Frarethien moved to let Holden take the lead, following as he proceeded into the depths.
Though it was not as open as the fields, he felt even less at ease in the narrow passage. They were walking right into the wolves’ den. If -- or rather, when -- the two of them were discovered, they would be wrapped in a blanket of steel within moments. Looking about the passage, Holden noted the signs of frequent usage. The entire tunnel looked recent. Was this the work of the Onerians, or did the Omians tunnel underneath the castle walls?
“Here seems a good place as any to die,” Frarethien whispered. “They wouldn’t have to waste time burying us, either.”
“I think anywhere is a good place to live, instead.” Holden stopped at a corner, and peeked around it. Though the hall was empty, he could hear something faint in the distance. Snoring. Motioning for Frarethien to be quiet, he slowed his pace in favor of being cautious. As he continued -- each step at a pace to rival a slug -- the snoring grew louder, and clearer. A small rat squeaked as it ran by, and Holden froze.
“What?” Someone said, the grogginess evident in his voice. “Who’s there? Show yourself!” After a long period of silence, there was a brief chuckle, followed by a yawn. “Dumb rats…” After a long pause, the snoring flooded the passage once more. Resuming his approach, Holden stopped at the next corner. Just around it was the Omian soldier slumped in a chair; fast asleep at his post.
“Get ready to run, should things take a turn for the worse,” Holden whispered to Frarethien. For all he knew, the next few moments could be his last. Taking a deep breath, he rounded the corner and kicked out one of the chair’s legs. It sent the soldier to the ground, with Holden pinning him quickly. Drawing an arrow from his quiver, he put the arrowhead only a hair from one of the sentry’s wide eyes. The soldier’s screams were muffled, and his squirming did not save him. “Keep struggling, and I’ll make you scream louder.” Once the soldier heard that, he went silent and limp. When Holden uncovered his mouth, he spoke quietly.
“Y-you don’t have to kill me,” he pleaded, “I’ll just walk away. I swear on my life.”
“I figured you’d have a backbone.” Holden started to move the arrowhead away.
“Yeah, I’m not willing to break it for this,” the soldier explained. “I was ordered to join the war, or face the penalty for insubordination.” He dragged a finger over his own neck.
“Forced to serve?” Frarethien asked.
“If you’re not fighting the enemy, you’re helping them.” The soldier let out a sigh of relief as Holden nestled his arrow back in the quiver. “I’m one of many here who wish to return home. This war is the work of madmen.”
“How many?” Holden asked, pondering the idea if he could use it for his advantage.
“I’d say nearly all the infantry, spare the officers.”
“Then if you really wish to return home, you’ll help us.” While the easier option was to slash the sentry’s throat, this Omian was not a soldier. He was as good as a slave, claimed by the threat of death. To offer him no other alternative was inhumane. “If you cooperate, I’ll talk with an Onerian commander an inform them of your resignation from the war.”
“This isn’t what we’re here to do,” Frarethien interjected.
“Do you remember the first thing we saw when we arrived to Oner?” Holden asked. “A town of innocent people, scorched in an instant? This man may have fought, but this is not the war he was meant for. I’m sure that in Omem, his family lives in a similar town. Should we leave these men and women here, to the mercy of the Onerians, we would have justified murder with murder.” As Frarethien fell silent, he turned his attention to the soldier. “What is your name?”
“Galic.”
“Do you swear, Galic, that you’re telling the truth?” Holden asked.
“I swear to Ome, I want nothing more than to return home.”
“Good.” Getting up, Holden pulled Galic onto his feet. “Then I want you to rally the others; start an uprising.”
“The general is announcing the plans for tomorrow’s assault soon,” Galic said. “The troops will be gathered on the parade grounds.” He started to move through the passage quickly, with Holden and Frarethien behind him. However, he stopped dead in his tracks. Ahead, another soldier stood.
“What in the Umbra’s depths are you doing?” the soldier asked, reaching for his sword.
“Wait,” Galic said, “stay your weapon, lest you actually enjoy sleeping apart from your loved ones. Aren’t you tired of this war, brother?”
“What of it?” The soldier glanced at Holden. “You think that siding with him is going to fix everything?”
“Join us, brother,” Galic pleaded, “stand against the general’s steel, or against ours.” There was a pause, before the soldier groaned, and shook his head.
“I’ll join your little mutiny. We’ll be dead before tomorrow’s nightfall, anyways.” The soldier turned his eyes to Holden. “I wouldn’t want to be pitted against the On’hinians, anyways.” As the soldiers, Holden and Frarethien reached a door at the end of the tunnel, Galic turned to Holden.
“Find your way to the watchtower, just above the parade grounds. When the times comes, you will have to help me fend off those opposing our freedom.”
“Understood.” Once the door opened, Holden peered through to find countless soldiers gathering around in the open area, between the walls and the keep. He stuck to the shadows, keeping Frarethien close. Watching Galic and the other soldier carry a crate into the mass of Omians, he waited until all eyes were on them before continuing.
“Arent’ you the least bit worried that this is a trap?” Frarethien asked. “They could have us surrounded.”
“They would have one so already.” Holden also knew that escaping after killing the general would be nigh impossible without the army in disarray. He crept carefully to a door leading into the watchtower. The lack of light within suggested that it was not already in usage. That would make his job easier. Suddenly, a booming voice resounded through the air.
“Men! The dawn of a new Omem approaches! It is a dawn that you must bring about, by forcing the Onerian threat into surrender!” The cheers of the Omians were somewhat unnerving to Holden. What if his plan failed? If Galic couldn’t move the soldiers? As he opened the door, he heard Galic’s voice.
“Brothers in arms! Comrades! Stop! Think of what you are doing!” As silence set upon the parade grounds, Holden slipped into the watchtower, and raced up the spiraling stairs. He could hear Galic speak again. “Aren’t you tired of shedding blood for a man who sheds not a tear for the countless -- soldier or citizen -- who perish from his covetous autocracy? Who buys your allegiance with not inspiration and heart, but with desperation and fear? Is this how our sons will remember us? I will not have my own blood think me a coward!”
Reaching the top of the tower, Holden drew an arrow and looked over the ledge. Surrounding Galic, the other soldiers nodded in understanding, sympathizing with him. However, the general -- easily spotted by the extravagant set of armor that displayed his authority -- did not.
“Traitor!” he roared, “traitor to His Majesty’s cause!”
“And you’re a traitor to us, the common man!” cried Galic. “You care little for the brothers we’ve buried -- they’re but a number that you’ll use to drag more into this tainted war!” As he continued, the general glanced up at the wall. Holden followed his eyes to find an Omian with a crossbow in hand. Pulling back his bowstring, he let loose an arrow. It whistled through the air, before piercing the marksman’s chest. The soldier stumbled, clutching the arrow nestled in his heart; letting out a scream as he fell off the wall, and plummeted to certain death below.
“Would you like to try again?” Galic asked, as everyone’s attention was drawn to the corpse. “There are many who could kill you before you stop me, General. And, you have army who is casting off their chains. The most you can do is resign from your role, and let us return home.” Some of the soldiers started to clap and cheer, as it appeared that Galic’s rally was working.
“Those of you who put down this rebellion shall be rewarded handsomely,” the general offered. While a few drew their blades to protect the general -- namely officers -- the majority of the troops were ready to bring him to justice. Holden drew another arrow; a battle was imminent.
“I ask you this once to stand down, General,” Galic demanded. “You have enough blood on your hands as it is. Let us go without fighting once more.” Watching the general, Holden took aim at him. As the general reached for his sword, Holden’s arrow stabbed through his hand, making him scream in pain.
“Last warning, General,” Holden said, “surrender, or I aim to kill.”
“What are you doing?” Frarethien asked, staying behind the cover of the tower.
“Just trust me,” Holden ordered, grabbing another arrow from his quiver.
“Stand down,” the general muttered, clutching his hand. When the men fending fro him stared in disbelief, he snapped. “Drop your weapons, or we’ll be gutted where we stand!” With that, a succession of clattering metal signalled the surrender. The soldiers surrendering Galic cheered -- their lives at home would not be distant memories for much longer.
“Holden!” Frarethien drew an arrow, aiming at a robe clad figure who stood where the crossbow wielder had. Her movements were fluent, on the verge of flawlessness. As she released the arrow, it narrowly missed the mage. There was a flash of light, before the watchtower started to tremble.
Acting fast, Holden pushed Frarethien over a ledge; dropping her onto the wall after a brief fall. Before he could follow, the tower collapsed inward, sucking Holden into a tomb of stone.
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