Forbearing Defiance: A Side Quest

The peaks of the Shirvestine Mountains shone golden as the sun crested the horizon. Rays poured like streams of silver flowing from crucibles through the heavy cloud cover. A lone figure flew atop an approaching griffin. They circled above our heads three times, each revolution growing closer until they landed before the twelve hundred fighters who were waiting for him. The black haired man dismounted the squatting griffin and the last few drops of rain sprinkled out of the sky.

His deep voice rumbled with age. “I’m glad to see that you all made it. Now…”

I held my finger to the bridge of my nose, shook my head, and breathed in deep.

He sighed. “Chandrish isn’t here is she?”

“No, sir, she isn’t. She said that you weren’t trustworthy and I quote, ‘If he said to be at the base of the Shirvestine Mountains, then you can bet your grandmother’s life that those mountains are the last place you want to be.’ Then she slammed the door in my face,” I pointed to the bruised tip of my nose, “literally.”

“You really didn’t need to…” Streaks of thin yellow fingers flashed in the sky behind him and he shook his head. The white streaks in his black beard glistened with moisture. “You know what, never mind. We don’t need her. We can accomplish what we need to do without her.” Low rumbling thunder echoed from every direction for several seconds.

Basteiars squeaky voice resounded behind me. “Jerrod, do you remember what happened last time you said we didn’t need her?”

Jerrod’s meaty hand took hold of my shoulder and shoved me aside as he stepped up to Basteiar. Their noses would’ve been within an inch of touching, had Basteiar been tall enough. His voice was ragged like broken glass. “That was a different incident all together. We still had that trouble maker Laviendra with us and she made sure that things didn’t work out the way they should have.” The griffin’s head was buried beneath its wing as it preened itself.

Basteiar puffed out his small chest and failed to make his five foot eight inches look anywhere close to Jerrod’s seven foot stature. “Laviendra was only trying to get you to come to your senses. She was trying to save us from losing a hundred fighters in a hopeless war that you knew we couldn’t win. She gave her life to save you.” He poked his skinny finger toward Jerrod’s face. “If it wasn’t for her, the sword that pierced her chest would’ve been buried in your worthless heart instead. We’d all be better…”

Jerrod knocked Basteir’s hand aside, grabbed his tunic, pulled him off his feet, and brought his face up to his. “She was a good soldier and I mourn our loss, but I will not be made to feel guilty for her death. If she would’ve listened to me, then we wouldn’t have lost so many fighters, and she wouldn’t have lost her life. That sword that almost took my life was only because of her foolish actions.”

Basteiar’s eyes quivered and his jaw clenched. He seethed through his teeth, “You worthless back stabbing loser,” he loosened his jaw and continued, “I wish I would’ve listened to Chandrish and stayed away from this place. If I was able to get my brother to listen to me then he wouldn’t be here and neither of us would have to fight in whatever losing battle you have…”

Jerrod threw him to the ground and hundreds of gasps filled the air. Then Jerrod barked, “Get out of here then.” He pointed toward the valley behind us. “Go! I don’t need insubordinate runts thinking they know anything about what it’s like to lead fighters to die in battle. I know it’s ugly and causes more heartache than anyone wants to experience, but until we defeat the Citedale King and free this land from his evil rule, then more people will die at his hands than are dying fighting him now.”

Tears trickled from Basteiar’s closed eyes and he breathed through his nose. I squatted next to my brother and whispered, “Are you alright?”

He opened his eyes and looked directly into mine. “I’ll be fine.” He looked sideways at Jerrod. “You see what kind of monster he is? How can you follow him knowing how many lives we’ve lost because of him?”

“Basteiar, I know you blame him for so much of our current misery, but he isn’t wrong. He’s right about how many people who would be dying without fighting King Pettier than are dying from fighting him. We have to defeat him.” I grasped his hand and helped him to his feet. “We have to be free from his tyranny. If I have to follow someone who thinks they walk on water in the meantime, it’s a small price to pay. I believe he’s fighting for the same thing we are. He’s the best leader I’ve ever seen and I don’t believe we can win without him.”

Basteiar placed his hand on his forehead and shook his head. “I really do hate him.” He looked up again at me with eyes filled with conflicting emotions. “There has to be another way.”

“You know there’s not or I would’ve taken it by now.”

Patches of blue skies were replacing the clouds. The sun rose higher in the sky and I turned to face Jerrod. “So, what’s the plan? What are we doing out here?”

“The Citedale Army will be marching through that valley in three days.” He pointed toward the Shirvestine Mountains with one hand and rested his other on the pommel of his sword. “On the other side of that mountain range are five villages which I’ve been told are the next targets of the king’s tyranny. I’m not positive we’ll be able to stop them, but I am hoping that we can save those villages from the evil which The Citedale Army plans on bringing down on them.”

Basteiar’s face turned as red as the blood that was staining the lands at King Pettier’s hand and he gestured hard toward me. “Are you listening to this? He’s suggesting that we risk our lives on a mission that he doesn’t even believe will succeed.”

Jerrod turned slowly toward Basteiar. “And what do you suggest? You think we don’t even try to save them from The Citedale Army? What type of world do we live in if we don’t stand up against murderers?”

Basteiar took half a step back and his face turned as white as the birch bark that was surrounding the valley between the mountains.

Jerrod turned back toward the mountains and stroked the feathers on the griffin’s head. His voice was lower than it had been all morning. “We will do everything we can to lose as few lives as possible. I wish it wasn’t like this, but this is the world we live in.”

***

The woods around the mountain were littered with men and women on the third day of our labor. Our faces and clothes were caked with dried sweat and mud. In the distance canine like dulkeins howled at the coming night. A shiver ran up my spine at the reminder of when I was surrounded by a large pack of those gnarly creatures.

Their tufts of silvery fur bristled and pointy snouts snarled at me. I had had my sword ready to fight for the death just before they had run off in another direction. Thankfully they were scavengers who almost never attacked people, otherwise I wouldn’t have survived the encounter.

I walked to where Jerrod was checking on some in-ground traps that were littered with enough leaves to hide their existence to anyone not looking for them. “Everything’s as ready as we can make it. Shouldn’t they be here by now?”

He looked up at me with blood shot eyes, which were lined with wrinkles. “I haven’t heard from my contact in almost a week. Several things could have changed since then, which could have put them on a slightly different time schedule, but I’m pretty confident that they’ll be on their way any day now.”

“How many troops did your contact say would be marching? And did he mention whether or not the king was going to be with them?”

A small smirk spread across his weary lips and he placed his hand on my shoulder. “I was told to expect maybe six thousand. If my contact was correct, then we shouldn’t have a problem in succeeding in our mission.” His smile faded and he returned to inspecting the traps.

Besteiar shimmied up to me and elbowed me hard. “Get a load of that man’s arrogance. How much do you want to bet that we spent the last three days setting a trap for nobody?”

“You know you want to fight.” I shoved his shoulder hard and laughed. “You’re always looking for a confrontation and would be sorely disappointed if no one showed up.”

“Yeah, but still, that’s probably just what’s going to happen.”

***

The morning air was filled with men and women tearing down camp, putting out fires, and erasing every possible indication that a small army had been here. Jerrod was shouting various orders at different people. A thin mist rose from the ground and swirled around our legs. Only around fifty us remained outside of the woods while we worked on finishing the clean up. The rest of us were already hiding in the trees waiting to ambush the army that was reported to be headed to the pass between the Shirvestine Mountains.

Basteiar scraped the large branch in his hand back and forth over the last remaining evidence of our camp. I had my branch slung over my shoulder and my feet were spread in a wide stance. “Are you ready to die today?”

He stopped working and matched my stance. “No, not really. I mean, I know we’re going to.” He chortled, “A half dozen legion is significantly less than the hundred thousand we’re now being told to expect. I told you he was going to get us killed. We should’ve listened to Chandrish. She told us that we didn’t want to be here, but we listened to that lunatic Jerrod instead of our friend? You tell me, what sense does that even make?”

“I know. But it’s for a good cause, right?”

His face lowered to the ground and he dropped his branch. “I mean, it seems like there could’ve been a better way.”

“Like what? Just let those five villages not only suffer the death that the king will bring to its adults but also for their children to be taken captive in their army and inevitably become the very men that we’ll be facing today? Isn’t it better to try to do something than it is to let such evil take over our land? Would you really rather be alive and a slave to such a demonic man such as King Pettier?”

Basteiar squared his shoulders with me. “No, I’m not suggesting that at all. I’m saying that it would have been better to warn them that the army was coming and then have them not be there to be killed or taken captive?”

I rolled my head back and looked up at the brightening sky then back at my brother. “To go where? How many villages are we going to empty and bring to where? You know that King Jayendra had already sent messengers to every village he knows of asking them to join him in fighting against The Citedale Army.”

He sighed at me. “I know, but that was more than a year ago. Certainly news of what King Pettier’s been doing would have reached them by now and they will have come to their senses.”

I sighed in frustration. “No, that’s not at all true and you know it. He’s sent delegates time and time again and has gotten the same answer every time. The only people who have any plan on joining us in standing up against The Citedale Army has already joined us.”

Basteiar snapped back at me. “Then don’t they deserve the trouble they’re literally bringing on themselves? If they’re too lazy or too scared or whatever to do something about it, then why do we have to die for them?”

Jerrod’s voice blasted at us. “Stavean and Basteiar, we need to head out now. We need to be in our places and ready to fight.”

Basteiar shoved passed us, threw his branch to the ground, and mumbled, “You mean be in our places and ready to die.”

I looked up at Jerrod and frowned. “We’re going to die today aren’t we? There are more than ten times as many coming than you prepared for. How are we supposed to survive?”

He placed his large hand over my chestplate and nodded. “It’s going to be dangerous and there’s definitely going to be some of us who die today, but I believe that we will be victorious. God is on the side of the oppressed.” He dropped his hand back to his side. “But, we cannot continue to stand around talking. We have to go and we have to go now.”

***

A kettle of hawks swirled left and right in the air above the clearing between the mountains. Our number hunkered deep in the woods awaiting for the army that was headed this way. In the midst of the kettle, a single hawk screeched its warning of death that was preparing to ascend in this valley. A moment later the first shouts of soldiers having sprung our carefully laid traps joined the screech of the hawk. The large birds dispersed and fled from the area as more men died in our traps and Jerrod screamed at the top of his lungs, “Men of Gratrest Unite,” as he led the charge with his sword drawn and a dozen men running by his side.

I echoed Jerrod’s words and charged to meet him in the middle to fight back the enemy or die trying. Every ten faces of The Citedale Army was a hardened soldier. The rest of them were no more than teenagers. The hardened soldiers charged toward us at once and thinned their ranks as the rest stood unsure whether to join in the fighting to die or flee in the opposite direction to live.

A red headed woman with with scars running every direction over her face turned back toward a small contingency of gaping mouthed runts and sliced her sword through three of them before she screamed, “Either join the battle and kill those swine or suffer death at the hand of my sword.” The ones still alive drew their swords and half-heartedly marched to join the battle.

Our ranks met in fierce combat and blood poured onto the ground. Horses trampled fallen soldiers, combatants’ swords clashed, clanged, and sliced on all sides. I ran full force toward the woman with the face full of scars which had struck down three of her own. I swung my sword through the air and brought it full force toward her torso. At the last second she smashed her shield into my sword and turned to face me. My brother and the rest of my command took on the runts while I fought to strike down the evil red head.

Fire burned in my lungs and the metal of our swords clanged time and again against each other. One of the smaller scared looking runts swung his sword at me as I was engaged with the red headed woman. The hardened steel of my armor deflected the weak blow of his sword. I kicked my leg into his face as I ducked the swinging blade of the woman whose face was full of scars. I swung the tip of my blade up to the sky and drove it through the evil woman’s heart just as she was circling around from her missed swing.

Her eyes lit up with terror and then her mouth fell open. She looked down at my sword and back up to my face. Confusion and disbelief filled her face as I pulled my sword from her torso. She fell to her knees and swung her sword one last time in a vain attempt to kill me. I blocked the blade with my gauntlet and kicked her backward. She fell on her back and blood pooled around her. She coughed up more of the hot red liquid and clutched her hands to her gaping wound.

A horn blew in the distance and the Citedale Army ran back from where they had come. The pile of bodies in the valley wore mostly Citedale insignia armor. I fell to my knees in exhaustion and terror and dropped my sword and shield. To my left lay the bleeding body of my brother, breathing shallow and looking vacantly at the sky.

I removed my helmet, placed it on the ground next to his head, and then removed my brother’s helmet as well. My voice was a whisper. “Basteiar, you’re going to be okay. You are not dying on me today, do you hear me?”

He chuckled and coughed at the same time. “Stavean, I’m sorry. I was wrong. We did the right thing here. We saved five villages and now their children get to grow up and learn the trades of their parents. They don’t have to watch as their parents and their friends’ parents are murdered in cold blood. They don’t have to become part of that evil army. I may not get to see you get married, have children, and be an uncle, but at least I get to die knowing that my life mattered and I was a part of something that made the world a better place."