Hope Sundered

The high spirits of Sollin’s militia were swept away on the early winter breeze as soon as the capital came into view. The image of the Azrahteran encampment, spread across the field like a scourge of locusts, stole the confidence from almost everyone present. Drained of the will to fight and seized with panic, a few of the volunteers fled for their respective homes.

“Couriers exaggerate, eh?”

Sollin scowled. “I don’t wanna hear it, Cren.”

He pulled his men back to a safe, unseen distance and began delegating tasks to set up camp, keeping everyone too busy to dwell on the daunting challenge before them. He reminded them often they’d soon be joined by the larger, stronger armies of both Seagate and Dioria. The time for glory would come if they were patient and brave.

Various strategies to engage the enemy rambled through Sollin’s mind, each one more impractical than the one before. He could barely taste the salted pork before him or smell the savory aromas drifting from the firepits. “Any ideas?”

“None,” Crenshaw replied. “I wish Losi was here. He’d know what to do.”

“He was the best of us,” Sollin agreed. “But we’re not witless. We just need to be creative, use our imaginations, that kind of stuff.”

“This isn’t like fighting a street gang, old friend. We don’t even—”

“Well, we just have to be better than that! We left Narlend to die, Cren! We tucked our tails and ran because those thugs were bigger and stronger. Well, not this time! If I’m gonna die here, then I’m gonna do it with honor. It’s the least I can do, and if I’m lucky I’ll take half of these dogs with me!”

Before Crenshaw could respond a loud call rang out from the rear of the camp. The pair hurried to find two men on horseback approaching from the southeast. Upon reaching the camp’s perimeter, the pair dismounted and continued on foot.

One of them was on the cusp of middle-age; strong, stern, and clean-shaven, with short russet hair. A double-bladed axe crafted in exquisite filigree was strapped to his back. It looked out of place, but Sollin slayed the jealousy budding in his mind before it could take root. Some people had nice things, and those people weren’t him.

Sollin motioned toward Wyndham with his thumb. “You’re here at Lord Bel’ami’s request?”

“That’s correct,” the man answered. “My name is Morlo. I’m in charge of the volunteers from the towns to the south. My men are hiding not far from here. And you are?”

“I’m Captain Sollin,” he answered, taking his belt in both hands and giving it a hike. “With me are many brave men from the east.”

“Well met then, Captain Sollin,” Morlo replied with a curt nod, looking past the miller to scan the camp beyond. “Do you represent everyone from the east?”

Sollin grinned. “I sure hope not!” Morlo cast him a glance devoid of emotion. Sollin cleared his throat. “Seagate should be sending a thousand or so, but they’re a few days behind us.”

Morlo nodded as he listened, but his gaze was now fixed to the north. “And what of Dioria?”

“Not here yet.”

Morlo frowned. “So how many men do you actually have?”

“Close to three hundred strong,” Sollin answered with another pull on his belt.

“You’re still sorely outnumbered.”

“And exposed,” Crenshaw pointed out. “If we’re discovered, they’ll likely hunt us down.”

Sollin’s eyes went wide, his smile growing wider still. “That’s it!”

“That’s what?” Crenshaw asked.

“We’ll get the Azrahterans to chase us!”

“This isn’t the time to joke,” Morlo sighed, but Sollin shook his head.

“Not a joke, a trap!” Sollin knelt down, motioning the others to join him. He cleared the leaves from a small patch of soil and drew a circle with a stick. He placed a fist-sized rock along the southwestern edge of the circle and called it Wyndham.

“Once the other armies arrive, we engage the enemy, then retreat along the road to Riverton.” He drew a line from the north and from the east, then a third line away from the rock, to the northeast.

“Believing they can slaughter us easily, they’ll give chase. They’re drawn away from the city, right into our waiting armies!” He continued the first two lines to intersect the third line at the same point. “As an added bonus, Wyndham’s soldiers could then emerge and outflank them!”

“That’s not a half-bad idea,” Morlo admitted. “Risky, but not half-bad.”

Crenshaw agreed, adding, “We’d need scouts along the roads to inform us when the other armies are drawing near. Our timing would have to be perfect to avoid a massacre.”

Sollin failed to keep his grin from consuming his face. “Consider it done!”

“One problem,” Morlo said. “What if they don’t pursue us?”

Sollin shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “Then we keep hitting them, little by little until their numbers dwindle. We hold the advantage either way.”

“Very well,” Morlo said with a satisfied nod. “I’ll take my leave and inform my men. We’ll join your camp tonight.” The two captains shook hands in agreement.

After Morlo and his aid left, Sollin spent the remainder of the day checking supplies and encouraging the volunteers. As sunset claimed the sky, he made his way to the edge of the grove for another glimpse of the city. Wyndham’s wall stood tall and proud, without a hint of damage scarring its smooth stone skin.

“It’s a good plan,” Crenshaw said, joining him. “The best of limited options, at least. It’s fortunate the Azrahterans don’t have catapults.”

Sollin smiled. “I thought it’d be hard to keep morale high, but now I feel genuinely optimistic.”

They stood together in silence for several moments, listening to the breeze rustle the knee-high grass. Thin clouds obscured the moon and stars, but their piercing glow illuminated the nebulous haze.

“So, all of this is about Narlend?” Crenshaw asked.

Sollin issued a long, slow sigh. “He haunts me, Cren. Every night of my life since that fight. I can still see the look on his face when that thug ran him through.”

“It’s not your fault. We were barely men. None of us had any idea what we were doing.”

“But it was my idea to go to Dioria. Narlend wanted to head for Seagate.”

“We all agreed on Dioria in the end. We had no idea what to expect. Called ourselves the Winterdale Five, remember? Like we were the stuff of ballads.” He scoffed and shook his head. “Our arrogance outpaced our talent, and we paid the price.”

Sollin whirled on his friend. “No, Narlend paid the price! The rest of us got to walk away.”

Crenshaw crossed his arms over his chest. “And what if it had been you in his place? Would you want the rest of us to torture ourselves with guilt and shame for the rest of our lives?”

The miller looked down. “No, I suppose not.”

Crenshaw placed a comforting hand on his dear friend’s shoulder. “It’s ok to miss him, Sol. I still do. But don’t make this about him, or you. Our job is hard enough. If you’re going to hold on to anything from those days, cling to the lessons we learned.”

Sollin ran a sleeve across his nose. “Those were hard lessons.”

“True, but they made us who we are today, and perhaps we have something better to offer this time around.”