Hope Sundered

“It’s been two days without retaliation.” Sollin gnawed on a curled piece of greyfur bark. “I’m nervous.” He was addressing what had become his battle council: Crenshaw, Bayse Avernol, Kaelyb of Shadowglen, and a young man from Tessel named Riak.

A hunter by trade, Riak commanded the archers who were already hard at work crafting new arrows from a nearby copse. They’d be crude at best—lacking proper metal tips and feather fletching—but Riak knew a couple of creative alternatives, and he assured the others his makeshift missiles would serve their purpose.

“We’ve been drawing them away from the city,” said. “It’ll take them longer to find us each time, which is a good thing. The longer they’re preoccupied with us, the longer Wyndham can hold out until reinforcements arrive.”

Sollin shook his head. “They’ve either decided to ignore us, or they’re gonna send a larger force to wipe us out. We can’t keep this up forever, Cren. I’m running out of tricks.”

A young man burst into their tent at that moment. “A large force is approaching from the east!”

Sollin and the others grabbed their weapons and followed the young man out. Sollin began barking orders, preparing his men for either fight or flight. Once he was satisfied with the camp in motion, he and Crenshaw followed the scout to a nearby hill overlooking the road to Riverton. The sight took Sollin’s breath away.

Several thousand troops, well-armed and organized, marching in a long column pouring over the horizon.

Sollin moaned “I knew it!” Sollin growled. “They’ve finally stopped underestimating us.”

“Unless it’s the Segatian army,” Crenshaw said.

“We’ll see,” Sollin’s clenched fist gnawed at the shaft of his axe. After a moment of silence, he turned to his friend and added, “Wait here for my signal. If you see me attack them, you’ll know their ruse is up.”

Crenshaw shot him a dubious look. “What are you talking about?”

Sollin put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright, Cren. I understand my role now, and I’ve made my peace with it. I’ll stall them as long as I can.”

“But we don’t know they’re Azrahterans!”

“We don’t know they’re not. And I refuse to wait until they’re right on top of us to find out. I won’t be fooled again.”

“What if you’re wrong?”

“Then it’ll be the happiest mistake I ever make.”

“This is madness!”

Sollin grinned. “Well, I’d rather be seen as a lunatic to my allies than a buffoon to my enemies.” He urged his horse into a full gallop and raced off to meet the approaching army.

⸞ ⸎ ⸟

Commander Iraden raised his hand, and his lieutenant called for a full stop. The order rippled back through the ranks, bringing the entire force to a halt along the road. Iraden was an older man but not yet removed from his prime, though his silver-streaked chestnut hair did its best to imply otherwise.

Having never seen the enemy before, he had no idea what to make of this lone figure. He scrutinized the incoming rider, taking note of the marvelous axe he was carrying. He kept a casual hand on the hilt of the sword belted at his hip, but not so casual it couldn’t be drawn in its moment of need.

“Who do you suppose that is, sir?” his lieutenant asked.

Iraden shrugged. “I suppose we’ll find out soon enough. Tell Renston to be ready, just in case.”

“Aye sir.” The lieutenant turned in his saddle and addressed one of the other mounted soldiers. Renston complied, loading his crossbow and laying it across his lap.

The rider arrived soon after, reining in his horse with a dramatic flourish. He was a short, stocky fellow with unkempt hair and a wild look in his eyes. He was dressed like a common tradesman and bore no resemblance to a soldier of any kind.

But that axe!

Iraden had never seen a weapon more exquisite. Its owner didn’t look like the type to wield it, let alone afford it. This strange man glared at him and his men with contempt, as if daring them to take another step.

“Greetings, I’m Commander Iraden of Seagate. We come in response to Wyndham’s call for aid. Who might you be?”

Sollin snorted. “You get nothing from me until you prove you’re telling the truth. Who’s Seagate’s governor?”

Iraden raised a curious eyebrow. He began to speak, but his words died in his mouth. He looked at his lieutenant, who could only shrug and shake his head. He returned his gaze to the bizarre man. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve seen this ruse before: Azzies masquerading as allies, but later stab us in the back when our guard is down. The first and last man to try it carried this before he met his end.” Sollin held Morlo’s axe up in defiant testimony, never breaking his gaze with Iraden.

“I assure you sir, your accusation is misplaced. Do you represent Dioria’s army? Are they camped nearby?”

“Everyone east of Riverton knows who governs Seagate.”

“Are you serious?” Iraden sighed. “Now listen here. It’s been a long ride and I’ve neither the time nor desire to continue this nonsense. Kindly lead us to your camp or step aside.”

“I’ll have his name, or I’ll have your head!”

Renston lifted his crossbow and took aim. Sollin didn’t blink.

“Enough!” Iraden roared, startling both his lieutenant and Sollin. “Maker’s mercy, man! It should be painfully obvious I’m as Avelirian as you are! Do you not recognize the crest on our flag? For the last time, lead us to your camp or get out of my way—or don’t. I’d just as soon trample you and your fancy axe into the earth as suffer one more minute of this absurd interrogation!”

Iraden snapped his reins and continued forward, compelling his army to follow suit. He kept his scowl locked on Sollin as he rode past.

Sollin turned his horse and rode beside the commander, all of his bluster deflated under the weight of embarrassment. “I’m Captain Sollin of Nuth,” he offered in a tone of apology. “I lead a militia of about two hundred men.”

Iraden sighed. “And how many other militias are there?”

“No others, sir. It’s just been us for days now.”

Iraden furrowed his brow. “What of Dioria’s army?”

“They’ve yet to show.”

Iraden heard the bitterness in Sollin's voice and understood the man's pain in the same heartbeat. “And you’ve already engaged the enemy?”

“They attacked us first, but since then we’ve tried everything we can think of—night raids, ambushes—all while staying on the move to avoid another slaughter.”

Iraden rode in silence for several moments. “Halbek.”

“What?”

“Lord Halbek governs Seagate. Has since his father Lord Caviss passed away six years ago.”

Sollin smiled his gratitude, to which Iraden replied with a curt nod.

Crenshaw was waiting for them as they crested the hill, beaming at Iraden. “Well met, brothers from Seagate! You’re a most encouraging sight to our weary eyes!”

“Weary and suspicious, apparently,” Iraden mused, casting another stern glance at Sollin.

“I meant no disrespect,” Sollin insisted, despite not being able to look the Segatian in the eye. “I had to be sure for the sake of my men.”

Iraden nodded, casting a glance northward. “Indeed. I must admit I’m surprised Dioria isn’t here. They’re closer to Wyndham and should’ve arrived before us.”

“We don’t think they’re coming,” Sollin replied. “In truth I was beginning to believe you weren’t coming either.” A wide grin broke out on his face then. “But now that you’re here, I have an idea.”