The Prophesy: Book 1 - Cave Lupus

 

The morning came early, especially after the short night that everyone had after the discovery of Paschal. Everyone made quick their breakfast, wanting to go away from the farmstead as fast as possible. No one wasted Paschal to face the killing field, and many had not slept well, even before Paschal had been found. The support staff had visited the cave below the farm to see if anything worthwhile was to be recovered. They found barrels of cereals, dried fruits, flours of different cereals, and other goods that were rolled out on the ramp and put into the ox-carts; there were also a few fine barrels of wine and cider, which had matured nicely in the controlled atmosphere of the partly man-made cave. These were put into a carriage with suspenders, because wine doesn't travel well if it gets shaken too much. Also found were some hams, those that Paschal couldn't reach, and dried sausage. Four barrels of apples from last year's crop were also around and completed the perishables. Farming tools were around, and recovered as well. They also found very nice leather, tanned and ready for shaping, and some coupons of tissue, mostly wool, but also cotton, and what about two hundred yards of sisal rope. The empty barrels were also taken out, and tied to the side of the wagons, carts and carriages. They were left open to fully dry, because at some point they would contain water for the trip and they needed to be cleansed from the leftover of whatever they had contained. The only things left were the barrels of beer that Paschal had opened, because they had turned due to oxidation.

The trip westward resumed at an ever-slower pace as the hills became steeper, and the road winded its way around, hugging the valleys, and twisting up and down. Animals were ever harder to hunt, as if they had grown weary of them. Birds themselves became scarce. Weeks passed, but the feeling of desolation, far from diminishing, kept growing, becoming ever more oppressive.

The apprentices included as part of the convoy joined the military apprentices and legionnaires in training for weapons. Even companions and officers took to training after the day's work. Everyone was expected to be able to at least be able to contribute somewhat to the defence of the caravan. Thus, the youngest learned how to use poniards and short blades, as well as the proper use of slingshots. The older ones added the use of the quarterstaff, sword and short bows. And finally, the older ones got trained in the longbow, crossbow, and pilum¹⁸¹⁸ ("Pilum: a lance; plural: pila."). The most proficient were trained in halberds that Harold forged.

The legionnaires practiced their defence and offence manoeuvres, and trained the members of the convoy to their methods. Meanwhile, Master Dunbar used these periods to train the convoy into diverse defensive position so that when the time arose, a coordinated effort could be made to make the conversion from travel to defence in the minimum time.

Harold, apart from maintaining the weapons, the horses and repairing the carts, wagons and carriages with the help of Williams and his very talented apprentice, Paschal, also took time to learn how to use his newfound weapon, the katana. The katana, even if it is considered a sword, was not handled in the same manner, and this one, in particular, was found to be very sharp and dangerous. At some point, Harold took a swing at an ironwood tree, expecting the blade to bounce, only to be taken by surprise when it slid through the three-foot thick trunk like it was water. Fortunately, the tree fell in a crevice, and did not hurt anyone. Even more fortunate was the fact that, apart from Annabelle, no one was with him, so the true capacity of the blade was preserved.

Centurion Annabelle and Companion Harold had grown progressively closer to each other during these exercises, he gaining considerable respect for her sense of command, and she considering how talented he was both in handling men and weapons of any kind. By the tenth day of Julius, they decided to form a couple. It was not unusual for couples to be of different orders, and to live long periods away from each other. This was the case with the military, the loggers, and the people of the Road. Even Master Dunbar was away from his mate, who was a locksmith on the East Coast. The bounding was announced to the staff on the fifteenth day of Julius, to everyone's approval and applause. It had not come as a surprise to anyone who had eyes to see. Annabelle was a well-built, muscular legionnaire, barely entering her twentieth year, quite young for a centurion of first commission, and Harold would be entering his eighteenth year of existence at the Fall Equinox.

The caravan resumed its progress westward after taking a day to celebrate the binding, and everyone was feeling a lot better. The celebration had lifted a veil of sorrow on the caravan. The forest remained silent, and no farms were seen; however, as they progressed up the mountain roads, the nature of the forest changed, and conifers, which were sparse and clustered, became the dominant type. Traces of forest fires were seen, some old, and some new, as was shown by how much the forest had regrown. The berries season was on them, so they took time to fill in some of the empty barrels with blackberries, blueberries, hazelnuts, and other delicacies of nature. The burned trees were dry, and some of them were brought down to make wood for the forge, and firewood, for later, when the season would change.

***

One day, Dunbar halted their progress, even if it was still early, tierce was still a good hour away.

Annabelle and Harold came to meet with him, wondering why the early stop. As answer, he pointed to a black rock, on the side of the road which had a complex drawing engraved in its surface, difficult to see because of the overgrowth.

The symbol of the Atom God

"Oh shit! The Atom God symbol!" exclaimed Annabelle.

"Yes. We are near the Sterile Forest."

"Note the very faint yellow near the edges? Apparently, the symbol had some yellow markings on it, to attract attention. The overgrowth ate the markings away, leaving only the deeply engraved darker marks," commented Harold.

"Yes, you are very observant," replied Annabelle. "There is one in the temple in the capital, and it refreshed by yellow paint on a regular basis, to maintain its appearance fresh."

"I suggest we now carefully monitor where we step foot. The arrow seems to point at the stream. Let's not drink of its water," suggested Harold.

"Agreed. Pass the word, legionnaire! No animal, no human is to drink of this water!"

"Yes, centurion!"

The young girl took off and could be heard yelling the order to everyone as she ran up the column.

"I suggest we post two legionnaires on each side, to make sure that the order is obeyed," suggested Harold. "The men and animals are thirsty, the climb has been tough."

"Good suggestion, Harold, You two! Stay back and prevent anyone from getting near the water!"

The caravan resumed its progress, silent now that the danger left by the Cataclysm was near.

"How far do we have to go before turning south?" asked Harold.

"With a smaller, more standard caravan, I would say a seven to eight day. Given our speed and our size, we must count a good fifteen days," replied Dunbar. "This is assuming the beautiful weather we have been having since spring maintains itself. It's been unusually dry and warm and the roads have been little used or washed out by floods. Had it not been of the bridge, we would be past the high pass a long time ago, and I would have been turning south a month ago. We are late in the season, and this is not good to cross mountains, even low ones like these, in the fall, where a freak snow storm can catch you in the narrows by surprise."

"Talking of speed, shouldn't other caravans have caught up with us by now?" asked Harold.

"All depends on how fast the caravans coming from Riverside aggregated at Newbridge," replied Annabelle. "I gave strict orders not to let a caravan of less than half our size leave, and only accompanied by two centuries. Knowing the commanding officer I left in charge, she doubled the size of both components before releasing them westward! So it's very unlikely the next caravan will ever catch up with us. It's going to be of the same size as ours."

"What about the symbol? What if they miss it?"

"Oh, that!" replied Dunbar, "I saw to that! I had it refreshed. It's now a bright yellow, and only a blind man could miss it!"

"Smart move, Dunbar!" replied the centurion, smiling.

"I am impressed by the quality of the work done by the stonecutter that made the symbol. Did you notice the perfect hollowed-out center, like a half-sphere had been taken out of the rock? And that rock was not easy to work with, too. It was a very thick slab of granite, a bit weathered and grey, but still in one piece," noted Harold. "This symbol was made by a master stone craftsman."

"I have seen many, and they are identical, at least in design. Their edges are so sharp, and they show no sign of the chisel. It's always left me wondering how these symbols were ever engraved in the rock," remarked Dunbar. "This one has been left to be weathered, but there are some in caves that have baffled me. The surface seems to have been heated, the rock has the texture of glass, and the symbol's colours are rich and vivid, like they are embedded in the rock itself."

"Maybe this one is more recent, indicating a degradation of technique," remarked Annabelle. "We have lost so much, so much!"

"You may have a point there," replied Dunbar. "This one clearly got its colours painted, and merged with the rock, and the surface is pockmarked."

"Whatever the means, we must now redouble our watch. First, me must not miss any of those signs, and second, I have an uneasy feeling about the orcs. We have been without trouble and news from them for entirely too long," reminded Annabelle.

"Yes. I shall sleep with one eye open tonight," said Harold.

"And I shall put in practice the double-wheel defence we have been practicing, with the outer wheel made of oxen-drawn wagons, since they are more massive. Until now we have left most drivers park as they saw fit, but from now on, this changes. No more will I let the caravans form distinct circles. We cannot form a safe wall this way. Let's have the oxen-drawn wagons outside, the carts and carriages on the inside. Since the carts and carriages are lesser in number and also are higher on wheels, they will be used as firing platforms above the wagons. Your legionnaire will be in-between the two wheels, Annabelle, those on horseback ready to charge as cavalry, and the others ready to do their role as infantry, as we discussed earlier. Harold, how are the archers?"

"They have considerably improved. We made thousands of arrows, and replacement short and longbows. We are still short on crossbows, because I have to make the metal pieces. However, Williams told me yesterday they had enough arrows to fill in two hundred barrels, which is impressive. The arrows are with the carts and carriages, since these, along with the longbows, have the greatest range. He also taught some of the apprentices how to harden wood and convert some hardwood trees into acceptable pila. We are ready on this front as well. The shields of the legionnaires are also repaired, and I fixed those straps that were rotten or chafed by use."

"I saw you work on a foul-smelling composition as we travelled, while Paschal was driving your cart. And it seems you collected just about every breakable jar in the caravan. What are you preparing?" wanted to know Annabelle.

"It's a combination of quicklime, sulphur, and naphtha. We traveled through the mountains and I keep an eye for these products. Clay supplied the quicklime, and there was native sulphur along the road, in an exposed vein. I took a dozen apprentices and we extracted about fifty barrels of the product, before the sun went down, a few weeks ago."

"Ah, that was what you were doing! How did you find naphtha?"

"That was the most worrisome, where to find it! But I noticed that strange hill on the side of the road, and explored it. There was that foul smell, and when I dipped a canister into the well, it came back covered with this black pitch. I think this was a source of pitch, but there was something strange. It was perfectly circular, which leads me to believe it was a product of the Ancients. There was a lot of it, and, again, I put to use the arms of the apprentices to extract this black tar. We extracted about fifty barrels. I found myself with the three components to make Greek fire. I have spent the rest of the travel to reduce the sulphur to fine dust, and mixing it with the tar and the quicklime."

"Does it work?"

"Oh it burns nicely, and makes for an ugly black cloud that smells like the doors of Hell have opened! Remember the explosions you heard a few days ago, that you thought were thunder? I was doing some tests. They were very conclusive. Lucky for us, I used a lake as target, the fire wasn't even bothered by water!"

"Very nice, Harold! How do you plan to deliver this ordinance?" wanted to know Dunbar.

"The slingshots gave me an idea. I have had Companion Williams build two small catapults, capable of hurling twenty pots at a time a short distance. We are not looking for a huge range here, but on being able to set the forest on fire. An additional benefit will be the noise and the surprise."

"I wonder where you found the hundred and fifty barrels?" worried Annabelle.

"Oh those. Remember we had quite a few barrels that had contained soured products recovered from the farm. They were empty, and I decided to fill them up with something useful. Furthermore, by burning the inside to remove the alcohol, the barrels tarred a bit, and were even more watertight. That was perfect to contain the naphtha. And mixing the sulphur or the quicklime with the tar was not going to damage the result, since I planned to mix them anyways."

"You are full of resources, Harold. I'm so glad we married. I shall do my best to be of equal value as you are to me!" commented Annabelle.

"Oh, Annabelle! It's nothing. I was a nosy little monster, according to the diviner, and I think he placed me with the ironsmiths more out of despair at finding where I would best fit than for any other good reason. I spent a week with an alchemist, and he was working on rediscovering the secret of what he called 'dynamite', and he showed me a book, copied many times over, about different explosives. I was much interested, but one night the town woke up to the sound of a huge explosion, and the alchemist's workshop had vanished, replaced by a deep crater. We never found a trace of him. Lucky for me, I was still under the tutelage of the diviner, and slept with his group of children, at the periphery of town. We left in a hurry!"

"I can imagine!" chuckled Dunbar. "A diviner that can't divine such a catastrophe is a poor member of his Order!"

"There was certainly that consideration, Dunbar!" laughed Harold.

"I wonder what happened to that book," asked Dunbar. "It must have held a lot of secrets of the Ancients."

"I had taken it with me to study," said Harold. "It's locked in the bottom of my coffer. I have yet to understand a lot of it. Its title itself is a mystery to me. It is Principles of Inorganic and Organic Chemistry, a very thick book. It has these strange drawings, and it refers to the Atom God, at the beginning, and talks of Atom as objects. I doubt the priests of the Temple would like to know that this kind of book is still around. They would not appreciate that their deity be reduced to some concrete little balls playing around!"

"Yes, these bastards are way too arrogant and would probably consider this book anathema. Better keep its existence to us three," suggested Annabelle.

"Yes, it is a deep mark of trust I told you about its existence. Anyways, if it fell in the wrong hands, it might be used to rekindle the Cataclysm, I fear. Not that this book is evil, knowledge is not evil per definition. It's its misapplication that is evil. There were other things in that book, that showed the Ancients applied this chemistry to good use, like producing medication, or produce a sleeping gas that was used to let their doctors operate on sleeping people, reducing the pain. That, itself, is worth keeping the book around."

"The most remarkable is that this knowledge has not been disseminated," wondered Dunbar.

"Oh, that! It's simple, Dunbar. Who copies books? The priests! They probably have intercepted all these books as they came into their temples, collecting them, and probably, destroying them," replied Annabelle.

"And maybe the Ancients did not attach that much importance to this kind of knowledge," completed Harold.

"Then it's even strange this one survived, Annabelle," commented Dunbar.

"You have a point there. I did notice the book has a rather special feeling to it, like it is protected by something. Each page feels slippery, soft, and reflects light. It looked like paper, but as if a thin layer of protective material had been apposed on each side of the page. And even that is strange. Pages! We use scrolls, rolled over and stored in sheepskin sheaths; that book is stored in a box of the same feel as the page, with a strange drawing on both sides, and the first page and last page are thicker and more rigid. There is a small number at the bottom of each page; the first were roman numbers than they became the more accepted numbers in use today. I noticed that the book was divided in topics, and there is a list of topics at the beginning; at the end, there is a list of words, and I discovered out that the numbers found at the end of the words referred to the page where the word was mentioned. Even more outstanding was that each letter and number was identical for the most part. Some are bigger than others, some are thicker, and some are slanted, but you can still see the family resemblance. The copyist must have been very meticulous."

***

Another six days passed and the caravan was now near the pass. Dunbar signalled a stop at sext, and called a meeting of the leaders.

"I believe we need to undertake the passage tomorrow. I do not wish to find us in the Narrows during the night, exposed to attack from above. Let's stop and take defensive positions in this clearing. There is an advantage. The clearing is backed on a stiff, hard to climb cliff, and the stream that fall off will also help protect one side. On the other hand, the clearing is oddly shaped, so the caravan will have to take an oval form rather than the circular one I had envisioned for defence."

"You have a point. I notice there are boulders in this field. I shall have the legionnaires move some to create an outer wall, and others near the edge of the cliff. Falling rocks would be a good defence, even in the dark. What worries me is it's the new moon, it will be very dark tonight, an Orc night!" replied Annabelle.

"I suggest we keep the fires to their lowest, and buried in pits; there are two advantages to this. First, no use publicizing our presence, not that the orcs would not know of us already; they have had the advantage of terrain for the past month. Second, I do not want our archers to be blinded by fire; we may not see as well as the orcs in the dark, but it is no reason to help them by being blinded by fires of our own making!" commented Harold.

"I'll organize a firewall by removing the topsoil and pushing the tree line. If we need to set the forest on fire, no use getting roasted along with the orcs," added Williams, the Companion Carpenter. "I'll even have fireballs readied. Rocks are nice, but setting the cliff on fire by using the conifer branches and trunks we will be cutting as we push the forest back will also be a good defence."

"Agreed, gentlemen," confirmed Annabelle. "Get to work. We have very little time. The days are growing short, and it will be dark barely an hour after vespers."

Everyone worked feverishly. The noise was deafening, as rocks were rolled into place trees brought down and hacked into branches and trunks. The caravan slowly took its defensive position, modified to take into account the big rocks that could not be moved and the advantage of the stream and cliff. The wagons were set in an arc, three deep, tightly spaced; the inner defence was made up of the carriages and carts, also in an arc. The space between the two had been cleared of rocks to give the legionnaires manoeuvring space. The carpenter and his team worked hard to move the forest back a hundred yards and clear the forest floor of stumps. The branches were either made into a firewall and covered in tar, ready to be set on fire, or rolled near the cliff. The trunks were sharpened and set in booby traps using trees bent out of shape with twines and anchored by wooden spikes easily loosened by a negligent foot soldier. Again, the area was ringed with a trigger twine that would set off the firewall. Since none of the orcs of the first attack had survived to their knowledge, it was assumed, rightly, that this would work as well as before. A few barrels of tar were ready to be set on fire and thrown in the stream, should the orcs try to cross it.

By sunset, everything was ready. Everyone was tired, so most, after a frugal meal, went to lay down near their weapons while the scouts moved out to figure a way to access the top of the cliff on each side of the pass and warn of the orcs' presence. Their goal was more to act as early warning of occupation rather than actually grab and hold tight. If their presence was enough to even disturb the setup of the orcs and remove the effect of surprise, the goal was reached. Silence fell on the camp, only troubled, occasionally, by the horses. The fires, few, small, and well hidden, gave no indication of the real size of the camp, albeit they had no doubts the orcs had a fair idea of their numbers from monitoring their progress in the earlier days.

"The sky is covering up. Stars are disappearing in the west. Within an hour, I won't be able to see my own hands," commented Annabelle. "Double the guards!"

"I had hoped the weather would have held until after the pass, but no such luck!" lamented Dunbar. "Luckily, it's too early for snow, even at that altitude. But the night will be miserable!"

"I don't know if we will get rain," worried Harold. "It would be both good and bad. Traveling the pass in rain would be difficult, and we would need to get the scouts closer, since rain would cover the whistles and the absence of sun would also prevent the use of mirrors to signal danger. On the other hand, we need to consider that the noise of rain could well cover our own."

The leaders took their turn to rest. It had been decided the first guard would be under Annabelle's command, followed by Harold, and the last period would be under Dunbar, since he would have to be up to set the column in motion anyways, come morning.

***

By compline¹⁹¹⁹ ("Compline: Nine P.M."), the overcast was complete, and no stars could be seen. The wind was slowly picking up. The cracking of the trees was growing slowly in intensity, branches rubbed and whipped against each other, and what was left of the dirt and forest cover was being blown sideways along the road, from the Narrows. The wind was howling and a deep rumble, made from rocks falling from the cliff sides could be heard.

Annabelle woke up Harold an hour after compline²⁰²⁰ ("Ten P.M."), and took his place in the cart, enjoying the heat and the protection from the cold it offered. The change of the guard went smoothly, without the need for light or sound, while Harold took with him the command whistle, which he had learned to use effectively, and visited the periphery of the defences to insure that all who needed relief had been relieved. Harold then took his position on the rock that was the center of the camp. It afforded him a clear view of the area, well beyond the barricade made up of the oxcarts. He lay on his belly on the rock, so as not to be a target for an attacker, covered with a black wool cloak.

Half of the guard tour²¹²¹ ("Guard tour: a two-hour period") had passed when a noise was heard at the bottom of the cliff that guarded the back of the caravan. A rock rolled, and a stifled cry was overheard. The legionnaires that had been assigned to watch over the cliff crawled to the edge and looked over. Initially, all seemed quiet, too quiet, but then one of them noticed a dark mass moving between the paler rocks, following an incline. He lifted his hand and, hiding the light from the cliff, struck his flint and his dagger, creating a spark that got noticed by the decurion. That was the signal that something was not as it should be. The decurion quickly moved to the legionnaire's position and, listening to his whispered report, decided it was serious enough to trigger the alarm. He moved back about twenty feet, and then used a taut string to transmit the alarm to the other decurions of the group. Morse was again used, but differently. Each press on the steel string lasted a set duration, and the signal was transmitted to all intended simultaneously. A decurion took a brisk walk to the rock and informed Harold of the alarm.

"Wake up everyone, silently. We must let them believe they still have the effect of surprise."

"Yes, sir!"

Fifteen minutes later, the camp, as silent as if it was still deeply asleep, was ready. The orcs had progressed up the side of the cliff, and they could now be seen as moving shadows against the rock face. A centurion, now in charge of the men, counted their numbers as best he could and came up to the astonishing number of three thousand.

"These bastards are like cockroaches! Look at them climb!" he muttered to Harold.

"Yes. When they are less then ten feet from the top, let the rocks roll. No light signal, nor fire yet, they may be divided and unable to communicate with others, and a light signal might just be what another group awaits to launch their attack."

"Yes sir," replied the centurion, not bothered by taking orders from Harold, whose reputation at organizing things and preparing for battle now permeated the legions.

Harold returned to the Command Rock, to be met by Annabelle and Dunbar.

"Do you wish to take command, Annabelle?"

"No, the legions are under your command until the end of the battle. I shall move to my centurie, and take command of it. The command is yours, Harold. You have proven your worth, more than enough to handle this!"

"I'm headed to the wagons, Harold. I have the fastest runners in the apprentices ready to carry messages. Twenty are to stay with you; Annabelle, even if you do not command, I have assigned twenty to you, as well, and I shall have another twenty. The others will be assigned as needed."

"Fine. Take your positions. From what I've seen tonight will be bloody."

Harold had barely reached top of the Command Rock when he heard the rocks roll down the cliff, accompanied by cries of pain, dismay and fury. By a quirk of nature, the pending thunderstorm that had been gaining strength let its first flashes of light and rolls of thunder began to be heard within the Narrows. This buried the noise made by the rocks falling off the cliff, and the cries of pain of the orcs. The noise of the rocks hitting the side and bottom of the cliff could be mistaken for thunder at a distance. The rocks created a cascade of debris, bringing with them trees, bushes, rocks, and loose soil. The legionnaires moved in place another set of rocks, ready for a second assault. The commotion at the bottom of the cliff hid the noise they made as they rolled them in place, ready for use.

The assault on the cliff face had been pushed back, but no one dared think the battle had been won. If anything, orcs were known for their stubbornness. The legionnaires resumed their watch from the edge of the cliff, but it was made more difficult by the rumble that cascaded down the Narrows. Hearing would no longer be of use. Centurion Nobles, in charge of the cliff's defence, implemented a trick that Harold had suggested: he let down the cliff's side a series of big fishhooks that would grip the orcs clothes and be pulled. The legionnaires nicknamed this orc fishing, and, in truth, it was similar. The lines, thin but resistant, would bend the thin branches, and the bells would warn of the catch. Since there were different line lengths, the progress of the orcs could be guessed from which line was pulled. Setting this up took less then a quarter of an hour, and the wait resumed.

The orcs gave assault at matins, silently again. The fishhooks did a remarkable job of indicating progress, and again, the rocks were thrown over the cliff's side as they reached the preset height, producing the intended effects. The cliff, weakened by the previous rocks fall, saw a sizeable slice of its side slide down and crush the orcs unlucky enough to be on its path. Luckily, the legionnaires had noticed the fissure at the top of the cliff and pulled back after letting the rocks go.

As Harold was listening to the courier's report from Centurion Nobles, an arrow bearing red light was spotted from the Narrows.

"Ah the ninth centurie is being tested by the orcs. Let us hope they will have little loss," noted Harold.

The orcs saw the signal as well and decided to assault the caravan from the forest, rather than wait for a signal of success from their own troops. They came running from the hillside forest grove, and collided with the firewall. The commander of the orcs, figuring this was an advanced defence abandoned by the defenders called back to fight the cliff climbers, had his horde cross over the defences, and hold position until the majority was beyond the firewall. Once this was done, he blew a horn, giving the signal to run assault on the position of the caravan. One of the orcs fell on the forest floor, caught in the twine that triggered the fire grenades. It was enough to release the ordinance, which made beautiful parabolic curves of light before falling into the firewall and rapidly setting it on fire. Those orcs that were left to guard the firewall and those unfortunate enough to still be halfway across stood little chance of escape.

The orc commander, realizing he had lost the effect of surprise, decided to use a more organized method. Orders to regroup and form into offensive groups were heard from the caravan's outpost. The orcs' most favoured method of organized assault was the wedge, which had their foot soldiers advance in a V-shaped formation backed by their bowmen firing from behind.

There are two major problems with this method in a forest: first, the trees break the formation; second, the formation cannot break across an obstacle. The commander learned fast those lessons of strategy, as the different units disorganized themselves as they progressed. And then, suddenly, the first members of the units collided with the second firewall, the one build from scraping the forest floor bare. This was what Harold had been waiting for. Another set of firebombs was thrown in the nearest firewall, thus putting the orcs between two walls of fire, smoke and falling trees. Only sporadic openings could be seen in the fire, and the panic-stricken orcs fell for those traps. They charged in them, only to trigger the booby traps composed of sharpened logs, unstable trees, and hidden pits where it had been possible to dig and plant stakes.

Meanwhile, the column of orcs that had been assigned the assault of the cliff was trying a third time. This time, the legionnaires answered with fire, throwing balls of tar-resinous branches down and into the forest floor below. In no time, a roaring fire illuminated the valley below. The orcs' numbers could finally be assessed, and it sent a shiver down the backs of the legionnaires. Comparing them to cockroaches was an understatement. It looked like ants were coming out of every hole. The smell of burning flesh was enough to turn the stomach of quite a few. This was accompanied by the cries of agony, the yells of fury of thousands upon thousands of throats yelling their rage.

The fire from the forest also showed another horde trying to cross the stream. However, they had to ford it, and the fording was made difficult by both the strength of the current and the narrowness of the ford. Harold waited for the first orc to set foot on the beach to signal the catapult into action. The men obeyed immediately and the Greek fire set ablaze the stream, catching those crossing it by surprise. Hundreds died burned, but scores more drowned, taken over the fall by the current.

Centurion Nobles noticed that the orcs were trying to get around the fire at the base of the cliff and ordered that half of the Greek fire ordinance at his disposal be catapulted behind the orc lines. This worked quite well, since he had the advantage of height. The assault team of orcs found themselves between two fires, one of which seemed to be inextinguishable. The fires began to merge up and push the now very cornered orcs towards the stream below the fall. There was no fording available there, and the current, even if it was less swift than at the lip of the fall, was still very dangerous, especially for individuals carrying weapons.

About two thousand five hundred orcs managed to pass the second firewall and come into view for the crossbow archers. They fired on a signal from Harold, taking out two hundred in the first volley. The second volley took the same amount, but it did not stop the orcs from running the charge. The moment they came within range of the longbows, the twang of their string was heard and a cloud of arrows took off towards the charging orcs. This let the crossbow users time to prime and load their bows, and on a signal, fire in the charging mass. Again the longbows sang their song of death, but nothing seemed to halt the fanaticized orcs. As they came within short bow range, the apprentices entered the dance and fired at maximum range, while the longbow and crossbow handlers shortened theirs. The next line of defence was the Greek fire had yet to be used on this side of the defence system.

As the horde's middle reached the maximum range, Harold gave the signal and the catapult launched the fifty pots in the midst of the orcs, setting some on fire, while the explosions startled and slowed others. Harold surveyed the carnage, and realized that there were enough orcs to breach the outer defences. He used his command whistle to order the cavalry to charge by riding over specially reinforced wagons. The call brought down the sides of the designated wagons and the people in them jumped inside the circle, out of the way of the charging cavalry.

The noise of horses as they made their crossing over the bridge offered by the wagons was deafening, and the cavalry took position swiftly. The centurion in command raised his hand and brought it down in a cutting motion. The legionnaires brought their pilum down at about chest-height for the orcs foot soldiers; the centurion then brought his sword down in a horizontal position and the cavalry charged as one.

Harold watched the assault and saw the cavalry literally crush the orcs' line; the cavalry cut through them like a hot knife in butter, then, reaching the edge of the still burning firewall, turned around in a beautiful heart-shaped movement, to regroup and charge again the orcs' line, from behind. The movement was repeated again and, as the cavalry was coming back towards the wagons, Harold gave the signal of recall. The legionnaires returned within the defensive wall, while the orcs regrouped.

A decurion showed up to report to Harold, which surprised him.

"Where is the centurion?"

"He was hit by an arrow as we undertook the first return assault. His horse followed the charges, even if his rider was no longer on his back. The horse kicked and killed his own fair share of orcs."

"And how many other losses were there?"

"We lost two decurions and fifteen legionnaires, sir. We also lost a dozen horses."

"Let's prepare for the upcoming assault, we will mourn their losses later."

"Yes sir."

The bows resumed their song of death, as the cavalry was incorporated in the outer defence.

The orcs tightened ranks and deepened their position, expecting another cavalry charge. Some eight hundred orcs were left. That was more than enough to worry Harold. They came running towards the wagons, charging like madmen, enraged by their losses, and intent on extracting revenge.

By lauds, the orcs had reached the wagons and were climbing on them from the outside. Their numbers, while vastly reduced by the long-range defences, still posed a serious threat. Harold ordered a pullback to the inner circle of the bowmen, under the cover of the halberdiers and the legionnaires. A tighter arc meant denser defences as well. Centurion Nobles moved his centurie at one end of the arc to reinforce it, leaving only a few men to monitor the cliff and notify him of any renewed attack from those quarters.

The orcs, feeling the victory close, redoubled their effort, but met a wall of steeled halberds and pila. At one extremity of the arc, the cavalry charged between the well-disciplined legionnaires, and took the orcs à revers²²²² ("À revers: from the French expression prendre à revers, to attack from behind.").

About four hundred orcs were left and charged. Harold pulled back the legionnaires to the inner circle so they would not be cornered between the orcs and the carts, and readied for hand-to-hand combat. The longbows and crossbows were now cumbersome, and their users took their short bows in a last ditch effort to reduce the numbers before taking their swords and quarterstaffs. The cavalry continued to assail the ranks of the orcs from behind, thus dividing their attention and pushing them against the pila set in the wheels of the carts and carriages.

Harold gave another sound signal. Three centuries left each end of the arc, converging, and crushing the orcs between them, shields interlocked and their long assault pilum down at breast height, ten deep. Each legionnaire carried a shield, those on the outside porting them in front or on their side, and those behind overhead. The pila were inserted on their right, just below the previous legionnaire's armpit. Thus was created a serrated layer of lances that represented a walking wall of steel.

As the centuries converged, the cavalry hunted down the orcs that tried to circumvent the move, and killed them. The horseman would lean on the side of his horse and get low, slicing the orc's head off in a gracious but very effective move that sent the two parts flying in opposite directions.

Two hundred orcs broke through the inner defences, and were tackled by sword. Judging the situation under control Harold took his broadsword and joined the bloodbath. Encircled by two decades of legionnaires, he made his way slowly across the remaining orcs, slicing left and right as the occasion presented itself, with a goal in hand: the orc commander, whose elite guard was offering pugnacious resistance.

Harold decided to change sword, as his was showing signs of wear. He took out the katana and proceeded to slice his way across the defences of the orc leader. Suddenly faced with an orc that seemed to be twice their normal height, Harold engaged him, counting on the legionnaires to keep his back clear.

The orc tried to slice Harold in half from the head down but Harold blocked the sword at the hilt. As the two swords met, Harold yelled:

"Mitsuko!"

The katana instantly burst into a bright white-blue flame, blinding the orc. As the katana met the orc's sword, it sliced its blade off leaving the orc with only the sword's handle. Taken by surprise the orc backed off, but only for a few seconds, the time to take out a poniard and charge again.

"This magic sword will be mine!" he growled. "It will be mine!"

"Before claiming the spoils of battle, it must be won!" replied, unimpressed, Harold.

The battle was uneven; the rage that inhabited the orc leader blinded him to this. Harold wanted to capture him for interrogation, but the orc charged and charged again, Harold kept moving out of the way with the grace of a mongoose escaping the deadly strike of a king cobra. At one point he heard a warning yell from one of his men and ducked in time to escape a blow from behind. He rotated on his right leg, and cut the offending orc in half just below the sternum, his rotation not even slowed down by the orc's steel armour. He was back in position just in time to intercept a strike of the poniard that the orc leader had destined for his kidneys. The poniard hit the katana on the side, and seemed to melt on contact. The orc let out a cry of intense pain as his right hand burned from the white-hot handle of his dagger.

Harold had enough of this and he signalled one of his men to use a mace to knock the orc leader out cold. He dared not use the katana, for fear of killing the orc. Once the orc was down, he resumed the battle, leaving the orc under guard. His strategy was simple: open a weak resistance passage for the orcs towards the cliff. They fell for it, no longer having an organized leadership. The last centurie, commanded by Annabelle, began pushing what was left of the orcs to the edge. The members of the caravan disengaged from the battle, and let the legionnaires take over. In less then fifteen minutes, the hundred or so surviving orcs were backed against the cliff and fought desperately to escape their fate. The legionnaires were in no mood to show any mercy, as they remembered the farmstead. The orcs fell off the cliff into the raging inferno below; all was said. Silence fell on the battlefield, punctuated by the moans of the wounded. The battle of the Rock was finished. Now came dealing with the aftermath.

***

Harold began dealing with the issues of a major battle. "First and second centurie! Search the outer battlefield. Bring in our dead and wounded. Kill all the orcs that you find, and throw their bodies over the cliff in the fire below. Third and fourth centurie search the inner battlefield and let the same rule apply! Fifth, search the inner field, same rule! Sixth centurie, you are to carry the wounded to the triage area! Seventh centurie, establish a ring of defence. Eight! Go see what has happened to the ninth in the pass. Do not engage the orcs! Dunbar! Inspect the wagons, carriages, and carts for damage! Also send out apprentices to recover anything recoverable, from swords to plates to arrows. Those of us with medical knowledge, set up a triage area, and let's get started on treating the wounded. I want a count of our losses, both wounded and dead. Cavalry! See to your horses! Move! We need to leave this place and engage in the Narrows at most an hour after prime!"

Annabelle let Harold deal with this; she had been having the heaves every morning for some time, and she was tired and irritated. She also had these strange cravings for foods she never had before.

The losses were important, but much less than what would have happened had the defences been unprepared or ill planned. One centurion, and twelve decurions dead, five centurions and thirty decurions were wounded. One hundred and forty legionnaires dead and three hundred wounded to diverse degree. The cost to the caravan was worse with a third of the wagon drivers dead, and half of those left wounded. The highest cost had been extracted from the apprentices of all trades, being the youngest and least experienced.

Dunbar reported to Harold that three wagons had been damaged beyond repair, and would be abandoned. The carts were mostly intact, with minor repairs being undertaken by the Companion carpenter and his apprentice, Paschal. The recovered arrows are being distributed in the wagons, carts and other vehicles.

"I am having the wagons' contents moved to other wagons. We will also move the contents of carriages to wagons, so as to make place for our most wounded. Those that can ride will ride, and those that cannot ride and have no place in the carriages will be placed in stretchers tied between horses."

"Good. What happened to you? When I saw you after the battle, you did not have a bandaged arm?"

"Oh, I crossed path with an orc that played dead. Now, he's no longer playing. I ordered all orcs beheaded before being thrown over the cliff!"

"I see. Good idea. That way, none will be climbing back up!" replied, ironically, Harold.

"Legate Harold, what do we do with our dead?"

"Legate?" asked Harold, looking at the legionnaire, wide-eyed. "I am not even in the legion!"

"Maybe not, but this battle has raised you to that status in our eyes, Legate Harold!"

"I see; a promotion in the field, so to speak. As for our dead, I suggest we set up a funeral pyre. The civilians fought valiantly too, and, with the agreement of the legion, I wish they be included in the funeral pyre."

"We saw their valour. I speak for the legion by accepting your suggestion, Legate. It will be done as you suggest. What about our horses?"

"They fought well, and lost their lives protecting their riders. Include them as well."

"Where should we set the pyre, Legate Harold?"

Looking around the battlefield, Harold spotted the Command Rock. Pointing at its base, facing east, he said "There, at the base of Command Rock. Put the pila of the dead legionnaires in a half circle, fourteen deep, with their helmets on the tip. Put the centurion's sword at to top of the Command Rock, with his helmet on it. This will give the impression the centurie is guarding the rock and its commander."

"At your command, Legate!" With this, the legionnaire smashed his fist on his pectoral, brought his heels together, and stood at attention, before doing a perfect about-face to execute the order.

As the sun rose slowly over the hills on the east, the caravan left the battlefield, a pillar of black oily smoke coming from the funeral pyre and, in the breeze, mixing it slowly with the smoke raising from the forest fires spreading below the cliff and from what was left of the firewalls. Enemies and allies rose to Heaven jointly, at peace for eternity with each other.

***

The caravan slowly neared the entrance to the Narrows, and Harold, still in charge after Annabelle again felt sick, watched for any sign of the eight or ninth centuries, worried about engaging the caravan in the Narrows without more information about what lay ahead. As they began to engage in the last straight stretch, an arrow carrying a green light was fired from the top of the Narrows.

"Ah. The centuries report the passage is clear. Let us not hesitate we must, imperatively, reach the other side before nones! Move it!" commanded Harold.

By sext, the head of the caravan was seeing the end of the Narrows, but the last wagons and the rear guard were still well inside,

"Feed the horses and oxen while they walk; no stopping, we are too vulnerable still!" ordered Harold. "Water them the same way. Dunbar, what lays beyond the Narrows?"

"A steep decline, we will need to be careful. However, by nones, we will have reached a defendable position."

"What is the nature of that position?"

"An island, joined to the mainland by two long bridges. The island is located in rapids and is impossible to reach by any other means. And the island's lower end has a very small, narrow and rocky beach that will let us water the animals safely. The water pool is unreachable from the river because it is encircled by rapids."

"Is the water safe?"

"Yes, very clean. We will refill our water barrels to the hilt. It will be the last safe water source for a good twenty days! We should also wash the wounds of our comrades, and overall, wash ourselves thoroughly. You, my friend, could scare a demon with all the blood and guts you have on yourself."

"Dunbar, you do not look any better, and if your smell is any indication of mine, orcs will be able to track us from miles!"

"Orcs, and other predators, Harold. And there are many."

"You mention that drinkable water will be scarce, later. Why is that so? I have an idea, but I wish to be sure of my deductions."

"We will be entering the outskirts of the Silent Forest. It is a forest all right, but you will be able to understand why it is called the Silent Forest when we are in it. The Atom God was not kind to that forest, not kind at all."

"You scare me. What should we expect?"

"This is the southern tip of one of the lands of the Order of the Atom. You know these Priests, with the iron mask, that we so hate and fear all. Orcs are but one type of predator the Priests are another. No one knows what the order is looking for. They capture females and kill every male. I would not be at peace with Annabelle so close to their realm."

"Well, they better not try anything. Priest or not, they will meet the devil in me if they try anything to any member of this convoy."

"I hear you, Harold. And so does everyone here."

***

As Dunbar had announced, by nones, the first wagons moved over the higher, Eastside Bridge. The scouts reported to Harold that the island seemed unoccupied, so they moved quickly to take control of the lower Westside Bridge, thus closing the island to traffic.

As the column of wagons and other transports crossed over the bridge, the eight and ninth centurie closed the gap between them and the rear guard. The centurions reported to Harold.

The ninth's commending centurion reported that his centurie had taken position on the highest cliffs that overshadowed the Narrows without problem but had seen orcs on the other side, moving under cover. That is why they had fired the red flare, which had triggered the battle. The orcs had been alarmed by the flare and launched an ill-conceived frontal assault on the cliffs occupied by the ninth centurie. The thunderstorm had helped the legionnaires by setting on fire a few trees on the side of the orcs, thus giving the bowmen targets to hit from their vintage point. The orcs had been few and undisciplined, at most a few hundred, easily repulsed.

The arrival of the eight centurie from behind the orc lines had helped finish the cleanup. By sunrise, not a single orc was left to bother the movement of the column westward.

Annabelle, still weak from spending the night fighting and the day throwing up, retired early.

"Dunbar, I do not know what is hurting Annabelle so."

"Let's ask the healer. But I suspect I have your answer."

The centurie's healer summoned, listened to the description of the symptoms and then burst in laughter.

"What is so funny?" asked Harold.

"Rejoice, Legate! Your description tells me that your mate, centurion Annabelle, is expecting!"

"Expecting? Expecting what?"

"A baby! You will be a father, Legate Harold!"

"A father? Me? But I am not ready!"

"Who is ever ready for that duty?"

Dunbar exploded in laughter at the look of total loss presented by Harold. "I am sure you will succeed in fatherhood as you have succeeded in everything you undertook, Legate Harold!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, no! Not you too! Please, no legate thing with me, or I'll start throwing masters at your name like rocks in a stream!"

Dunbar, Williams, and the healer exploded in mirth at Harold's expense.

Harold decided to visit the wounded, and, carrying his now famous katana openly, toured the camp.

His first visit were to those that had been the most wounded, unsure that he was they would pass the night, even with the best of care.

"What is your name, decurion?" he asked a severely defaced man.

"I am Decurion Yamato, the one that translated the blade for you, Legate Harold. We were never properly introduced. I am proud to have served under your command. I die with honour!"

"Oh, my God!" exclaimed Harold. He remembered the young man, and how precious his knowledge had been. He took the young man's hands in his, and said out loud 'I wish you to heal completely!"

At this moment, an intense green light traveled from the sword to Harold's body and along his arms, to engulf the decurion in a bright, brilliant green glow that fought back a dark red halo. Harold was unaware of this and, for him, time stopped. He saw nothing, felt nothing, but everyone in the cart saw the battle between light and dark forces. Suddenly, the decurion was taken by a powerful spasm and his body began repairing itself at an amazing rate. His face rebuilt itself, his eyes cleared, and the sword and arrow wounds healed. The tip of the arrow blade was ejected from his body and the deepest wound, the one that was to kill him the moment the tip entered the heart, healed.

The healer looked at Harold with huge eyes, shaking on her legs. "This is a miracle! This is a miracle! You brought that man back from the doors of death!"

"I did nothing but wish that he be healed and express it aloud!"

Decurion Yamato looked at Harold, his eyes watering profusely. "Legate Harold, I had dismissed this part of the legend of the blade. It is said that as this blade can kill effortlessly, it can give the pure of heart the power to heal as effortlessly. I took this as a meaningless legend. I have been proven wrong in my own flesh!"

"But how is this possible?"

"It is said that very advanced science is virtually indistinguishable from magic. Let us call this magic."

"It still does not explain things."

"My dad, a staunch believer in science, told me once where there is will and verb to express it, science will succeed. I would assume magic is the final application of this. If you have a strong will and express it in a clear verb, magic will realize the will. You wanted me cured, you said so clearly, for all to hear. This sword will light your way to great things, Legate, as long as your heart stays pure. It will heal your friends, defeat your enemies."

"This is very interesting, Legate. We need to put this to use immediately. We have many wounded, some in very critical condition," suggested the healer.

"I agree with the healer, Legate Harold," commented the decurion. "However, this sword has another, as yet untested application. Given the proper command, it can test the truth. I have very little to tell about this, but according to its maker, it could test a crowd for treason. How this was achieved, I have not the slightest idea. Be aware that all resides in will and wording."

"I see, or at least I hope I do," replied Harold. "I shall undertake the use of this sword with the utmost care. Healer, give me some time to think how to express my wish so it succeeds." With that, Harold strolled out of the carriage. By then the news had spread around the camp like wildfire in a dry forest.

Harold walked to the center of the island, to its peak, and looked down on the camp. He carefully considered what he really wanted, and then took the sword out, and raised it above his head.

"Mitsuko!"

The blade responded immediately by becoming a brilliant white, and everyone looked at the center of the island, to see Harold stand, still, encircled with a white halo."

"Heal my friends present on this island now!"

A huge white-green dome covered the island, healing centurions and civilians alike. The intensity of the light could be seen for miles, but no one, outside of the camp, could figure out what it meant.

Knowing this was not all to be done, Harold once again thought things out and then carefully worded his command:

"Heal the horses present on this island now!"

Again the green dome enclosed the island. Finally, Harold completed the healing process by this command:

"Heal the oxen present on this island now!"

The third green dome appeared, and dissipated. Harold returned slowly to the camp, wondering if he had truly succeeded.

His first visit, strangely, was to the orc commander. Harold was relieved to see that the orc was still weak from his wounds. He then proceeded to the carts and carriages carrying the wounded, only to be met by Dunbar, on his way.

"Hey Dunbar, no more bandage?"

"No, Harold. I felt a jolt in the arm and went to see the healer. She told me to remove the bandage, that I was cured. I did not believe her, but after seeing a train of our sick leave the carts and carriages as good as new, I decided to remove it, and lo and behold, not only is the wound sealed and healed, there is not even a scar mark. I removed my undershirt to look at my scar from an appendectomy, and it's gone!"

"But look by yourself, Harold," continued Dunbar, the stretchers are being emptied, the horses are healed, the oxen as well!"

The healers walked toward Harold, dully impressed by his action.

"Most of our sick and wounded are healed," commented the camp's Master Healer. "I say most because some did not benefit from the light. Centurion Annabelle suggested we let her, Dunbar, and you talk to these recalcitrant to your healing power. It might help to remember the wording you used when you ordered it, because we noticed that none of the animals escaped the healing process, only the orc and these few."

Harold and Dunbar joined Annabelle in the only hospital carriage still in operation. It contained three people in all, apart from the healer; two oxcart drivers and a decurion.

Harold took his katana out and discreetly ordered it to glow red if a person lied and green if it told the truth.

"Decurion, I do not know your name, nor does it matter. But I do know the command I gave to heal. That you escaped the healing proved to me that you are not in a friendly disposition towards me. Why is it so?"

"You stole Annabelle from me! I wanted to marry her, and she married you instead. I wanted her as my wife, but she never looked at me once!"

The blade flashed green.

Annabelle, looking at the decurion, asked, "Do you know why I never looked at you?"

"No!" The blade flashed red.

"Wrong answer, decurion, you do know," commented Harold. "Would you mind sharing that reason with us?"

He kept silent. Annabelle replied for the man, after waiting a few minutes. "This man tries to claim as his the success of others, he lies, and blames others for his own mistakes. I would not trust him in my bed!"

"I see. You were in command of a decade. What happened during the battle?"

"I fought the best I could!" The blade flashed red.

"Healer, what did you find wrong with this man?" asked Annabelle.

"Centurion, he had a small cut on his left hand, and carried an arrow, thinly embedded in his upper right back, way out of danger for any vital organ."

"And what would you conclude?"

"He ran away from battle, and got hit by one of our own arrows, otherwise he would have been poisoned. We needed not heal poison."

"So, to the previous charges, I must add cowardice under battle," commented Annabelle. "What happened to his command?"

"Half were killed, before a legionnaire noticed the decurion had turned coat. He took command and managed to bring the rest, including the wounded, back behind our lines. I heard the legionnaire tell off the decurion, but I was too busy to report this to you, Centurion," replied one of the healers. "This coward even threatened the legionnaire of sanctions if he did not keep his mouth shut. For what good it would have done the decurion, healers are above any of their threats."

"A fine specimen we have here. You sir, will be court-marshalled tonight. We have enough valid centurions to hold court!" concluded Annabelle.

"Let's deal with these two. Dunbar?" asked Harold.

"Right. These two joined us at Newbridge. They were not part of my original caravan. May I be excused? I want to get the caravan master that is responsible of these two present here. Give me fifteen minutes to find him."

"Agreed, Dunbar. Go ahead."

Fifteen minutes later, Dunbar came into the carriage with a huge man that did not look at anyone in the eyes. This, alone, ticked off Harold, who became weary and nervous. Harold discreetly signalled Annabelle to move back and away from the man. Although she did not know the reason he requested this, especially in the manner he did, she obeyed.

"Harold, he is yours."

"Sir, do you know these men?"

"Yes." The blade flashed green.

"Were they part of your caravan?"

"Yes." The blade flashed green again.

"Do you know what was their objective within the caravan?"

"No." The blade flashed red.

"You just lied. You do know." Harold took his time before stating his next question. "Are you a member of the Order of the Road?"

"Yes." The blade flashed a bright, brilliant red.

"You lied. You are not a member of the Order. Now, will I have to list all the orders of this world to find which one you are a member of?"

"You can try, but you wouldn't know its name!" replied, condescending, the man.

Dunbar looked at Annabelle, and said. "That severely restricts the numbers. There are two major organizations with secret orders, namely the Priests of the Atom, and the high order of the Trades. Somehow, I don't see that man as a member of the higher order of the Trades."

"That leaves only an option," commented Harold. Looking at the man, he asked "Are you at the service of the Priesthood?"

"No." The blade flashed red.

"Are you a Priest?"

"No." The blade flashed green.

"Are you a defrocked priest?"

"No." Again, the blade flashed green.

Thinking things over, Harold decided to throw a rock in the water. "Are you a herder?"

The man bleached, and answered 'No." The blade flashed an angry red.

"You lied. You are a herder. You herd females of our kind. Do you know why?"

"No." Again the accusing red flash illuminated the carriage.

"Tell me why you herd females!"

"I cannot, I shall be killed!" The blade went green this time.

"Fine. I am not an idiot, I can speculate. The only reason to herd females is to breed. So you herd females off caravans so the males of your order can breed. I suspect your females are born sterile, and that is why you must herd females from us. Am I right?"

"You are near, but you do not know the truth." The blade flashed green.

"Why, thank you. I suspect the reason you cannot breed is not sterility per see, but the number of abnormal, monstrous birth defects when you breed with your females."

The man bleached again, his knees giving way under intense emotion.

"Let's continue in this direction, your body actions talk better than words. Let me see; the reason the priests wear these steel masks is because they, themselves, look monstrous and would scare the people into action against them if they were to walk the world open-faced."

This time the man collapsed on the floor shaking violently.

"Harold, I have a suspicion I would like to verify."

"Go ahead, Dunbar."

"Tell me, the orcs. Are they the results of failed breeding?"

At this question, the man strangled, cried out and quickly pulled a poniard from his sleeve and thrust it in his heart, committing suicide.

The people around were taken by surprise, and, before they could do much, the two wounded men still on stretchers jumped up and killed each other with hidden stilettos.

"Well, we learned a lot today, Harold. Sadly, we miss one important piece of information. What was their plan concerning the caravan?" concluded Dunbar.

"Yes, that is true. Annabelle, let's convene the tribunal for this coward right away. We now have more than enough able-bodied officers to proceed."

***

The tribunal was held in the open, in view of most of the legionnaires, at vespers. The proceedings were quick and to the point. The questor²³²³ ("Questor: Latin, meaning the one that asks the questions, the interrogator, or prosecutor.") stated the facts , the surviving members of the decade came forth and stated what they had seen, and were verified by Harold's blade. It came to light that the arrow that had hit the decurion was from one of his own men who had seen him make a run for it. The man had died but two witnesses had seen his act. The defender tried to discredit the testimony, but a test of validity was carried on the blade, and it was proven infallible, to his utter dismay. Twelve of his peers had been convened as jury. It took them less than half an hour to decide that the decurion was guilty on all charges. Military discipline was not mild. The charged as stated implied mandatory execution, sentence to be carried at sunrise the next morning, since there was no appeals court.

As the first rays of the sun rose above the mountains, the executioner carried his duty, and as was the custom, brought the head of the condemned to the highest official. By general consent, this was Harold; lucky for him, he had not had breakfast because he heaved at the view. Contrary to what he thought, his reaction was well received by the legionnaires, who saw in it a sense of decency that seemed to be lacking in higher ranks of the officers.

The body was buried under a heap of rocks, but the head was placed on a spike, in clear view, with a label tied to it: Thus is the price to pay for treason and cowardice.

***

The caravan resumed its trek westward, twisting and turning. A day after leaving the island, Dunbar pointed towards the horizon and told Harold and Annabelle what he saw.

"See, there, at the bottom of the valley? This is the Silent Forest. Look at it. See the trees? They are like white skeletons. Nothing, absolutely nothing lives in that forest. No birds, no animals, nothing. The road skirts the edge of the forest for about two hours. This is the place where, if there is a trap from the Priests, it will be set. We cannot escape in the forest, on either side. I have never crossed it at night, but I have heard rumours, I have been told it glows at night, of a sickly green light."

"How is the road?"

"It will be straight as an arrow at the bottom of the valley, cross over the river at the bottom on a wide bridge, and continue westward. I've been told even the water of the river glows, and you see the markings we saw earlier just about everywhere."

"This must be a powerful pestilence to have created this damage," remarked Annabelle.

"Yes, this is why, as soon as the last cart is down the hill, I shall ask you to order the legionnaires to climb on board. We must make a run for it, and cross this area as fast as we can."

"Annabelle, put those that have horses in front and behind. Put those that are not good at bows on the side of the carts and wagons, with their shields down. If we need to force passage, those carrying shields will protect the archers by raising them," suggested Harold. "Dunbar, while the legionnaires climb on their transport, can you ask the drivers to make sure the animals are watered. There will not be any stopping until we reach the other side of the valley."

"At your command, Legate!"

"Oh no! Not you too!"

Annabelle and Dunbar laughed. This was a needed break in the dark mood the appearance of the Silent Forest had instilled in the caravan.

The procession resumed, slowly climbing down in the valley, and, as each cart, wagon and carriage came to the flatlands, the legionnaires arranged themselves according to Harold's orders. Once the last cart was down, and the rear guard on horseback, the drivers stepped up the pace.